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writing-the-end · 4 years

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LoL Chapter 20- True Family

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

The past comes back to haunt Mumbo as a familiar, familial face returns to his life and offers him the unthinkable. Is Mumbo loyal to the hermits, or his he willing to return to the place he grew up in?

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“Today’s the big day.” Iskall whispers, looking around the room. Once again packed full of hermits sitting on beds, on furniture, and on the floor. Mumbo hasn’t taken off his gold medal since he won it yesterday, even sleeping with such a spectacular prize. The only hermit missing from the group meeting was False. She made it to the final round of the endurance battle, facing off wave after wave of illusions. Pushed beyond exhaustion, hardly able to stand, she backed down from the last wave. She claimed she could’ve gone forward, but a sudden feeling of pressure on her shoulders, her head swimming and her magic falling from her bones left her unable to continue. She’s still in bed now, recuperating. Grian did his best to heal her illness, but when he attempted to, he discovered her magic was nearly drained. Beyond anything a spell could cause. She even looked pale, the pink color of her cheeks lost and her hair a platinum blonde. The gold medal was won by Avon, beating out Doc and Jerome soundly, and False by a single round.

But Doc was still at the meeting. He didn’t last nearly as long as False, and while he was tired, it was nothing like what she has. Grian was able to heal his aching lungs, the wounds sustained from their fight with the Guild of Gideon. He was tired, but nothing was going to stop him from being a part of his own heist. He’s been looking forward to this for too long. To finally discover who’s the bastard that destroyed Gildara, that attacked the Asklepions, and tried to take out his friends, his family.

“I never thought I’d say this, but we’re leading the Championship by leaps and bounds.” TFC chuckles, shaking his head. “I know we surprised the guilds, the Council, and all of Lairyon. But you all surprised me as well.”

“Guess Grian’s pep talk really brought the team spirit out in us.” Etho tosses a ball in the air, catching it and bouncing off Doc’s head. He’s the only one brave enough to anger the criminal.

“Either way, whatever happens today, I just want to tell you all that I am so proud of all the work we’ve done. And best of all, no one suspects a thing as to why we’re really here. That being said, let’s go over today for everyone.” TFC clears his throat, skimming across the scroll in his hands. “This morning has the water battle. Ren, you’re going to be going against one of the wanderers, and judged based on your performance against all the other contestants. Stress, you’ll be playing in the kipling dodgeball. That’s a last one standing event, and we all know how hard you throw.” The guildmaster hums with a smirk, continuing down the schedule. “And in the afternoon is capture the flag. Tango?”

“They won’t even know what happened to their flag.” He grins, the healing wound on his cheek burning. But none of that will stop him from grinning.

“That’s what i thought. Tonight is the duel- the biggest event of the games. All of Lairyon will be watching. Which makes it the best time for the heist. Our job is to put on a show while our infiltration team here learns the truth. Boys-” TFC stares directly at the heist team. “Do whatever it takes, we have your back. The rest of us, we’ll be supporting our fighters in the duel. If we win at least one event today, we’ve secured our spot in the Labyrinth run on the final day.”

“Do you think we’ll actually win?” Joe questions. The labyrinth run is only for the top two teams. It’s a challenge beyond all challenges, an ever changing maze filled with enigmatic enchantments and feral beasts.

“If not us, then certainly Team Crafted or the wanderers will. Either way, we made history. All of us, being the first nonguild team to win the championship.” TFC smiles, rolling up the scroll and slipping it in his bag. “Good luck to everyone, I dunno about you guys but I’m gonna go get myself a celebratory drink before the water battle. One that doesn’t taste like swampwater.”

TFC hops over the rest of the hermits, sauntering out before anyone else can realize the meeting is over. Ren hops to his feet, only to be grabbed and held still by Doc. “We have our own heist meeting, man.”

The guild filters out, but the sea of hermits is cut through by one sole fish swimming upstream. Quentin grabs at Mumbo’s sleeves, missing once, twice, before finally grabbing hold of the black fabric and tugging him to the side. “Mumbo, right? You- you’re Mumbo, the one that beat Ian in the tech competition? The multi-mage?”

Mumbo looks around, but the hermits have disappeared within the woodworks. “Ah, yep. That’s me. Is something wrong, chap?”

“There’s some people down in the tavern that asked for you.” He pauses, looking up at him. “You specifically.”

Mumbo frowns, his heart picking up pace and thumping against his chest. He clutches the black robes, trying to still the racing muscle trapped within his ribs. Is it the arcane guard? Do they know why the hermits are here? That they’re still congregating as a guild, not just a team? But why him specifically? Do they know he’s the easiest, perhaps they’re using him as bait, the fastest to lure into a trap? “O-Okay. Can you l-lead the way?”

