Round One, Bracket B: Matheson Twins vs. Tvier Valka Seula

[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 12 AM EST on the 14th and the battle closes at 11:59 PM EST on February 4th. Good luck to both teams!

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

You will battle in a crowded marketplace. Here the masses of peasants are as much a part of the terrain as the old-word buildings and vegetable stands.

[TwinDeath]

All bunnying between the Tvier Valka Seula has been approved by both parties.

Xaul padded quietly into the market, his senses on high alert. All around him were rough, faded buildings, with a jungle of clotheslines strung between them. The bright colored clothes were in stark contrast with the faded stones of the houses. All around him Xaul could hear the voices of various sellers and buyers, all of them vying for the possession of some new item or sale of said item.

“Coming from the far corners of the globe, sir, these are the finest examples of craftsmanship you will ever see!” Xaul paused for a moment, enjoying the patter of a master salesman who was dressed in the height of fashion for a merchant. “Why, I myself own three, and I’ve yet to be dissatisfied. For you sir,” proclaimed the fat man, clasping the shoulder of an interested onlooker, “twenty gold, and that is the rock-bottom, lowest of the low, cutting my own throat price, and that’s a fact.” The potential buyer looked hesitant, stepping back slightly only to be halted by the merchant’s hand. “Too generous, y’say? Well, my dear fellow, I beg to differ! I say that it’s not generous enough! Yessir, seeing as how you drive such a hard bargain, I’ll drop the price down to fifteen gold!”

Xaul smiled at the protests of the buyer, and wandered off. Eventually, the merchant would drop his price to only moderately exorbitant, and the man would dutifully hand over his hard-earned money for some useless, but fancy, foreign knick knack. Xaul allowed the ebb and flow of the crowd to carry him along, watching the stalls carefully for the items he needed. There. And there. Purchasing a cloak and a jar of makeup, he pushed through the crowds, making his way back to Epsilon.

“Put this on, Esper. You and I stand out too much,” murmured Xaul as he handed Epsilon the plain brown cloak. He slipped into an alley and produced the jar of makeup, which he began liberally applying to his face and hands. As he slapped the fleshy goop on, Xaul heard a slight grumble.

What are we doing here, Xaul? You should be killing half of these sheep, and yet you let them live. You even disguise yourself, hiding your true nature! Are you ashamed of me?

Xaul grimaced as he continued to apply the makeup, checking his reflection in a tiny window. The paste was easily covering his gray-black skin, making him look somewhat normal. Of course, there still was the scars and the tattered coat, but those couldn't be helped. Resheph. We are here for the first round. You’ll get your blood soon. These people, these ‘sheep’ as you call them are innocent bystanders. Wait. Our opponents will satisfy your hunger. They’re twins, and you yourself explained to me the benefits of sacrificing both twins.

Innocent? Heh. Xaul, you are still so naïve… The shopkeeper there, sweeping his doorstep? He beats his wife every night, and has not stopped even though she is with child. The barmaid, there, buying the dress? She has saved every night to buy that, and she plans to kill her lover tonight while she wears it. The noble who has deigned to grace the streets with his presence? When he was a child, he found a litter of kittens, and discovered that he could hug them to his chest, one by one, and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until each tiny life simply burst! These sheep are so simple, their minds and pasts are open books. Are they the innocent ones, Xaul? Are they the ones you want so desperately to spare? Or shall I read further, to convince you?

Xaul paused, staring at each of the mentioned people. Eventually, he shook his head and finished with his disguise. They are not my problem right now, Resheph. The twins are. We weren’t given a good description of them, only general information. Can you scan for them? Read their books?

Resheph sighed as Xaul capped the makeup and slipped it into a pocket. Alas, no. They are more than these weaklings around you. They will not register to me, so you must find them on your own. Hunt well, my only priest. Hunt well, my avatar.

Xaul nodded, looking to Epsilon. “Keep that mask of yours inside that cloak, shiny. Can’t put makeup on that thing. We need to stay close to each other, mingle with the crowds, and find the twins. I want to talk with them before the fight. Don’t reveal yourself, though. No telling what they’ll do if they spot us first.” Xaul was about to swing out of the alley when he paused and grinned.

“Tell you what, spaceman. Pull the hood a little further forward and keep your arms crossed. You are now a monk of some such god or another. If anyone sees the mask, your order demands that you wear it to cleanse yourself. Don’t watch for me. I’m now a beggar.” As Xaul stepped back into the bazaar, his entire posture changed to fit his new role. His back bent and his arms pulled tight to his sides, Xaul limped through the crowds unnoticed, dismissed as just another one of society’s castaways.

