#upcoming match graphics should be outlawed

[schadentekkers]

evolution of a tag

[mdownscomics]

Wormwood

Date: February 6, 2017

Name: Michael Downs

Class: IDS 3932-19H: Honors Writ & Illustrat Comics

Instructors: Professor Luria and Professor Lemeh

Blog Entry # __2__

Comic Illustration Title:     Amaranthine                  

 Discussion of/about concepts/ideas:

Here is the intro for my Character Wormwood, that I am developing for my graphic novel this semester about an urban fantasy hero story. This is a response to Story Form, Plot, and Structures writing exercise #2, The Bear at The Door, in which the character has an external problem, the problem is significant, the problem is pressing, and the problem forces the character to act. The character should have internal conflicts that affect their ability to deal with the problem. Wormwood uses she/they pronouns.

Wormwood - Intro

It was afternoon at Champion Hold, the most recognized gathering of heroes in the upper North American continent. A tranquil silence lay over the reinforced walls and grounds, only interrupted by the clashing of wood against wood in the courtyard.

"Again!"

Wormwood tensed her muscles as the boy in front of them charged ahead. He was holding a wooden sword, just like her, and his face was frowned into a mask of concentration. Wormwood could see his left arm rising in order to stab her in the side. She nimbly stepped out of the way and hit him on the side of his neck with her own blade, leaving a small scratch.

"Too slow. Wide open from your left. Again!"

The brown-haired boy turned back to them and lunged his weapon again, this time aiming for her arm. He was sloppy, her new trainee.

Wormwood had agreed to tutor the newest member of the Champions as a duelist as a favor for Hollow, the only Champion to best Wormwood in single combat yet, but from what she'd seen from him so far, he still had a very long way to go. She bit her lip as she saw the boy focus solely on her arm as he continued his attack, and yelled:

"Look at me!"

As Wormwood thought. He obeyed her command, lifting his head and looking them in the eyes, only to be thrown on the ground by a fierce kick of her well-trained legs. His head smacked against the rocky soil and the fall made him let go of his weapon, which landed a little to his left.

"Damn it!" he yelled, having realized he'd fallen for her trick.

"Get up. During battle never listen to an opponent. Again! Stand ready!"

The boy let out a tired sigh. He made no effort to lift his head from the stone and just closed his eyes, mumbling:

"It's no use. I can't beat you. Hell, I can't even put a scratch on you."

Wormwood frowned. She dropped her own wooden sword as well and walked toward her apprentice, placing her hand on her waist.

"Clove, open your eyes."

He groaned, but eventually did as he was told, after which that groan turned into a scream as he saw the very real sword swinging just an inch above his face.

"Lying down on the battlefield equals instant death. Do you realize that, Clove? Do you think real enemies will spare you because you've surrendered?"

"N­no, ma’am…"

"Do you think the monstrous creations of the Champions’ enemies will think twice about killing a harmless little boy?"

"No, ma’am."

"Then get up! Wormwood will let you go for today. Next time that you give up again, Wormwood will make you regret it. Am I clear?"

By now, most of the color had disappeared from his boyish face. He'd turned white as a sheet. Clove nodded, crouching away from them as far as he could as soon as she lifted the blade from his chin. With a single sweep, Wormwood let her rapier glide back into its sheath. She stood back up, pulling a strand of hair out of her face. Her eyes scanned the courtyard in which she had been sparring. It was small, and yet spacious enough for light training sessions. Large, glass windows gave sight of the main hall of the Champions, as well as some of the rooms behind it. All of it was governed by the Council, a collection of the strongest and wisest Champion heroes of the day. The entire building and everything that came with it. Buildings and land granted to the Champions from surrounding cities, where only those granted access had free reign. Wormwood had agreed to try living here after losing to Hollow the last spar she had. Wormwood’s rival believed wholeheartedly in the Champions.

Wormwood's attention was drawn by two figures behind the safety of the windows. It was women, more trainees, showing in the way which they were dressed. They had witnessed the sparring match and were now mumbling to each other, the sounds not passing the fragile glass. But Wormwood could read their lips, anyway.

"Look at her. One duel and suddenly she's master of the entire sector. She's always been arrogant, but that was nothing compared to how she's acting now."

"She defeated Bronze Lion in single combat. She has a right to be proud of her skill."

"Oh, but did she really? Only Hollow was witness to that fight. And Bronze Lion turned out to be a working with the Champion’s enemies, the Forsaken, as well. We all know how hard Wormwood strived to be like Bronze Lion­ don't you know that treachery is taught?"

