Round One, Bracket A: Body and Mind vs. The Philosophy Club

[Christoph]

Congratulations for making it into the Tournament of Champions. Both teams receive two Fate Points for making it this far! Posting can begin at 1 PM EST on the 7th and the battle closes at 11:59 PM EST on January 28th. Good luck to both teams!

Arenas were arranged at random, and your prompt is as follows:

Your battlefield is a hellish steppe of ash and bone. Cracks in the earth, caves, and deep ravines offer the only protection against the fire that rains from the sky.

[Christoph]

Bunnies approved by Gesse

The Journal of Jacob Rivers -- Entry One,

Master Silas said that I should keep a journal to ‘focus my chaotic mind’, or something like that. I had always scoffed at the idea, but for some reason now feels like the right time. Why now? Well, today marks the beginning of what could be the greatest chapter of my tragically short life.

I have found a gate into another world, a world coursing with ancient magic. Today, I go forth to this ‘Garden of Secrets’ from my home in Chicago with Master Silas to test my skills against some of the greatest champions in existence.

In this new realm, I have heard rumors of the mighty Cabal of supernatural beings that orchestrated this, as well as the legendary treasure that they will bestow upon the champions of their tournament. While I often wonder what it might be, it is not why I have come. I am sick and slowly dying; I have been for three years and I doubt that I will live to see my twentieth birthday. What use could I have for shiny treasures?

No, I want more than anything else to accomplish something truly great with the life I have left. I want to make Silas Gesse proud. I must show him that his years of instruction haven’t been a waste of time, before my illness forces me to leave his tutelage, or before he finds out on his own and refuses to keep teaching me. I hate to keep this secret from him, but I couldn’t bear to lose him as a teacher until I have proven myself. This is my last chance to do so.

Silas and I have entered a holy shrine that pulses with primordial power. The Cabal is preparing now as the other warriors gather. Soon, we shall step throuh the rift into our first challenge.

* * * * * *

Jacob felt as though he'd awoken into a nightmare. Dense clouds billowed oppressively overhead like volcanic smog as green daggers of lightning slashed phantom wounds into the sky. Raging winds howled like a chorus of lost souls. Raining fire tormented a hellish wasteland of ash, barren rock, and human remains.

Caustic gusts of toxic fumes and soot poisoned the air, stinging the psion’s eyes and burning his lungs. The stench of brimstone and decay strangled him. He let out a harsh cough, pulling the collar of his tan overcoat over his mouth and nose. The wind lashed against his pathetically slight frame, forcing him to struggle to stay standing until he pressed his back against a cliff.

The young psion began to survey the bleak landscape, letting psychic energy flow through his senses and explore his surroundings. Granite cliffs and steppes went on as far as he could see, with deep, dark ravines cutting sinking into the earth like gaping demonic mouths.

He let his gaze wander upward. The tainted lightning and swirling fire gathered and intensified around a massive spiral of black and red cloud, pulsating like a massive, malignant eye in the heart of the storm. It stared down upon a ring of jagged monoliths resting atop an imposing cliff like a crown of back iron. Its ominous silhouette flickered menacingly in the storm. Jacob’s skin crawled as he struggled to pull his eyes away from it.

“What is this place, Master?” he asked, sensing the presence of his sensei, Silas Gesse, next to him.

“A reflection of a soul in torment,” he replied, as mysterious as ever. “Fear, doubt, lies, and anger scour the soul...”

“…Burning away hope and promise, and leaving naught but a barren wasteland behind,” interjected Jacob, finishing the adage that Silas had taught him years ago during his training. “But that didn’t answer my question, as usual.”

“Perhaps not in the way you wanted.”

“Apparently.” Jacob sighed. The Silas hadn’t changed a bit since the day he’d found the old man in an honest-to-god mountain shack – just like in the movies. For years, Master Gesse had played the role of old martial art master to the letter, speaking in proverbs and riddles, sending Jacob off on random and pointless mundane tasks, and generally making little to no sense. Yet, somehow the apprentioce learned from the master, and Jacob valued Gesse’s teachings. Sometimes, though, the whole 'old, wise, and mysterious' demeanor got a little stale and annoying. “Must everything be another obscure lesson, Master? This is hardly the time.” He pointed a slender finger to the distant stone circle. “I know that you don’t like it when I use my powers too much, but I think that we need to go there. I'm pretty sure this time.”