[Exspherius]

Epsilon stood, arms crossed over his chest, in the shadows of a doorway as he looked out across the marketplace. Thankfully, the portal that had brought them here had not deposited them in plain view. Instead, they had emerged in the warehouse-type building whose doorway the Esper now occupied. He kept himself as unobtrusive as possible while Xaul made his quiet way into the throng. Instead of following after his ally, Epsilon made a thorough survey of what was to be the field of battle.

The tents and booths of the merchants flooded the square with a blaze of color and the dusty grey flagstones were barely visible through the crush of peasants crowding into the market. Shouts from the vendors grew ever-louder as they each attempted to be heard over each other. Aromas of baking food and not-quite-clean people washed over the area, though they were mostly muted by the Epser's metallic mask.

He stretched out his mind, and the thoughts of the market-goers washed over him. Most of the peasants were focused on their errands, planning their purchases and haggling strategies while the grinning merchants kept up running tallies of profits while gleefully ripping off every customer.

The Esper caught a glimmer of malice, and turned his head toward the source. A youth dressed in shabby rags wove deftly through the crowd, subtly bumping against the occasional passerby. The motion was trademark for a thief, and Epsilon focused a bit more into the boy's mind. I love market day, these saps are so easy! I've gotta have a hunnerd gold already! Sure enough, the little scamp was pickpocketing everyone he passed and now had a small fortune tucked away in the depths of his rags. Epsilon smiled to himself, and made just the tiniest exertion of will as the urchin's hand reached into the purse of a passing nobleman. The nobleman whipped around as he felt a soft tug at his waist, and there was the urchin, his hand held stuck in the nobleman's pouch by Epsilon's mind. As the noble called the guards, Epsilon turned back to the main market just in time to see Xaul emerge carrying a cloak and a small jar.

"Put this on, Esper," said Xaul, tossing him the cloak. Epsilon fastened it about his neck, drawing it over his fatigues. He drew the hood over his head, pulling it low to obscure his facelessness. Xaul passed him, heading back into the neighboring alley to complete his own disguise. Epsilon continued to watch the crowd for any sign of their opponents as Xaul spoke with Resheph, the god's words a low growl over Epsilon's connection to his partner. They knew the dangers of this connection should Resheph go berserk, but the Esper had deemed it worth the risk to maintain a link to his ally. It was the only way their plan would work, anyways. So, when Resheph declared that he was unable to locate either of the Matheson Twins, Epsilon was not overtly concerned.

Xaul restated their plan, made the previous evening before stepping through the portal. Simple, really. It relied on Xaul's ability to blend completely into a crowd and his own psionics. Hopefully, it would also give them a few moments to study their opponents before engaging: the information they had been given was extremely general, only names and a location. Thus, the disguises.

"I know, Xaul." he said, "Don't worry, they cannot hide from my eyes." Xaul grinned at him from the alley's shadows and made one final suggestion for the Esper's role. Smiling at the idea, Epsilon laced his fingers together and inclined his head. Not only did it add to his monkish appearance, it also served to further cast his mask into shadow. "May the blessings of the Goddess Martel be upon you, unfortunate one." He made a vaguely religious-looking gesture to his friend, completing the 'blessing' before striding out from the shadows. Epsilon softened his regimented stride to befit a man of the clergy, purposeful but not forceful. He made his quiet way through the crowd, keeping Xaul's position in his mind as he spread out his consciousness in search of these new enemies.

[Lord Saladin]

Stepping through the barrier was the last thing Svannah remembered before reality shifted into what felt like non-existence. This whole situation was lacking any logic she could decipher; one minute she was at her home, fighting her brother, the next, she was in this 'Garden of Secrets' to fight in some ultimate championship of warriors. It was a strange situation in the least, and one she was certainly not content with; though the end prize of a wish could well rid her of the imbecile.

The portal, it seemed, had sent her into yet another world, though she could not be sure this was actually the case. These events were far beyond her own knowledge and understanding, which troubled her greatly. It could easily be that this new place was simply another location within the Garden of Secrets, one she had not seen during the preparative period before the tournament began.

