Tales of Cadence

[squidmaster64]

O-Oh dear... Well, the fact that Stephen didn't really shoot himself makes me feel that he has at least a little brain in his head. That's good.

Poor Felix. He's really growing on me. 8)

...Is it a fad to post a link and a huge over-the-banner-limit logo in sigs? These make about the fourth or fifth ones I've seen so far. (Edit: It's not a bad thing. ^^; Sorry if it sounded like that.)
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Primary Avatar Excellence Theorem: if one has an amazing icon, then it was made by Roadie.
(Clearly, my current is not amazing. :( )

[Fernard]

fad-break, my sig is small :3

Anywho, liked the oneshot and the skit. And then laughed quietly to myself as nobody noticed the new collab skit.
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Count Sophie von Pamcakes says:

"Nyahahah! Visit Angelglory's YouTube Channel!"

[Konn]

[Desmond the Patient]

[Calyptos_Blade]

Hi Guys! I've been doing some experimentation with stuff and I made some Cadence Fanart. Fanimation? Whatever.

Just wanted to share:

ZOMG! Stephen Blinks

Also, Cadence needs to be at the top of the forum since it's so awesome.
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Coming Soon to a Forum near you!
Voice of Caleb and Carin Walden in Tales of the One Heart
Caleb avatar by the wonderful yoru~no~angel; Logo/Sig by the Amazing chocobit

[Roadie]

Kevvie: You are special! I finally got Fuuka on my team, btw.

TKNO:

Zan: Perfect Fit for the NES? *shot*

Blade: Ooh, that's so cool! 8D Great choice of music, too. <3 Neat fanimation!

Here’s this week’s crapter...I mean, chapter. Horrible fight scenes are horrible.


Chapter XXXI


“Well,” Elsynne turned and glanced at Raven with an awkward smile, hugging her towel close to her chest, “good luck!”

“Peh,” he muttered a reply before slinging his own towel over his shoulder, walking uneasily down the long, dusty hallway beside the front counter. The man who had taken their money and given them admittance into the springs watched the two warily—he was probably expecting foul play from a suspicious-looking Raven—as they disappeared into their respective hot spring chambers.

Once the Penna man was out of sight, Raven dropped his towel in the otherwise empty hall and broke into a run. He passed through an uncomfortably warm changing room—to his relief, there didn’t seem to be anyone else inside—and entered the hot, sweltering spring. Steam rose from a small pool in the center of the space, which was surrounded by thick, tan walls; the craggy, rocky hillside hadn’t been covered over and was still visible from one side of the room. A chimney-like hole in the ceiling let some of the tepid steam out, keeping the area from becoming too muggy; he wondered briefly if a body could slide through it as well if they climbed on the roof.

Raven rubbed the back of his dampening neck, silently wishing that he had brought the towel with him. Ilia had been right; it was hotter in the spring than it was outside. The air was thick and stifling—he had been hoping that, for some reason, it might be just a little cooler.

‘I might as well start looking,’ he thought, stepping to the side of the pool. Steam collected and condensed on his clothes, but the water only made him feel even more uncomfortable. He bit back a curse as he circled the spring; it figured that Skylar would give him the worst job in the search. He could imagine the elf now, a mirthful and haughty smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

For a while he walked by the jagged hill in silence, pressing his hand against the rough rocks. Raven tried ignoring the heat, almost hoping he would get used to it. The humidity was intolerable; his clothing clung to his skin and his damp hair hung loosely at the sides of his face. It was almost unbearable and only made him angrier.

“Damn it! There’s nothing here!” he cursed loudly, kicking the hillside. A few rocks fell loose and scattered on the ground.

Raven fumed quietly for a moment, forcing himself to take deep breaths of the heavy air. The soft, soothing babble of hot water flowing from a small waterfall in the side of the rocky hill helped to calm his nerves, if only a little.

‘All right...where would the Spirit be?’ he asked himself, hoping to attack the situation with a clearer mindset. He looked carefully over each stony inch of the hillside, his dark eyes strained for unusual inconsistencies. He approached the wall, placing his hands on the uneven surface.

