5k words in one day? It's not over 9000, but it will do for now

The laughs followed shortly.  After catching his breath, the clerk continued, “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help myself.  Every year there’s at least one new combatant who’s running in like a crazed madman, and I always tell them the same thing, but your reaction was by far the best I’ve seen.  You don’t hide your emotions very well, do you?”  The clerk- dressed in an interesting attire of blue pants with a button-up shirt, both of which had a thick, white stripe running down the middle of them- stepped from behind his desk and moved to a door to Ian’s left, not ten feet away.  Pulling a ring of many keys from a loop partially hidden by his loose shirt, the clerk lifted a panel on the large, intricately designed door, and inserted his key.

Ian paused for a second as he took in the scene in front of him.  The carving in the stone door depicted a lot of flowing lines surrounding a person, who appeared to be coming out of the ground.   It seemed as though the man was empty, but the lines were trying to fill him with something.  Perhaps it was life?  The man’s pose suggested that he was waking up for the first time, maybe it was talking about –

The clerk’s voice butt into Ian’s thoughts, “We really don’t have a lot of time. We’re cutting it close already as it is.  This time you really did just barely squeak in.  I don’t think I’ve had anyone come in exactly at the deadline before.  So congratulations, Ian, you really are a man of firsts for the Arena.”

Ian just bowed his head as he walked through the door which easily dwarfed him.  With all his running, he didn’t even have a time to see just how huge this level of the tower was.  The floor was easily thirty feet beneath the ceiling, and the door was only a few feet shorter than the whole room.  He had a hard time taking it all in, and wanted to keep looking into the previous room, but the clerk closed the door behind him, which was finalized by the click of the door handle as it latched into place.  Ian had to know, “Is every floor like this?  Because if there are, there must not be as many floors in this tower as I thought.”

“Oh, every floor is like this, but there are over three hundred floors in this tower, though not all of them are currently in use.  You see,” the clerk went on with his obviously practiced speech as he ushered Ian through what appeared to be a dining area, “this whole tower was built back in the day when the Arena was built, when the forgotten magics were still practiced and taught, so every floor is as big as you see it here, but takes up only a few feet of the actual tower vertically.  They also saved space horizontally, so instead of being a circle roughly four hundred feet in diameter, as it would appear on the outside, it’s actually more like six thousand feet in diameter.  It’s really quite mind boggling, as I can tell by your open mouth,” Ian shut his mouth, not realizing he had opened it in the first place, “and thus, we have much room for growth here at the Combat Center.”

Ian had already walked by countless tables, all carved out of the same white stone as the tower, almost as if it had been part of the same stone, for he wasn’t even sure if he saw a break between the floor and the tables, but it must have been a play of the light, for there was no way that all the furniture could be carved right in, let alone, that a whole tower could be carved out of one piece of stone.  Unless these forgotten magics were as powerful as he had heard a few say.

“Ah! Here we are!” the clerks voice brought Ian back to reality as he exited the dining area, “This is where you will be staying.”

“In a hallway?” The hallway in question was long, and had no visible doors, though it did have plenty of paintings, embellished wood carvings, and other decorations hanging off, and being part of, the wall.

“No, but this is where everyone stays as they prepare for the coming up competition,” Ian’s look must have been one of disbelief, for the clerk quickly followed up with, “I suppose I’ll show you to your room, then.”

They walked down the hallway for quite a ways before the clerk pointed and said, “Here we are!” with the happiest grin that Ian had ever seen painted on his face.

Ian followed the man’s finger, and found himself looking at a blank wall with wallpaper falling off it.  He looked back at the man.  “Really? You’re trying to pull another joke after what you did when I first came to check in?”

The man sighed, and his red-haired head sagged a little as he started to explain, “You see, we want to keep all our combatants safe, so we decided to camouflage our rooms.  Well, rather the maker of this building made it this way.  Sometimes a room is where one would not be thought to be, and sometimes a room is not where one might suppose.  It helps keep assassination attempts to a minimum.  The Arena is a hairy place, and all.  I mean, it would be even worse did we not have the resurrection magic in place.  Then we’d just have a lot of dead bodies at the end of a match, and not very many people left to fight, much less, willing to fight.” He started fidgeting with some of the curled pieces of wallpaper, pulling some, twisting others, and then drew a figure with his finger on the wall, “This way everyone has a much higher chance of survival, even outside the battles.” He smiled with that same grin as the wall opened up.

“How did you do that?”  Ian was used to magic, but this forgotten magic stuff was a little out of his area of expertise.

