Archon and Emilio - Team Registration

OOC: This is the team registration for me, as Emilio and SoulBeaver, who's playing as Archon. Without any ado, I'll kick this off now.

A thick smell of tobacco, over an aroma of alcohol and perfume. Smoke curls up from the various wooden tables, drunks playing cards and couples-to-be making inconspicuous avances. A small piano can be heard in the background, covered up by many discussions and the average chatter. Just a small random bar, in a random place.

Not for long, though.

The door swings open, sunlight bursting in, cutting through the smoky interior. A shadow stands in the opening, taking this new environment in before entering. His clothes would almost lead to believe he's merely stumbled into the wrong place, possibly at a wrong time. His first step upon the wooden floor resounds through the bar and through a sudden silence. He waits for a moment, visibly enjoying the sound his steps are making. Another step. Again, it resounds. Whispers start spreading, though not exactly like a fire; it spreads slowly, as if trying to avoid the slightest hint of attention. The character has his eyes set on the bar. His chains rattle as he steps, steps, steps, each one seemingly faster than the one before. Apparently unbothered by some anonymous looks, he sits himself down, calling the bartender with a swift motion of his hand. He whispers, his voice unlike what one would expect of him. A hint of lightness surfaces in it.

"Bartender, one beer."

He spins around with a certain elegance to face the exit, and to keep an eye on his surroundings. Though he does not speak, his presence is somehow making itself known, a smile growing on his face. A simple, childish smile. Beer brings out his good side, and he was practically shuddering in anticipation, waiting for his.

A bottle is put down next to him, the yellow foamy liquid clearly visible through the transparent glass. Closing his eyes, he puts the bottle to his lips and throws his head back, enjoying every bit of his nice, cold, refreshing beer.

Archon stared, but didn't quite know for what reason, or purpose. In some form he sighed out of content, but, in another, he sighed out of boredom. The drawbacks of being stuck in a void became clear after many, many years of wandering through a 3-d carpet illusion of stars and light specks similar to himself. Yet, even though he could see those same light specks move around in this grand tapestry of nothing, he never met another Archon. Likewise, he never met himself like he much thought he would if he just kept continually traveling in a single, unchanging line.

Every now and again Archon would hear the serene voice of his Deity- an entity that must be worshipped, but never named, seen, and even directly heard. The only traces of this deity that Archon has ever encountered happened during his summoning. He felt the power, the tranquility, yet mind-fracturing voice that his deity beheld; he saw the need to covert his entire persona. One could only imagine what would happen to a race when they beheld their sky change as their truth, even their entire worldly perception, was bent. A shudder.

Other than his contemplative musings, Archon found himself mostly a little alone, albeit not empty. Many teachings and studies, visits and conversations with other races, has left many impressions on the little Archon that now revolve around him much like the aforementioned tapestry of lights. In this he found solace because, otherwise, he might have already gone insane at the rate in which his deity ever talked to him. He must have a very busy life.

Very much to his surprise, then, when his deity, which still must not be named, actually whispered some enthralling words his merry way. Instead of hearing from his ear, Archon used whatever ocular device he may have inside his material orb that represents his only material side to listen intently on what his master had to say,

“Listen, dear child.” his deity began, as usual Archon noted with a silent chuckle that bobbed his body before composing himself to listen in some more, “... I have something for you- a task that you will find very engaging...” The voice drifted off, those words binding his body into a state paralleling rigor mortis- fixated. Archon wondered in those frail few seconds what might be required of him, something grand perhaps?

After those frail seconds finally collapsed, Archon heard the rest of the tale, “A tournament... of Champions is being held...But to qualify you must find yourself a partner. Anybody will do, and I know you will have success. Do my duty- make people aware of my presence and fill them with my divinity and infinite wisdom.” Yes! Archon thought jubilantly, finally he could once again wander outside of this nothingness, discover more things, and raise awareness to his deity! The one task he had specifically trained himself for years! The fixation shifted, transmuted through emotions into a jumble of movements most aptly described as 'overjoyed'.

No more waiting, but with a short, reserved good-bye, Archon bid his home a temporary farewell. He would be back, no doubt about it, but first he must venture to exactly one place in his mind, imprinted through the equally infinite intelligence of his deity. Though He, Archon soon discovered with a now definitely heavy-hearted sigh, could have imagined a better starting point than...this.

