Cage Number Three

[Shadar]

((Bunnying of the griffin was given the okay.))

As Brigitte swept upward with the ninja and Shadar loosed the five claws from his right hand, he realized there was another shriek in the air. At first, he thought it was just his ears playing tricks on him. It was proven that Brigitte’s war cry could damage hearing, so maybe having heard it so many times had taken its toll on him and skewed the sounds of magic exploding all over the cage. Closing his eyes, and ignoring the ninja in the process, he shook his head as if that would stop the bird-like shriek from sounding like two.

Brigitte, as she pumped her wings to pull the ninja upward, was under no such delusions. Hearing the call that was not her own, she swiveled her head and suddenly became silent. The man-sized griffin was almost upon her. Its wings and limbs seemed to blur, but the razor sharp beak and claws were clear enough. Frantically, she shook the ninja off and twisted in the air. Only in the instant before impact was she able to raise her feet and catch the griffin’s forelimbs. With their talons locked, she was plowed backward through the air and straight into the side of the cage. The metal shook as her body slammed against it; a sound that seemed to echo in her skull like a legion of rattling swords. Through the noise and the pain, she could only make out one other sound. It was directly above her, and it called out desperately in the all too familiar voice of her protector. “Brigitte! Hold on!”

Gritting her teeth, she did hold on. She locked her talons around the griffin’s tighter and spread her wings against the mesh. If the creature of light tried to peck at her, it was too late. With one strong push, she propelled herself upward over the beast’s head. It had no choice but to follow as her strong feet pulled its own upward and rolled the beast a quarter turn backwards.

With his own words just barely out of his mouth, Shadar raised his other hand. The claws turned to liquid in that instant and flowed together into the form of a wide, thick dagger. It was heavy enough that gravity would do most of the work when he threw it. The instant that he was about to, though, Brigitte took control of the griffin. His arm was ready to throw it, but he held it still in the moment that Brigitte was in the way. The muscles burned from the sudden delay, and then snapped downward viciously as the path was clear. The blade shot straight toward the griffin’s exposed underbelly, ready to enlighten them all as to what innards this creature really had.

However, Shadar couldn’t be bothered to find out. He glided down to Brigitte’s back and wrapped one arm around her waist. Startled by the sudden but reassuring touch, she kicked away from the griffin’s claws and winged them both to the very top of the cage once more. At arms length from the ceiling, she stopped and hovered there with gentle, controlled strokes through the air. Shadar hovered directly in front of her, his form completely still. “I wanted to say, let me take the lead,” he admitted quickly, “But, you clearly don’t need me to.”

Brigitte’s reaction was mixed. Initially, she smiled; a very satisfied, almost smug, showing of teeth. Then, she looked slightly up above his head and her eyes widened to the size of condor eggs.

After a moment of confusion, Shadar caught on and snapped his head back to stare upward. The first thing he noticed was that the spider leg illusions were still there and apparently supporting him. He had forgotten completely about them, which meant that Jackal must have taken over to keep them from faltering.

You’re welcome, the dream demon growled with a tone of ‘you owe me’. Then came a more surprised, Holy elephant butt!

That was exactly what they were staring at. It was impossible to fathom, but in all the confusion, a pachyderm had somehow gotten on top of the cage. Shadar could do nothing but stare, even though Brigitte was shouting in a very urgent voice, “What’s that?!” and Jackal was humming the circus song. After a few seconds of flabbergasted jaw-stretching, he realized that this animal was actually talking. More surprisingly, he was hurling potent insults at the very man Shadar wanted to smear across the steel mesh.

It didn’t take long to put that together with the fact that some heavily armed guards were surrounding the elephant. As far as the half-elf was concerned, there was only one thing to do. Shouting as loud at he could to be heard over all the battle noise, he said, “If you’re an enemy of Seth, you’re a damned good friend of mine! Get in here and help me mash him into peanut butter!” As he finished, the texture of his gloves shifted to a rippling viscosity. Both palms, he pressed directly to the mesh under the elephant’s feet. At the instant of contact, a single pulse traveled out through the metal and rendered it momentarily transparent. For the next second, it wasn’t steel but simply a shadow of what existed. With a very rational fear of the now unsupported beast above him, Shadar darted out of the way and stopped by Brigitte’s side. Finally, he answered her question in a hushed voice. “It’s the biggest, ugliest godsend every.”