“Think of it as a combination.” Closing the wall, the man turned to Ian, pointing out what he did as he went along.  “Tug this one once, that one twice, twist this one a quarter turn to the right, and flick that one with your index finger, and then carve this symbol with your finger on the wall.” The symbol mentioned looked like two lines intersecting with a circle in the middle of them.  “Though, it should recognize you as its tenant and open for you when you get near.”  And with that, the clerk started to walk away.

Ian looked at the wall, still a little thrown off by pretty much everything he’d experienced in the tower thus far.  This really is a different world from the lower arenas.  “Oh! If it’s so assassin proof, what would happen if someone followed me to my room?”  Ian called out after the man.

“Impossible,” came his reply over his shoulder, not missing a stride.  “We’re invisible as soon as we entered the hallway, no one can see anyone else, and only we can see each other since I’m the clerk here.  Enjoy your night, and don’t forget to rest up.  You’ll need it!”  And with that last remark, the blue-clad man turned around, gave a short bow, and then exited the hallway.

Ian slowly turned to face the wall, pondered it for a moment, and then went through the motions as instructed by the odd man.  The door opened, and he stepped inside.

Chapter 3

To say that the room was vast would be an understatement. He had the living room the size of a small library –which was an appropriate description, since it housed many books –a kitchen with all the cooking apparatuses needed to make a small feast, and several doors into other various rooms, which he decided he would explore later, for his first priority was to stretch out on the long seat in the main room and let all the stresses of the day just drift away as he lay there.  He allowed himself a small chuckle as he realized that he had been on his back, asleep for three days, yet the first thing he wanted to do when he got to his room was lie down and just relax. 

It was a very comfortable couch, though. 

And the next thing he knew, he heard a small voice coming from inside the room.  “The time is now 80:00, and dinner is now served,” Ian looked around to find the source of the voice, finding a bluish head floating over the mantle of the fireplace mouthing the words as they came out, “Please make your way to the dining area.  And please be reminded that all forms of violence, whether magical or mundane will be dealt with harshly, this is a safe place for preparation, not a battleground, and it would be wise to remember this. Enjoy your meal, and best of luck in the battle.”  The head vanished as the message finished, leaving Ian staring at more white stone.

At least the couch wasn’t made of stone.  And with that thought, Ian hopped up, feeling right as rain, and exited his room, making his way to the dining area.  As he approached the exit of the hallway, he started, as a person appeared right in front of him.  As his breath returned to him, he remembered what the clerk had told him, wondering if anyone else had had a similar reaction, and glad that he was still invisible, and apparently intangible to anyone else, for he hadn’t bumped into anyone else along the way.  Testing his theory, he remained standing where he was as he watched person after person appear in front of him.  Not feeling anything even once, despite the dozens of people who popped into existence, he concluded that his guess was correct, and thus continued walking, humming happily as he watched the other contestants, with whom he would be locked in intense combat the following day. 

As he rounded the doorway into the cafeteria, he took a quick moment to scan the other combatants and see if he couldn’t guess what sort of mage they were.  There were plenty of robes, that was for sure, but usually something as small as what color the robe was, or whether or not they had a hood could tell you what sort of spells they favored.  Sometimes there were those who held the superstition that a certain robe color, or pattern would allow for more powerful spells, either a specific type of spell, or just in general, yet, despite Ian’s several experiments with and readings of this matter, he had come to the conclusion that it was just that, superstition, and that a robe was a robe was a robe, which made it just a personal style choice, which made it easy for Ian when he had to decide a robe.  Not only did he love the color brown, but it also was a good color for trying to blend in things.  It also hid dirt and stains really well, so he didn’t have to wash it as often as a white robe, for which he was grateful. Time washing was time not studying, and thus was mostly a waste of time in his mind.

It seemed that the current generation of magi were fond of darker colors, he could only see one or two white robes, which meant that most of the magic he would be facing would probably be from an arcane source, not from a deity or a cause from which someone got their power.  He always had a little spot in him that viewed divine spell users as lesser magi since they relied on another source for their power, instead of their understanding of magical energy, and the manipulation that happened to the energies around them, which required much training, or talent, both of which Ian had plenty.  A small smile crept onto his lips as he took a moment to feel proud of his achievements as a magus. 

It was then that the smell of the food from the kitchen hit him.  The hunger hit him immediately, causing him to double in over as his stomach apparently decided to invert itself inside him and start chewing on his backbone.  He half shuffled, half waddled to the line, which was decently long, and tried not to cry out as loudly as his belly did.