A tavern full of blasphemers, murderers, cutthroats, vagabonds, whores! Archon could not help his paralyzed mind, what had he been thrust into? More than ever he felt the need for persons such as him to guide the misguided- sheep without a proverbial shepherd. Especially, he thought, his paralyzation slowly turning into courage and determination at this challenge he had been bestowed upon by something Greater, when things turn rampant like here.

First things first, a brilliant glow from above the tavern, possibly noticed by the select few non-inebriates, changed his elementary shape into that of a knight all-inclusive with a blue shimmering breast plate, helm, shield, and sword. All adorned with intricate french-curves and fortuitously placed dots and random lines to make them strike out in this dust-ridden plane. Egregrious, bold- the paragon of the confident prophet- Archon. It was time.

His armored feet kicked up rather cloy amounts of dust that swirled around in the air before a wind graciously swept them away. Not that it mattered, his peerless armor could never fade in such weak-minded detritus and dust, so he unerringly strode on towards the in. The doors to the inn felt soft and giving under his powerful grip, but he regardlessly slammed them so hard open that one fell from its hinges and the other simply careened along the side of the wall before coming to a crashing, echoing thunking halt on the floor.

Unbeknownst to Archon that this was the second silence audited in one day, he nevertheless approached the very first person to lock eyes with him and pulled the chair out from under him while cursing him with the harsh word, “Rabble!” From what he could tell this sparked a domino effect- most chairs simply fell over as most of the other rabble leaped up and felt around on their body for weapons. Most sounds felt oddly familiar with the locking of a gun, or the snapping of a knife as it came out of the handle, so Archon made the only natural decision and brought out his own weapon from hiding and levering it against the man he had just pulled the chair away from.

“Rabble!” Archon shouted once more to gain some much-needed silence that the tumult has so carelessly blown away. Even then he could heard the clanking of a mug that had just fled a nearby table while he meant to speak, “You! All of you! You must hear me, and through me the voice of that which all life makes meaningful!” Archon made a cautious step closer towards this man that, perhaps foolishly, showed irritation instead of anger, “Do you believe?” He questioned.

His answer a spit and a loathing visage that led Archon to guess his answer before turning to somebody else with a rueful sigh. The next person a man with a beer in hand and an odd aura around him. Something that made the people turn and walk away from him and leave him completely untouched by the others stigma. Perhaps...Archon swung his sword in that man's direction before asking once more, making note of a table that loomed closely to his right and a chandelier a couple steps behind him, “Do you believe! Choose wisely! These men, cowards! They will not help you.” Grunts from the crowd; some had taken dire offense to this claim, but it served him just right.

If somebody had to serve as the martyr in this business, then let him come soon, Archon surmised. After some blood tainted the fine wooden floor the people might listen more intently on his words, and not on his extremely violent approach that he didn't quite realize as extreme yet himself.

Emilio always figured there was an unwritten rule in every tavern. No matter what business, you always let a man finish his drink. Now, Emilio usually doesn't respect rules or whatever, but beverages are another matter entirely. One does not interrupt a drink. Ever.

See, while Emilio had already chucked down a large portion of his beer, there was still some left. Just as he was about to drink the rest of it, he managed to notice a strange light. Brushing it off as some natural occurrence, he retries.

On that exact moment, someone enters. Definitely a someone. A big man. With that armour it could only be a man. A large knight, clad in blue. Looking for trouble, it seemed. As soon as he entered, he'd knocked a random drunk off his seat. Knowing the irritability of the average tavern-goer, he smiled. And indeed, as he'd thought, nearly everyone rose and brought some kind of weapon to bear. A strange silence filled the bar, the only words coming from Mr. Blue himself.

Rabble.

He'd just called everyone here rabble. No kind words for a stranger. Of course, he needed not fear, seeing as he'd just brought quite a large sword to bear. He yelled something about listening to him, then, to Emilio's very surprise, he asked a peculiar question. "Do you believe?"

Indeed, he struggled to contain his laughter. The man he'd asked grumbled something, and the knight moved on, miraculously pointing his sword at Emilio himself. Struck by curiosity and a slight irritation, he decided to wait and see how the situation developed. This should become interesting, one way or another.

“Do you believe! Choose wisely! These men, cowards! They will not help you.” The words had a light resonance to them, and he understood them in full. He did not respond immediately; instead, he slowly rose to his feet, setting his bottle down behind him. Should this be over soon, he intended on finishing that beer. Not giving the knight a single look, he answered.

