<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/11/a8/7d/11a87dba26f5bb5e6f09f355259e2bc1.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Name:</strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;">Shiloh Tien</span> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=332525.msg15850549#msg15850549)<br/><strong>Tier:</strong> Green<br/><strong>Level:</strong> 1<br/><strong>Job Class:</strong> Archer<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong> Day 1, Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Kraven's Arena (Backstage &gt; Stage)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Professor Bart Lavoisier<br/><strong>Mentioned:</strong> General Ralot, Sir Ingus</span><br/><hr/><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;">When the wish was made, the warriors of Oliarin became old, and the city became filled with the elderly. First, from the warriors themselves but soon of others, whose families had become tired of caring for them. Centuries past, and the aged warriors died and with them, a violent history. But the elderly kept arriving on Oliarin’s shores. They were Oliarin’s burden; where to put old souls but on a isle rife with them. And with these new aged residents came <em>different</em> stories. Not of thunderous ships, or conquering quests, or of tribal rituals of the past, but of other places. Stories of <em>their</em> homes, of <em>their</em> youths, of peculiarities and wonders <em>beyond</em> Oliarin.<br/><br/>And so Shiloh had heard of many things, even of Caerduja itself. Wild, afternoon tea time tales of its grandeur and of its wealth. How, unlike Oliarin, Caerduja wanted for nothing. It <em>reeked</em> of abundance and marvel and power. But even when Shiloh was told stories of its violence, she was hesitant to believe them. Because, on Oliarin, death was always <em>peaceful</em> because violence did not exist. Violence for violence’s sake was taboo. Violence for violence’s sake broke things, and hurt others.<br/><br/>And so when Shiloh watched the opening match between General Ralot and Sir Ingus, and saw the sheer power, and destruction and inequality displayed before her, she was… <em>thrilled</em>, in a way. Violence could not exist back home in Oliarin, but here, in Caerduja, in Kraven’s Grand Tournament, violence was not only welcomed but <em>applauded</em>. It was... impossible to look away from because it was forbidden. Had she really just observed a kind of magic that not only rot the earth, but incinerated a champion out of thin air and caused feral dragons to tear each other apart? Violence for glory, that was what this was.<br/><br/><em>Oh dear.</em> She supposed that if <em>someone</em> from Oliarin was to take part in any violence of this measure it would be her. It would be Shiloh. Young, agile, and quiet Shiloh, who was <em>from</em> Oliarin but not quite <em>of</em> Oliarin. But was that the point of this tournament? To kill any foreigners for fun, for shock and awe? To make others like her <em>prey</em> for <em>entertainment</em>? Because, in her mind, a place like Caerduja had not a thing to prove. It was already full, and overflowing. It just… was so marvelous and so wasteful at the same time. Perhaps… rather than claiming victory for Oliarin, she should have merely hoped to return home at all.<br/><br/>Because, here and now… Well, what was Shiloh to do? She missed Oliarin, but it was shameful and disappointing to return to her home without even <em>trying</em> to win. But the only way to win was with <em>violence</em>. And by acting with violence in the tournament, she would bring pieces of that violence back to Oliarin. So… she had to be careful. There… had to be a way somehow, a balance of some kind. It was a mistake to make wishes. But, she did <em>wish</em> that the warriors of Oliarin's past were remembered. That their dreadful skills weren’t lost to the minds of the old and the dead. That she knew of them, that she could have used them to guide her.   Because now... Well, if nothing else then perhaps her few moments in this violent game would bring enough attention to Oliarin that more Caerdujan’s would visit during vacation season. There was always a silver lining. “I suppose asking whether you <em>enjoyed</em> watching a competitor being burnt into his own nonexistence is a weird question…” the young, Caerdujan janitor gave her a judgemental frown before continuing to clean the floor and leave her in to her many thoughts the archway backstage. “Alright, I see…” Shiloh mused to herself as she watched different, wondrous magical users finish restoring the ring. Her match-up was moments away, and surely would appear quite boring after General Ralot had literally brought hellfire into the midday-sky. <br/><br/>Not that… The tall, grey haired woman sighed softly. Shiloh would just be pleased if she <em>hit</em> any targets. Start simple, don’t overthink things. Her gloved hands curled around the dark framing of her new, skeletal bow. She’d barely gotten a chance to test it out yet. She hoped that… well, that any of this wasn’t a mistake.<br/><br/>But the young girl from the meek Elderly City had little time to ponder. The tournament’s announcer was almost too loud. <em>Professor... Bart Lavoisier. They said he fought with… Science. What did that mean?   Science? His 'science' certainly made a lot of noise too. He would never be able to sneak up and kill a beast with such loud... science.</em> As she entered the arena, through the immaculate archway she had been waiting in, the first thing Shiloh noticed was how bright it was. From the stands, it hadn’t seemed that way. But now… Her tall, black boots made little to no sound as she weaved and stood on one side of the arena's stage, about thirty paces from her competitor. Her weapon, a <em>true</em> weapon, required… distance. “Oh.” Shiloh gave a sudden sweeping bow, in equal measure to both Caerduja’s announcer and the Professor Lavoisier. Her bow was so low and humble that the too bright sunlight caught the crown braid and lavender ribbons at the top of her head. No matter what occurred in the next few minutes, she would <em>always</em> be gracious and respectful. She may not have understood Caerduja and it's violence for glory, but they deserved her gratitude all the same. At least was given a chance to win. “I am an archer, from Oliarin, the Elderly City.”<br/><br/>But the problem still remained of who her competitor was. The archer kept her grey head low, her dark purple eyes lowered, and her dark embroidered cape close to her pale ears. On Oliarin, there were <em>beasts</em>. It was easy to observe how a beast moved, how it evaded, how it… made decisions when it was threatened. How it used its hooves, and horns, and teeth. Science. Professor Lavoisier used science. How did this science serve him? Those dark googles seemed like… quite the hindrance. And his beginning stance was so... angry.<br/><br/>The word ‘begin!’ had barely left the announcers lips before Shiloh gracefully dove forward, somersaulting forwards onto her feet in a low crouch, and fired a clean, black arrow from the center string of her skeletal bow (Attack). The shot was <em>incredibly</em> fast and silent, a finesse that was almost… <em>enchanting</em>. She aimed upward, to Professor Lavoisier's right shoulder. All creatures needed their limbs, in some capacity, and Shiloh, though soft and admittedly terrible at introducing herself, was <em>not</em> a fool. A shot like this, if it hit, would hurt. And if it happen to miss, it would give her a glimpse of her how the Professor Lavoisier fought. Would a man who used ‘science’ as a weapon evade her arrow? Or strike back? Or use some of that unbelievable, fascinating Caerdujan magic in ways Shiloh had yet to see?<br/><br/>Shiloh’s first shot was not a shot to kill. It was a shot to <em>learn</em>.</span><br/><br/><hr/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Tier:</strong> Green</span></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Level:</strong> 1/10</span></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>HP:</strong> 14        <strong>MP:</strong> 9</span></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>PA:</strong> 13        <strong>PD:</strong></span> 11</td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>MA:</strong> 9         <strong>MD:</strong> 8</span></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Luck:</strong> 0</span></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>XP:</strong> 0/10</span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Word Count:</strong> 1, 261</span></td></tr></tbody></table>