He could feel several stares on him as he stood there, hunched over.  He tried to ignore them, which wasn’t too difficult to do with the parasite that had replaced his stomach and was sucking the very life force out of him.  A few long minutes later, he was seated at a table, by himself, wolfing down his food as quickly as he possibly could, neither caring about table manners at this particular moment, nor even about what he was putting in his mouth.  It tasted like chicken, but just about everything tasted like chicken to him, so he could have been eating anything.  All that he cared about was that it was food that was going into his stomach, and it was bringing his energy back.  It was also returning his stomach to it’s rightful form and state of inside-outness.

After a quick return trip for seconds, and then thirds, which got him only one or two ugly looks from the women behind the counter, he returned to his room, ready to study up on his opponents.  He had many things to figure out for the next day.  What spells should he prepare, what sort of strategy would he take for winning points, and of course, what was he going to wear?  For this battle, there was an exception to the normal rule of no special outfits.  You see, this battle was all about winning a spot in one of the four, lower houses, and while combat technique was important, if you were horrible at fighting, but had a good following from the spectators, it was very possible that a house would take you in for the extra support.  Spectators were very important in the Arena.  The larger the spectator following, the more options a house had available to use in combat; it was almost a type of currency.

With his mind racing, and thoughts circling around in his head, Ian walked to the hallway, and down to his room, which opened up for him automatically as he came near, and then closed behind him as he settled down into the couch of his room. 

Curious about whether the room had a ME or not, Ian looked around a little, looking for the box which would contain it.  Before too much time passed by, and no luck finding the box, he figured that it would be better to not look and just ask a question.  “Would you happen to have the recordings about the contestants in the battle royale that’s taking place tomorrow?  The ones from the past few days?”

The face on the mantle came back, “Yes,” it spoke.  “Was there a particular contestant about whom you were curious?”

“Not really,” Ian rubbed his hand against the back of his head, not really sure where to start all his planning.  “Could you display a list of the contestants for me?” 

“Of course, sir.”  The head remained where it was, but a blue box appeared in the center of the living area, it had names written on it.

Ian quickly counted the names, forty-seven names, forty-eight with his own included in the lot.  “Could you read the names, show a picture of the person, and then give me some basic info on their fight with Gregory?”

“How basic, Ian?”

“I don’t have a lot of time, just give me the main types of spells they used, and if they did anything special during that fight.”

“Of course…” the ME started going through all the names as Ian reached into the cloak of his rob and pulled out his spellbook.  He started turning through the pages, making a mental note of what would be good against certain people and their spells.  With so many people, he’d have to choose a more generic approach to this battle, dealing with what he had the most likely chance of running into; there were only so many spells he could remember in a day, with all the intricate syllables and specific hand motions that needed to be used in order to draw out and manipulate his energy appropriately.  One stray movement or mixed syllable, and the spell wouldn’t work, or even worse, do something unintentional, like exploding in his face, and he wouldn’t really want to do that.

Still looking at his book, he moved his free hand and spoke the word “Zuta.”  A noise from the kitchen signified that his spell had worked.  “Make me some hot water and herbs, please.” A pump that seemed to pump water itself and some clinking dishes told him that his unseen servant had heard the request and had started his job.  A few moments, and a wonderful smell of burning cedar in the fire, later, a floating mug approached Ian as he continued his strategy-making.  With so many people it would be hard, but they were all first timers, or at least most of them were.  I’m sure some of them have failed in the past and are trying to get in, he thought to himself.

As the night wore on, it became more and more clear that these were all amateur mages, some with great talent, but not as well learned in the interaction of different magics together, nor with how magic actually worked.  Either by dumb luck or natural talent were they able to fling spells around.  There wasn’t much intelligence amongst them.  There was even one combatant who tried to throw a fireball at Gregory, and ended up having it come back at him via Gregory’s fire control and blast him for twice its original power.  Poor guy.

The hours passed by, and after several unseen servants and hot teas, Ian decided that bed was a good place to go, he had most of tomorrow to finish the rest of his strategy, but he felt as though he had a good idea for what spells he would prepare in the morning.  It was then that he remembered that he hadn’t actually found which room was the bedroom yet.  He trudged through the room, ready for sleep.