"These men... help me? You believe these men will be able to help me in any way?" He smirked, quite amused at the thought as he looked around. Rabble was indeed not such a bad description. "I doubt that anyone of their level will be able to help me. But, to answer your question..." He stood up straight, rising to his full length, unimpressive as it might be, determined to ooze defiance from his every word. "No. I do not believe."

The following seconds would be interesting ones. Knowing that this knight would likely smite him in the name of his commander or something in that direction, having the first strike was of the essence. He swiftly kicked the stool he was seated on back against the bar, for no particular reason. Disarming this not-so-friendly giant would seem to be a priority, though all that armour would make this difficult. In one, elegant, sweeping motion, he slid his left foot far to the right, turning his back to the knight and -hopefully- ducking far enough to dodge his sword. Sliding his right foot back next to his left, he gently pulled one of his handguns out of its holster, rising to his full length again. Having repositioned himself away from the knight's frontal area, he quickly raised his gun and fired a single shot in the general direction of his wrist. His elbow bent slightly to catch the recoil of his gun, the cartridge shimmering through the air as it was ejected from the chamber, the actual round flying through the air at high velocity, hopefully at Mr. Blue's wrist.

See, as much as all that armour may have protected him from a fatal blow, and hand-to-hand for that matter, quick movement would likely not be possible. At least, not as fast as a completely unarmoured man.

Through some disbelief, Archon had to watch almost helplessly as his subject twisted deftly away from his sword and even gave his a glancing blow with that metal apparatus of it- Archon knew the name, but couldn't recall it at this time. The bullet, a word he did recall, ricochet from his armor after denting his armor and causing temporary loss of function in his hand and lower arm- something witnessed by the way in which he felt a limp sore wave into his torso. Archon's agonized shout emphasized his surprise of a sword falling to the ground without a prior moment's notice. Now only a blue-colored fluid filled his hand, and dismay his head as Archon tried to shift his body towards the man.

However, something much, much worse happened than him simply losing his face. Some of the rabble noticed his faceless threats as well, and they made no second thought of staying at a safe distance. They smattered his body with ruthless dedication and knocked him, halfway aloft, onto the bar. From their power, partially their weight as they tried to pin him against the splintering wood, a powerless image of Archon overwhelmed him. Had he failed? A terrifying thought as punches and feeble knife wounds started to adorn his body as snow the winter ground.

Before losing all hope, before all went completely to black as the wounds overhwelmed his senses, he heard his Deity speak a single word with such impact that it made time seem still, "Hope." Indeed, something Archon had lost seemingly from the beginning of his initial failure- how could he! Foolishly he had led himself to believe that confidence alone, that emotion he felt during his transformation and his first brazen step into the bar, could win the fight he had propagated. Foolish.

Time once again started to tick by, and once again a hail of beatings came down to his bearing. His penance a clear road through this mess he caused; an error of ways that showed him he was no better than the rest. No matter, Archon quickly divined his two abilities of Rune Magic and Empowering before putting them to use in an awesome display of determination. Most of the rabble didn't even have the time of day to realize what sigil grew alight under their sweat-ridden feet and musty faces before it activated. Heavenly glows bleached the wood, and the bar, white as marble and those confined in this glow grew still- a sanctum that they could not tarnish any more with their breaths. Of course they hadn't died then and there, but everything they could perform was halted by Archon's sigil.

Two people had their murky hands on his body and weighed him down even though only their eyes could really react to his actions. Their perpetual actions hindered Archon's next advancement only for a second, and his victory over them marked by two people falling like stuffed animals to the floor. Finally he no longer dangled in mid-air because of some physical and mental imbalanced he had caused, and he saw the need to approach his old subject carefully- especially cautiously.

Another mug splattered the floor with its shards halfway between Archon and the man wielding the metal apparatus- more bullets probably forthcoming if he didn't act perfectly. So his steps, heavy, but showing no pain, especially not from what had just transpired even though it had definitely left him in a worse position than he would like, took him directly behind the shards, but no further. Instead, he would call out to him once more with a voice more reasonable than his previous one, "Please, halt this attack! I do not wish to know where this ends." Archon pleaded,

"If you will, I would like to tell you what I know. You are a man with potential- I can see this. However..." He paused, unsure of his next words for a second- a muffled cough in the background, the paralyzed victims had not yet begun to move once again, "You have been led wayward of the true path. I wish to show you, if you don't mind. Stick with me, and you will see what there is to attain, and what there is to lose if you stay on the course you are now. Accept, and you will not regret!" Defiantly to the very last sense that managed to spit out some wisdom to Archon he decided not to call on any spells to empower him for now- he must see the sincerety in his words!

