Soulshards: Grand Tourney Board Game
YOUR STORY
You are not a legend, but you will be.
Dust is on your boots and your pack is heavy, but your destination is nearly at hand. In your pocket is a carefully folded parchment, your key to entering the games. Its looping script contains your name and accomplishments and invites you to participate in the Grand Tourney. Most importantly, though, it contains an implied promise which has motivated you to come this far.
The sprawling city of Enviro is open and inviting as you approach. Proud and regal above the rest of the city stands the coliseum. The opening ceremony has yet to begin, yet already you can hear the din of cheering. As you enter the city, the usual smells of city life are joined by the scents of frying meat, popcorn, and sugary treats.
You plod your way toward the ever-looming coliseum. On the last road, your nose is overtaken by a floral scent. Rows of trees with twisted branches bow over the narrow stone lane, lightly carpeting the walk with the pink petals of their delicate flowers. Then you arrive.
To the left and right stretch the walls of the coliseum itself, as vast as time. Guarding the archway entrance are two statues. One of a lion, mane sculpted in a wind-blown pattern. The other, a tall burly man with a leonine head, clawed, paw-like hands, and tail. Even immortalized in cold stone, the “Pride of Enviro” are as warm and inviting as they are imposing.
Leaving the figures behind, you pass up a wide stair, worn smooth and bowed in the middle from hundreds of years’ worth of heavy use. The crowds’ cheering rises to a cacophony as you emerge from the stairs into the sunlit stands. Below, on the sandy floor of the pit, you see the finest collection of equestrian species you have ever beheld pounding the earth in a stiff race.
Two show particular zeal. A pure white horse with a long, elegant horn jostles against a pure black horse with a mane of pure smoke. Horse and rider alike nip and strike out. Neither proves able to gain a lead until the black mount loses its footing, tumbling headfirst into the ground and tripping several others behind. The race continues while the still forms of unfortunate competitors are dragged from the field.
Eventually a horn announces its conclusion, the victor gives a speech, and the crowd cheers before drifting out from the arena for food, leaving you alone. The parchment in your pocket is your chance for money, glory, and most valuable of all: the chance to fight and best Trydish, the Ancient Dragon and defacto-king of the southern city, Dafed. That unspoken promise in the words on the letter whisper in your mind. Victory will earn his respect and a boon of untold value. The dark stain and scuff of sandy turf below silently remind you of the price of failure.
Three distant booms of cannon fire echo across the city. The tourney has officially begun.