Raven was too concentrated on his task to notice how close he was to the hot spring pool. With a startled yelp he slipped to the side, hitting the warm water with a loud splash. He hung uselessly under the surface for a moment; it felt impossibly hot underwater, and his mind was too focused on the heat to think coherently. He pushed upward—his feet, to his relief, touched the bottom of the spring—and broke the surface, letting himself bob for a moment before trying to move to the edge of the pool.

A thick hand touched the back of his throat. Raven froze; he hadn’t heard anyone come in. Had someone entered while he was underwater? “Skylar? Stephen?”

No, he realized, the hand couldn’t have belonged to either of his companions. It felt rough, almost scalene, against his wet skin. His mind raced for a moment, going over a clumsy list of possible suspects, and he suddenly remembered.

“Arngon!” He blurted the name almost as soon as it came to mind. The hand tightened around his neck and pushed him under the steaming water, easily holding him down.

At first Raven fought to break loose, struggling against the strong grip of his assailant. The dragonling’s other hand clamped down around his shoulder, keeping him under the hot water. Raven hadn’t had a chance to breathe before he was forced under; his head was spinning, dizzy from the lack of precious oxygen. He felt his internal temperature quickly rising, and he could almost imagine himself being cooked alive. His mouth instinctively opened, gasping for air, but instead he inhaled liquid—his lungs burned painfully as a torrent of bubbles spun around his head.

A brilliant flash of light exploded overhead and the hand loosened its grip on his neck. For a second, Raven felt almost too weak to move; he was so lightheaded he could see splotches of dancing light in his bleary vision. He forced himself to push upward, coughing and sputtering as he surfaced, taking deep, heavy breaths as his slippery fingers grasped the edge of the pool. Never before had the stifling air been so welcome in his lungs.

“Raven!” A set of slim hands seized his and pulled him out of the water. His skin prickled and burned at the brief contact—he wasn’t surprised to see Elsynne’s concerned face when he looked up. “Are you all right? I came when I heard you fall in the pool—I saw Arngon behind you when I peeked in. There’s a kind of small peephole in the wall, you see, I think someone made it before we came here,” she explained breathlessly, quickly brushing thick hair from her face.

Raven blinked several times, still trying to make sense of where he was; his mind was still swimming, as if the water he had inhaled went to his head. He heard a growl and saw Reo, now a full-fledged beast, stalking the dragonling only a few paces away. Part of Arngon’s arm was burned from the light magic Elsynne had used earlier.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Raven muttered hoarsely, pushing himself shakily to his feet. He drew his sword as a roar escaped Arngon’s lips. The dragonling threw himself at Reo and the two wrestled, neither seeming to gain the upper hand until Arngon’s sharp claws scored the beast’s side. Reo rolled away, hissing fiercely, thorny white teeth bared.

Elsynne murmured something under her breath and another light spell erupted at Arngon’s chest. He grimaced and shuddered backward, his red eyes glowing as he turned on Raven and Elsynne.

Raven adjusted his grip on his sword, using it to parry the dragonling’s first attack. He dodged neatly and struck Arngon in the side, throwing him off balance. He waited for another light spell from Elsynne—he had seen her casting another one before he confronted Arngon—but it didn’t come fast enough. He ducked away from Arngon’s claws before a glyph stretched across the ground—he recognized the symbols from the attack she had used on his brother and the guards in Itona.

Tendrils of light shot up from the floor, wrapping around Arngon’s wrists and ankles. The dragonling looked surprised for a moment, but his face contorted with a mixture of fury and pain as he struggled against the impossible bonds. Raven threw the blade of his sword against the ground, creating another fissure of energy that traveled across the wood floor before exploding against Arngon’s immobile body.

There was a dull thud behind him and Raven spun around, not surprised to see Elsynne kneeling on the ground. She grasped her chest tightly with her free hand, her breathing labored—he quickly realized that her eyes weren’t as blank as they had been the first time he saw her use the spell.

She glanced up, noticing his startled expression. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice broken by her irregular breathing. “Hurry!”

Raven promptly turned back to Arngon, who appeared stunned after the glyphs finally wore off and the tendrils of light dissipated. A deep, broken growl emanated from the back of his throat and he knelt on all fours, digging his claws into the wooden floor.

