Tipping the Scale

Time of Growth (Part 1)

The classification of the Hûldralian people as either members of the magical races or a distinct branch within the human lineage has long been a contentious debate. With their unusual long life spans and tall statures, they share many traits with their neighbors of Neoire. However, unlike any other magical kin, they possess an exceptional affinity for magic—an aptitude so profound that they are rumored to be the progenitors of all magical abilities.

Accounts from visitors to their land describe the air to be filled with energy, not dissimilar to the static felt before a lightning storm. A peculiar phenomenon that exerts influence on the minds of those present, engendering a sense of invincibility and fostering the belief that anything is possible. 

Indeed, the Hûldralian people were capable of extraordinary feats transcending human imagination, ranging from bestowing immortality upon others to soul transmigration. Their arrogance was infamous, and their experiments gradually grew more audacious, unsettling, and dangerous. They regarded themselves as deities on earth, seldom questioning the morality of their actions but rather focusing on the realm of possibility. But their hubris led to their undoing.

In the year of Folcard's spring, a group of merchants discovered the aftermath. Cities filled with lifeless bodies and ruined structures, seemingly the result of a failed experiment that unleashed destruction.

To this day, the untouched remnants of their civilization endure, as none dare to expose themselves to the potent energy that brought down perhaps Asmeon's most illustrious people.

~ The History and Peoples of Magic by Sir Rainaldus Gale

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The cavern reverberated with the sound of wood hitting wood as Lidea and Firon exchanged strikes and parries. Firon had been her best sparring partner that day, but she quickly grew bored of his predictable reliance on sheer strength.

His power was formidable, but against a practiced fighter, it wasn't enough to win him the fight. After deflecting all of his attacks with ease, she had hoped he would recognize that he needed technique. Instead, he didn't seem to understand the reason he was losing and was just growing frustrated.

"I thought you were going to fight me! This isn't fighting!"

Lidea narrowed her eyes in irritation but refused to let herself get riled up. His anger was clouding his judgment, if he couldn't comprehend that fighting him straight on would be the worst option for her, due to their disparity in strength. Instead of wasting her breath, she ignored him. Leaving Firon to grow more enraged and tired while baiting her time.

"Watch out Firon!"

One of the bystanders tried to warn the giant but to no advance. The split second he had taken to catch his breath, had left himself open to attack and Lidea didn't hesitate, striking his shoulder with as much force as she could gather.

The attack hit the target, causing him to drop his practice sword. Seizing the advantage, she delivered a well-placed kick to his ribs, sending him sprawling to the sand. Gasping for air, Firon struggled to regain his composure, but Lidea showed no mercy, pressing her wooden stick against his back.

"How many times do I have to tell the lot of you to not let go of your bloody sword!"

With a gnarl of frustration, she pulled the sword back before looking over the line of men who had been watching their duel. By now she was convinced that it would be easier to teach a bunch of donkeys than them. Since she had taken over, she had intensified both their weapons and physical training but the simplest of rules did not seem to sink into their thick skulls. Even now most were rather amused by her anger, with only some feeling contrite enough to not meet her eyes.