Fading into existence, it seemed, as she frowned with consternation at the events unfolding before her, a large, busy market unveiled itself. The shouts of hawkers and street vendors was barely distinguishable above the amalgamated chatter of perhaps two hundred or more peasants going about their shopping. The myriad conversations flooded the mind of Savannah, the masses of people brushing past her an invasion of her thoughts, the hectic manner of interaction distracting from thoughts. The mixing of scents from various food stalls made her nose itch, and the warmth of the sun rotting meat made her feel slightly queasy, not a pleasant place, that was for sure.

Down to business, then, I guess.

Looking around, Savannah had expected Sebastian, the bane of her life, to be somewhere nearby, somewhere visible. However, no such misfortune. The one time she actually wanted him around, and he was nowhere to be seen - so very typical of the little whelp. That she had been stuck in this predicament with the person she hated the most was beyond fairness - the boy was an insufficient fighter in her eyes, and his entire being was a downfall of the human race. "That impudent little worm, he had better be here somewhere, or I am going to hurt him severely." Her voiced internal thoughts caused the people directly next to her to glance uneasily at a person making threats to apparently no-one in particular, seemingly talking to herself. Those with dementia were always a source of apprehension, especially to those who were lacking in more advanced knowledge - like peasants, for example.

With a loud, irritated, huff, she walked off through the crowd, sliding between people, occasionally barging them out of the way, much to their chagrin. Right now, however, she didn't care, she was full of rage at her brother's incompetence. One salesman, holding a tray of buttons, tried to speak to her, his words smooth and carrying less honesty that she would have wanted, obviously of the mindset that sweet talking a woman would land him with profit. He was met with a vicious, two-handed shove that knocked him to his silk-trousered backside, the tray and its contents spilling onto the cobbled floor of the bazaar. She paid him no mind as she continued on, scanning the area for her brother, though the other peasants took this great opportunity to gain possession of a few buttons for free.

Apart from the disdain of the many market-goers that followed her, Savannah melted into the crowd pretty well, dressed in her serf's attire. Of course, though, her scabbarded broadsword and scant armour did add another conspicuous element to her presence.

I'd better keep an eye out for anyone wanting to kill me. Our opponents should be here as well.

[Miehm]

"Shit." I assessed the surroundings. I had stepped through the doorway provided, and emerged into a crowded marketplace. I paused on exit to check my equipment, knives on my arm, three at my belt, rifle, scope intact, loaded, empty chamber, safety on, spare mags, one surprise... Solid. "My partner is here somewhere, but where would I find him..." I stand out like a sore thumb against all these damn faire wannabes. Black leather biker jackets and blue jeans are obviously not standard attire, the knives and the rifle don't help either. Hell with it. I need to get moving. One thing I learned in New York, if you stand still long enough, the Bloods are gonna find you.

I started walking down one of the streets, looking for anything that didn't belong, or blended just a little too well. Killing any or all of these "shoppers" wouldn't bother me a bit. I don't know how they do it, but these people are either immortal(miracles of modern science?), or not people, and either way it doesn't matter to me.

I reach behind myself, and chamber a round as I walk, letting the bolt slam shut and strip a bullet out of the clip. "Can never be too careful." I mutter quietly to myself as I continue to walk, thinking aloud as I scan the thickening crowd. Finally I'm stopped by the press of bodies.

"Dammit. Ok... Time to clear some space." I reach into my pocket, and pull out an odd contraption the trekkie assured me would run my Zune as loud and as long as I wanted it to. "Music to clear a primitive medieval crowd... Sabbath? Metallica? No, still not quite there... Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack what the hell? Definitely not." Perfect. Guitar grinds at 90 decibels are enough to scare small children and the elderly back home. Lets see how this freak show likes Megadeth.

People slowly edge away from me, a few even running away in abject fear, and I start walking forward again, singing along to the lyrics in a language they can understand, if I'm horrendously off key that's just a bonus. "If I wing again I'm still the champion, and if you win hah, that's just impossible! I don't play for keeps, I don't play for your soul, I don't play to win, I don't play for it all... I PLAY FOR BLOOD!"

The empty space, other than a few of the braver shoppers ignoring my antics, will be perfect. A broad avenue, with stalls lining the buildings, lots of cover and concealment. Now all that remains is to wait. I pull the rifle off of my shoulder, click the safety, and the volume on my music drops to the level of ambient noise, rather than overpowering thunder. Time to wait.

[TwinDeath]

As the music thundered through the air, Xaul stayed in character as the beggar and dashed away with the rest of the screaming mob. His mind was whirling as he considered the strange newcomer. Epsilon, we have a problem. You can hear this noise, I’m sure. The source doesn’t match either of our opponents. Blue pants, leather coat with silver trim-

They’re called zippers.

