(Set beneath the leaning tree of the secluded Open-Area Forest.)
The Fallen One had just finished a turn one foot back, sword drawn but peaceful—when he heard the familiar sound of boots stepping on rootwood.
He didn't have to look up.
Velrise.
He sheathed the sword, turned slowly, and there she was—hands on hips, eyes (are what could be called so) narrowed, her wristband limiters gleaming faintly in the filtered sunlight through the tree's canopy.
Velrise:
"What in the name of stickman is wrong with you?"
He blinked, calmly, but said nothing.
Velrise (marching closer):
"Do you even know how much property damage you've caused around here?! Do you?! Buildings cracked, streets blown up—vendors had to shut down! I had to shut down my hot dog stand early because of you! Why I don't know in a cell right now How come you didn't Stop the other one?"
Still, the Fallen One didn't answer. He simply sighed and set the sword down, the tip lightly clicking against the wood.
Velrise's voice lowered slightly. Not gentler—just colder.
Velrise (pointing):
"And that thing. That sword. It… it shapeshifted. It caged someone. That's not a sword—that's a forbidden weapon. One that should be locked up and thrown in the deepest Costalaq tide pool or at least Confiscated."
The Fallen One finally spoke. His voice was low and dry like dust swept by wind.
The Fallen One:
"It listens to me… only me. It doesn't change form unless I allow it. And the Dark Lord had to be stopped Fighting was the only Way, also I warned the authorities ahead of time. They said they'd keep the crowd at bay. They failed."
Velrise crossed her arms. Her glare didn't soften, but something else lingered in her posture. Worry, maybe. Or disbelief.
Velrise:
"So what now? You go hide under your tree, train like a monk, and hope nobody questions why a walking war machine lives two districts away from the market gardens? You think this makes you look… heroic?"
The Fallen One (pausing):
"No. I don't want to be heroic. I just want to be left alone. What's it to someone like You?."
Velrise's expression twisted. For a moment, it looked like she was going to slap him—or Punch him—and even she didn't know which.
Then she just groaned and threw her arms up.
Velrise:
"You stubborn twig-headed mystic. Fine. But next time, call The local Authorities There before things explode. We all live in this city too, you know Next time I want to grow tulips, I'd like the ground to not be radioactive from your sword's soul-cage magic or whatever."
She turned to walk off, but stopped after a few steps.
Velrise (without turning):
"If I were You I'd put that sword away, Fix it before someone less friendly sees it."
Then she walked away, her voice fading into the trees.
Velrise had barely taken four steps before she heard the unmistakable hum of the shapeshifting sword whisper through the air.
SHHNK.
Steel met her skin—not cutting, but close enough to feel the breath of death on her neck.
She froze. Eyes narrowed. Her hands clenched slightly, fingers twitching near her limiter bands, but she didn't turn around.
The Fallen One (coldly):
"You didn't think I'd just let you go after all that talk, did you?"
His voice had changed—deeper, like thunder echoing in a hallway of mirrors.
"Tell me something, Velrise. Are you a threat?"
The blade's edge shifted slightly—liquid steel reshaping for intimidation rather than attack.
The Fallen One (quietly):
"Because it just so happens… I was hired by a dealer to eliminate you. I've been watching you. I know your routine. I know where you live. Your favorite food, your favorite music, when you sleep, when you pretend to sleep. But all that—"
He paused.
"-is basic, ground-level info. I want to know if you're as normal as you seem… or if you're hiding something underneath that barkskin smile."
Velrise didn't flinch. Her voice was calm—measured, but not afraid.
Velrise:
"If you wanted me dead, I'd already be ash. So either you're bluffing, or you're testing me. Either way, your timing sucked."
She turned her head—just enough to meet his eyes with hers. No fear. No sweat.
Velrise (softly):
" Excuse me? I'm a threat now?. You think Just because you have that weird Magic sword that you can dictate To kill me in broad Daylight That's Rich Coming from A Stickman called "The fallen one."
The Fallen One's sword trembled—slightly, like it recognized The Surprised Fury in her words. Like it was considering her threat.
Velrise stepped forward just enough to let the blade leave her skin.
Velrise (without turning):
"Y'know What Try it go ahead. Strike if you want. But if you're bluffing… That's What I thought next time you pull that sword on me, it And You will be in a cold dark cell Freezing to death."
She walked again—slower now. Tense but steady.
The Fallen One said nothing for a moment.
Then…
The Fallen one looks up and senses hidden presences of Shadows of surveillance.
The sword shifted—becoming a staff, then back to a blade, then dissolving into black mist around his wrist.
He looked up toward the treetops, where light danced like flames through leaves.
The Fallen One (muttering):
"Guess I'm not the only one watching anymore."