Without realizing it, Wormwood had clutched her hands into fists. Blood started pounding in her ears as she witnessed the verbal assault on her and her found family. What right did those women have to question her honor, her loyalty? None, even though half of it was true. She saw Bronze Lion as a father figure, and he was a traitor­ he had undergone the biggest disgrace as a hero - but that did not mean that she was going to, as well.

Wormwood had already placed her hand back on the familiar rapier on her thigh when she re­took control of herself, and exhaled slowly. They were just trainees, heroes that were just learning to use their skills and powers. It was nothing to get this worked up over. She knew that she would have to fight to restore her tarnished reputation, Bronze Lion had not helped, and using defenseless trainees for target practice was not a good way to start. But still…

"Disrespectful punks," she mumbled under her breath.

"Wormwood."

Wormwood slowly diverted her attention from the women behind the window and onto the man who has approaching her from the front door. He was dressed lightly, as was custom for casual wear around the Champion Academy. He was odd and always served to remind her of a toad.

"Tobias," Wormwood greeted him, bowing her head slightly. "Have you come with good news?"

"Better. I've come with a request from the Council."

Her eyebrows went up slightly at his comment. Last time she had heard from them, the Council had been in uproar about the treachery of Bronze Lion, one of the leading heroes, and Hollow had had her hands full with the accusations that were being thrown at the rest of the Champions. It was not like them to come to an agreement about something this quickly.

"What kind of request?"

"They've reviewed the records of the fight with your- uh, Bronze Lion. Quite frankly, they were impressed, even with his new… reputation. They've requested your assistance in a special mission. According to them, only someone with your skills can be up to the task­"

"They want to test my loyalty," Wormwood cut him off. "Of course. Now that I've taken my mentor’s place, they want to see if I'm made out of the same material as him. And they couldn't have come here and said that to my face? Who do they think they are?"

"For now, your allies," the toady man said with a smile. "The Council has given you the benefit of the doubt, Wormwood. And even better than that, they have given you the chance to restore your reputation in all its previous glory. Hollow personally vouched for you. It's a golden opportunity."

"I'll decide that for myself," Wormwood said coldly. Tobias misunderstood her anger for approval, and eagerly asked:

"Does that mean that you'll do it?"

"I don't know yet. What is the mission?"

  The next day, Wormwood took a portal to the edge of Champion jurisdiction in what was left of North America. Her destination was one of the old California holding sites, where the subject of her mission was said to be kept. Wormwood had not received any information yet, other than that she was to be part of an armed escort. And she would be rewarded handsomely, which probably meant that this prisoner was fairly dangerous.

Wormwood had no desire to be part of the mission. She was a duelist, not a prison warden. Her strength was on the battlefield. That was where she shone, in the midst of war, not in a hushed transportation of some outlaw or rogue mage. She was going to refuse the mission­ but in order to do that, she would have to ride over to the commanding officer and explain herself, anyway.

"Lady Wormwood!" the soldiers on duty said, as soon as they saw her coming. They bowed. "Our commander is awaiting you in his quarters, my lady."

"Thank you."

Wormwood took off towards the closest building, a big, faded stone tower that was looking out over the prison cells. She had only come here a few times before, and it was not a pleasant place to be.

Fortunately, the commanding officer came outside just as Wormwood was about to go in. He looked surprised to see her, but then quickly hid his expression behind a fake smile and approached her.

"Lady Wormwood. We've been expecting you. I assume you've been slightly briefed about the upcoming mission? We need your remarkable skills with the sword in order to transport a dangerous being."

"Yes, I have been informed. And I refuse," Wormwood said promptly, surprising the man.

"Excuse me, my lady?"

"I said I refuse. I have not worked hard to become a duelist in order to play prison warden now, even for one with powers. That is not where my talents lie. Now, if that's settled, I would like to wish you a good day."

"But they have not made this a mission that you're allowed to refuse," the commander protested, trying to block her way back to the exit. "It is truly of utmost importance that we provide the strongest escort available, because the mission will fail if we don't."

"And you cannot possibly find other men who were trained to be armed escorts? Surely they would be far more suitable for this than me."

"But­"

"Who is the prisoner, anyway?" Wormwood sighed, gradually getting annoyed with the man. She turned away from him and started walking towards the cells, which all seemed strangely empty, but their light fields were still up and running, containing only empty space. "I would like to see who is so important that you would have me wasting my time over them."

"Well, to be completely honest… we're not entirely sure."

Wormwood stopped dead in her tracks.

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" she asked, her eyes flashing with anger at the man. "Who are you holding?"