Xaul snatched up a bottle of wine that a fleeing shopper had dropped, never stopping as he continued speaking to Epsilon. He did not question Resheph’s knowledge; after all, the being was a god. Resheph often had information that no one else could possibly discover, and Xaul had leaned to trust these tidbits. Alright, zippers then. He’s got some sort of ‘gun’ like that one you showed me, but it’s longer, a two handed version by the looks of it. Not as much tech on it as yours, either. This noise… I think it’s supposed to be music, but I can’t be sure. Who in their right mind would like this garbage?

I’ll have you know that that ‘garbage’ is Megadeth, Xaul, and I’ll thank you to leave the insults alone. Sure, the singing’s not much even without Mr. ‘I’m a dying chicken with a head cold’ over there, but it’s not bad. It does, however, show that this newcomer is from a reality much different frm yours, one where my time is long gone.

Xaul actually froze in shock for a second, blinking at Resheph’s comment as he stood in a side alley. “You-you listen to this waste of good hearing, Resheph?”

I told you, it’s not a waste. Though I would prefer something like “Life Burns”. Much better lyrics. Now, are you going to kill him or not?

Xaul shook himself as the music dropped to a more bearable level. Yeah, sure. He deserves it for making me hear that crap. Opening the bottle of wine, Xaul soaked his shirt with the drink, grinning as he smelled the fumes. Never hurts to have an enemy assume you’re drunk. He recorked the bottle and dropped it in a pocket of his coat as he moved to a particularly rough section of wall, one that had plenty of lovely handholds.

Try not to fall this time, Xaul. I want my sacrifices.

“Shut up, Resheph,” grunted Xaul. He was already halfway to the roof of the building when the god spoke, and another few seconds brought him to the top. “If you remember me falling, you might also remember me practicing for a month after I healed.” Xaul scrambled over the rooftop to another one, identical to the first. Peering over the edge, he swore and ducked down. Epsilon, I’m behind him, high. This joker’s got a clear line of sight to most of the square. You feel like playing the innocent and peaceful monk?

Yeah, or, you could go kill him.

Not yet, Resheph. Wait.

Kill him.

No, we wait.

Killhimkillhimkillhim.

Resheph, when this is over, and I’ve received that wish, you are going to be taken out of my head. I would recommend that you not aggravate me any further, lest I decide to not allow you your freedom.

Xaul, when this is over, you’ll owe me for giving you the power to win. That wish will be partially mine. Now, kill him.

Not yet. Patience. Outwardly, Xaul was still as he watched Miehm. Inwardly, he was in utter despair as he considered the truth of Resheph's words.

[Exspherius]

Epsilon wandered through the marketplace, keeping his eye on Xaul and his mind open and observing. He stopped every so often to offer a pseudo-blessing to a passing marketgoer, and was having a good time making up a different one each time while he scanned their minds. Everyone here is fairly mundane. No one is powerful enough to be a challenger... Abruptly, he caught a hint of another presence, one far stronger than the others around him. He could tell little other than the being was female, and bowed away from a merchant to move closer. Xaul! he sent, I think I might have found-

And then the music started.

Epsilon's message cut off abruptly as the sudden noise took him by surprise. He wasn't the only one surprised, and as the peasants began to scatter among the stalls the Esper lost contact with his potential opponent. Xaul's mental warning was rather unnecessary, Epsilon thought ruefully. There was only one person who was not reacting (or in his partner's case, pretending to react) to the sudden explosion of screaming guitar and growling vocals. Even without Xaul's information, the rifle-toting man in the center of the square was making himself extremely conspicuous. That was likely by design, but the Esper certainly was not going to make it that easy. Epsilon retreated back a few steps, following the flow of the crowd. Just as the Esper ducked behind a suit of plate mail on display at a weapon stand, the music began to fade back down. Thankfully, the newcomer stopped singing along.

You're correct, Xaul, his weapon is a rifle. Superior in range and accuracy though not in penetration or damage to my own Sentinel. Ignoring for the moment the panicking merchant behind him, Epsilon peeked out from behind the suit's tower shield, feigning fear himself as he watched Xaul melt back into the crowd behind the man. And though he's not either of our slated opponents, he is certainly powerful enough to be a participant in the Tournament. Epsilon cursed his ill luck, that he had been unable to pin down their likely opponent before this strange man had thrown everything into chaos. The crowd's emotions were running far to high to make any accurate scanning possible. A known mind like Xaul's was easy, but to search for a stranger in this scenario would be nigh useless.