((The spider illusion didn’t falter, and it still appears that that’s how he’s staying at the top. A small section of cage at the top has momentarily turned ethereal, so the elephant should be plummeting into our midst any second now.))

[Dissinger]

Son of a... was all he could manage as he saw the elephant show up. The pachyderm screamed out towards Seth Dahlios with an unbridled hatred. As the cage was still a barrier he knew he wouldn't have to worry too much about it. Still when Shadar Logath talked and brought he pachyderm up, he knew he had hit his limits. Keeping his feet planted he brought his hand up as he shouted out, "Tell you what Shadar, if you're so eager to find a replacement, let me finish the switch out!"

Grinning as he knew no one had tried to stop him, or even approach him he had stood in one spot long enough and so had no difficulty in knowing what was going on. Holding his hand out he spoke the phrase softly, not trying to bury it in words, "Penance for your sins."

Once the words were spoken Seth was off the cage wall like a bullet speeding towards Shadar. Purple energy sparked and arced over his skin as he held his hand out to the side, letting it coalesce into the ball of purple energy known only to him as Sin Harvest. While not his strongest spell, he had few times where he could use it, and considering what Shadar had done to Seth, he was more than certain a few sins were lurking beneath his flesh, and the scars would be far more ugly than the one Shadar had given him on that fateful day.

With a quick twirl he threw the ball of energy right at Shadar Logath before he was again in motion, this time sliding to a halt. As the first attack was let off he drew a Kunai and once again took aim throwing the weapon blacked blade right at the Pachyderm that seem all too determined to end his tenure in the Cell. As he snorted he put out, "What are you going to do to me? Sing another bad number and show how sub par your dancing skills really are? Let me give you a hint, it’s a bad song when no one gets what spews from your pathetic mouth."

Coming to a stop he knew he was exposed, he only hoped everyone had the courtesy to let him wash the floors red in the elephant Chumley's blood.

Liliana watched the show and grimaced, remaining silent as she watched helplessly. Seth had begun to fight, now was the true test of control. If he held back, perhaps there was hope, but if not, there would be a lot of work to get him back to normal. Whispering softly to herself she said, “Hold on to yourself Seth, just hold on…”

[Shadar]

“Switch out? No,” Shadar growled under his breath, “Big grey meat shield. Yes.” He placed a lot of trust in that creature’s bulk to absorb whatever Seth threw at him, so he took his attention away from the man long enough to glance at Brigitte. Now, without the distraction of an elephant above his head, he noticed that she was wincing with each push of her wings. Apparently, the slam into the cage wall had done damage, and it was startling to see her fierceness dimmed by it. “Are you-” he began to ask. Then, the purple light struck him and splashed up into his vision. The last thing he saw was Brigitte reaching out to him and squawking desperately.

Shit, it’s coming in! Jackal shouted before he too faded away.

Perhaps it was because Shadar was now very much a creature of thought that it had such a strong effect on him. He could even feel its energy delving into his mind, searching for something. Memories flashed before him without his consent, images of him and Brigitte wandering the wilderness in search of news of the new Bandit Brotherhood. Then, farther into the past, when they were hiding out in the mountains after the Gisela. There was where the spell found its fuel.

Vividly, Shadar remembered the final sight he had of his army. It had been created by Jackal for the Gisela only, a bizarre mix of creatures. There were purple men with two upper bodies mounted on a single set of legs, thin dragons of fire and ice, hordes of buxom harpies, and a flurry of small pink pixies. They were all that remained after the fighting, and they would not remain for long.

They had all assembled in the mountains. Brigitte and Shadar looked down on them from the elevated mouth of a cave, where Jackal’s illusionary image was directing them into a portal. It was the same opening from which they had been born, and now they were to go into it to be recycled into the energy of thought. Obediently, they entered it. Brigitte winced as each went in, for that would have been her fate too if she hadn’t defected from Jackal to Shadar. In an attempt at comforting her, he wrapped an arm over her shoulders and whispered, “I’m sorry we couldn’t save them.”