The first door he opened appeared to be a study with a desk.  Nothing too exciting here, next room.  In the following room was nothing much besides what he presumed to be a coat rack.  Yay, closets, perfect for sleeping.  Next.  In the next room he finally found for what he was looking.  A bed.  He threw himself onto the godsent blankets and almost forgot to change out of his robe for bed because the mattress was so comfortable.  After changing into pajamas –which were provided for him in the nearby dresser –he made sure to lean his staff in the corner by the door, just in case he needed it in the night, though he probably wouldn’t, seeing as the security of this place was super tight.

“Could you turn out the lights please?” He requested of the ME and fell asleep almost before he semi-realized that the lights had turned off.

Chapter 4

Ian was pleased with his clothing selection for the day.  He managed to find a brown and white robe that looked extremely sharp, especially on him; it even came with leather gloves, which fit him perfectly.  They hadn’t relaxed just quite yet, but he hoped that by the time he got into the new arena, they’d be as snug on his fingers as a jelly fig on a breadstick.  Man, those things would stick on there, and thinking about that made him hungry, but he had to remember how totally awesome he looked, so he walked by a mirror once again while he waited for the announcement that breakfast was ready.

His cool, green eyes matched the belt that he had picked out, and he hoped that the long tail of his knotted belt would bring the attention back up to his eyes.  He wasn’t quite sure how, but he vaguely remembered hearing that from someone and decided to take their advice.  He also had on brow boots which matched his gloves and his robe, and pants that he wore under the robe which were a white that contrasted nicely with the dark browns.  Overall, he was quite pleased with this, but the thing that he really liked about his outfit, was the cape he had picked out.  It had a hood built in, and the coolest part was that it was a nice brown on the outside, but white on the inside.  He definitely had a theme going on, which he thought would be good for getting the spectators that he needed.

He did a half-turn in front of the mirror, and was admiring the flow of the cape as he moved, seeing it billow through the air set off a great excitement in him.  He felt as giddy as a first year girl, who had just figured out how to make magic do her hair.  Or at least he would have if the ME hadn’t popped his face into the room announcing breakfast, at which point he ran out the door and down the hallway and was the first in line for food.  He wanted to finish as soon as he could to optimize his time usage.  He went through the line quickly, scarfing down his brick bird eggs, which weren’t nearly as hard as one would think, and was in mid-bite when a young girl, dressed in all white with Golden trim put her tray down across from his at the same table. 

“Hi! My name is Sandy, what’s yours?” Her sweet voice was happy and inviting.

Unfortunately for her, Ian had plans for day, and they probably involved blasting her to pieces in the arena.  Not that she would be dead forever, of course.  There were resurrection magics involved in the Arena for a reason, but he didn’t much like making conversation with his adversaries, so that, coupled with his plan-making gave him no other choice than to give her the silent treatment without so much as looking at her or acknowledging her existence.

He quickly finished his meal, which consisted of bacon, and some wonderfully made Tarken toast, and walked out of the cafeteria to be alone in his room.

With the doors swooshing before him, and then after him, he walked into the room and called out to the ME “What would you recommend I do, should I try to get as many kills as possible, or should I lurk around in the shadows, waiting for the end, and then trying to kill the last few when they’re all weak?”

“Well, sir, I think that the spectators would like to see as much fighting as possible, give them a good show, though, and they’ll follow you regardless of what house you manage to get into, if you manage to get into one.”

“Good point, not a whole lot of point of fighting if everyone’s running around hiding from everyone else.”  Ian put his gloved hand to his chin as he thought, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.  “Man, do I look good or what?” he said aloud.

“Most smashing, sir.  Might I congratulate you on being the person who has spent the most amount of time in front of that mirror in one day.”  Ian wasn’t sure if MEs could be sarcastic or not, but if they could, Ian caught the hint.

“Right,” he took a few strides and sat down in the couch, “could you bring up the list of my foes, again?”

“As you wish, sir.” 

“The blue rectangle showed itself again, and Ian glanced through their names, remembering the mental notes that he had made about the different contestants and how they looked.”

It was then that he came across Sandy’s name.

“Could you bring up Sandy’s profile, please?”  No harm in doing some research on her, right?  Her blonde head appeared in front of him as the blue screen brought up her stats and image.  She had her picture taken in a white robe, usually reserved for those who got their power from a deity or cause.  So, she probably wouldn’t be too much trouble, but it would be good to know of what she was capable.  After watching the highlights of her battle with Gregory, Ian felt much more comfortable about fighting her.  She only ever used healing spells.  Something that was seriously underpowered in the Arena.  Healing didn’t matter if you were already incapacitated or unaware of the upcoming threats.  Silly girl.