At that moment, Xaul relayed his position and suggestion. Thinking quickly, Epsilon responded. Hold your position. Considering your weakness to ranged weaponry, this man is extremely dangerous to you. Stay in cover, and I will try to find out what he intends. Perhaps this will even coax out Savannah and her brother. At this point the man was looking around him with his rifle ready, and Epsilon feared that he would begin shooting randomly if he did not find what he was searching for. So, he would do as Xaul suggested. Ignoring Resheph's 'killkillkill' litany that he was hearing by proxy, the Esper stood from behind the armor. He knelt beside the cowering sword-merchant and laid his hand gloved on the terrified man's shoulder.

"Calm thyself, my son. I do not believe this man intends to harm you." The merchant nodded quickly, and Epsilon rose before helping the man to his feet. He couldn't help but notice that the first thing the man did was grab a sword from the rack beside him. Epsilon stepped away, towards the rifle-toting man, and began to draw up his power as he walked. If the man was as unstable as he seemed to be, the Esper wanted to be prepared should the situation require it.

"May the blessings of the Goddess Martel be upon you, my son," Said Epsilon, as he stepped towards the man. He kept his distance, his trepidation not altogether feigned. Should the man open fire, he would be hard-pressed to react in time. "May this humble one ask why you have so disturbed the peace on this day?"

[Lord Saladin]

Savannah continued on through the crowds for only a few minutes longer, still rather angry that the useless little maggot was nowhere to be found - the likelihood was that, if he had not managed to fail getting here, he was in flirtation with some skinny little man-thing. He liked them skinny, apparently; much like himself.

Shoving another peasant of this 'Garden of Secrets' aside, cursing under her breath, everything changed in the space of about an instant. From somewhere behind her, without warning, the most awful sound erupted, filling the air with a deafening horror. The market-goers and merchants alike seemed to entirely forget their business of the day, reacting to so foreign a sound with pure, unadulterated panic. Wailing, covering ears, stumbling, all as they tried to run away from the monstrous thing filling the air. The mania that had gripped them resulted in a stampede of dirty peasants, stinking beggars, well dressed merchants, and Savannah even noticed a silk-garbed nobleman lost in the throng of chaos. The fat man, as all nobility, only conscious of his own welfare, she made a mental note that should the battle bring him near her, she would kill him - if only for the revenge her own 'owner' had deserved to be exacted upon him.

Savannah, however, although dragged by the crowd, reacted in a different manner altogether. Being a trained soldier, and knowing this was a battlefield, despite all the peasants, Savannah's instincts swiftly came into play as she drew her sword. Surely this demonic sound would be signification of an impending attack, or perhaps even part of an attack in itself. Not caring for those around her, the serf drew her sword as though in the training courtyard - with full intention of using the steel broadsword in the following instant. However, as she drew the blade, there was a tinge of regret as a woman screamed in complete agony as Savannah felt warm fluid upon her face. It was with her peripheral vision that Savannah caught a glimpse of what looked to be a slender arm. Turning her head, her concern was confirmed, as a woman was left armless - the crowd was too condensed, it seemed, to draw a sword safely - and in conclusion, the fluid on her face would be blood from the woman.

Now, as the crowd ran from what could be the deafening roars of some unknown beast, they also tried to avoid entering the range of Savannah's sword, giving her a little opening within the stampede. Having no desire to run from this battle, she turned, but was still masked by the crowd running past her at a wide berth - this would be annoying, certainly, but she now knew the enemy was afoot and taking action. Allowing herself a moment, Savannah regained her composure just as the horrendous sound stopped, leaving the near empty bazaar in a relative silence that seemed to weigh down the air.

A few moments passed, and the last remnants of the stampede passed Savannah, leaving her alone on the far side of market, sword held ready for combat, eyes scanning the area. So, no Sebastian, that was typical. He was most probably in the crowd of cowards running from the sound, it would be just like the effeminate runt. Noting only three people left in the bazaar; a priest of some sort, approaching a man who carried an overly confident manner, and upon the walls, unless she was hallucinating due to the damage caused to the brain by so loud a noise, the final opponent, sneaking around rather well hidden. It was only a glimpse Savannah had caught of a shadow, but she knew a hiding man when she saw one.