[Mabus]

Maus didn't really like Ya Zhen....I mean, he didn't hate him, but it was kind of hard to get him to say much, and the humanoid presence in the ominous and shifting shadows of mystically-sullied armor had slaughtered an entire village, the gruesome results of which he'd stumbled upon, and come close to becoming a part of; better the brat then me. The man (monster, wizard, or whatever else he was) didn't do much to help the notion of other people trusting him. Certainly not Maus. But they'd been flung together, and when the world had stopped to, well, announce that they'd been 'accepted into the Tournament of Champions', Maus' detailed explanation as to what had just happened had first dampened his/her/its (he had no idea how demonic possession affected gender specific pronouns) immediate urge to kill him, for whatever reasons it had taken into visibly careful considerations.

Now they'd been transported, forcibly, to yet another world, from the starlit, amber-skied limbo the announcer had dragged them to from the place where Maus had been doing his walking, and Ya Zhen his killing. Maus hadn't found a sign of any living humanoids there. Perhaps a preventive measure towards Ya Zhen, and the habits he'd displayed so far?

A minor consideration. They were standing across a 'way', I guess you could say, from another two persons, most likely here for the first round in the tournament, and their opponents, although neither of them seemed to be natives of the present place. Intermittent pillars of magma-born flame criss-crossed the skies like blossoms of an odd heaven-plant, and the smoke seemed intent on blotting out the stars, in a thick, noxious omnipresent taste, like charcoal, though with each breath it seemed to pass more and more, until the mind, realizing that it wasn't necessarily being poisoned, blanked out the unfamiliar sensation into the realm of the commonplace, and it gradually subsided into being nothing to the mind at all.

A tongue of fire lashed at the ground like slow-motion lightning, not far from the two twain, and falling roughly directly between them, and its effects ending a goodly ten feet to, from Maus' perspective, their right. Maus glanced in that direction, thrumming his fingers against the short-sword he'd taken from a wealthy someone or other that would never need it again, if the Patron's thoughts on eternity were to be proven correct. Not a close impact, certainly, but he was going to kill someone if something like that ended up hitting him....well, not likely, but the sentiment still stood. The air had an additional, stronger odor of ozone, for the moment, like metal laced with its other elements. He intended to move forward, and as had ever become an intelligent part of his living habits, Maus glanced down in front of where he was stepping (it never paid to trip on the edge of a cobblestone when running from city guards, swords drawn). Nothing that would have been much of an impediment, but what appeared to be an intact clavicle, the rest of the source cadaver most likely the various other bones, he now noted more specifically, scattered about the landscape like vanilla flakes on a chocolate melt cake (he immediately regretted making this comparison...would he now forever associate the two in his subconscious?). In aggravation at this, he kicked it with the side of his foot, in the direction that the rain of fire had just struck. It bounced twice, then rolled, before settling in a low hanging area, in the cracked, uneven surface.

Then he noted what was most likely the other team approaching from the cracked distance, and as they drew closer, that they consisted of a younger man, and an older one, with the older one strangely much more built then the younger, despite the obvious emacation of age. He examined the younger more closely.

Weakened...Had he been ill? Make a note of it.

Recently, whatever had happened to him, happened, or had finished, but from every physical sign that Maus could gather, the youth maintained a level of strength and agility beyond that of even the strongest of hardened thugs and warriors Maus had fought, or even met. From the way they walked and dressed, they were obviously associated, and alarms went off in Maus' head like cannon shots, at the careful way they stepped, the utter control of their gait, the deliberate way in which they maintained a stoic composure, not entirely dissimilar to his disintered indifference and fake aloofness, but of a less practical, and more formal inclination.

Somehow, it reminded him of the Patron.

With the other pair of persons still out of earshot, Maus turned his head so that he was mostly only audible to his new found 'ally', if that were the right for it.

"Shall we see what they want?"

He turned his mouth away. He could hear through his ear, after all, if Ya Zhen replied at all, and this was all the better a way to keep his eyes on a potential adversary. A thief had his ways the same as a fighter of any stripe...