“That’s all you can take? You’re one of the weakest dragonlings I’ve had to fight,” Raven taunted, smirking when he saw Arngon’s furious glare. He wondered why the dragonling didn’t bother to retort; in fact, Arngon hadn’t spoken throughout the entire fight. Raven suddenly doubted that he had ever heard him talk at all.

Elsynne opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a loud explosion from outside. Arngon abruptly froze, his hands still clenched against the ground, every muscle in his body tense. Raven paused, his sword positioned at his side.

Elsynne cringed back as the dragonling suddenly pushed them aside. There was a high-pitched screech, slightly deeper than the one Raven had heard on the train; he realized it was coming from Arngon. The dragonling drew back his thick fists and crashed through the suddenly flimsy-looking walls of the hot spring room, sending a shower of splinters across the floor.

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Ophelia’s fist hit Stephen’s stomach hard and fast, sending him flying back against the rock wall. The rough impact knocked the air from his lungs, stunning him for one valuable second as she rushed forward and pummeled him again.

Her knuckles struck him brutally in the abdomen; the pain was only intensified by the small torrent of black magic encircling her hand. Stephen heard his breath catch in his throat as he gasped, nearly choking on the dusty air. Ophelia drew back, hands still curled and eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Well?” she hissed, keeping an offensive stance. Stephen slouched a bit, still clutching his stomach; his body wasn’t used to black magic, and he felt the negative effects of the strange spells she had used to enhance her strength. His mind swirled chaotically, making coherent thought impossible.

His hand fell to the side, brushing against the holstered gun on his thigh. A single notion managed to push through the fog—‘The gun!’ Stephen’s hand tightened around the weapon and he drew it, disengaging the safety before aiming. The shape of the woman in front of him still spun for a moment before he blinked, finally managing to focus.

Ophelia paused, suddenly indecisive. She stared hopelessly at the barrel of the gun, then back up at his blue eyes. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Hm, strange...”

“What is?” He hoped she didn’t notice the faint tremor in his tone.

“You never struck me as the type to fire at people.”

A loud gunshot rang across the hillside, reverberating against the rocky walls. Ophelia let out a startled cry and shuddered backward, throwing her arms protectively over her face. A thin wisp of smoke emanated from the barrel of the gun, slithering upward before dissipating in the air.

Now it was Stephen’s turn to smirk as Ophelia looked at him through her interlaced fingers. “You were saying?” he murmured, giving her a seemingly effortless half-smile.

Ophelia unfolded herself, touching a new wound on her cheek where the bullet had grazed her fair, almost sickly skin. Stephen noticed the pale scarlet injuries on her arms; he wondered if Raven and Skylar had inflicted them in the fight before.

“I can’t...” she trailed off, her gaze unblinking as she brought her hand away from her face, frowning when she saw the smeared blood on her fingertips. She suddenly looked up and smiled confidently. “I’ll be sure to be more careful next time.”

Ophelia pulled back before throwing out her fist again, simultaneously chanting an incantation under her breath. Stephen fired another round of shots, purposely missing this time to distract her. The sharp cracks of the weapon threw her off balance—she stumbled to the side, her quiet chant instantly ruined. Stephen aimed again, keeping the barrel of the gun trained on non-lethal targets; her arms, her legs, her high shoulders.

She stopped again, carefully calculating a move before she struck him again. Stephen’s hand tightened on the trigger, awaiting her counter attack.

He waited a second too long.

“Spread!” Ophelia’s cry was almost drowned out by the roar of water. Stephen tried to jump to the side but was forced to a stop by the craggy wall behind him—a column of high-pressured water shot up, throwing him to the side. He rolled once as he hit the ground, pushing himself to his feet. This time he didn’t waver—he shot at Ophelia, watching with a twist of nausea as a bullet embedded itself in her upper arm.

Ophelia cried out painfully, her hand flying to her new wound as dark blood splattered against the pale rock. She cursed at him through gritted teeth, taking a deep breath before reassuming a fighting stance. Stephen drew back, holding up his gun again. He saw her hand twitch, reaching for a small bag at her hip.