"There's a story behind it, my lady," the commander began to explain, but Wormwood had already turned her back on him again and marched away fiercely. Within a few steps she'd reached the holding cells. When all of the front cells proved empty, she descended the dark path in between them, leading further into the building. The sun's light gradually became more dim and, as a result, dim yellow light from the light fields splayed across the walls. Wormwood paid them no heed and marched until the far end of the building, where two guards were stationed in front of a blue light field door. Obviously higher security based on the increased magical density compared to the others.

"Out of my way," she ordered them, to which they quickly obeyed. The men bowed to her and stepped aside, clearing the path for her. Wormwood frowned shortly upon seeing the many runes and engravings on the metalwork of it. With a single pull, she flipped the switch and the door faded, leaving an empty frame.

It was dim inside of the back cell. Wormwood's eyes took a few seconds to get used to the softer glow of light inside it, after which she were drawn to a movement in the back of the room. A single woman sat on the stone floor, all by herself. Her way out was blocked by a wall of yellow light.

Wormwood blinked a few times from confusion. This was the dangerous prisoner that she needed her to guard and transport? She did not look dangerous at all. Quite the opposite, actually. Long, shiny wisps of grey hair fell across her shoulders and down her upper body, ending somewhere near her waist. Her arms were wrapped around her curvy figure and her face was aimed at the ground, making it impossible to see her eyes from the shadows. The woman was wearing a long white dress that reminded Wormwood of the clothing in tea ceremonies.

What was this obviously foreign looking woman doing all the way in a Council base off the coast of California? Was she a spy of some sorts for the Forsaken? She did not look like a trained hero. A magic user or telepath, perhaps? Wormwood was not very familiar with heroes with magic abilities, being a swords user herself. On her guard, she approached the wall of light.

"We don't know its name, or where it came from," the commander's voice sounded from just behind the door. "But the Council has ordered that we transport it to the northern base."

"What for?" Wormwood asked, her eyes still fixated on the woman in front of her.

"That wasn't in our orders. To study it, I suppose. Honestly I don't care. I just want it out of my base."

The woman moved slightly, drawing Wormwood's attention back to her. She was… strangely fascinating. Wormwood found herself unable to look away from her. Suddenly, the woman lifted her head and looked up through the wall of bars, straight into Wormwood's eyes. They were a yellowish shade of grey, with a white stripe in the middle, where the pupil was supposed to be. It threw Wormwood off-balance; she had expected something different. It vaguely reminded her of an animal's eyes, though she couldn't recall which one. An ominous feeling crept up on her, like an icy wind running down her back. In reflex, she grabbed for her sword.

"Of course, taking her to the base safely will be a lot easier if we had a master duelist with us," the commander said, finally walking into the room as well. He cast an arrogant glance down at the woman inside the cell, and continued to walk closer to the bars. "And just think of the reward that will be bestowed upon you, my lady."

"I already told you, I refuse," Wormwood said slowly, still trying to determine where the feeling of uneasiness was coming from. By now, her sword was almost completely unsheathed. As the commander further approached the light wall, the tingling down her spine increased tenfold, and suddenly she saw a flash of movement from behind the woman.

"And I can imagine that the reputation boost will not be unwanted, eith­"

"Commander, get down!"

Wormwood jumped forward and kicked the commander's knees, at the same moment that something black lashed out at the bars. With a hellish noise, the field gave way almost immediately and crashed out of its frame, shards of mage light fading as they flew through the air, one piercing the space where the commander's head had been just seconds ago. Another flash of black and his body was shoved out of the way and smashed into the stone wall. A big dust cloud had filled the room, limiting Wormwood's line of sight until she had no clue what was going on.

Suddenly, without warning, the black things appeared from the dust cloud and lunged themselves at her. Wormwood raised her sword to defend herself, but she wasn't fast enough. Her body was picked up like a rag doll before being thrown to the ground, hitting the stones so hard that Wormwood could see little white spots in front of her eyes. The two seconds it took for her to regain feeling in her limbs were enough for the grey haired woman to climb out from the cell, towering over Wormwood as her hands clutched themselves around her throat.

"Little human," she whispered, in a soft and husky voice that once again sent chills down Wormwood's spine. Wormwood could feel the woman's body grazing against her own as her face closed in, decorated by black patterns on the side of her face that definitely hadn't been there five seconds ago. Behind her, the things that had broken the field and probably killed the commander slowly swayed from one side of the room to the other. They were tails. Giant, black tails that reminded Wormwood of cable wire twisted until it reached the thickness of your forearm.