[Gesse]

Bunnies approved by Christoph.

This time. Silas let his student's attempt at sarcasm slide, understanding fully that his energies would be better spent on something other than trying to blunt Jacob's sharp tongue. The older warrior had decided long ago that tempering the young man's wit was a futile endeavor - and futile endeavors had no place in their current situation.

"I suppose your powers can't always be wrong." Silas replied dryly. Psionic abilities or not, the monk had also taken note of the massive, swirling maelstrom that seemed to hover over the unnatural arrangement of stones up ahead. The lingering storm - paired alongside the eerie chains of lightning and the odor of fire and brimstone - was all very impressive to the human senses, but Silas couldn't shake the feeling that it was all very staged. Like the roadhouse brawler who acts tough, but is truly a coward, the devilish landscape laid out at their feet appeared full of bark but lacked any real bite. Of wind and foul odors there was plenty, but any and all of the real dangers seemed far off and strangely harmless. Great bolts of lightning arced overhead but never struck anywhere near the ring of stones, and the fire hanging in the sky looked more like a moving painting than an actual threat.

Appearances can be deceiving. "Wise" people often said of small dogs with a lot of fight. Not many of those people realize the sword cuts both ways, however, and that even the most fearsome of dogs can be perfectly harmless under their intimidating exterior.

"Waiting around here isn't going to do us any good." The Master added as an afterthought, stepping away from the cliff face where he and Jacob had originally taken refuge. The soot scratched at him like sandpaper in the wind, stronger here than under the shelter of the rock, but Silas simply pulled the collar of his shirt up over his face and pressed forward. Jacob wasn't far behind him, but the young man's gait made it hard to determine if he followed more because he was eager to get underway, or because he didn't wish to be left alone in this place. Both were perfectly acceptable answers, but Silas privately hoped that it was more out of eagerness than fear.

Fear. Silas resisted the urge to shake his head in wonder as the duo moved slowly across the rocky landscape. I suppose after how far we've come already, I don't have to worry about Jacob being afraid of much anything.

A great many recent events had begun changing the way Silas looked at the world around him - and that all of these events centered around Jacob and his newfound "abilities" was cause for concern. A year ago the monk would have never accepted as the truth a tale so fantastic as one about a magical portal opening up to another world. Such things were simply outside the realm of possibility - even for a man who dealt constantly with subjects such as karma and spiritual "Qi" energy. Truly, even when Jacob had broached the subject several days ago, Silas had been more than skeptical. Doubtful, yes, but the Master knew his student, and knew that he was not prone to flights of fancy - especially not in the sense that we would be worked into a tizzy by such a fabrication. So it had been with reluctant resolve that the monk followed Jacob into the mountains and was led into a discovery that called into question everything the older man knew about the world, the universe, and the great cycle of life.

I should be the one afraid. Silas contemplated as they neared the stone fingers that seemed to rise up from the earth like great hands reaching for the sky. I should be a wreck - a broken man. Everything I thought I knew has been cast into doubt, and I'm involved in something far greater than my wildest imagination could have ever conjured. The thoughts ran through the older man's head like words on a page - his brain was processing the concept, but it wasn't being absorbed. The fact that none of it had really settled in - that Silas expected at any moment to awaken from some ridiculous dream - left the monk feeling very disconnected from the situation. Perhaps it was karma that he was here, believing yet simultaneously disbelieving the very existence of the ground beneath his feet. Perhaps he and Jacob were simply pawns in a greater game outside the scope of his human understanding. Perhaps he really was dreaming. Whatever the reason, and whatever the cause, Silas found himself putting one foot in front of the other on his way to who knew what, walking blindly forward into a contest taking place who knew where...

[Ya Zhen]

If ever the category of "Giddy" could be applied to one such as Ya Zhen, now would be said time. His pale face harbored a completely unintentionally eerie smile. As the rest of his body was covered in a black cloak, and most of his neck was covered by his long raven hair, the red glow of the molten crags further added a demonic tinge to his face. The cause of his jubilant demeanor was of course, his surroundings. The setting literally, looked like hell. If the fiery crevices weren't enough the occasional charred skeleton laid strewn out on the ground. His body's natural affluence to such a setting helped far more then his mindset; he drew in some of the metaphysical negative energy to such a point that you could vaguely see his aura.

