This is a very long post. Please bear with me and try to have fun reading it. This is a retelling of the Arcane Adventures storyline and will take itself very slowly. All of this one chapter covers Newground Island in its entirety.
He woke up on an island in the middle of nowhere.
Or, at the very least, that’s what he would’ve assumed. He wasn’t actually sure where “here” was. For all he knew or cared, it was the middle of nowhere. In fact…he didn’t know anything. Not his whereabouts, not the situation, and not his name.
That dawned on him for a second–he didn’t know his own name. In fact, he didn’t remember anything before the last twelve seconds. Panic began to set in. He knew nothing and was in the middle of nowhere, probably, maybe, he wasn’t sure.
Behind him, he heard a sound. A faint humming that grew louder, and accompanying it the smell of brimstone and the sound of a bonfire. Turning around, he saw a mote of flame hurtling in his direction. Without enough time to react, the flame struck him in the chest, searing him as he cried out in pain.
He looked down at the wound. It had left the impact point on his skin a tanned brown, and left a hole in his shirt. He didn’t feel any great attachment to his shirt, but he didn’t have time to care about that, as he was still reeling from the pain and exhaustion that the fire blast evoked within him. He heard the humming sound again, and knowing what to expect he ducked behind a nearby boulder, about 4 or 5 feet tall, and watched as a second blast of fire collided with the rock, sending a few pieces of it flying in random directions.
That fire…as he looked at it, something about it seemed inherently terrifying, but also in a strange way, comforting. Not in the sense that a hearth provides warmth and protection from the cold for a household, no, something more familiar…as though it were a relative or an old friend he was visiting after years and years of not keeping in touch. It did not invoke memories of his past, whatever that could be, but…he figured if there was something, anything that could get him one step closer to finding that out, it was that flame. He wanted it. He had to have that flame, even if it meant reaching his hand out into it and letting it sear his palm as it did his chest.
He blinked, snapping out of his stupor for a second. Trying to assess the situation rationally, he looked at the location that the flames were coming from. Their origin was a strange man on this island who looked to not be in his right mind. The man’s hair sported wild red and orange colors, and his face looked manic. For a moment, he wondered if he was just as crazy as the person he was ducking from.
Then the man’s eyes set on him, and that humming sound began again.
From the palm of the man’s extended arm sprouted a large red circle, maybe two, two and a half feet in diameter. In the middle of this ring was a strange symbol which bore a resemblance to a flame. Soon, a third flame jumped out of the ring, and the circle disappeared.
This time, however, he was ready. He ducked and rolled under the flame and started sprinting towards the insane man, minding to pick up a piece of loose rock from the boulder he had previously hidden behind. He threw it at the fire-thrower’s head and the man staggered.
This was the perfect window. He used the time that the man was thrown off-kilter by his rock throw, clenched his fists, and started punching the man’s stomach over and over. He felt the taste of blood in his mouth and he could feel his heartbeat in the tips of his fingers as he relentlessly struck the fire man, but his blood ran cold as the humming sound started again and he was met with a palm pointed at his face.
Blown back by the ensuing fiery explosion, he collapsed on his back and clutched at his face, wondering the reason for which he was to be subjected to this torment. He heard the humming sound again. He wasn’t ready. Another direct hit from a blast of flame and he would surely die.
Another blast of flame and…
That flame…
The fire that had mesmerized him earlier was to be the thing to kill him. He thought about this. He hated it. He hated it more than the idea of dying to anything else. He wished for the power to not die to this, to not die like this. He wished for a god or a devil or whatever outer being existed in this world to grant him that flame so that he may live.
Grant me power.
He stuck his own palm out to the man, just as the man did to him. He began to see the circle form a few inches away from his hand. He took every ounce of his willpower and forced it through his hand, and just as the man’s fire had begun to approach him, it was met with his own blast of flame. The man’s flame was engulfed and absorbed by his blast and was sent careening towards the man. Upon being struck, the man collapsed and did not move thereafter.
