Chapter 1 - Battle Royale
Walking into the coliseum got me...queasy, for lack of a better term. Like walking into a situation where you
just know, somehow, some way, something terrible is about to happen. Like Buckner walking into Shea, as the Americans would say. Call it a premonition; I'm no prophet, I just play video games and forum mafia, am I really that suspicious?
Alright, maybe I know a little bit more than I'm letting on. Sue me.
As I entered the inner combatant circle, 11 others were already waiting there. One of them immediately caught my eye; he looked eerily like Solid Snake from Metal Gear Solid. His mannerisms didn't quite fit the bill, but that was to be expected; after all, Solid Snake is made up of polygons. Isn't that right?
"Snake" looked at me and tutted, then continued smoking his already lit cigarette. No surprises there. He was in the dark about the situation, just like everyone else. Warped here by some peculiar blue portal for reasons by which we
should all be unfamiliar.
The coliseum was par the course: archaic and large, certainly not built in a day. An exact replica of Rome's, except the inner circle has been cleaned out; the footing was much more pleasant than modern day as it was mostly dirt and some sand, and there were no obstructions. Aside from that, the only thing notable, as well as the only thing catering to our vision, was a
mysterious blue light directly above the coliseum's center.
How enigmatic.
Suddenly, a familiar voice,
his voice, rang out.
"Greetings, chosen 12! I see you have all finally arrived. I am Ramuh, God of Thunder."
Right on schedule, the proclaimed god of thunder abruptly manifested in the blue night sky and "graced us" with his presence. I mean, sure, there were some minor differences here and there; I can't say I expected
this many residents of NZone castle, but it all felt the same. I appreciate the different spices of life.
I'll skip the drama; thunder goose is going to tell us that we've all been invited to compete with each other to attain the ultimate prize. He claims that this is a ritual that occurs every thousand years or so. Sounds like hogwash, right? Doesn't matter what it sounds like though. What matters is that the geezer is
presumably our only way back home and that we must fight to the very end.
Or so he thinks.
You're fun to talk to. Maybe I'll let you in on a little something as the fighting goes on.