Then of course there was the matter of his companion. Ya Zhen was not usually in the company of others much longer than it took to dismember, destroy, or otherwise incapacitate slowly the aforementioned people. All the same there was a certain feeling of apathy within his every word and action that he felt echoed his own uncaring sensibilities. He was also everything Ya Zhen was not. Most of his abilities demonstrated in the earlier chase involved a certain agile nature. He was crafty, quick, and good in a bind. Did this mean Ya Zhen would hesitate to do every thing he could to bring the utmost pain to him? No. It did however mean that he would not naturally do it off the bat.

This tournament rather intrigued him. It was probably a key contributor to his lack of desire to kill his new bedfellow. He began to edge into his internal monologue, I have a knowledge of certain otherworldly events due to my demon progenitor, but such a thing as this to take warriors from many different realities...astounding... Then a new thought curled around his mind. What if...what if such power could be harnessed...he put it out of his head for now. It was not the time for megalomania, it was the time for thoughtless violence.

Then, in the distance he could just vaguely see two figures. The outline of the first was rather small, but the second was far more built. He thought, a strength and speed team perhaps?
He heard Maus speak up. He spoke in response in a very over elaborate tone, "Oh yes, that sounds like a lovely idea."

[Christoph]

Sorry for the delay. Bunnies approved by Gesse

“I can see two figures in the stone circle,” said Jacob, squinting to focus as he and his master made their way toward the infernal shrine. They crept beneath ledges and clung to the cliff walls of the steppes as they inched closer. “They must know that we’re coming, even if they haven’t seen us yet.” He gave a contemplative sigh as he assessed the situation, but quickly broke down into a fit of hacking and wheezing as soot entered his disease-ravaged lungs.

“Damn it, this air is killing me,” he gasped, before realizing that he’d used a poor choice of words. “We should just head up there and finish things quickly.”

Silas shook his head, in that subtly disapproving but also forgiving way that only a teacher could do. “Only the foolish warrior rushes blindly into battle.”

“But…” began the student. He knew Master Silas was right, as always. They needed to engage their opponents on their terms. But how?

In his thoughts, Jacob barely noticed the head-sized ball of blazing brimstone streaking down from the sky, angled right as his face. He cried out in alarm, and with a sudden desperate flair of telekinetic power, he smacked the acrid smelling hunk of burning rock aside. It exploded several meters away in a blast of bone and stone fragments. He glanced up at the sky again, and just like that, Jacob got an idea.

“I’ve got a plan,” he stated. He pointed to the ring of stones. “It’s about sixty or seventy yards to that shrine; you should be able to make it there in twenty seconds of you jog most of the way, and then sprint the final third.” Jacob scratched the side of his head for a moment as he pondered.

“That…” started Silas.

“It’s not the entire plan, so stop giving me that look. I’m going to cook something up back here while their attention is drawn to you. Then you strike once you get the signal.”

“I see, and what sort of signal should I look for?” asked Gesse. The old man was going along, but Jacob could tell that he had already begun thinking up clever ways of saying ‘I told you so’ for if the student’s plan failed.

“It should be… rather obvious.” With that, Jacob closed his eyes and let his awareness rise away from his physical form.

Leaving his body behind, he soared freely through the turbulent air. Lightning crackled and streaked through his corporeal form in a dazzling display of color. Energy swirled all around him, flaring brightly in the full spectrum of light. In his elated state, Jacob could perceive the full primal might of the storm. It ruled the sky with the strength of a terrible god and the young Psion felt truly invigorated by its power.

Focus, Jacob! Focus!

He scanned the sky. Fire continued to fall at random. Focusing his powers for such a complex task at that range would be very difficult. Focus. He fashioned a length of rope out of psionic force and lassoed a chunk of the falling brimstone, and then another, and another, until twelve burning spheres hovered in a steady orbit around his corporeal form. Focusing his will, Jacob spun them faster and faster, and with a burst of power, he catapulted the blazing barrage at his opponents.

Silas Gesse would be hard-pressed to miss that signal.

[Mabus]

Sorry, folks, but I'm tired of waiting. Christoph, if there's any complaints, PM me.

