We are not lovers

We are not romantics

We are here to serve

– “Down in the Park” Gary Numan

Though most of the employees at the Central Bank of Chicago tended to be abrupt, Brother Roger knew that if you wanted anything from them you had to show them a bit of respect if you wanted anything. Navigating through the maze of offices he found what he was looking for, the offices that regulated the wagers from the official mage duels.

After exchanging pleasantries with the receptionist she squeezed him in for an appointment that day. She was nice enough, her short brown hair and deep green eyes matched her conservative flower print dress.

Her sunglasses were big enough to cover most of her face. Brother Roger mentally told Mockingbird that people typically wore glasses because they had something to hide. He told himself that if he was at least 10 years younger he would have asked her out.

Mockingbird acknowledged his comment with a chirp. As Roger waited to talk to someone from the Department of Stakes and Wagers he played with his red tie. Mockingbird ignored his fiddling and discovered the drinking fountain made a great bird bath.

A portly man in a silver plastic suit opened a door and greeted Brother Roger with a hardy handshake. The man’s eyes matched his smile.

“Greetings I’m Director Chip Karas, head of this department,” he said with pleasantly. “According to my secretary you ordered requisition for the full contents of your last wagered battle?”

“Yes, sir,” being as polite as he could. “You see I feel that there is something that I missed when I last fought. Also, I want to view the fight from my opponent’s point of view as well.”

“As you may well know, we can provide this to you for free. The only thing we can’t provide is mental communication between your opponent and their battle avatar.”

“That’s quite all right, sir. Anything would be helpful for my investigation,” Brother Roger asked.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow and leaned forward to listen. The man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver cylinder tube.

“Inside the contents of the vial is a glass-like crystal. Crush it and feed it to your battle avatar. You will be able to view the battle from any perspective you wish. You can go back and revisit it as many times as you want,” the man said while giving Brother Roger the crystal from inside the tube.

After he took the crystal, Roger shook the man’s hand and quickly left.

He made his way back to his two-story cobblestone house. He snapped his fingers and the window shutters slammed shut. The doors locked and mockingbird flew to the table and turned bright blue. Once Brother Roger sat down and loosened his tie he pulled out the small silver vial. He opened the vial and poured the contents on the table. He made a mental note that crystal resembled a plastic Christmas decoration.

“What’s Christmas?” asked mockingbird.

Brother Roger looked at his battle avatar confused and then laughed.

“You don’t know about Christmas?” asked Brother Roger.

“You never let me out when you are in the earth-realm, I only know what you tell me,” mockingbird said in excitement.

“I’ll explain Christmas to you later. First, we got work to do,” he said.

“Right!” mockingbird said happily.

Roger began to crush the crystal into a fine powder, while the bird began to peck at the dust. Mockingbird began to glow white as it consumed the crystal.

“Ok, for this I want you to combine all your recorded memories of the event, starting from the time I arrived. I also want you to include the crystal memory and what was broadcast on astral television. I want the auditory commentary into as well. Every once in a while the announcers say something useful. Be prepared to take notes as well, I don’t want to have to revisit this memory unless I have to.” He said to his battle avatar.

“How far should we go back?” asked Mockingbird.

“One hour before the duel,” Roger answered. “Just in case we might have missed anything.”

Both mockingbird and Brother Roger glowed as he closed his eyes tapping into the combined memories of his battle with the witch known as Baba Yaga.

***

Inside the warm inviting Church, Brother Roger walked past the pews and into the office of The Deacon.

“Brother Roger!” exclaimed The Deacon who was talking with a few of the Church’s laity. “Would you please knock, before coming in?”

“Sorry, Deacon, I know it’s a bad habit of mine. It won’t happen again,” Brother Roger said.

Both of them knew he would forget an hour later, and was the only person who was allowed to continue to get away with continually doing it.

“I bring you news that I am going to be fighting in a scheduled match within the hour.”

“With who my brother?” asked The Deacon.

“Someone called Baba Yaga,” he responded cautiously.

Brother Roger noticed the concern in his friend’s eyes, even from behind the mask.

“She is the current leader of the guild that calls themselves ‘House of The One God’,” replied The Deacon. “If I’m not mistaken the House was formally known as the ‘Kids In America’.”

He did little to hide his unease. The other two people in the room began to fidget nervously.

“Are they a new Christian guild?” asked Brother Roger.

((Brother Roger - If we only knew the truth back then.))

“They are anything but. They call themselves House of the One God because that’s how they seem themselves, future gods,” The Deacon said pausing. “They use magic to subjugate and belittle their opponents, and see magic as a path to command the Heavens instead of being one with it. They don’t care who they work with or who gets stepped on towards that path.”