To Emilio's pleasure, the beautiful execution of his attack had left a mark on the knight in shiny blue armour. Now disarmed, he tried to move towards Emilio. Already having braced himself, he witnessed a not so pleasant course of action overtake the moment, followed by a stunning display of skill.

The other tavern attendants had stayed on the sidelines, until now. Within the blink of an eye, they swamped the knight, overthrowing him by sheer number. HE grimaced slightly as they slammed him into the bar; he didn't like acts of cowardice like the one they just displayed. Plus, and this hurt him a lot more, he'd planted his beer on that very bar mere moments before.

While he was still arguing with himself whether or not to aid the knight, if only to finish the fight they started, it seemed he had taken his own course of action. If only he could have seen the expression on his own face as the floor itself started glowing in a pure white, somehow -and this was what worried him the most- freezing them in place. For a moment, he grew afraid. He had never before seen anything like this, let alone at such close proximity. However, the situation at hand left no opportunity for such fears or worries: the knight arose again, and had focused his attention on him.

After having listened to his words, he calmed. He still wasn't at ease, seeing as there were still some angry inebriate men frozen in time, but he wasn't bent on the knight's defeat anymore. Instead, he pondered the actual meaning of his words. It had become clear that this wasn't your usual knightly figure. Considering his every word twice, he replied.

"In all honesty, I doubt even someone like you could return me to 'the true path'. However..." He paused for a brief moment, thinking about how he'd put the following. "However, you speak of attaining. What I could attain. I'll just say this much... you've piqued my interest." He offered the knight a broad smile, before holstering his weapon. He did not consider this man, if it was indeed a man, his enemy anymore. Besides, should he attack, their chances would be somewhat leveled, considering he would be unarmed too. "Please, do enlighten me," he said, a light hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"And I want to know what you just did to these guys. It's pretty neat."

Archon listened intently to the words of his mark while he slowly, to avoid rousing any suspicion of aggression, turned around and searched blindly for his sword because his gaze only knew one place- the source of sensible words that craved his attention. After finally having strafed over the cutting edge of his glowing sword, Archon quickly withdrew the attention of his body and straightened himself proudly; a battering of wood resounded through the bar as the paralyzed dolls returned to life and found themselves in disconcert on said floor.

After the last of those sensible words echoed through his ears, Archon stood silent, wondering what he should answer first- what he should say at all. He found this man completely in moral distress, caring naught for what he really said about the 'Path', or so Archon figured. An inward sigh expelled as turbulent winds through his minds- a rough comparison at his predicament. Had he made a mistake?

Too late now. Archon quietly, in a completely reserved tone, answered, “Well. This is just one of my skills- a trap that paralyzes the limbs of the enemy.” Something, he felt, remained unsaid, “However, this is not what you will learn through my path.” As he said those unspoken words he feared to remain unsaid, Archon made several steps, the first across the broken shards of a mug murdered and shattered, he quickly closed the gap between him and the man. Standing less than a man's length apart to quench any preying ears that bear to find a speck of weakness or opportunity, Archon continued,

“What you will find,” said Archon with a slowly outstretching hand, “is inner peace, resolve, and the fact that you are watched by a higher power. That his power inhabits you at some points to make you stronger should not be the reason for your interests. If that is truly so- that you only wish, and seek, power, then I have wasted my time in believing that you may have been something more than this rabble.”

Again a murmur arose from the offended, but nobody, not even in though, dared to approach him after a tainted section of the bar had turned holy by his divine hand, and through the grace of his deity. Those feeling his Deity's grace quickly fled the scene with profligate efforts wasted to blur in with the crowd as fast as humanely possible. Rabble, and nothing more.

“Good.” Said a voice inside of Archon- could it be? Nobody else but Him possessed the ability of mental speech, much less the knowledge that a person such as Archon existed. To speak twice... he wondered if he really should so quickly judge this individual in front of himself. Spoken once honored Archon, spoken twice made him fear his own actions because of possible failure. So, as it now happened, this individual would not fail so easily in Archon's eyes. He must listen, no matter how hard-headed, thick, or outright stupid he may be to the truth.