The kipling nods, blue and light orange curls bouncing across his finned ears. He guides Mumbo down the open, rickety steps. He jumps over the last one, to which Mumbo trips over as it buckles under him. He tumbles to the sticky wooden floor, rubbing his head. With one eye open, he winces and sees who’s here for him.

“Mumbo. Still never got your own two feet beneath you?” Mumbo’s breath falls out from his lips, his father’s voice cutting across the wood. The upper crust, noble accent pricks against Mumbo’s ears, immediately souring his mood. He hasn’t seen his father since the morning of his last guild exam. The last thing his father had said to him- until now- was to never return home if he failed another test.

“Father? What are you-” He falls silent as soon as his father raises his hand, motioning for him to be silent and stand. Dammit, Mumbo hates how he still has control over him like that. Hasn’t a year with the hermits taught him anything?

“You did well, boy. Your magic has grown leaps and bounds since I last laid eyes upon you. I saw your performance yesterday. Yesterday, I had a son again.” Mumbo’s head snaps up, hearing that word fall from his father’s lips again. Mumbo’s lips open and close, only weak noises escaping his throat. A sharp glare from the grey eyes they share silences him once more. “Mumbo, it’s time for you to come home. You have brought honor to our house, as a champion,” His father’s eyes fall to the medal at Mumbo’s neck, eyeing the prize hungrily. “I’m sure every guild will welcome you after that.”

Mumbo’s eyes snap up, and he steps back. “What? Why would I leave a perfectly good guild? Why would I leave my friends?”

“Those ruffians are not a guild, Mumbo. Listen to your father, and come ho-” He reaches forward, only for his hand to jerk back as a spark of lightning crosses between father and son.

“No! They’re my friends, they’re my guild! They care about me more than you ever did!” The tavern crackles with energy, lightning shooting out in small branches.

“Be silent, boy. You’ve forgotten your place as a nobleman.” A dangerous glare meets Mumbo’s angered stare.

“No! I’m done listening to you! The day you disowned me, I found a better family!” He remembers the pain of rejection, lost and alone in the alleys of Milliara. No family, no one to help him when a gang of robbers attacked. His father didn’t come to help- he was saved by Grian. A stranger saved him, now his best friend. The one who invited him to join the guild.

“Those heathens? They aren’t a guild, Mumbo, they’re criminals! Would you really prefer that to your own flesh and blood? Your fam-”

“You’re not my family! You said it yourself. The hermits are always there for me, always my family no matter what. Whether I’m a champion or an amateur. They loved me despite my struggles, cared for me and welcomed me. It was their care, their devotion, their support that won this gold medal! This is for them, because of them. It’s not for you.” Mumbo steps up, feet leaving the ground as he looms over his father. “Grian, TFC, Xisuma...they’re better people than you ever were to me. They’re my family. I’m already home. Now- leave.”

Mumbo doesn’t know when the nobleman leaves, he just hears the sound of the tavern door closing, the empty air before him. And that sticky floor, the old wooden boards, and the crooked iron nails are the best sight ever. He wipes his tears on his sleeve, crackling with lightning as his feet come to rest on the ground once again. He remembers to breathe, air rushing in and out of his lungs. When he opens his eyes again, there’s a mug of ale in front of him. He looks up, seeing Quentin leaning against the bar. How long was he there? Did he see that all? “You look like you could use a beer, man.”

And with friends, even the worst tasting swill was the best thing ever.

_______________________

Mumbo, Quentin, and a few other hermits joined to walk to the coliseum together. Grian and Iskall noticed Mumbo’s tearstained eyes, and did their best to keep him laughing. But he hardly needed it, just being with them was the best of all. The hermits take their seat, Quentin leaving to join his own team. He nodded to Stress, wishing her good luck in the dodgeball tournament they share later on.

Hovering at visual height to the seats, an orb of freefloating water hangs in the air. Like a water droplet suspended midsplash, held aloft by a number of water mages- most kipling. In the water, the hermits can see Ren getting used to his wet surroundings. Across the other side of the battlefield, Red is floating. At home in her element.

“Ah, this is going to be easy. Red’s so sweet and kind, Ren will easily win.” Stress chuckles, leaning forward and watching the two. “It’s not a tournament style- he just ‘as ta impress the judges an’ win this wee battle. He’s got it in the bag- Ren’ll show ‘em what an imagination wizard can do.”