“Are they worse than the devil worshipers from the Church of the Black Sun or Pit Lords?” asked Brother Roger.

“Worse. Instead of seeking power from a demon or fallen angel, they seek to worship themselves. There are devils you know, and they are the devils you don’t know. If you are fighting their guild leader, please be careful. Do not, under any circumstances, trust them. When is your match?”

“Less than an hour,” he replied.

“I beg you, before you fight her, contact Knight Bekan. He’s the guild leader from the Crusaders of the Amber Cloth.”

“Ok, I’ll try to see him if I can,” Brother Roger said, as he turned around to leave.

*paused*

((Mockingbird – you never did explain who they are.

Brother Roger - *sighs* they are a militant Christian group that if a religious war started up again, they would be on the front lines. Unfortunately, they tend to be bullies rather than real allies.

Mockingbird – we never did visit them, did we?

Brother Roger – No, if it wasn’t for my sister showing me what they really about, I would have become a member. So, I’d rather avoid them if I can help it. Fast forward this till we get to the Judge’s Hall.))

Inside the Judges, cavernous hall scores of combatants were going from station to station. People were talking among themselves. Others were showing off their battle avatars to the friends, and still, others were waiting for their fights to take place.

A gaggle of young preteen-looking mages in long flowing robes push by Brother Roger. The silver crests on their cloaks suggested they were from the Quartz School of Magic and Witchcraft.

“Sorry,” said one of the witches wearing horned rimmed glasses.

He told Mockingbird before it could ask, that guild tended to concentrate on role-playing, playing wizard games and Astral Politics rather than competing in mage duels.

“It seems like the Astral Fight Club has something for everyone,” replied mockingbird.

Brother Roger didn’t reply because he was already at the Judges booth having his items inspected. The Judge looked at his book of hymns, his Holy Bible, and old 1950’s style fountain pen.

((Brother Roger – I didn’t realize how many information brokers standing around being obvious in the early days.

Mockingbird – How many of them do you think were from the House of the One God? Brother Roger – I don’t see Whippoorwill, their chief researcher, anywhere. This is unusual.))

// Announcer 1 - Greetings and salutations fellow lookie-loos and naughty little voyeurs. This planned match-up has been brought to you by T-Tex Trading House the maker of the finest magical arms and armor in Astral Chicago. The current combatants are an Old Russian Witch named Baba Yaga from The House of the One God versus the chief healer from the Holy Faith Walkers named Brother Roger.

Announcer 2 -It appears that Baba Yaga has opted for a private screening of her magic items.

Announcer 1 - Right you are Ken, they only thing not private about her, is her smell. Oh look, the old geezers, correction Judges, are now ready to randomly assign the arena.//

((Brother Roger – Pause for a moment. Pull up the magic inventory she submitted.

Mockingbird – The items are as follows:

Battle Avatar: African-Carrion Vulture

Magical items:

Caldron – Speeds up casting time on spells (Level 1), reduces costs of ingredients (Level 0), size shifting (Level 0), called (Level 0) Contract of the Lich – When a contract is signed, the player loses ½ of current HP. Once activated player’s HP can’t be reduced to zero unless they are attacked a certain way. If a player is attacked the special way, they instantly die. The special way would be written in the contract and had to be within the ability of the opponent. (Level 1) Knotted Broom – Allows for flight (Level 0) Three gem slots (Level 1), current gems: Red gem - x2 damage Red gem – x2 damage Yellow gem – x2 to speed of casting

***End of Post Game equipment report***

When the match started the two combatants found themselves fighting in at the DT – Office Park Arena. Brother Rogers was standing on top of the multi-story parking garage while Baba Yaga was inside the cafeteria of a nearby office building. The old witch pulled out her contract and quickly filled it out. She stopped at the part where she had to sign her name.

((Brother Roger paused the fight and examined the contract: Your demise will be instantaneous upon having an eye pecked out by a bird.))

The old witch concealed the contract under her sleeve and pulled out her iron caldron. She tossed the black caldron to the linoleum floor of the cafeteria. It expanded and she jumped inside. She then used her broom and raised it high into the air, bristles facing up.

Arcs of white electricity began to build at the tip of her broom, and with a thunderous boom a lightning bolt shot from her broom and shattered windows and nearby furniture. She cackled as her vulture took the flight out of the building. She took out a few black ingredients from her now expanded caldron and sprinkled them on the floor. She then carved a glowing mystic rune next to the discarded ingredients. It glowed brightly and suddenly faded away.

The old Witch jumped in her caldron and it whooshed into the air.

//Announcer 1 - the rushing Russian is up to some major mojo and wicked wizardry.