Maus really never had understood other people. For the most part, he was very much a young man that didn't see the need for violence when it was uncalled for, and who was to say that it was even called for in a fighting tournament? He found the idea of such a strategy far too obvious to be of any good.

So it sufficed to say that his thoughts on what must have been his potential adversaries, visible from beyond the edge of the bowl in which they were standing, went one way, then another. For one, he was disappointed at what was obviously a flanking maneuver by the older one, breaking off from the younger man, and going out of view, beyond a lip of the bowl that was quite steep, and much higher then the one they were standing near and on. He was then amused, however, as he noticed a flow of....something or other painting a line like a bead of water tumbling down a glass surface, though rather climbing up into the heavens, barely discernible, his ability to notice it fomented solely by his paying strict and disciplined attention before it got started, whatever it was.

He didn't have any idea what the younger man was doing, before it latched on to one slightly brighter spot in the miasma of volcanic ejecta. The line bent, and the ball of fire bent down out of a level of clouds obscuring its proper view, and the marvelous micro-comet of probably mixed natural and mystical consequence was drawn into an artificial orbit. The same line moved on to another, and another, after another, and one by one, each was laid like coins in a massive funnel, circling and circling, but never sinking, directly above the famished looking, mysterious younger man.

Maus was baffled. A bit wary, true, the same way he was wary of a city guard or a loping wolf in his vicinity, but much more so, he felt compelled to get a bit closer, and see what the man was about.
Again, he turned his mouth in Ya Zhen's direction.

"One of them broke off, and is probably going to come around the other way....I'm going to go see what the man is up to with the fireballs...", he said with a grin. What he didn't say was, he could stay behind or come with him, whichever he liked.

His partner could see it. Clear and simple. No reason to make it overly complicated with the formality of a thousand apologies and pardons. Whether the madman remained behind or not, however, was a matter of his own volition.

Maus hopped out of the bowl, and as his field of vision seemed to suggest, there was quite a bit of a descent, like a lunar crater, immediately out of it, but a lifetime of running away, sneaking about, exploring and hiding prevented him from losing his balance, or turning an ankle, or anything of such predictable inconvenience.

There was no reason that the younger warrior, a bit older then him, now, he could see, should be unable to see him. But as he drew closer, and again at a distance quite a bit better then most, the keen dark colored eyes on the passable rascal made out that other's own eyes seemed to be flickering, as he looked up at the work he had done, and was doing. Maus quickened his pace, but then slowed, as the ever increasing number of fireballs orbiting overhead drew to the number which the Prior had once told him in passing had been an ancient prehistoric limit for the number of persons permitted in a tribe. Twelve, the Patron had told him. This was why thirteen was such a taboo one. No more then twelve, or else the chemistry of the group began to be thrown off, a scientific mystery. As always, whether it implied arithmetic or literature, there was some very reasonable basis for every superstition, at some point in its history, even if it later became very irrelevant.

Two times six equals twelve. Three times four equals twelve. One times twelve equals....

One plus twelve. There was the man, and his orbs of fire, leashed straight out of the sky. Leash. Yes, his dew-colored vector of some power of mind over body had acted as a leash, harnessing each to a their new and fascinating trajectory. As Maus drew closer, he got a bad feeling, which fortuitously motivated him to look up again, as the trajectories changed, one after another after another of the globes of burning gas and debris splitting from what had been a circle into their respective arcs, coming down towards....him, or at least the first of them. The adjective and verb became part of another word, and the meaning was reversed.

They've been unleashed on me...us...

He didn't have time to properly clarify. One, two, sometimes three at a time, the enemy (yes, most likely, an enemy) tried to catch him with the fireballs, more of a nuisance then a threat to his life, but also easily able to kill him if he wasn't careful. Maus had a decision to make, and he broke into a sprint towards the famished looking other, as thin as him, but more obviously, per what he had suspected at a distance, for reasons of recent disease rather then long term hunger or genetics. With respect to Heisenberg, of course.

Chell cut left, right, changing where he was coming from, and how he was doing it, learning after the detonation of the first, and narrowly totally avoided ball that he didn't need to look directly at the fireballs, because they lit the ground beneath him and them, and that he could easily enough use this to determine how close they drew, and determine where and when to step, to avoid them.

