Day 2 - Recovering

[Corporal Light]

Ballad brought his right boot onto the smoldering hay limbs of the straw man, a loud and sickening crunch biting the air as he extinguished whatever flames remained of the target. Some of the straw kicked up into the air like snow against the wind, only to fade into nonexistence as the flames caught up to them. What remained of the fake victim was thrown around the grassy area, with several charred 'body' parts a good distance from each other. Almost like how pack animals would tear its prey apart limb from limb, eventually scattering all the bits to feast off of them by themselves, with the eaten corpse no longer even resembling what it once was.

Ballad closed his eyes, taking a few long and deep breaths. His gloves and coat was covered in the remnants of the red-hooded thing he had constructed and murdered. Opening his eyes one more time, he stomped down onto the limb, another bone-crunching snap escaping from the appendage. Smirking behind his blood-red scarf, he takes a few steps back, turning around to keep his eyes away from the carnage he had inflicted, and quickly walked away from the scene with his chest raised and without a single blink.

Roughly thirty minutes later, Ballad found himself walking down the same dirt road he had been traversing for who knows how long in his time within Camelot. This time, however, his steps seemed hollow, almost like he was sleep-walking. He kept inhaling heavily to himself, catching his breath from what he had done. In the mean time, his mind was spinning with ideas.

Let's see... the tournament is most likely over. Whether or not the kid lives is completely up to chance at this point. I will just have to hope he is spared or he wins entirely. If he does win... should I confront him immediately? Seems like a good plan, but I don't know where he is. He could be anywhere by now. Besides, he's a fucking lucky scumbag. He doesn't deserve an immediate battle. No... he deserves torture. And there is one kind that is always the best, I know.

Cackling softly to himself, he lowers himself onto his left knee, his right hand facing upwards with his palm outstretched. Closing his eyes again, he begins to concentrate on something. Something that had only just occurred to him that existed. Something he occasionally glanced towards to see if it was repeating the same trick the first one did. He intended to conjure THEM up. But this time, they'll help, not hinder.
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Eventually, after about eight minutes of concentrating, he opened his eyes back up. In front of him was a long piece of parchment and a snow white quill with a black ink bottle next to it. Two pictures, one of a building and one of a red-hooded teenager, were placed on both sides of the paper. Hopping across the parchment was a large crow, which had taken a sudden interest in his ink bottle. Moving the bird away from the bottle, he swivels around as he feels a second crow pecking at his pants. Biting his lip underneath his scarf, he shoos the bird away from him, slowly moving them to his front.

Sighing, he says "Alright, listen you two. I don't know how to make you two pay attention for long, so I'll make this quick. I have two messages I'd like you two deliver. Now stand still and let me write.." Grabbing the quill with his left hand, he dabs the non-feathery end of the plume into the ink bottle, bringing it up once it was covered in the blackish liquid. Tearing the parchment in half, he slowly proceeded to write down a message onto the paper. As he wrote, the speed increased and a wicked smile enveloped his facial features. Wrapping the piece into a cylinder, he slowly gestured one of the crows to come forward.

When the first crow stepped forward, its feet slightly dusty from skipping across the paper, he held the message out to the bird. As the bird took it into its beak, he moved his left hand towards the building picture. It was a white building with cobblestone as its base. At the door, a sign reading 'The Barley-Shoppe' hang out for all to see.

"Bring that message to here. Find a table labeled B3. Hide the message within the wooden boards. Once you do that, stay there until a kid with a red hood walks into the door. Got it?"

Ballad's commands must've ringed true through the idle mind of the crow. It twitched a bit, listening to what he was saying before dashing into the sky, heading towards the city of Minas Tirith. It held the message firmly in its beak, with little possibility of it flying off.

Writing another message down, this time without the seemingly crazy snickers and stares launching off his face and onto the page, he hands the message to the second bird. Grabbing the picture of the red hooded kid, he ordered "And you. See this kid? Find him, and hand him that letter. Make sure he gets it."

With the last bird having received its directive, Ballad stood back up, reaching his right hand into his coat, pulling out his flamethrower pistol. Staring at it for a few moments, he lifts his head up, squinting towards the direction of the forest, which was a fairly good distance away. A look of confidence on his face, he stuffs the flamethrower back into his coat before marching towards the forest.