Rules of the Game
Note: Kind of a long story? It looks sorta long on here, but who knows. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also I’m so sorry if this seems dry as hell for whatever reason? I haven’t written a thing in a long time that was actually fiction or character-related (Darn those academic papers!).
But yeah, anyways, it’s a short story about a baseball game and why no one ever lets Luxe di’Hyrn pitch a game. Ever.
A raptor screeched, circling over the scrubby fields. It easily rode the updrafts fon its long, narrow wings as the sun rose higher in the sky. For once, the winds were quiet. Though the customary whistling was absent, the empty space it left behind was filled with raucous cheers and taunts. And then, a loud crack ripped through the noise, heralding the sound of a flying ball.
“Move!” A ruddy-faced man shouted at the batter, furiously motioning at the dithering batter. “If you don’t, I’m going to kick your ass!”
The batter gulped and galloped towards first base. On the other side of the field, an outfielder snatched the ball out of the air. Seeing how fast the batter had galloped for first base, she had no choice but to whip the ball towards the other side of the field, praying that her teammate was fast enough to catch it.
The dust swirled around the base in that moment, a disappearing testament to the determination of both teams. A cry of “safe!” accompanied its settlement. The cheers went up again, drowning out the jeers from the batting team.
“Come on, they caught it before Rag’nyr even got to the base! What are you saying, ref?” The pitcher protested, holding out his hands in exasperation.
“Sorry, Aegyr, the eyes don’t lie. I saw Rag slide in before the baseman even got to the base.”
“Ugh, really? Fine. Who’s next?” Aegyr grumbled, turning back towards the home plate. He shuffled the ball from hand to hand, studying the next batter. He nodded and adjusted his cap, maintaining eye contact with his catcher. They were going to get this guy out for sure.
As the next batter took a few practice swings before stepping up to the plate, the crowd quietened down, less energetic than before. In all respect, it was a sparse crowd, composed of guard members that chose to sit out the game and the few visitors to the Whistling Walls. They lounged around on makeshift chairs, passing around dark gray bottles and laughing at stories. It seemed that they weren’t paying attention to the game, but then again, who would? It was just a match between the old people and the new recruits.
All that was on stake was personal pride. Plus, the puffed-up self-assurance that the old team had never lost a game since the new captain took the reins a decade ago.
Then again, the new recruits weren't told about all of the rules. It wasn't like they had to – everyone knew how to play the age-old game of baseball. With a few modifications, of course.
The new batter took a swing, stepping towards the mound. The ball glanced off the edge of the batA well-meaning groan went up among the spectators as the pop fly was snapped up by a particularly bright-eyed youngster, encouraged to jump a little higher by a quick puff of wind. Nothing was said, but someone had figured out one of the rules. As the teams exchanged bats and gloves, another spectator joined the crowd, hauling a box of clinking jars.
"Hey! Didn't think you would show up, Jack." A grizzled veteran greeted the newcomer as she stood up to take the box of his hands.
"Was held up by my birds getting skittish on the road for nothing. Least, I'm here. How much did I miss?" Jack asked, stretching out the kinks in his shoulders.
"Oh, this is the first change-up. The newbies seem to know what they're doing this year at least." She rummaged through the box. A short gasp of delight escaped her lips as she pulled out a jar, filled with purple liquid. "Dear me, you always know how to make us old people happy."
"Anything for the people who saved my sanity." Jack grinned, taking a jar of his own. He unscrewed the lid and took a sip, relishing in the stinging but sweet flavor of the drink. "Oh, I see Lu's pitching. They shouldn't have let him do that."
The other spectators murmured in agreement, remembering their first games. The oppressive aura from so slight a man on the pitcher's mound – as if the Demon King himself had descended upon this silly game – it was enough to make any player shiver. They turned their eyes towards the mound, waiting to see what would happen next.
The first pitch floated in the air, luring the batter into a foul ball as the ball glanced off the side of the bat. The second pitch, a simple fastball, was nothing to write home about. Yet the batter missed. Steeling themselves for the final ball, the batter glared at Luxe, as if it could unsettle him. Tossing the ball high in the air, Luxe grinned, the delight creeping across his face as a slow-moving storm front.
The third pitch was over before they knew it. A loud oof was the only evidence that it had been pitched at all. The catcher fell over, unable to completely stop the ball from slamming into the fence behind him.
Everyone goggled at Luxe, who simply tipped his cap.
"Legendary fastball indeed. Too bad they don't allow magic in official games at all." Jack laughed. "It's all in the first rule of this game after all. Anything goes."