She did have cute freckles, though, especially with her blond hair that was braided into two braids on either side of her head.  Whoa! Where did that thought come from?  Ian didn’t really think about girls too much, especially when there was so much magic that he didn’t know, which is why he wanted to become part of The Hundred.  Maybe during his eternal life he would be able to find a girl or two with whom he could enjoy a good, logical discussion on magic, but definitely not with a divine mage.  Ugh.  He shook his head, unable to believe that such a thought would even threaten to come into his mind.

“Could you go back to the list, please?”  He needed to get her face out his mind quickly, and refocus on his strategy, which at the moment involved being stealthy and striking at the opportune time, not really leaving himself open to attacks.  Hopefully there would be at least some foliage in which he could take cover while he tried to hide.

He looked at his staff, as it sat next to the couch in which he was sitting, the metal glimmering in the light.  It wouldn’t be long now.  He had precious few hours left until the battle would require him to be elsewhere, to be randomly teleported into the new arena.  He needed to memorize all the faces of his foes and their usual strategies so that he could know how to counter them when he faced them.

Chapter 5

The time flew by before he knew what had hit him.  The ME popped up on the mantle again, “Sir, might I recommend you get your gear ready, they will be requesting your presence in the main hall in ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” Ian took one last look at the list of names, faces, and categories he had constructed to help organize how to fight different types of mages, and grabbed his staff and a small satchel, also brown, in which he threw a few scrolls he had made quite some time ago.  They were of spells he normally wouldn’t use, but might need sometime in the future; you can never be too safe.  He glanced into the mirror, shifted his clothing around a little for the best look that he could get, and strolled out the door after making sure that his teeth were white, his hear was stylishly messy –apparently, all the ladies loved a guy with semi-messy long hair –and his gloves were tight and fitting wonderfully.  Whoever had owned the gloves before him must have had hands similarly shaped to his. He must have been incredibly handsome, as well. 

He finally made it down the hall, and to the cafeteria, where he spotted a few others ahead of him, and turning behind him saw that a few were following behind as well.  He walked down the long cafeteria, running the list of names and faces through his head, not wanting to miss a single person, lest he not know what to do should he run into them.  He was halfway through the list when he heard feet running up from behind him, and then slow to match his pace.  He glanced to the side, trying to make it unnoticeable by keeping his hair between his eyes and whoever was walking on his right.  He saw white robes and blonde hair.  He didn’t even need to see her face to know it was Sandy.  He didn’t know why, but the room suddenly got a lot warmer, and he returned his gaze to the ground, unsure of what to do.  The list had left his mind now, and no amount of coaxing would get it back.

How do I get rid of her?  He couldn’t concentrate with her around, and he couldn’t retreat to his room like he did last time, so he quickened his pace, which she matched within two paces, easily catching up.  He then stopped, pretending to look for something in his satchel.  She stopped as well.  “Anything I can help you with?” she piped out in here cheery soprano voice.

“I… uh… well, you see, I just… er.”  For some reason when she was around he couldn’t put two words together.  Why am I acting like this?  He tried to quickly calm himself and collect his thoughts.  Returning his satchel to his side, he grabbed his staff and looked at her directly for the first time, which was a mistake, for it caused his face to feel really warm.  Man is she cute!  Then, trying to find freedom to think again said, quite clearly, “No.  Go away.”

Sandy looked at him, somewhat startled.  “I was just trying to help.”  Her voice quickly turned to a dejected tone, and her bottom lip started to quiver.  “I’m sorry if I’m a little too forward, I just really liked what you did against Gregory, and thought that maybe we could team up in this match.  The others are talking about teaming up against you, so… so…” and at that her eyes started watering.

It took everything he had to not scoop her up into his arms and tell her that he was an idiot and was sorry for acting so irrationally,

(hello my peeps! how goes your day?  Hopefully your Sunday was wonderful, mine was.  A long day spent mostly writing and napping.  One of my writing buddies on NaNoWriMo.org (DnDgeekgirl) semi-challenged  me to a write-off today, and, me being the super-competitive macho man that I am had to accept.  The result? 5000 words written in a day.  Crazy, huh? I've now written enough words to be done with day 6, so I'm a few days ahead, but we'll see what the next few days hold in store for writing :).

Oh! I'm masterswordsmanlink on NaNoWriMo.org if you guys want to follow my progress.  It's pretty exciting.  I don't really have too many things set up for my novel, like a title, but you guys can recommend something if you'd like to (and even come up with a Title idea :) ).  Anyway, hope you enjoyed the read, and I'll try to see you guys tomorrow/later today :D Enjoy your Monday!)