Round 3: Cyrus the Virus vs. Storm Veritas

This round is open until 12:00 AM E.S.T. on May 13th. Good luck! Remember, the earlier you finish, the earlier your battle gets judged!

The morning had been a long time coming, and when the sun finally lit up his face, it found the waiting façade to be smiling. This was the day he would taste vengeance, to lay hands upon the man that had humiliated him, beaten him, nearly destroyed him.

Luc Krauss. This will be all too sweet.

Luc had shared a storied past with Storm, and when last they had met Veritas had felt bested. The earth mage was incredibly powerful, and loomed over him like the very visage of death itself, unrelenting and nearly boundless in strength. How Storm was awarded victory could only have been based in technicality, for certainly he was not the stronger man, not the better man. Not that day.

Not then, anyway. But you let the egg hatch, Luc, and you’ve got a beast on your hands now. A world of pain is swingin’ your way now, motherf*cker.

There was only one place to meet. The rematch would have to be here – on the same hillside plateau, nondescript yet striking, sitting in the shadow of the great mountains to the east. The compilation of large, smooth stones was the same, some were still unearthed from the epic battle before. He sat upon one, enjoying the warmth of the rock surface which had been exposed to the sun for a few hours. The sun was reaching its apex, straight above and pulling the shadows of the great mountains away from all that was green and verdant and alive.

He waited patiently, knowing Luc would be a while yet. The cool breeze cut across his face and carried with it the whispers of wind. Storm felt his skin grow colder, his palms begin to sweat, and the air around him charge with a bit of ozone-rich electric energy. Krauss had yet to arrive, but the energy of such a matchup had him rife with nervous anticipation.

Not yet, take a deep breath. There will be plenty of time for action. Relax, relax.

It was wildly exciting, this feeling. Storm was no rookie, no greenhorn, no fledgling. Yet a true challenge had been a long time coming, and it still filled his stomach with a nervous feeling. The butterflies made him feel alive – this great risk, this absurd fool’s errand.

So Storm would sit and wait, perched lazily upon the very rock with which his chosen opponent had nearly crushed him so many days before. It was less than an hour’s wait before the sun grew cold, and he gazed to the heavens to find that in his relaxed, near-medatative state a thick blanket of grey black had settled its way across the sky above.

The first few drops were unwelcome, but he quickly accepted and resigned himself to the fate of fighting amongst the rain coming around him. His clothes would stick to his skin, but this was better in either event. This raw, melancholy stage was better equipped to carry death upon it anyway.

Kraus sensed the rain long before he felt, saw or smelled it. It was like the coming of a sneeze, though tingling at the back of his mind rather than the tip of his nose.

The soar between Radasanth and the plateau inside the Comb Mountains was a long one. The plateau itself was a large patch of grass among the jagged cliffs, overlooking the plains and lush Concordia to the south. The flight was made longer by Luc’s thoughts, teeming as they were with fury, anxiousness and concern. Veritas and he had a bit of history, stemming back to the Serenti, where Luc had beaten the dagger-wielder after a short bout. At the time, Storm was a budding mage and offered no fair challenge to Luc and his diverse powers, the growth of which had been pretty stagnant since the encounter. They met once more in the mines of Kachuck while working for the Grander’s Order, where the demon, Slykrit, now enslaved within Luc’s sword, rose and was defeated. The mage remembered leaving Storm for death more than once, but the man kept surviving.

After today, Luc hoped the man wouldn’t rise again.

It was an issue of pride, more than anything. They were returning to the battleground, to where they’d first encountered one another – except for a quick experience in the Vara Moire University, which Luc could hardly recall – in the hopes of settling the score. His hope was to end it once and for all, among the stone formations and the coming rain. This was not the Citadel, which meant his chance of ending their rivalry was good. All the same, Luc needed to be more cautious than he liked to be.

By the time Luc arrived at the circular formation of vertical pillars, the sky had grown grey and rain was beginning to fall. The mage swiveled about in the air and came to a stop on the apex of the tallest stone, looking carefully, side-to-side, across the spaces below where Veritas could be. When Luc saw the man, a playful grin found its way onto his lips.

“Veritas! So nice to see you looking so vibrant, so very full of life. How have you fared, all these months?” he asked, a glimmer of madness, of wrath within each emerald eye. He gave Storm no real chance to respond. “As much fun as it is to catch up like this, I want to get started. Things to do, people to kill – you know how it goes!”

The rain evaporated as it touched him, as if dropped upon a burning-hot anvil. Luc seemed not to notice the effect as he drew the Sword of Slykrit, which promptly burst into flames. Taking care to remain atop the slippery boulder, well out of reach of Storm – to Luc’s knowledge, anyway – Luc threw out a hand and sent a flurry of small wind blades rushing down, looking to carve the man into pieces before the battle even began.

Bah... timeliness was crappy on both ends, here. Still... it was slightly better on Cyrus's end, and I didn't have enough material to decide based on content... thus...

Cyrus the Virus gains 50 EXP and advances to Round 4!

Storm Veritas gains 25 EXP.

EXP added!