Quickly Archon tried to make some kind of bond, no matter how trivial by asking the only obvious question that plagues all of mankind, “May I know your name? You may have mine, I would be grateful if you knew- Archon I am called. Both name and race known by this name, and you have the fortune to meet both.” Of course, this came very awkwardly across. Archon has had many reactions, but introductions did not count as a talent, and he spoke the words quickly, almost peevishly, “Please, think wisely on this after gracing me with your name: I offer you this once, no matter Who may think more of you. Everything I say now will immediately fall into the past if you decline.” Archon's tone became deathly serious, “Do you wish to join me in the Tournament of Champions? I will tell you all that of which I know, and, given time, I will let you meet that Who you may never have known of before. Each battle will bring you closer to truth because, through danger and self-sacrifice, only then can you shed yourself of sin. It is as He has spoken, and so it shall be. It is now up to you.”

The words that the knight who'd presented himself as Archon spoke echoed through his mind. As he listened, it was as if his mind opened, as if some sort of divine wisdom was presented to him. All that was left would be for him to reach out and grab it... however, more pressing matters were at hand.

He chuckled as he took a gentle bow. "My name is Emilio LuÃ*s de la Costa. It is a pleasure indeed." He struggled slightly to keep the conversational flow going. "I have to say I'm definitely interested in what you offer me. It's always worth a try, I guess." He doubted himself. Would he really try to change his ways? What if he enjoyed his current lifestyle more? Trying to fill the silence that had fallen, he continued. "This tournament you mention, I am sincerely interested in. It is always good to improve one's skills... plus, you've proven yourself to be quite the fighter. I think we'd do good." He offered Archon a smile, before maneuvering around the frozen tavernists towards his beer. After all, no beer should ever go to waste.

In a way, he was worried. A tournament would be a completely new experience. There would be many fighters, many opponents. Of course, he trusted the strength wielded by his partner, especially after that little demonstration he'd given, and yet he worried. Luckily, confidence is one of the things that can be fixed by a nice, cold beer.

As he emptied the bottle and slammed it on the bar, he turned to Archon, his confidence and ego restored in full. "Yeah. Let's go and win that tournament, release me of my sins, spread the word, all that. I pity those who'll stand in our way." His trademark devilish grin curled around his lips once more as he too another bow, arms spread. Indeed, there would be few who could stand in their way.

OOC: After speaking to SoulBeaver, we'd like to finish this registration here. Finito. This will do. Now, I thought this would be possible afterwards in the title, but it seemed not; we (actually me, I took a bit from him and a bit from me ^//^) would like to name our team Destined Intervention.

That will be all, thank you. ^^

Judgment:

Note that while my judgment gives pointers on all aspects of the battle, the scores only take into consideration the first 2000 words.

Story: 2.3/5 ((Good idea, confusing outcome. Though somewhat character related, your continuity would have been hurt by how your alliance seemed rushed. Nieve, part of the teamwork aspect of the tournament is to use your partner to develop the story. Repeating dialogue (even though it was used to show your character's reactions) hurts the pacing. Don't react to what your partner (or opponent) does, build on it!

Character: 2.8/5 ((Character was the most pleasing aspect in the beginning. Emilio's confidence and Archon's confusion. However, at the end it appeared as though you changed directions merely to close out the thread than to continue to build your characters. Be consistent throughout. A tip for you: if it looks like you're not going to finish a battle in the tournament, don't rush anything. Allow character to develop naturally and just rely on what you've already written.))

Writing: 2.5/5 ((Using present tense in your first post excited me, Nieve, but I was disappointed to see that you reverted to a past tense once the character interaction began. Pick a style and stick with it, otherwise the inconsistency will hurt your scores. Soul, you have quite a few spelling and grammar errors scattered through your posts. Remember it is a tournament of champions, you might not want to rely only on a word processor for this (i.e. read it over before posting too!))

7.6/15 or 50.67/100

Notes from Mathias, Panel A Co-Judge:

Nieve, I really liked the way you began your first post. Although, technically it's not correct and improper, I have a personal taste for sentence fragments, and using them in the sort of jointed fashion that you do. It helped create quick impulses of what I was sensing, rather than losing the actual SENSE of it in articulation and useless metaphor.

SoulBeaver, the very first sentence of your very first post threw me for a loop. "Archon shared, but didn't quite know for what reason, or purpose." I don't know what exactly you meant to say, unless your had a bit of word misplacement and intended to use sigh. In any case, some proofreading will do you well, as I also noticed you sometimes switched between tenses with minor grammatical errors. Also, I want to comment on using a term like, "3-d," because it's rather unpoetic and somewhat 'modern' in a sense. Three-dimensional would have fit much better, and though it can be substituted in my head, it still sort of ejects me from the narration, with both the anachronism of the term itself, as well as the sort of aesthetic ugliness of having a sudden number amidst the text.