Another gunshot echoed through the hillside, orange sparks flying up as the bullet hit a rock. Ophelia tried to dodge—even though it had only been a warning shot, obviously not intended to strike her—and tripped, stumbling over her feet in her haste to get away.

“Bastard,” she hissed, taking her hand away from the fresh gash on her arm. Crimson blood was smudged across her skin, a striking comparison to her pale complexion. Despite the injury Ophelia still seemed somewhat composed—Stephen wondered if her ability to manipulate black magic had anything to do with her apparent recovery.

Her hands suddenly clenched at her side—he hadn’t noticed her murmuring another incantation under her breath. Something—it felt almost like a rope—wrapped itself around his ankle, pulling him down. Stephen hit the ground with a thud, letting out a cry of surprise as his chin knocked against the hard rock.

Ophelia suddenly moved effortlessly as whatever had pulled him down disappeared—she grabbed him roughly by the arm, her nails digging deep into his skin. She tossed him aside and he rolled, helplessly, down the hillside. A painful groan escaped his lips when he landed on a small shelf several feet below; despite the short fall, his head and body ached, making movement difficult.

Ophelia slid smoothly down beside him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. She drew him close enough that he could see her arrogant sneer.

And suddenly, in that single moment, when her face was so close to his and every detail was clearly distinguishable, he knew. A name—one so weighed down by precious, bittersweet memories that he almost couldn’t bear to speak it—rushed past his lips before he could stop himself. “Dahlia!”

Ophelia’s grip slackened and she dropped him, her face etched with surprise. Stephen fell and hit the shelf again, gasping as the rock collapsed beneath his sudden weight and crumbled away. He slipped backward, skinning his exposed arms on the rocks before rolling down the knoll once more. He dropped to the sandy ground with a light moan, reaching up to hold his head, thankful that he hadn’t climbed far up the hill.

When Stephen finally looked up, he still saw Ophelia on the remaining section of the shelf, gazing at him with wide eyes. Neither spoke for several long, agonizingly silent minutes.

“Stephen!” Felix’s light voice shook him back to reality. The inventor rolled over stiffly and saw Ilia nearby, already casting a spell as Felix moved to his side and handed him a medicinal gummy. Stephen vaguely heard the eruption of magic on the hillside, accompanied by Ophelia’s startled cry.

“Here,” Felix muttered, thrusting the red sweet in his hands. Stephen swallowed it quickly, giving a relieved sigh as the ache in his muscles slowly diminished to a bearable throb. He pushed himself up, dusting sand from his clothing before cocking his gun. Skylar was at his side as well, drawing an arrow before loading it into the bow in his hands.

Ilia quickly unleashed another fiery spell as Ophelia danced neatly to the side, only lightly singed by the attack. At the same time the wall of the hot spring building behind them broke apart, pelting the ground with splinters of sharp wood.

“Arngon!” Ophelia held the fresh burn on her arm as the dragonling burst from the debris and rushed up the hillside, nimbly scaling the jagged rocks with surprising ease. He came to a halt beside his master, who was already forcing herself to move delicately down the narrow, winding trail Stephen had used earlier.

“Hey!” Raven and Elsynne stumbled from the wreckage, still grasping their weapons tightly in their white-knuckled hands.

“Went for a dip without us?” Skylar asked mockingly when he noticed Raven’s still-wet hair and clothes.

“The damn dragonling nearly drowned me!” Raven protested irritably, flicking the damp strands from his eyes.

“Really? So you let yourself be bested by someone like him?”

“Oh, for the love of-“

“Both of you, please!” Elsynne’s voice was desperate and pleading. Raven and Skylar both paused and turned; Ophelia stood shakily at the base of the hill, glaring rigidly at Stephen. He still held her unflinchingly at gunpoint.

“Stephen!” she hissed, dropping her hands at her sides.

He froze. The way she spoke his name—not as haughty as usual, only exasperated—suddenly sounded so familiar. The faint, feminine lilt of the tone tugged at the distant memories he had buried deep in the confines of his mind.

“Ophelia,” Stephen murmured, taking a cautious step forward, “we’ve never been properly introduced. How do you know my name?”