Forcefully, she shook her head. “No, don’t be sorry,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m not one of them, and they don’t know the meaning of being saved.” Shadar nodded solemnly to that. Brigitte was truly the only one who would understand. Jackal had given her alone the intellect to appreciate life, and therefore to resist when he did rip her apart. He was a sick bastard for orchestrating that all just for his pleasure, but Shadar could do nothing to be rid of him. All he could do was watch each glimmer of life disappear back into that rainbow-colored portal, like paint dripping from canvas and back onto the easel. A part of him went with each of them, because he knew he was responsible for it all coming about.

His mind became aware of his body once more, and something very strange was happening to it. The feeling began at the tips of his fingers, then carried up his arms. It was as if the skin was opening on its own into hundreds upon hundreds of paper cuts. Each was insignificant, but the combined pain was like fire speeding along oil-soaked rope. Rapidly, the lacerations spread all the way to his shoulders and spilled out over his chest and back. He was wrapped in a blanket of fire, one that was trying to smother him as the spell reached up his neck and over his face. It missed eyes and mouth, but the cuts continued up to his hairline. If this new body of his needed air, he would have gasped what he thought would be one last breath. Then, he heard the raucous voice of an angel.

“Shadar! Shadar!” Brigitte shouted at him. His eyes snapped open, and time rushed back upon him. He could feel that his mind had been working quickly, which meant that only a few seconds had passed so far. In that few seconds, though, his upper body had become a mess of crisscrossing lines. His white shirt was marked with each individual line as the small amounts of blood seemed out, making it look like a child’s attempt at drawing a grip with red crayon. His face was also cut, though to a lesser extent, as if the spell had run out of steam. The blood that he felt dripping was minimal, as the cuts were shallow enough to quickly close. That didn’t stop the fire, though. It burned through him, stronger now than when he had been lost in his mind. Only by struggling and groaning through the pain was he able to determine where he was.

His view was of Brigitte’s red hair alongside his face and the floor far below where the battle raged. It seemed that she had caught him as he began falling and managed to anchor herself to the ceiling. Now, with both her feet gripping the mesh, she was sitting up so as to have her body horizontal. He lay across her like a towel covering her stomach and chest, his head hanging over her shoulder and the illusionary legs nowhere to be seen. The slick red lines running through his shirt now marked her soft bosom as if she had shared the same pain.

Jeez, that was a trip! Good thing you’re still alive. I don’t want to be stranded in a corpse with all these freaks around.

Penance. It feels good, was all Shadar said in response, as if he was talking to himself. The burning shroud around him was so very warm that he couldn’t help but feel the comfort in it.

Jackal staggered for a moment, then spat, You’re sick in the head.

Hearing that from Jackal, Shadar wanted to laugh out loud, but he held it in. Instead, he whispered solemnly into Brigitte’s ear. “What would you do if I died?”

At first she seemed to be relieved, for her form relaxed as much as it could while supporting him. But, when the words set in, she tensed again.

Not waiting for the inevitable question, he assured her, “No, I’m not dying now. It’s hypothetical.”

As if recovering from a terrible shock, she shuddered. Then, she responded very seriously. “I would die.” It was true. Without his energy to sustain her, she would fade away, and it was the same if their positions were reversed. Though, he could sense the overpowering fear that was just now leaving her system. He had no doubt that what she meant was, “I would want to die.”

Be smiled, though the motion pulled at his scarring skin. With a moment of thought, he could have blocked it out. But, the warmth still held that comfort. He wanted to wrap it about himself a while longer despite the pain. “Then, pretend,” he whispered in a commanding tone. “Pretend that I’m dying. Let me fall.” Against the side of his head, he could feel her nodding. She knew his tricks.

Shuddering from the sudden lack of strain, she let her body go limp. Only her feet stayed fixed as she hung like a bat and let Shadar’s body slip off of her. Then, she screamed. It wasn’t her battle cry or a reaction to being wounded. It was as if she willed all her energy into that single sorrowful, earsplitting sound.

In the next instant, the falling body of Shadar exploded like a bag of dust broken open. It was a thick navy-blue mist that he became, one that spread out to ten times his body’s size. A wind seemed to blow through the cage, then. It was very faint, just enough to set the cloud of mist drifting toward Seth. Like a river diverging, it split around anything that got in the way, elephant or otherwise. When it neared him, it widened out to a narrower band so as to prevent his escape, then wrapped around. So thick was it that one would only be able to see someone directly in front of them, and that was where Shadar appeared. Marked still by the thousand lines of red, he smiled from a face like chipped porcelain and thrust his hands out to grab Seth’s. Along the palms and the inner edges of the fingers was a mess of metal, literally dozens of triangular razorblades sprouting from his gloves. Smugly, he hissed, “As thanks, I share my pain.”