Scene — "Files of Velrise"
(Scene: Beneath the twilight tree. The sword still hums in a low growl, inches from Velrise's neck.)
The Fallen One doesn't smile, but there's a strange, analytical gleam in his eye—like the edge of his mind is scraping over intel in real time. His voice drops to a clinical tone, reciting as if pulling from a glowing dossier in his memory.
The Fallen One (calculating):
"That's really it? You're Going to Walk Away.... Interesting"
He circles her slowly, retracting the sword but keeping his voice sharp:
"Because as it seems Your wristbands? Limiters. Not accessories. A branded make. Not something just anyone gets, which means you're either marked or voluntarily bound. Both raise red flags."
He taps the air beside her, where a floating HUD file opens up in his mind's eye.
The Fallen One (reading):
"You live in Orub City. Not just anywhere Near Orub. Next to the River of Costalaq by the Outskirts"
He waves it off.
"Yeah, yeah, I Get That's Not the point is it."
He tilts his head.
"You run a hot dog stand. But also a tailor salon hybrid. You like designing clothes. You rarely do hair unless your besties beg you. Purana, Camila, Roselit, Christine—cute names, but I don't forget people easily."
He Flicks Some dirt off from his Sheath.
"You inherited a whole garden after your grandfather passed, but what people don't know is that it's not just some backyard patch. It's a floating farm valley, half aquatic, half dry. A crescent-shaped cavern with water crops suspended on reeds and roots. That kind of terrain doesn't happen by accident."
Now he steps closer again—not threatening this time, but... curious.
"And your hair? Should be long. You cut it short. Often. Because you like controlling how much of yourself is revealed To others The short hair isn't just fashion, it's rebellion. Or denial. Or protection. Could be all three."
He retracts his sword fully. It curls back into his wrist like smoke being sucked into a vent.
The Fallen One (low, focused):
"You have an Origin Story That's Usual Too Usual ."
He narrows his eyes.
The Fallen One (direct):
"It's not difficult Just Answer Truthfully are you really as you seem.... normal?."
Velrise (low, with tension in her voice):
"You talk like I'm dangerous. So What if I was. if you were sent to eliminate me…"
She steps forward.
Velrise:
"Why are you still talking?"
For a moment, silence falls again. The wind stirs some leaves.
The Fallen One (suddenly cold and distant):
He doesn't answer.
Instead, he stands—slowly, fluidly—and brushes the dirt from his knees with one clean motion.
The Fallen One:
"Forget it."
And just like that—he's gone. No flash, no magic trick. Just… absent. The orb vanishes with him, as if it were never there.
Velrise (to herself, mildly stunned):
"What the hell was that?"
The air is silent for a moment—until a faint tremor echoes through the trees. Like footsteps. Heavy ones. Multiple.
From the shadows, faint outlines of stick figures begin to appear.
Observers? Agents? Unclear.
someone else has caught wind of this meeting.
Scene: A cozy upstairs room above Roselit's tailor studio. Clothes on racks. A kettle hissing. Four friends gathered, faces lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling.)
Velrise walks in, arms crossed, visibly agitated but hiding it with sass. Her usual confidence is there—but beneath it, something's gnawing.
Velrise:
"Hey... I need a favor."
Christine (sprawled on the couch, sipping tea):
"Ooooh, we doing blackmail again or just petty revenge this time?"
Roselit (braiding Camila's hair):
"Christine!"
(Then, to Velrise)
"What's wrong? Something got you ruffled. Is it that guy? The one with the sword that can like do things?"
Velrise:
"Yeah. Him. The Fallen One. Says he's here under 'unique circumstances.' Watched me. Knew my routine. Sword turns into a freakin' orb. Told me he was hired to eliminate me and now..." She paused
(pauses)
"…So yeah. I need info."
Purana (quiet until now, flipping through her digital ledger):
"That kind of sword isn't local tech. Might not even be from Orub. Probably artifact-tier. Dangerous."
Camila:
"He threatened you?"
Velrise (nods):
"Briefly. But I think he was testing me. Still—he's sketchy. Can someone dig up his name, origin, power classification, bounty tags, anything?"
Roselit:
"If he's a traveler or blacklisted from another stick city, we'll know. I'll have my brother in Crovest Hollow scan public bounties. He owes me."
Christine:
"I'll ask Lucks—he's got tabs on bounty hunters that don't exist on paper. If this guy has 'Fallen' in his title, he's probably not self-employed."
Purana (already typing):
"There's one more thing. If he came from the Costalaq border region, we'll need to loop in Any Dat
a on him if possible."
Velrise (looking around, serious now):
"Thanks, all of you. I don't know what game he's playing… but I'm not gonna wait for him to pull the next move. I'll find out who he really is."