Unknown Location

The sounds of clashing swords echoed throughout the cavern as Inle leaped backwards on top of a boulder. He darted wall to wall until he scaled the cliff face. Confident he’d made enough distance from his instructor, he took a breather.

His break was cut short as the Collector bounded up to him in a single leap, nearly toppling Inle as he swung his sword of pure light madly about.

Inle sprung back against a large stalagmite, stumbling over the natural structure. He cartwheeled to the side to dodge a strike from the Collector's sword. The light blade cut into the stone with a brilliant array of sparks, like fireworks lighting the bleak cavern. The Collector grunted as he dislodged his weapon and lurched forward. He lashed out left and right at Inle, who parried each attack. Each deflection left him blinded by the flashing explosions.

“What will you do, young Silent Master? Block me, and your sight will blink away each time! You will also find your movements cumbersome in this terrain! What will you do?” shouted the Collector amongst the flurry of slices.

Inle ignored the question and gave his answer with a driving stab through his teacher's cape, pinning it and its wearer to the cave wall. Without a moment to allow a response, Inle pushed off the sword's hilt and flailed his legs, smashing his opponent's face. The Collector’s light blade skidded across the rough ground and into a shallow puddle.

Inle raced to retrieve it, but a snap of chains lassoed his ankle and tripped him. He rolled to his back as the chain retracted, clinking together to form a sword in the Collector's hand. With his other claw, the cat removed Inle's sword from its position in the rock and tossed it to him.

“No, the Lightsworn is mine,” snarled the Collector.

“Wh-where did that chain sword come from? You were completely disarmed!” a baffled Inle stammered.

The Collect smirked, “Hand me my blade, whelp.”

The shadow elf reached over and gently picked up the magical, luminescent sword. He shuffled slowly to the Collector, but tightened his grip. “How many swords do you really have?”

The Collector blinked as if thinking about the number but instead laid his palm out once more. “Give it here, Inle.”

“Inle examined the blade for a moment. He considered withholding it, wielding it, turning it against his partner to gain an advantage. But the urge passed, and he returned it “Well?” he asked again.

The cat took Lightsworn and slid both it and his chainsword into his cloak. Inle’s face lit up with astonishment as the swords vanished within the fabric.

The Collector flashed a toothy smile. “The real question is how many can I carry,” he pointed out.

Inle could hardly believe his elven eyes. The Collector allowed him to take a hold of the tail end of the jet black cloth. Squinting to see finer details in the fabric, he searched for secret pockets, hidden sheaths, anything that would explain where two swords went to. He found nothing.

“Look at the lining closer,” the Collector hinted.

Indeed, there was something amiss with the cloak's silky lining. Inle stared, peering for any missing details. Then he saw it. Color. A sheen of a familiar magenta. The same color of the tunnels he used to travel to and from the guild's hideout.

“What is it?” Inle asked, his curiosity at its zenith.

“Oblivion cloth. It gives clothing a pocket dimension to hold an infinite supply of whatever you like. In this case, a dimension full of swords.”

“Then why carry four on your belt?”

“Normally one carrying four sheathed swords is not trifled with,” the Collector said casually.

“Where can I get oblivion cloth?” Inle asked, eager to get his hands on something so unique. It would be perfect to carry shurikens and knives, perhaps in a pair of oblivion cloth gloves. The possibilities were endless.

“Perhaps Wraslyn will give you an oblivion item when you prove yourself. For now, you still have to deal with me and your challenges.”

Inle furrowed his brow, his hopes dashed.

“Ah, yes, speaking of which…”

“Yes?” Inle looked up, hopeful to get back to business and skip the Collector’s training for now. He enjoyed training with the Black Rabbits, but training with this cat and his seemingly,

the endless supply of magical swords put him at a disadvantage. Inle did not like to be put at a disadvantage.

“Our Woadhollow garden has been compromised. We will need to find a new cultivator.”

Inle recalled several meetings with the Dead of Winter council. For plans to take place all

over Draak Terra and the responsibility each member received with finding the Celestial Seals. With himself and his partner dealing with the dismantling of Lost Dawns. However, he remembered no talks of a “Woadhollow garden” whatever that may have been.

“Compromised?” Inle hid his ignorance.

“Silent Ones have found our Plague Reach and Gardener.”

Inle had heard mentions of ‘Plague Reach’ before, but could never find out exactly what it was. Nonetheless, he knew it was important to their cause.

“Is the Plague Reach still salvageable?” asked Inle.

“A question I intend to find the answer to once the Silent Ones abandon Woadhollow.” He pawed Inle’s shoulder. “Onto matters that can be dealt with until then. Have you set up the rally in Lost Dawns?”

Inle nodded. “I made the necessary arrangements. The rally will be held tomorrow night.”

“Excellent, we’ll cast our line and see who bites.”