They're on the edge of their seats, peering into the water. Across the rippling mass, they can see the crown seat, the Council watching as Ren and Red bow. Magistrate Dolios leans back, resting his cheek on his hand. A small smirk appears on his face as the fight begins.

Ren doesn’t wait, making the first move. A shark conjures up from his imagination, teeth in a circular jaw gnashing towards Red. He doesn’t back down, brushing his hand to the side with a happy-go-lucky smile on his face. A massive internal wave throws the shark off course, the undertow pulling on both his sundappled cloak and Ren’s ears. The imaginary shark dissipates into a school of colorful fish, schooling along the interface between air and water.

The smile on Red’s face changes. Glittering, innocent eyes grow sharp, and Ren tucks his tail between his legs. He...may have underestimated the little kipling. The water around him shifts forward, dragging Ren closer to the kipling. He’s trapped in the rip current, unable to swim free. Even though he can breathe underwater thanks to mimicking a kipling, it’s still terrifying. He’s within striking distance, and Red doesn’t waste a second. A flash of light, illuminating from nowhere blinds Ren, but he rebounds quick thanks to his sunglasses.

Just in time, too. Poison seeps through the water, brushing against his arm and leaving it numb. It would have paralyzed him, if he didn’t swim back. He imagines a barrier around him, his magic circle appearing briefly before turning into what he has in his head. How quickly the tides have turned, Ren forced into defense.

Water tumbles and turns Ren, his own magic devoted solely to keeping himself from harm. A shield to block poison, a rubber ball to take on the electrocution. He sloshes backwards, the tips of his ears peeking out of the water bubble. Ren lowers his shields, creating coral platforms and jumping across. Rushing towards Red. He creates a giant fish hook, slinging it around Red. She only laughs, looking down at the ornately carved hook. “I’m not a guppy, you know.”

“I know.” Ren smirks, then pulls Red forward. Grabbing hold of his arm- just long enough for the magic to settle in. “Ladies get in line.”

“Not a lady.” Red squeaks out, just in time before the hook disappears and he’s thrown back. A massive wave nearly casting Red from the water. Ren grins, rolling his shoulders and getting a feel for the new magic he’s mimicking. It’s only as strong as he is, but he knows he can make use of Red’s magic. Across the water, Red shakes his head, regaining his senses from the spin cycle. “Now it’s fun.”

Red twirls, cloak wrapping around her as a curtain. She extends her arm, and snaps her fingers. Beneath the dueling wizards, kiplings jump back as the water they command is pulled from their control. The entire sphere of water is at Red’s command, tightening inwards. Forcing Ren to flee the constricting edge. He shoves his hands out. It keeps the water directly around him from disappearing, but he’s playing tug of war with a mage much more powerful than him.

He huffs, breath and chest rising and falling. How is he already tired? Why does his throat feel like it’s closing up, his lungs pressing inwards? Why does it feel like he’s drowning, even though he can clearly breathe? He needs to win. Ren shoves his hands forward, and a tsunami pulses forward.

The kipling just barely stops the massive wave from knocking him out. It thrashes Red, pulling on his fins and hair. One arm is cut against the coral outcrops, skeins of blood dancing in the orbiting water. For a battle, that was the first blood drawn- the beauty of magic. Ren puts his hands on his hips, accomplished.

The sight of blood in the water, the scent, turns the kipling into a shark. Before Ren can realize what’s coming for him, it’s too late. The bubble reels backwards, gathering in strength and pulling on Ren. He stays rooted in place. Sharp teeth appear under a dangerous smile from Red.

Ren’s doomed. He knows that. The wave surges forward, growing and ripplings. Cresting and crashing. Right on top of him. His safety bubble pops, the rushing water sending him sprawling into the mud at the floor of the stadium. His ears flick water, gasping air and coughing up the water still in his lungs. He completely forgot about the crowd until he hears the raucous cheering around him. Water splashes beside him, and he turns to see Red plopped beside him. Smiling that innocent smiling again. They’re both exhausted, beyond what they should be, struggling to breath. Red tilts her head, shaking hands with Ren. “That was an epic fight, your magic is super cool.”

“Thanks, my dude. That was a sound thrashing. I bequeath the win to you. And I can only hope I stay on your good side.” Ren laughs, sitting up and shaking water off his hair and fur. Even though he lost, that was the most fun he’s had since Eremita.

He could go for a fight like that everyday, if it didn’t mean he felt this horrible pain in his chest, the exhaustion in his body. What’s causing this? Why does he feel so tired? Why does his skin look pale, lost of color? Why does even his clothes seem dull?

And why does his magic feel like it’s gone missing?

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