((Spider legs are gone. The mist is an illusion, which Shadar was hovering at the core of. The faint wind that everyone in the cage felt was an illusion as well. If Chumley makes a quick attack in his post, it will happen before the mist reaches Seth.))

[chumley]

"I thought this was a dance!" Chumley cried as the guards moved closer. "The publicity material is very clear that these are eight-person dance contests! I think you all owe me an apology!" The guards smirked at each other, bearing their weapons in threateningly. Chumley looked from one to the other with an uneasy glance, trying to get a handle on how to react to these threats. van Buren again leapt to his mind, as he realized how ironically similar his predicament was to the election of 1836. A voice wafted up from below, pricking the elephant's ears, and he smiled as he heard the voice of Seth Dahlios, spouting effronteries more at home in an adolescent girl's diary than the halls of combat:

"What are you going to do to me? Sing another bad number and show how sub par your dancing skills really are? Let me give you a hint, it’s a bad song when no one gets what spews from your pathetic mouth."

"Why!" Chumley said, grinning widely, "That reminds me of a song!" He tooted his trunk loudly, and the trumpet seemed to infect the guards' feet with some sort of dancing disease. They began tapping deftly across the cage, leaping from bar to bar, clanging their armor rhythmically. Chumley tapped his toes lightly for a second before leaping into a bouncing dance, spinning and twirling. Some bladed weapon flashed past where he had just stood, but he paid it no mind. The sound of electric guitars began filling the air, intertwined with a tune picked out on a banjo and a whistling flute. It seemed that instruments had magically appeared in the guards' hands, replacing their weapons, and they were now producing a very up-tempo beat, filling the air with a merry music that overtook the grim roars and cheers of the crowd. Chumley felt a song rise in his throat as he danced, and he was loath to keep it from bursting forward.

Oh my name is Chumley, and I'm here to say
'tho it ain't approved by the ASPCA
Now I'm fightin' like Michael Crichton,
Against global warming might've
And it's really quite exciting
To be here today!

He performed a pirouette, spinning deftly, and made another leap into the air. An electric guitar appeared in his hand, and he felt the irrepressible need to rock out. As he landed, he blasted out a killer riff while three ninjas leapt out of a low-flying zeppelin, rocking out on their own axes. As the zeppelin sprayed a huge plume of smoke and began shooting out a gnarly laser light show, Chumley finished his solo and smashed the guitar on the bars of the cage, sparks flying from the remains of the axe. With a flourish, Chumley tossed the remaining pieces of the guitar away and began banging away on a steel drum set that had appeared in front of him. The guards began banging on their chestplates with drumsticks, rapping out a rockin' tune, while the ninjas tore away their outer clothes to reveal Jamaicans beneath, who began smoking marihuana and playing green, yellow and red colored bagpipes, shockingly enough at the same time. Chumley continued his song:

I've gone far and wide, and I must say
I've never seen such a crowd as I see today
You'll see Seth do all his best
To come out a'top all of the rest
But, Lord, he is such a mess!
He'll just pout and bray

A hundred donkeys floated down from the sky, harnessed to a series of parachutes, hee-hawing like a bunch of angry adolescents. They were wearing white wigs and hooded robes, with huge bulging bags marked "1,000 Daggers" hanging from their belts. They landed on top of the cage with Chumley and his retinue of dancing guards, and began doing an ungraceful shuffling dance, their tiny hooves clattering in sync as they moved back and forth, bobbing their heads and wheezing noisily. Ozzy Osborne appeared in the middle of the dance, hobbling about with his rusty walker squealing indignantly. Chumley continued.

Oh a lie-dee-dye and a lo-dee-do
These jackasses put on quite a show,
All their dancin' and their prancin'
Keeps them from too much romancin'
So they go without carnal sin
Like a lad we know!