His cylindrical pack, filled with clothes this time, instead of documents like last time, became a source of annoyance, its weight hard to compensate for, though tucked close behind his shoulder, and his a skilled experience in taking things that weren't his own, and of value, and successfully escaping with them. He pressed hard, however, and quickly, hoping that he would leave his adversary with a much more complicated situation then his own. Jacob would find that his target was fast, clever, and coming in with both of these factors to bare, one hand on the handle of a sword, the other holding the strap of a tan carrying bag, body close to the ground, feet neither tripping nor turning on the difficult mix of obsidian and basalt that composed the ground beneath...

Coming so close, so quick, in fact, that if the stranger with his overheard fireballs wasn't careful, he might end up catching himself as well within his own trick, if Maus successfully crossed the distance before he ran out of them; because explosive damage splashed like water, however minor it may be, and Maus was a doubtlessly skilled mix of feet, hands, knees and elbows, and also, evidently, armed.

One of the fireballs, perhaps accidentally loosed too early, or perhaps intentionally loosed in such a way as to sink to catch Maus directly in front of his approach, impacted prematurely, and with a greater speed necessary to reaction then Maus had grown used to, but as he had predicted...time, and distance, all the usual mathematics. And just because Maus had predicted something might happen didn't mean he could plan especially well for it.

He slowed. Tripped. Sort of. He was roughly ten feet away from Mr. Fireballs at this point, and closing, and the blasts weren't big or strong, but certainly obnoxious. It detonated before Maus could enter its area of affect, but Chell was still caught off guard by the light and heat. He turned his body, rolling, through the adversity of temperature, pressure, and pebbles, his cloak and clothing, and bundled pack absorbing most of the punishment, though he could feel something scratch and burn his pale cheek. He'd have cursed, if he had time.

Each impact on the hard ground hurt, but he could tell with each time that nothing had broken, and just before the next one told himself to be an adult, and bear it.

Every weakness, inconvenience and altercation can be exploited to our advantage, Chell....if this weren't true, the blind wouldn't eat, the deaf wouldn't speak, society wouldn't exist, even in its current and universally embarrassing, brain dead form. The world shifts, and we adapt, or we don't exist at all....but you already know this.

He lost control of where his body was going, even if he prevented himself from falling, with each bounce, in a manner that might seriously hurt him, leave him vulnerable to killing, leave him bloodied and broken. He kept his integrity, physically, but more importantly mentally, and his mind never losing track of where he was, he recalled, beyond the dust, where the person he'd been looking for had been.

Here. There.

Against a particularly painful impact on a raised surface, that came closer then any other to breaking something, he had the opportunity to right himself somewhat, and to adjust his route of motion to put him in the direction of where Jacob had been. Despite the pain, he indeed avoided breaking his arm, and shifted, mid impact, pushing himself in that direction, drawing his sword, bursting from the fog, to block, push, and possibly slash his opponent, probably surprising him, and most likely simply knocking him on his hind quarters to his additional surprise and embarrassment. What was important to Maus was that he would stop, however, finally stop bouncing and bruising, like a thrown piece of fruit down a stony ravine, even if he'd only been bouncing and rolling for a few seconds at most, and there was much less to the situation then what the mind was guilty of imposing upon it.

That's always how it is, though...

He'd no time to wonder exactly what would go through his opponents head, in the moment when his sword was already out, already positioned, his body and momentum arcing in a direction which would put his descending sword, on forearm, roughly where the man's shoulder ought to be. He was Archimedes, willing to move the world, if but given a firm piece of ground to brace himself upon. But there was no such thing as firm ground. Not for him. Not yet.

[Gesse]

Twenty seconds was the time frame offered - Jacob's estimation of how quickly Silas could cross the fair distance between himself and the duo standing observantly in the stone circle ahead? It wasn't the sort of distance most would consider crossable in the time it takes a normal man to blow his nose, but Jacob knew his master; knew the speed with which his powerful legs could carry him across the rough terrain.

"Be careful." Silas could recall muttering under his breath as a shimmering visage of Jacob - a corporeal representation of his soul - lifted out of the young man's body and soared away into the air. There was no time to think about the truly frightening image of Jacob's now motionless body standing frail and helpless in this place - only enough time to act.

