The Glim Spring

That One Night

Zan’s eyes widened as she sucked in a quick gasp of air. The glowing emerald platform under her feet gave way to her talons, small layers of the glowing stuff piling up around the claws like they were giving way to cold butter. Surprised by the odd consistency of moonlight-made-matter, her attention quickly readjusted as the platform pulsed and began to dissolve. A swift movement of leathery skin and feathers swooped in from the sky to catch the Wildcaller. Pterry, never too far from Zan’s side, snatched her up in his talons–talons which looked remarkably like those of his companion.

Light shifted and rippled in the water below. The glow from the Moonstone in the sky refracted and reflected to create a new set of platforms. Every other night of the year, this lightshow merely created a spectacle of dancing white lights above the water. A favored family attraction for local residents, the lights were no more solid nor dangerous than that of a glow of a dim Ethertech lantern. However, on the night of the Prismatic Glimmer, the geometric white holograms shifted to cool hues of green, blue, and violet and briefly solidified. The spectacle attracted viewers and would-be “Glim Springers” from across Anasta as it allowed one to hop between layers of solid light. More than a competitive game, the Glim Spring was ritualized combat. Cohorts came here to settle their differences while also lining their pockets. Spectators took part in the latter, too, as wagers were made on Springers and strategies, victors and vanquished. It was a night for the furious exchange of taunts, fists, and Moonshards. Less lethal than the Shinshar, the prestige of triumph was nearly so, albeit less permanent.

The crested eaglon carefully placed Zan on a nearby platform that had materialized. She looked to a platform below where Anryo and Vaspur were attempting to drive Jaiden Wallow and Gorlon of the Bonespikes into the water. A trio of the Obsidian Royalty were slightly above and behind them on another platform. Each Cohort claimed the spoils extracted from the ruins of the Tower of Storms, an ancient Archon lighthouse on the Western Shore. Having reached its control room at the same time, the Cohorts nearly threw each other off the remains of the Tower when the Tower itself entered the fray. All came to the swift realization there was no way to enjoy the power they had found while being dead. With the Glim Spring only a week away, the three Cohorts decided that the matter would be decided then.

Only one member of a Cohort needed to be left standing for them to take the prize–a dozen Moonshards and a Class 3 Relic with the power to shape water. Not to mention bragging rights over the next year which would lead to more work. Should she leap down from above onto the Bonespikes or Obs and knock them off? Or bide her time and continue to platform hop, just in case Anryo and Vaspur dropped off? Hmmm…why not a little of both?

“Pterry, can you lend them a hand…err…wing?”

With the distinctive bellowing chirp of the eaglon, Pterry dove down to strafe the Obs. Their attention fixed on the battle below, they turned their heads up in confusion. The talons that had just saved Zan now picked up “Prince” Tyro and dropped him into the lake.

“Damn Wildcaller!” shouted Dar “The Duke”. He reached for the dark metal amulet hanging from his neck, the Moon Relic embedded within glowing a deep sapphire blue. Iron cuffs with heavy weights and chains appeared around the legs of the crested eaglon, dropping him into the water.

“Pterry!” cried Zan.

In the commotion, the Setting Sun found their opportunity. Anryo swung his sword, the Etheric flames licking the Bonespikes. Jaiden and Gorlon took a step back, but braced themselves before stepping completely off the platform. They turned to look up at Vaspur, his reptilian mouth turned up in a smirk. They knew what was coming. A golden blast of Solaric lightning flashed and thundered, the plasmas searing the Bonespikes across their chest and fully knocking them off the platform.

Anryo let out an unsettling laugh, and Vaspur thought he could hear a slight amount of disappointment in the timbre of his life-long friend’s voice. He was used to the uncanny effects of being around the Impish heritage of his Chimera friend, and he was pretty sure Anryo wanted to prolong the combat. It didn’t last long, though, as their attention moved to the remaining pair of Obsidian Royalty. They saw Zan leap to a nearby platform, still above the scene. The old friends smiled as they jumped to the platform closest to the Obs. Their smiles turned to fear and frustration when the platform began to dissolve while they were still in mid-leap. Anryo let out a howl that sent shivers down the spines of nearby spectators.

Pterry underwater, Anryo and Vaspur in the lake, Zan felt the seriousness of her situation. It was just her and the pair of Obsidian Royalty. “Well,” she thought, “the time to fight fair has ended.” She called upon the deep bond to the crested eaglon that lived in her blood. She brought arms in tight, as if embracing herself. With a sudden snap, what were her arms flew out wide as a pair of leathery, feathered wings.

“Let’s go, Springers…”