Announcer 2 - Now, let’s see what the overpowered healer Mr. Rogers is doing in his neighborhood.//

The observing Brother Rogers told mockingbird to keep him permanently locked on to Baba Yaga’s location. He knew at this point of the fight his former self-was channeling energy to create a white aura around him, which reduced all damage in half. Roger and mockingbird began singing a hymn to help fuel his spell casting.

Any mage, wizard, witch , and spell caster worth their salt knew that music helped power up all spells.

His book of hymns opened up to an old song called Downtown, by Petula Clark. It wasn’t a religious hymn, but it worked well enough for the downtown arena location. His book of hymns not only granted him a bonus to all light spells, it also doubled the effect of any song that he sang.

After Brother Rogers finished the hymn and casting five spells on himself and his battle avatar, he and mockingbird went to search for the source of the explosion. Overhead he observed a vulture flying into the clouds overhead.

Baba Yaga flew to the second location and paused only to perform her curious ritual. Again, she pulled out herbs and tossed them on the ground and carved a rune on the ground. She then aimed her broom towards the office building.

An electric charge built up as it blew out the nearby windows of the office building. Before she could take flight a second time, Brother Rogers jumped out of three story window. His eyes were ablaze with white flame as he narrowed the distance between them.

(Translated from her black tongue) “How did he get here so quickly?” asked Baba Yaga to no one in particular.

She had just enough time to jump out of her cauldron and tumble onto the hard concrete. Brother Roger’s sword hit the caldron with a loud twang as he recovered him his landing. He charged the old witch as she was just getting to her feet. Like a righteous bolt from the Heavens, he swung his sword nearly taking off her head.

She raised her magic broom blocking the attack, preventing her decapitation. The resulting attack knocked her back to the ground, for the second time. Brother Roger gripped the hilt with both hands and thrust his sword aiming towards her chest. The witch stopped the attack with bristles of her broom.

“Vedima koshmar!” she chanted six times in rapid secession.

((Mockingbird – Vedima koshmar is Russian for “witch nightmare”.

Brother Roger – I was just about to ask you if you ever translated what she said, way to be on top of things!))

Orange electricity built up around her broom, as Brother Roger was thrown into the air. The explosion threw Baba Yaga back 10 feet. With the aid of Mockingbird he managed to land on top of a nearby road sign. Perfectly balanced on the “one way” sign he had mockingbird tell him his current HP.

“Brother Roger: 752 / Baba Yaga: 727” replied mockingbird.

He jumped into the air and reduced his HP down another 50HP as his sword glowed white. Before she could react his sword hit her chest and carved a deep gash. She cackled as the Brother Roger began to pull his sword from her body.

He gazed into her yellow eyes as her body began to emit a buzzing sound. Her skin began to ripple. The witch exploded and Roger was showered with a thousand black flies. The flies buzzed in every direction as Brother Roger began to swing furiously at them.

// Announcer 1 - Looks like the Ditch Witch has given Holy Roller a close up of her fly.

Announcer 2 - He should have used Daniel-san’s chopsticks!

Announcer 1 - Right you are Ken, fortune cookie says “Don’t swallow when there is fly in the face". (Announcer 1 and 2 chuckles)//

Finally, he placed his hands together as if praying. A bright light exploded from all around him as the flies were suddenly dispersed from the light eruption.

Brother Roger was forced to spend a few minutes healing the damage he just sustained, thus bringing his HP total back up to 777. Mockingbird checked the score displayed on a blimp overhead “Baba Yaga HP 701”.

Baba Yaga took advantage of the distraction and moved to a third location. By the time Roger had finished healing, she was at the northeastern corner of the office building. Her carrion vulture was circling overhead providing protection, while she carved the strange rune on the ground.

((Brother Roger and mockingbird recorded the third location on their mental map.))

As the old witch jumped into her cauldron and flew off. Her fourth stop was near the edge of the arena inside a pay-per-hour parking lot. She soared over the metal barriers and landed next to a silver luxury car.

(Translated) “Remove that obstruction, my little darling,” ordered Baba Yaga.

The vulture dived down and flapped its wings and created a gust of the wind that blew the car out of the parking space. She then kneeled down and repeated the strange ritual.

(Translated) “Our prey is about 100 meters away and closing, quickly,” said the vulture.

(Translated) “We need to discover out how he’s moving so fast,” she told vulture.

Before vulture could acknowledge her, Brother Roger was once again upon her. His sword moving faster this time Vulture was forced to act as a body shield and protect its master. After a few swings of his sword, her battle avatar was reduced to a pile of feathers. Taking advantage of the melee, she jumped into her cauldron and took the sky.

Brother Roger ran after her as she threw lighting in her direction with her broom. The lightning bolts that didn’t miss him were absorbed by his glowing white aura. The combatants moved past the parking garage where Brother Roger first started. Rays of light and electricity ricocheted off each other’s wards and protective fields.

