Duel of the Dice

Once, the people of the sky believed in spirits of the night - some good, some bad, some the souls of creatures with an incomplete life, others the simple expressions of pure, raw emotion turned incorporeal. During spring and summer, these spirits would roam the night protecting lost travelers and giving aid to those in need. During fall and winter, you'd better be indoors after nightfall, or you'd be in big trouble. Catch the attention of an autumn spirit, and things would not end well for you. Perhaps the most famous of autumn spirits is the Reaper. The sort of ringleader, he hunts the night, harvesting the souls of the living, dead, and dying for his own nefarious purposes.

As far as modern Skydwellers know, the Reaper is nothing more than a myth.

Whether or not myth was based on truth is for you to decide.

But there is a story about the Reaper that goes something along the lines of this:

If you were to go back in time to a dark day in the darkest of winters, enter a cave guarded by the fiercest of Darkhounds, and slip through a network of tunnels to a cavern deep underground, you'd find two men, facing each other. One: a dragon, cursed by the Reaper to take human form just days earlier. The other: the Reaper himself, clothed in his black-and-silver cloak, and wearing his signature silver boots. Both men would be injured. And both would be determined to destroy the other.

Scholars discovered the beginning of this story roughly fifty years prior to modern day, on a small scrap of paper in the dead trunk of an abandoned home. Thrilled to find another piece of old mythology, they translated it from an older dialect and published it. The tale was quickly adapted into a short story, and the story has been told time and time again by choirs, theatre troops, and storytellers.

The unnamed man would be the first to attack. A master in magic, he would send a barrage of offensive spells towards the Reaper, and the Reaper would deflect each and every one of them. With a snap of his fingers, the Reaper would send the man to his knees, step close, and whisper, "You will fail. Just like you have always failed. Just like you failed to save your Bond, you will fail to save yourself, and the sky will fall because of it - starting with your city."

The story of the duel has become a favorite amongst the Skydwellers for many different reasons. Avid readers and media consumers enjoy it for the themes of character development and subsequent triumph. Writers and performers are always happy to play with ancient characters and new tropes. Scholars, naturally are thrilled at studying both the historical context and references to the use of magic.

The man would look up at the Reaper, smile, and say, "Well, no matter how much I've failed in my personal life, I've never failed a duel."
"You'll fail this one," the Reaper would say casually, snapping his fingers once more and twisting the man's arms behind his back.
"Of course you'll beat me. You're a being of immense power, and I'm a curse dragon who's lost everything. Where's the fun in winning that duel?"
"You can't trick me," the Reaper would say scathingly.
The man would smile. Through pain, through tears, through fear, he would smile. "Of course not. But don't you think, rather than fight, we should compete?"
"How? Battle of wits? Card trick? Bellstaff playoff? Or would you prefer the fiddle?" The Reaper would raise an eyebrow.
The man would smile wider. "Magic, of course."

Most knowledge of magic is all but gone from the sky. Sure, they have ways to influence magic through chemistry, botany, and zoology, but true magic - spells, enchantments, and so forth - is a secret that may very well be lost to time. This piece doesn't feature many techniques, but it does feature many effects of magic, and scholars are hopeful that it is the first of many pieces that may give further instruction on rediscovering the secrets of magic.

If you were to stand and witness the duel, you would likely be amazed at the mastery each opponent showed. The cursed man would tap heavily into the illusion factor, conjuring up visions of stunning sky displays, historical scenes, and popular stories. The Reaper would relish the chance to showcase his mastery of flashy effects, showing off with blasts of color and sound, whirlwinds of water and fire.
But, the entire time, the man, knowing he had no other option, would call on the gift he had once shunned, claiming it only brought him bad luck and scorn.
He called out to the spirits he could see.
Some would be dark, whispering in his ear that he would fail, forever haunted by his lifetime of disappointing the people he cared about most.
More of them were light. Bit by bit, they gave him strength to match the Reaper in magical prowess. And they would whisper encouragement, telling him that he could think of an idea.
Eventually, both would begin to grow tired. Rather than continue on as they were, the Reaper would say, "Don't you think that's enough? Don't you want to give in now?"
The man, knowing he couldn't sustain a competition for long, would pause for a moment. "I won't give in quite yet," he would say. "I've just thought of another competition."

It's important to note that up until this point, the man had completely forsaken his relationship with the spirits. Once called cursed for the ability to see them, he had gone to great lengths to disassociate himself with them, even performing a spell to ward them off and blind his eyes. Funnily enough, the amount of effort to undo the spell was as simple as apologizing and asking them to come back.

"A dice roll?" The Reaper would ask after listening to the man's suggestion.
"Yes," the man would have said. "We each take a guess at the numbers the dice will roll. Then we toss them in the air. Whoever is the first to guess correctly wins, and gets a free hit at the other."
The Reaper would smile. "Deal."

It's also important to note that this was a bad idea. Deals with dark entities often are, but especially deals that play to their strengths. The Reaper was not only a great guesser at probability, but he could even fudge with the outcome of the die rolls by faintly nudging them.

The man would take out his set of dice. Four in total, worn and old.
"Two fours, a six, and a three," the Reaper would guess, smirking confidently.
The man, voice shaking, would reply, "One four, a six, a three, and a two."
And he would toss the dice. They would rise, fall, and clatter on the ground, rolling four, six three, and...
With the faint pressure of a spirit's hand, roll on a two.
Without hesitating, the man would attack, blasting the Reaper with the full force of all the strength he could muster. Drawing on the magic stored by friends in his lucky coin, he would forge chains, slam the Reaper to the wall, and chain him there.

The paper burnt out at this point, but from a few historical records, scholars can piece together the ending. Although the hero's chains wouldn't keep the Reaper contained for long, an auxiliary spellcaster force would arrive in a couple of hours, sealing the Reaper away with magic so powerful that it could not possible be undone. Then, after making the day-long hike to the entrance of the caves, they would release a rockslide, burying the caverns in dirt and rock, never to be ventured into again.
Supposedly, this whole endeavor saved the sky from the Reaper's evil. Supposedly, from that day forth, no one had to be scared of the autumn night. Supposedly, days of celebration were set aside for the heroic actions of the group that set forth to chain the Reaper, of which one man survived.
But after all, it's only just a story.

Conflict Type

Duel