The creature had her hands around Wormwood's neck, but she wasn't strangling her. Instead, she slowly moved one finger down her skin, with a mischievous grin that revealed four sharp fangs.

"You seem interesting… what to do with you?"

A wave of adrenaline shot through every vein of her body, and in a sudden burst of renewed energy, Wormwood clutched her blade and swung it upwards, cutting the black haired woman across the arm. She let out a high pitched scream and rolled off of her. Wormwood jumped back up and, now in her element, placed the sword against her throat.

"I ought to cut your head off right where you stand, monster," she growled.

"I'm sitting, actually," the woman smiled back. "And be careful with those toys. You will poke someone's eye out."

As a response, Wormwood pressed the blade against her throat even harder, making red drops of blood appear around the edges. Her smile turned into an expression of hatred as the woman was slowly pressed to the floor by the sword.

"Prison- prison break! Guards!"

"Oh, you're still alive?" Wormwood responded to the commander, who came crawling out of the residing dust cloud. He was bleeding on the side of his head and seemed dizzy, probably from being smacked against the wall so hard.

"Do something useful and call your men so they can cuff her."

"Guards!" he yelled back to the other side of the door. "It almost escaped! Why haven't you come in?!"

He slowly made his way to the exit, and then fell silent. Wormwood looked over her shoulder to see what the problem was. Her unspoken question was answered quickly. Two bodies were blocking the exit, their necks snapped.

She looked back at the creature on the ground, her sword still pressed against its neck.

"You've killed them," Wormwood spoke, not expecting an answer. The creature merely smiled, waving her black tails around behind her. Her grey eyes were aimed straight at Wormwood, and she could feel herself being looked over from head to toe. The woman's smile became wider, a mocking smile that enraged and at the same time fascinated Wormwood. Her foes always trembled before her. Every single one. They knew that they were looking death in the eye when she'd put a blade to her throats, and trembled under it. But not this woman. She was laughing at her, mocking Wormwood in her moment of victory. A clearer way of challenging her didn't exist.

"You… tailed creature. What is your name?"

From outside, three new men came in and gathered around the woman at the edge of Wormwood's rapier, quickly restraining her.

"I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours…" the grey haired woman responded, barely reacting to the heavy chains that had been bound around her arms and legs by the soldiers. "A shame that I already know your name, little dancer."

Little dancer. The words rang between Wormwood's ears and kept getting louder and louder, sending her into a new fit of rage.

"Commander. I've changed my mind about the mission. You can tell the Council that I accept.' Wormwood spoke loudly, to make sure he had heard her.

"You will? Excellent. We need all the help that we can get with this beast," the commander answered, turning away from his dead underlings. "I'll appoint a squadron to you tonight, and then we can leave first thing in the morning­"

"No. I will take her myself."

He fell silent.

"I… I can't allow that, Wormwood," he finally protested. "It would be too dangerous. I've been ordered­"

"And I, Wormwood, head of House Wormwood and direct subordinate of Hollow, order you to leave this to me. Do you really want to test the chain of command here?"

"Of course not, my lady. But you couldn't possibly be thinking of trying to­"

"I do not try," she interrupted him. "I succeed. I will bring her to the Council, mark my words."

The commander spent another few worthless minutes in protest, but eventually gave in. He stomped off and took his soldiers with him, leaving Wormwood alone with the tailed lady, who was now fully bound and chained to the wall. Slowly, Wormwood walked forward, until she was inches away from the wall.

"I'll give you one more chance to tell me your name, stranger. It would be wise to obey. It will make the journey far less… painful."

"A tempting offer," the woman laughed, staring her straight into the eyes. Wormwood could see her own reflection in those grey eyes, and suddenly felt the urge to draw her sword again. She'd never seen someone so… amused by her threatening display before. It was as if that person was not affected by it at all. It made her warier, but for some reason also intrigued her greatly.

Wormwood kept up her staring match for a few more seconds, before she accepted that the woman was not going to budge. She looked away first, turning around to the now closed door. A swift pull, and Wormwood was outside of the holding cell, reactivating the door behind her. A competitive feeling stirred in her chest. That normally only happened when looking at another skilled hero. But that dark woman... she had something. Something that other people didn't have. Wormwood found herself smiling as she walked out of the dark corridor, back into the sunlight.

Traveling by portal required everyone involved focusing on the desired destination and visualizing it correctly. Not only had that woman never been to the base, but there was no guarantee she’d cooperate long enough to portal in. That woman might have won the first round… but it was going to be a long journey.

  p@�q�ͥ