Sverton perched himself on an outcropping on the far-western cliff below his feet. The waves lapping at the sheer rock face below, its lapping creating a gentle sound far below that echoed upwards, and provided the only sound to him. Behind him, the grass spread out over the land behind him. It was green, but it was brittle, as if it would shatter if someone were to tread upon it. The heavens above him were blanketed by thick grey clouds, which threatened to break and let their rain pour forth and consume the evening air.
Sverton looked out to the endless ocean ahead, wondering what was on the other side. When he first came here, he was told that he would remain on this island, or rather a region of several islands, as a champion to defeat the enemies of his patron. He wasn’t sure what that all meant, other than he had only one way off this land, and it wasn’t a boat. Sverton was apprehensive about being used as a pawn like this; he wasn’t sure what to make of being plucked from his own life… a life that was also plucked from him, to keep that from distracting him from his mission. However, they failed to pluck one very important thing from his own life: his own agenda.
Sverton remembers a few shards of his childhood, the same memories an adult like him would have looking back at the past, but after his 14th birthday, it was mostly blank. He’s certain that something happened on that day, something that was the first step to his growth into the man he was now. He remembers training, training for something coming. And then he remembers wandering the world, searching for something… searching for someone. Yes, someone dangerous, that needs to be terminated. He searched for this person for a long time, but never even got a clue to his whereabouts. Here though… he felt that perhaps an answer lied here, on this battlefield. Could the one he has searched so long for be here too? If he had even a chance to find what he was looking for, then he had all the reason he needed to fight.
Sverton undid a clasp at his neck and allowed his black robes to fall away, exposing the strange creature he was underneath. He had an appearance that would remind one of a tall humanoid metal construct. He had ornate bronze boots that fit so snugly with his almost stick-like legs that they could even be his feet themselves. A scarlet red robe covered much of his chest, abdomen, and part of his legs, leaving the question of what could be underneath forever ambiguous. Short, metal bat-like wings protruded from his back, too small to do anything but flutter as he walked. His arms were mostly plated with the same armor as his shoes, but ended in hands that were so rough that they almost looked scaly, a side-effect of his combative trade. Whatever his head looked like, who could tell? As it was hidden from the world by an ornate helmet that resembled a Medieval Knight’s helm with eye sockets that sometimes flickered purple, proving that he did indeed look out at the from within his shell of bronze armor. Sverton knew that the other fighters here, friend and foe, came from places where people like his didn’t even exist, so there was little point in trying to hide his true form. If anything, being so unusual, monstrous even, to his opponents would be an advantage.
Sverton cocked his head and heard the sound of footsteps breaking the grass behind him as they tread. He turned around, and lowered his head glaringly, realizing that he wasn’t alone anymore.
(one down, time to do the next one)