The woman moved away from him, her eyes widening slightly. “What do you mean? I obviously heard the others say it!”

“You called me by my name out on the plains when we first ‘met’. No one ever said it to you before then.”

Her breath hitched in her throat and she didn’t reply.

He took her boldly by the shoulders, shaking her gently. “You lived in Clayridge until seven years ago, didn’t you? Now I see...” he murmured, ignoring her surprised, almost subdued stare as he continued. “You’re Dahlia Baker...aren’t you?”
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[Calyptos_Blade]

DUN DUN DUUUUUNNN!

That's an awesome chapter! I also notice a distinct lack of hot springs shenanigans. ^_^b I'm impressed.

[KK Twain]

[squidmaster64]

Ooh~ I'm going to say something useful this time!

You have a talent for being able to not repeat words and make it sound natural--the descriptions of the heat were just amazing.

I love how Raven got some pain in the chap. <3 It made me grin. (But did I see Argon in there?)

The dialogue was particularly stunning during the battles. That's hard to pull off without breaking things down, honestly, but you're very good at keeping things going.

And the battle scenes were fine, IMO. Very, very fun. <3 The only thing I thought bogged you down was spending a little too much time commenting that Ophelia was combining black magic with her attacks and how that in particular was affecting Stephen; though I don't know how else you could have gotten it in there... Eh, don't mind me.

Stephen falling and being hurt is yes~ It's not that I don't like him--I like how you write how much pain they're in too much. Or I'm just a sadist, your choice. -.o Loved that instant he realized who Ophelia was. It was perfect in every way. <3

"The faint, feminine lilt of the tone tugged at the distant memories he had buried deep in the confines of his mind."--past "he", pretty rambly, but the first part of that sentence was amazing.

Wonderful ending~ <3 :)
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Primary Avatar Excellence Theorem: if one has an amazing icon, then it was made by Roadie.
(Clearly, my current is not amazing. :( )

[Sir Shrek]

DAHHH! I agree with everything sqiddy said, cuz' its true. </(-.o)\> The absence of hot spring misadventures is dissapointing; but if I known Midna- err, Roadie writing, you're gonna post an extended skit or somthing exclusively for flirty fun. I can't wait for more! The week long span between chapters always kills me in anticipation. Oh, and I love the Eris crossover skits too. They're fun.
~~~
Oh, remember, a looooooong time ago, I suggested some sort of thing I could write for ToC? Well, exams are over friday, so I *might* be able to get it up and running in a week or two. *Shot, stabbed, and SHOTA kicked for suggesting something like this*

I don't even know what 'SHOTA kick' means... >.<
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Credit to squidmaster64 for the fanbar.

[Zandra]

[TKNO]

PLOT TWIST!!! Except...I had already guessed it. Too bad. T.T

Anyways, I liked reading abit more about Arngon. It's so awesome how devoted he is to Maybe-Dahlia. *Is shot several times for being such a Dragonling fanboy*

Well, this chapter was just beyond the point of awesome! It was...Super-awesome! *Shot*
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Through the cracks in the hourglass spill the days of our lives.

Titles: None so far!

[squidmaster64]

Something about this "plot twist" is still bugging me. It's... too easy.
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Primary Avatar Excellence Theorem: if one has an amazing icon, then it was made by Roadie.
(Clearly, my current is not amazing. :( )

[Fernard]

Well, even if Ophelia is Dahlia, there' plenty of unexplained things about that. How'd she turn into a Dragonling, how'd she get out of the tower, etc.
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Count Sophie von Pamcakes says:

"Nyahahah! Visit Angelglory's YouTube Channel!"

[Toku]

Well, I wouldn't think about it that much if I were you, Squidy.

Anways, I'll try saying some non useless stuff so this post won't be a waste.

The fight scenes were fantastic. I liked how it was really fast paced and realistic. Magic casting is something really hard to depict in writing but you make it seem so real by describing the gaps it takes to cast and the description of the spell and whatnot.

Also, I feel really bad for Stephen now...Being forced to fight the one you used to love...Nice how you got my emotions involved too.

Cracker jack stuff, Roadie! But then it's expected. You're amazing after all.

Oh and btw, I think I saw Argon too...
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