He saw the magic circle disappear before his eyes. He felt the thrill of owning the flame, having taken control of it. However, with this newfound control came a new sensation. He felt something just a few yards away–something overwhelming. He also felt about five or six much weaker presences on the island, though they were different. They did not have the flame. They had something else. This other guy, though–this overwhelming force–he had the flame. Maybe this guy had mastered it, and by comparison made him look like a fledgling. Though the force proved intimidating, he wandered the island and climbed on some rocks to approach the source of this unfathomable presence.
What he saw was an old man in some bright-colored orange heavy armor. He carried with him an orange staff, with a head that resembled wings in some way. The old man gave a friendly smile to him, as though he were expected, and invited him to sit at the campfire he had set up.
“Hello, young wizard. My name is Theos. What is your name?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“That’s fine if you don’t remember your name. A lot of people here don’t remember anything–morals, language, peace of mind…all of it is null.” He gestured to the fire wizard that was slain not two minutes ago. “In that sense, you are very lucky.”
“I’m…lucky?”
“To put it very frankly, young one, you are an astronomically rare wonder. Not only did you retain your memories, you also seem to have quickly awakened to magic. In fact, I sense a great deal of magical potential within you.”
“W-wait, hold on, this is a lot to take in. Magic? Is that what I’ve been doing?”
“Yes. Magic is an innate ability that you, I, and many others have. You and the poor wizard who lost his mind share Fire magic, but there are other kinds.”
There were a lot of questions spinning through his mind right now, but one question popped into the front of his mind. “What other kinds of magic are there?”
Theos stood up and tapped his staff to the grass below, and a wave of warm orange-and-white flames spread. He felt his wounds heal, and as he looked down he could see that they had.
“Why don’t you find out? Go fight against five more of the dangerous wizards populating this island, and return to me once you’ve defeated them.”
Figuring he wouldn’t get any answers as to what in the world that healing power was, he jumped down from the small rock platform he had met Theos on and started running. With the control over his magic, he was able to make quick work of five of the six other presences he felt on the island. As Theos had mentioned, these people had access to different kinds of magic. Some shot water, some threw blasts of air, another threw massive boulders. These were relatively simple. One woman caught him off guard with a blast of light that managed to hit him head-on–it was just too fast for him to react to it. Regardless, his magic was improving fast, and he also defeated her relatively easily.
He proudly marched back up to Theos.
“I beat them.”
“Good, good,” Theos nodded, “you’re already showing signs of improvement. I think I’d like to see where this potential takes you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Young wizard, I am on a quest to stop a dark wizard from terrorizing this world. As you are, you’re far too weak to defeat him, but perhaps if you trained much more, you could surpass me in strength, and possibly even him.”
Theos hands him a small knife. It has a white gem in the middle which quickly turns orange as soon as he holds it, likely a result of his magic.
“This will help you on your travels. I would like for you to get stronger in the First Sea for a little while, and then when you’re ready, I’ll tell you what to do from there. For now, I suggest you head north to Doom Island. You can take this rowboat.”
“You’re giving me a rowboat? How will you get off the island?”
Theos laughs. “I appreciate your concern, but I have my ways. Have you remembered your name yet?”
“No, I haven’t…”
“Maybe you can come up with your own name in the meantime, then, as a placeholder name.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Theos jumped upwards and sprouted wings made of the warm flames and flew off.
He thought about the idea of creating a name for himself. A name like Fire or Blaze sounded a little pretentious, because he wasn’t the only fire user. He tried to think of what kind of a name sounded normal, reaching into the void that was his memory to pull some kind of an cultural convention from his unconscious…
“Maybe…maybe…Arthur.”
As if that name had meant something to him, it immediately associated itself in his mind as his identity. He was Arthur now. Repeating the name to himself, it sounded odd. Where did it come from? Why did it stick so immediately?
He ignored these questions for now and hopped into the rowboat Theos had provided him. He wasn’t sure which way was north, but he figured a place named Doom Island looked rather gloomy. He looked around at the various shores, looking for a gloomy island. It did not take him long to find a tall island with clouds looming over it and pillars jutting out of the ocean nearby.
“That must be Doom Island.”
Awkwardly rowing the boat in the direction of the island, he set out northward.