Round 2 will start at midnight, Tuesday, CST. Good Luck!
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Round 2 will start at midnight, Tuesday, CST. Good Luck!
Grit and gravel danced before his feet as Avery descended the crumbling, ancient staircase. The monolith clearing was said to be most spectacular in the sunset, when the bruised and bloody light of the encroaching evening painted the grass with long shadowed strokes and bathed the stone obelisk in a fiery halo. It was morning now, the light bright and pale as long shadows stretched from the towering stone set in the midst of the amphitheater and matched the demon king's own. He stared at the landmark for a moment, his eyes wandering to the top. It seemed that time and weight had worked against it. It had sank into the ground, jutting just barely to the side as it rose. The side that faced the mountains in the distance was pockmarked and gouged from years where the rains and wind were rushed down the rocky slopes beyond the forest.
While he had appeared to get there first, he felt sheepish for not being as sharp as the crisp air or the piercing calls of birds that echoed along the benches that surrounded him. His mind was still hazy, imagining the night before. The incubus found his thoughts languid and lax, the silhouette of the looming stone drawing memories of other things that had been stiff and erect the night before.
The bedroll was little cushion as a terrible weight drove into him from behind. As a growl escaped his lips, Avery found himself biting at the thick cloth below him. The taste of burlap and cotton was dry and earthy, covered in his own warm scent from nights spent sleeping. His lover's fingers encased his hair, pulling back the long dark locks until he could hear the strands groan from the strain. His scalp was on fire, even as the other hand of the unseen Akashiman man wrapped around his neck. As the hand flexed and gripped around his windpipe, a wheeze coming to his lips, the demon glared over his shoulder. In the edge of his vision he could barely make out Crispen's form as the younger man took him for his own, rough and angrily.
Hurt still welled up in Avery's chest as he thought about the day before. Suspended over fire, facing two nameless opponents from Salvar, Crispen had cut the ropes of the bridge he'd been standing on. He'd nearly died, though memories of how he'd managed to survive were hazy from adrenaline and the wave of exhaustion fighting in the heat of the volcanic ravine had pulled from his body. Moving towards the monolith and placing the shadowed side at his back, the cool stone supporting and comforting against the broken wing that was bandaged and limp, he scanned the rows of seats that stumbled upwards for any sign of his lover or their opponents. He wasn't sure which one he loathed to see more.
"Are you angry at me?" Crispen said as he'd finished with the demon plaything, collapsing lazily next to Avery. He had reached out, touching the deep bites and scratches he'd left on the Moontae's back. Avery allowed his gaze to fall hesitantly on the other man, sliding his attention from the almond shaped eyes of the Akashiman to the smug smirk on the younger man's face.
"You would have let me die." He said. He didn't know why it stung so much, why it felt like a betrayal. It wasn't as if the two men had any love for each other. Their companionship was purely physical, a link formed in depravity and the thought that the other might be useful in the future. He wasn't surprised in the least that he'd almost been sacrificed to make the fight easier, but it somehow still hurt.
Finally he sighed relaxed against the stone. The throbbing ache in his body from when he'd hit the side of a volcanic cliff the day before was still strong. Crossing his arms before him, he hugged his shield to his chest. He would need it today, as pain warped his senses. The shield was a strange shape, made just for the stretched form of Skie's wing, stolen from her the day Avery had cast her from his sight, but it comforted him. As he rested his chin on the black and leathery top edge, he found his muscles relax and his mind clear. He could handle this betrayal. After all, he'd nearly gotten his revenge on his sister for betraying him, and for now it was of little consequence to humor the sadistic lover he'd taken.
His plans for Lornius were far more than a little pain.
The obelisk of the Monolith Clearing rose high above the amphitheater, the ivy of the encroaching forest creeping up its cracked and scarred edifice. The fresh light of a golden dawn burned behind the magician as he approached the edge of the Lornian wood, its rays glistening in what remained of the pitch-and-silver marbled monument. A testament to the old gods of Lornius, the entire dais pulsed against Cohen's mind with the power of those ancient supplications.
This broken temple, once a place of breaking, of bodies, of lives, of minds, and of men, hungered for the death, the blood, of another -- or its own.
Cohen had traversed the Monolith Forest through the chill winter night, and as the sun rose in the east behind him, the almost full moon settled itself beyond the granite seats of the theatre. Just as with the monument itself, the rest of the structure had felt the passage of time, the encroachment of life on dead stone. Moss grew in patches on the northerly faces of the terraces, and wildflowers struggled to survive both wintry air and the rocky, graveled earth of the walkways.
Here, in this ancient sacred ground, another sundering had been done, years past. Ceidon, his co-conspirator in this expedition, told of a great battle in a previous incarnation of the very tournament that served as their cover on this island, the Lornius Corporate Challenge. The son of Alerar, Hikari no Kageru, wielded the Falchion of Light in combat against his opponents. The partner and opposing number to the Falchion of Darkness which Ceidon had discovered and shattered, the Falchion of Light had, too, been sundered on this very field.
What remained of the Falchion of Darkness, for its part, resided in a leather pouch on Cohen's belt. Ceidon claimed to have destroyed the blade entirely. But he lied to the magician, keeping a shard for himself, its shadowy influence gaining ground over the young warrior in a matter of a few months in his possession. That decision had nearly killed him only days before, when he was cut by the shrapnel and its power thickened his blood to tar, and the wound refused to clot even as it drove him to maddened violence.
The betrayal wounded Cohen even now, his heart heavy in his chest at the thought of his friend. They had spoken little in the week since the incident, while Ceidon recovered, and the occultist had made his way to the clearing on his own, not wanting to face the man except in their work. Eventually, he might forgive, but he had never suspected Ceidon of treachery, nor ever thought him capable of it. But there it was, and magicks could never create such behavior. It was in him all along to do it, and the shard only brought it out in him.
How much was the sword, and how much the man? mused the magician. Only time would tell.
Rage VS Golden Dawn
First off, considering this was only two posts, and one rep from each team, I have to admit, I’m not going to give a full rubric judgment. I’ll be giving a short judgment of the condensed rubric. Secondly, I have not a lot to go off of here, so the scores will be admittedly low, and lastly, I’ll give you Vigentte EXP for the two posts to the two players, but this does not qualify for anything more than that.
Story: 5/4 Admittedly, both of you did an AMAZING first both, but the edge is clipped towards Skie and Avery for their continued use of illuminating the setting through character actions.
That right there was a perfect example of bringing the scene to life without directly slamming a hammer into my face.Quote:
While he had appeared to get there first, he felt sheepish for not being as sharp as the crisp air or the piercing calls of birds that echoed along the benches that surrounded him.
Characterization: 5/5 – You both started off with great reasons for going to the Monolith, with Avery being a bit more personal, and Ceidon a bit more historical backing followed by personal reasons. I liked each character’s reflective thoughts and you know what…I wanted more. That’s a good mark.
Prose: 15/15 – Hell, I gotta say this was some heavy writing and well written at that. Kudo’s to you both…made me wish you finished it….
Wildcard: 0/0 – Nope, sorry, thread not finished, not to mention even attempted. This makes me sad. The writing was looking like this was going to be epic. That being said, it’s not like I don’t know what got in your way, and congratulations to you both! (Sorry, I really wanted to give a better score.)
Total: 25/24
Team RAGGGGGGE Advances!
Since this battle did not reach 10 posts or 10,000 words individually no EXP or GP will be rewarded. Sorry!