Silas' feet seemed to glide over the cracked and scarred soil beneath them as he drove forward, crossing the open space between himself and his foes at an impressive rate. Jogging and then sprinting would have allowed him to advance in a straight line, but the old warrior opted to sprint and go for an arcing approach. He advanced around and to the left, keeping a careful eye on his targets in his peripheral vision - tracking them as they flickered in and out of sight behind the stone pillars. Reaching the point on the circle where he wanted to enter, and approximately seventeen seconds into his run, Silas bounded over the raised lip of the stone dais and landed at the ready in the stone circle.

Damn. Was the first thought to cross the warrior's mind as his brow furrowed in concern. Where there had been two, now there only stood one. The one left behind had the appearance of a young man, his face gaunt and pale while the rest of him was cloaked in shadow-dark armor and clothing. The style of his dress was reminiscent of the armors worn by warriors in the far east near his old monastery - but Silas didn't give any additional thought to the man. The Master was more concerned about where the man's cohort had gotten to, and where he might be...

Jacob! Silas bolted out of the stone circle nearly as fast as he had entered, dismissing the second opponent from his mind completely as the fatherly instinct to protect his charge washed over him. Jacob's seemingly lifeless body stood like a mannequin a couple hundred meters away - and fast approaching the boy was the man missing from inside the circle.

Silas literally flew back to his student, each powerful bound carrying him across meters of earth before planting another powerful step and continuing forward. His abnormal speed was one of his greatest strengths, but even at the pace he was gaining on his adversary, Silas worried he would not make it back to Jacob in time. Balls of fire, which registered subconsciously as the signal his young student had hinted at, fell at intervals between the young man's body and the closing hunter. The splash damage from each projectile lifted flame and stone shrapnel into the air, and Silas held his arms before his face as he plunged through the after-effect of each blast. The man ahead of his seemed to be one step ahead of the blast while he was two behind, but each successive blow came closer and closer than the last. By the final blast, with both men closing rapidly on Jacob, Silas was just a step behind.

"Ah!" The old warrior exclaimed as hot stone shards ripped into his flesh and the heat wave rushed by him. He'd gotten too close to the blast, but luckily the hunter was just as affected. Down went the plain-clothed man in a tripping fall, rolling forward towards Jacob. The fall may not have been expected, but the man recovered easily, using his forward momentum to come up in a rush with blade drawn.

"JACOB!" Silas practically bellowed as he closed with the man from behind. He was too slow to stop the man's swinging arm tipped with a sharp blade, but the warrior did what he could to maybe lessen the blow - he shot an open palm for the armed man's ribcage, just below the extended arm that spelt death for young Jacob.

[Ya Zhen]

With quite a bit of surprise Ya Zhen watched Maus zip back and forth, evading and avoiding the fireballs that were flung at him by what he could only assume to be a telekinetic force employed by the smaller enemy. He knew from first hand experience of the prowess of Maus, but the sheer efficiency of each individual move made the whole scene look like it was scripted, or planned, even on the side of the opposition. Hmmm...interesting...could this..could this be a feint? I must be wary, but it will do me naught but ill to let it cloud my thoughts. I have other things to worry about. At other he turned the direction went by the larger man preparing for his first blows of the first round.

Then he appeared. Up close he seemed even larger then before. It was not really his height that sold it, but rather his build and the over all atmosphere that he imbued. He shot an opening glance at Ya Zhen, obviously in the vein of sizing him up. His initial impulse to reach for his blade was cut short by the sudden look of realization in the man's eyes. At this he forgot everything he was doing and bolted back to the location of his partner and Maus. The look in his eyes was not only of realization, but also of terror. From this he devised that not only did these two know one another before the tournament but that they were also very close. This may prove useful, thought Ya Zhen.

If Maus can reach the other soon enough we may have one less person to worry about... He thought, watching the old man cover quite a bit of ground in the short 3 seconds since he took off. If he was to catch him he would need to start now. He quickly threw his cloak to the side so it would not hinder him as he began his mad dash to the racing man. The chase was on. Actually chase was a poor term. It was more like a crippled turtle pursuing a cheetah. He would not be able to catch him with his own running speed alone, or at all.

