The new Hero Xenathra will arrive for this weekend’s Tournament in Dragon Strike: Puzzle RPG!

What had they done!?

Enchanter, monster they had called her… The Witch of the Mountain. Xenathra had heard the whispers of the villagers for decades — fearful muttering was all it had ever been until now though. Today a blaze of torchlight and angry shouting had come to her door.

She quickly readied herself for a confrontation, annoyed by the intrusion. She had been here long before the village! What right did they have to come to her doorstep with violence? They certainly had experienced hardship from her research deep within the heart of the mountain, but this was her forest and had been for centuries.

She first had trouble directing the power years ago. Random wounds and injuries in the village started healing slower… then stopped altogether. Disease had begun to run rampant since. It was all a terrible affair, and she felt awful for her part in it… but they could leave her forest if they wanted. Her work must continue.

Xenathra peeked out through the blinds in her kitchen window. It wasn’t villagers. Her face fell as she saw the symbols engraved on the nearly hundred sets of heavy armor that had surrounded her hut on the side of the mountain.

The Order of the Anvil. She had always known they would come for her eventually. After centuries of hiding, they’d finally tracked her down. She paused for a moment to recall that time, those days long past.

Yes… she knew she deserved the fate they brought. She had done terrible things. Still, it wasn’t all bad back then. She could still hear the fanatical roar of the crowd when she brought down her foes in The Grand Tournament.

The house was already aflame, but Xenathra grinned with defiance. She was outnumbered in this bout, but she would give them the show of a lifetime. The sorceress launched everything she had through the burning walls of her hut, and one by one the knights fell outside.

Laughing maniacally, she hurled bolt after bolt of deadly magic blindly into the flames as more suits of armor on the other side fell lifeless to the ground. In the village and throughout the valley below, her cackles struck terror into all that heard them. Before long, the roof gave way under the stress of the flames… but still Xenathra’s counter-assault continued. The fire grew into an inferno where a hut had been, but her cackling didn’t stop.

Somewhere far away, Xenathra stepped out of the portal. She was still chuckling to herself as she patted out her flaming clothes.

The all-new hero Olaf will soon arrive through The Summoning Portal in time for this weekend’s Sub-Zero Tournament!

Olaf kicked at the dust on the arena floor, remembering better days. He looked up at the seats rising high on either side. Empty now — no screaming crowds. The days of glory in his forest coliseum were gone.

They’d be here any minute. He could smell the smoke from Malum’s siege machines approaching. He sat down in the dirt. This tournament field had been his life’s work. If it was to be destroyed, he’d be right here with it.

As he watched the sun dip behind the trees, he was so engrossed in his own reflections he hardly noticed the sound of shuffling feet behind him. Suddenly his trusty spear dropped at his side.

“You’ll need this captain.” Olaf looked up to see Geroni, his sergeant at arms. “We’re with you… we meet this together.”

Olaf smiled, his heart warmed by the sacrifice. Spear in hand, he slowly rose to his feet. Only then did he see the force assembled with Geroni.

The trainers, the porters, the smiths… even the cooks! Nearly the entire arena staff had turned out to fight. Olaf struggled for words as tears streamed down his cheeks. “My friends… you needn’t die here….”

“We stand as family.” Geroni quickly cut him off. His words were confirmed by cheers from the assembled militia.

Even as they cheered, Malum’s forces arrived.

The melee was as grand as any that had ever been seen within the walls of that great arena. Untrained servants fought as legendary gladiators. Each gave everything, and made the enemy pay dearly.

Olaf pierced one enemy after another with his spear, pausing between each stab to summon fresh vitality for his allies. Hundreds of Malum’s troops fell for each of Olaf’s.

In the end there were too many. The most valiant resistance couldn’t compete with the meat grinder of Malum’s war machine. In the end, Olaf was the last.

Brusied and broken in the middle of the arena, Olaf didn’t give up the fight. Long after there were no allies left to benefit from his healing magic, he battled on.

Finally as the sun set, Olaf fell. Set on by hundreds and laying amidst thousands of fallen enemies, Olaf closed his eyes smiling at the arena he’d built over his lifetime of hard work. He had done all he could, and he’d die happy here.

The smile fell off of Olaf’s face as he emerged from The Summoning Portal.

It would seem that Malum’s war had stolen the end of his story as well.