His Name is Aroden

Like a snap, the camera goes from black to a deep, bright red, where a coliseum made of stone rises up on the sordid buildings on the surface of Akiton. We pan downward, into the arena, across the bloodied stone, and then down - into the gladiator’s quarters, little better than cages with no locks. On one bed, a young black girl sniffles, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old, her arms wrapped tight around her knees, curled into a ball. There’s a bandage on one of her elbows, where the coliseum took its prize after a misplaced step. Still, as always, Nakira had won. She was alive, but those eyes stared out into nothing. She wished that she could vanish. That all the pain would fade. That it would all go away.
Jester: “I often have such thoughts…”
The girl stiffens, reaching a hand into her tattered clothes - revealing the hilt of a knife made from bone, but finds nothing but shadows.
Nakira: “Who’s there? What do you want?”
Jester: “Those are boring questions, Nakira. Let’s start off on the right foot. Do you want out of here?”
The girl’s eyes harden, and her grip on the knife loosens.
Nakira: “Yes. But I don’t have the money to live on my-”
Jester: “Ah, ah. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It was a yes or a no. Yes, it is. Money is easy, Nakira. When you have power. I can give that to you. I can teach you.”
Nakira: “To sneak around? I don’t do subtle.”
Jester: “That’s alright… I have needs for all kinds, Nakira. All kinds.”
Nakira: “Then… Power. I want power. Power to take down a grown man twice my size.”
Jester: “Ha! Dream a little bigger, darling. When I’m done with you, you’ll have the power to fight a demigod.”
The girl pauses, as if considering the idea, and then her eyes glint with greed.
Nakira: “And the price?”
Jester: “Oh, Nakira… I like you already. Not much. You can keep your soul. You just have to help me kill one man.”
Nakira: “Easy. What’s his name?”
Jester: “Ha, ha! No one you know. Not yet. And it won’t be so easy… His name is Aroden.”
The girl nods, and the darkness seems to pull down around her, warping her hands as they clench into fists.
Nakira: “Done.”
Then the deal is made. We move away from Akiton, into the jungles of Castrovel. Nakira isn’t much older, but her features are sharper, shaped by the harsh realities of space. A shadow waits under a large leaf behind her, watching, whispering instructions into his students ears. She steps through a series of forms, and as she dances, her hands begin to bend in awkward shapes, although it seems to take Nakira intense concentration to activate the effect. As she turns to continue the series, an ankle slips and so does Nakria’s focus. The shadow tsks, and Nakira screams. Her hands explode into a cloud of blood, as her bones go one way, and everything else stays.
Nakira: “[Gasps] Master, please! Help!”
Jester: “Finish the series.”
Nakira: “W-what? I can’t.”
Jester: “Then you’re going to bleed out in the jungle. Finish the series.”
Nakira tries to halt her shaking, but can’t seem to stop it. Sweat coats her brow as she rises back to her feet, and her concentration builds out of sheer necessity. While her hands fail to move, her elbows can turn, and the entropy effect begins. Flesh, blood, and bone warp as Nakira shifts, and the young woman begins to scream. Despite the clear horror spreading across her face, she takes seven more steps, and completes the series. At the end she collapses to the ground, completely unconscious from the pain. The shadow in the jungle smiles.
Jester: “That’s the way, girl. That’s the way.”
Then the shadow turns to look at you, and the dream falls away.