Baba Yaga flew into a power dive. She reached the southwestern corner of the parking lot. Her cauldron crashed into the grass and into the concrete. When she finally stopped tumbling Brother Roger was standing over her. His sword pointed at her head. She reached behind her back, but Roger moved so fast he was behind her, his sword pinned against her throat.

//Announcer 1 -Oh, looks like he’s going to finish this match!//

“Big mistake, my love,” she said with a slight Russian accent.

Before Brother Roger could respond and slice off her head, she began emitting a calming scent. She surrounded herself with shower of pink rose petals. It was divine, so horribly divine. He tried to look away but all his mental facilities failed him. He dropped his sword and took a step back trying to shake his mind free of the pheromone release.

She transformed herself into an innocent-looking 20-something farm girl with mousy-brown hair. Her clothes changed from tattered rags to a worn out overalls which hid her figure. Her image clasped her fingers together and looked at him with pleading eyes.

//Announcer 1 and 2 - *singing* the midwest farmer’s daughters really make you feel all right. //

In a thick mid-west accent, she was begging him to please talk to her father before he asked for her hand in marriage. Then she began to describe the big Church wedding she wanted. Brother Roger’s mind was focused on the image of them getting married.

//Announcer 1 and 2 - *singing* going to the chapel, and going to get married! //

As Roger wrestled with the dream, Baba Yaga completed the ritual. Instead of retreating she took her serrated dagger and cautiously approached Brother Roger.

“This is for Vulture!” she shouted stabbing him repeatedly in the throat.

The pheromone haze wore off as his mind was overcome with pain. His sense of hearing was the first to return as mockingbird was yelling something at him.

“Wake up and swing!” yelled mockingbird.

Still hazy Brother Roger he began swiping his sword wildly in every direction. The old witch nimbly jumped back only getting hit twice by the wild attacks. She was up in the air headed to the parking garage as his hand was pressed against his throat in an effort to stop the bleeding.

With his magic, he managed to stop the bleeding. He knew that he couldn’t restore all his HP loss because he lost too much blood, but he stopped the HP meter from going down any further.

The ghostly observer of Brother Roger and mockingbird began to follow the witch as she landed in between the parking garage and the office building. She pulled out her bloody dagger and wiped his blood on the contract. Thus the Contract of the Lich was sealed but in his name.

His HP meter on the blimp read – 228.

((Brother Roger – I thought my sudden HP loss was from a poisoned dagger or something similar, not that infernal contract.

Mockingbird – We were both outwitted))

When Roger finally came around the corner, the Old Russian Witch was there putting several dead birds inside her caldron.

“What was that poison you used on me!” yelled Brother Roger.

Baba Yaga stood there, looking slightly puzzled for a moment. Then she started to cackle as she realized he assumed the wrong thing. Still laughing she tapped her broom to the black caldron. A dozen or more skeleton-like hummingbirds flew out and towards Roger.

At their current speed, he danced away from them with ease. The birds changed direction in midflight. He jumped on the side of the, only managing to get hit by three of them. Their beaks began to dig into his flesh of his hands and legs where they hit. The undead birds matched his speed and sudden direction change. They attacked him over and over, striking every exposed portion of his body.

Mockingbird did its best to tackle a few of the angry birds but had little effect on the overall swarm. It was at this point one of the birds managed to slam its beak into his right eye, thus winning the battle for Baba Yaga.

*paused*

((Mockingbird – how did they manage to keep up with us?

Brother Roger – there, my wee little friend *pointing to a torn coat pocket*))

Both of the ghostly watches moved closer to a frozen Roger. His still sword was in mid swing, striking a skeleton hummingbird. They peeked closely. On one inch, square of parchment was a strange symbol written in red ink or blood. He copied the symbol down and had mockingbird take a mental photograph of it for later research.

“How did that get there?” Roger asked to no one in particular. Mockingbird sat on his shoulder rubbing its chin with its wing. His mind tried to recall if Baba Yaga maybe slipped it into his pocket when she was stabbing him in the neck.

“I got it!” exclaimed mockingbird “it was those brats from the Quartz School of Magic and Witchcraft.”

“Quickly, rewind to the Judge’s Hall,” he ordered.

When they replayed the scene, this time in slow motion, the younger female witch that bumped into him and apologized, slipped something into his pocket. Although her frame was smaller, her facial features resembled those of Whippoorwill. Her skinny face and glasses were distinctive, even through her disguise.

“So we were set-up from the beginning,” quietly said mockingbird.

“Yes, but why?” replied Brother Roger, both of them pondering the significance their discovery.