Three on one? Great. Damn that little bastard. The serf-girl stood where she was, perfectly still, in a basic combative stance, knowing that her best chance of survival was to allow the enemies to come to her. Luckily she had a knowledge of each of their locations. I'd better be careful, or I'll be out of this Tournament of Champions in so short a time I might as well have not been here.

And so it was, as she observed the others, trying to regain vision of the third man, she began to formulate strategies in her mind, looking for the best way to get out of yet another mess Sebastian had landed her in.

[Miehm]

"No. You can't. Get the hell out of my face, or I'll get you out of it." My rifle tracked up and around into the "priests" face, and the safety clicked off as my finger passed it, and rested lightly on the trigger. Whatever this "priest" was, I didn't like anyone who seemed so unmoved by something that had terrified everyone else. "If you take one step closer, I have a hundred and fifty grains of Corelokt lead just begging to split your head wide open. It won't hurt but a second."

My crosshairs were lined up right between this odd preacher's eyes, as much as a mask can be said to have eyes anyway. Something about this man was wrong, he was...slimy. He just plain looked wrong. My eyes darted back and forth, and I spotted a woman with a sword out at the other end of the square. Strange priest trying to get close to me, strange woman with a sword approaching from my side... Where the hell was my partner when I needed him?

"Shit..." My enemies were here and I was still flying solo. My finger tightened imperceptibly on the trigger, inching ever closer to a shot. The range was short, no more than twenty yards, and my bullet would punch through his head almost immediately unless he moved it in the next few seconds. I could feel the resistance on the trigger, and squeezed a tiny bit more. The thunder of a gunshot echoed off the walls of the square, and three more followed in rapid fire succession, tracking from his head to his torso, as I dove to the right, away from both the priest and the woman with the sword. My hand flashed, the bolt slammed shut again, and the magazine dropped free as I rolled away from where I had been standing. Another almost unseen move of my hand, and a magazine jumped from my belt and into the magazine well, as I slammed another round into the chamber, putting myself back at a full magazine.

I brought my head back up, scanning for the priest, looking to see if any of my bullets had struck home. He was more dangerous than the woman with the sword at the moment, and I refused to take my eyes off of him until I knew I was in danger from another angle.

[TwinDeath]

Xaul watched silently as a peasant drew a sword, the blade cleanly separating a woman in the crowd from her arm. The rest of the stampeding sheep only screamed all the louder at the sudden spurts of blood, and suddenly the armed woman was left standing alone as the terrified masses ran for their lives. This newcomer, from what little Xaul could make out, was one of the twins, one of his and Epsilon’s opponents. For now, it seemed, she was content to watch and wait, to allow Epsilon and the loud stranger to have their talk.

Indeed, Xaul could see Epsilon step slowly forward, his shuffle in keeping with his role as a monk. Xaul ignored Savannah as he strained to catch the conversation his partner initiated, missing the stares Savannah sent his way as he moved slightly out of cover.

Xaul couldn’t hear anything that passed between the two, and was about to ask Epsilon through the mental link what was going on, when all his plans were thrown into chaos. Four gunshots rang out, the loud cracks! shattering the air. Xaul watched Epsilon flinch, his mind whirling. One of the only friends he had ever had, one of the very few who had seen the black void of his soul and simply forgiven him, had likely died. Xaul flinched as his partner did, screaming.

Xaul screamed, the sound rasping against the very souls of those who could hear it. He ripped loose the bonds that held Resheph, holding onto his sanity long enough to warn Epsilon. If you can hear me, get out of my head. A few more seconds of painful sanity bought him enough time to cast his net out, the small piece of mesh flying towards Miehm. Having done what he needed, Xaul allowed himself to fade into the blissful madness.

Resheph roared with delight as he surged against the Kounnar, his influence extending further than Xaul had ever allowed it to. The awful bloody tattoos of Kounnar blazed suddenly, burning through the makeup and overpowering even the bright overhead sun. The power flooding through Xaul rushed into his katars, who awoke hungry. The blades seemed to leap into Xaul's hands, their tainted and evil presence baying for blood, and some of the sheep who had not fully fled could feel Drshil's awful energy clawing at them, the bleak power slipping into their bodies and bringing pain into their very existence. Xaul and Resheph rushed off the roof, landing and rolling to Miehm’s feet, surging upward with both katars extended. A constant giggle escaped Xaul’s lips as he fought, hissing soft disturbing words.

“Soon, the birds will burn. I came here to watch you bleed, and I do so love to gloat. You can see, can't you? I'm armed with delusions; and one little thing: the stormbringer’s coming, time to die…”