He continued running after the old man when a few stray fire balls flew towards him. He briefly grunted in dissatisfaction. He could not afford to lose even more time. He reached quickly for his blade unsheathing it as he ran. Once it was out it moaned wishing for unwanton destruction. It would soon receive its wish. Ya Zhen tensed all the muscles in his legs and made a mad corkscrew lunge in the air. Mid jump he let his blade cut through each of the inferno's releasing a minute pulse of darkness upon hitting each one. He landed on his hands and used his remaining momentum to flip re-landing on his feet. The balls of flame burnt out in the air behind him, each stationary in the place they had been cut with his blade. They grew dimmer, and dimmer, and dimmer still until they were nothing but a memory. While Ya Zhen continued his pursuit he sheathed his sword.

Maus was close enough to the smaller one to smell his breath. He would need only a little more time, of which Ya Zhen could most definitely provide. He gathered his energy skimming off the top of his overflowing aura into the center of his palm. The area around his entire right hand swirled and ebbed but was contained quickly to his hand. He stopped running. He reared his right arm back with his elbow bent and pointed at his quarry. He placed his left hand on his right shoulder and then thrusted as hard as he could at the old man. He aimed for a specific spot. Not the man himself but the ground beneath him around his feet. The infernal blast fired out spiral around as it went. Its intent was two different resolutions; First to distract the man. When the ash and stone and flames would burst from the ground in response it would serve as an excellent smoke screen and distraction. Second it was somewhat of a challenge. A warrior's challenge. A simple demonstration of a rudimentary attack. To most warriors it was an irresistible lure to action, call to arms, whatever you may call it. After the blast was fired he spoke. In a taunting voice his said, "Awww don't run away, we haven't even started the fun yet!"

[Christoph]

Well, this was unexpected, Jacob mused to himself from his aerial position. He stroked his corporeal chin thoughtfully as one of his opponents began racing across toward his inert body, dodging and weaving through the fiery barrage. In his current state, disconnected from his physical body and the adrenal threat response that came along with it, the Psion regarded his foe’s movement with detached curiosity. What could you be up to?

Jacob surveyed the land below, gazing upon the three figures below him as though they were pieces on a chessboard. The first opponent was a bishop sweeping across a hostile board, Silas was the knight hooking around to intercept, and their second foe was the rook, surging forward to join the fray centered on Jacob, the vulnerable king. He smiled at his clever analysis. Then, he saw the sword appear in his first opponent’s hand and remembered that he’d never liked chess.

Finally, panic surfaced as the reality of his imminent peril struck him. The sword of his foe was poised to strike him down in an instant. Silas wouldn’t make it in time; Jacob’s defenseless body would be carved into pieces! Yet, if nothing else, Sensei Gesse had taught his student to be calm even in the seconds before death. While a sword slash took perhaps a second to execute, a focused thought was instantaneous.

The movement of the word around him slowed as he anchored his consciousness to his body. His vision swam for a split second before his consciousness returned to his physical form. The telekinetic backlash sent a spray of rock, soot, and bone in all directions. Without allowing himself the chance to recover from his return, he focused his will and conjured a telekinetic shield, blocking his assailant’s blade mere inches from his shoulder.

His eyes flared with psychic energy and he felt a strong urge to shout ‘checkmate’, but realized that it wouldn’t have made sense to anyone else.

Jacob sprang backwards, out of the reach of his opponent’s sword. Time seemed to slow once again as the next moment surged through his mind in a flash of precognition. His head began to throb, but he ignored it; he needed to focus. Silas was bout to strike their first opponent from the side, but Jacob could see that their second foe was about to make a play to intervene.

Time reasserted itself as a burst of dark energy erupted from their second opponent’s shadowy form, aimed as Gesse. Jacob reacted instantly, nudging a warning into his master’s mind. In the same instant, he drove two blunt spikes of telekinetic force at his first opponent with crushing force – aimed at his left knee and chest.

The strain from his potent attack left the young Psion light-headed. Dark spots clouded his vision and blood ran freely from his nose. Jacob grit his teeth and ignored it. He would not show weakness to his opponents or his master. Or himself.