"Mighty hard to get the ladies when you act like one!" Chumley cried, ending his ballad by leaping into the air, doing a somersault, and shooting fireworks out of his ears. As he landed, the zeppelin, donkeys and Jamaicans disappeared, leaving only him, the guards, and several stinking piles of dung. Chumley searched the audience for applause, but there was only reverent silence.

"You're a hack!" screamed a fat fellow eating apple dumplings, but two men dressed as Russian day laborers with eyepatches leapt up on either side of him and began pounding him to a pulp with brass knuckles.

"A triumph!" Roared a man with a handlebar moustache, who was sipping lemonade from a tall, narrow glass while three Negroes polished his shoes and starched his spats. "A joy! I'm sure I speak for the entire audience when I applaud your musical, lyrical, melodical, discombobular skills, not to mention your knack for animal husbandry! Additionally, I hope I speak for us all when I say that that Ozzy Osborne character is more tired than Seth Dahlios at a Goth Convention!"

And indeed, he did.

[Artifex Felicis]

Stopping for a moment to both catch his breath and to survey the arena, the cat boy was able to realize just what he had gotten himself over. One of the people shot fire that probably could have gone through his chest. His tail was singed rather badly and it hadn't even touched the actual flame, at least so he thought. Still, with spider men, powerful mages and summoners around this was not going to be the cakewalk he thought it would be.

Most of the many things going on around the Cell were easy enough to simply look at quickly, then switched his attention. The man with the spider legs was simply something he would worry about later. There were two people that he felt should have deserved more attention from him Leon than what they were currently getting. One of which was pasty white, almost to the point where Leon would have made fun of him. The magic he wielded, assuming the two light monsters were his, was formidable though, and his muscled form spoke that he wasn't just a spell user. The other he would need to watch for, besides the brown man that attacked earlier, was a ninja like man who was almost running everywhere around the arena. He hadn't done much that the cat boy could see, but his gut told him to watch for him.

The man coming at him from the side was noticed nearly too late. The blade, thirsting for blood, slit a neat cut on the cat boy's shoulder as he stepped away. The blade continued its course, cutting into the tip of the boy's tail, cutting it deeply but not all the way. The small lump of flesh that hanged only by a small muscle and skin, blood dripping surprisingly slowly from the wound.

The crowd could almost hear the swears that went off in the grandmaster's mind, and hear his teeth as he ground them together, clenching his jaw so a vein was shown on his neck. He grinned slowly, breathing hard through clenched teeth, though any man with eyes could see that it was a forced one, a mad look entering into his eye instead. He steeped slowly, ears perked and picking up most sounds in case any were directed to come near him.

He almost knelt as the cat boy went onto all fours, growling softly, blue eyes focused only on the brownish skinned man in front of him. The grandmaster stepped backwards cautiously, keeping low, ignoring all other sounds and sights in the grave of seven warriors. A hiss escaped him as he bared his fangs, his arm shooting out as the yarn continued. The string whipped towards the man quickly, aiming for the man's sword-arm and to wrap itself around. The boy roared, fearsome and loud, leaping a moment after, teeth and claws bared and ready to tear flesh.

[Modrue]

With a careful hand the perfected practice was used again. The long, thin fingers of the pale twisted elf stroked the surface as a slow, deep aura began to surround her. Her head lolled back and forth across her shoulders, rising and falling with the droning of the noise. Across what was left of her once immaculate elven body ripples of gooseflesh rose and fell like the coming and going of a tide. And a tide it was; a tide of power.

The aura around her took on an ethereal emerald glow. Spats of lighter olive pulsed from the orb like the beat of a war drum, and indeed it was much the same. The woman’s head snapped to the orb, the eyeless face concentrating sternly on the task. The other spidermagi stepped away cautiously as she lifted one hand from the ball, leaving the under beneath it for support. From the lifted finger a long, slim sliver of darkness grew like a needle. Gently she pushed it into the orb.

{“Dear love,”} she whispered with her mind. Before her the picture of the arena changed to her liking. The dust was picking up with the quick movements of the warriors, but amongst them was the still demon. From the orb the picture of the world was skewed, bowed like the ball itself. But at the dead center was the pristine elf, the target of the magi, the bane of the shadow. {“This one is but an obstacle, a mere uneven cobblestone in the pathway to glory…”}

As the woman continued to talk, the others inched closer. They could understand what she spoke, through the link of the shadow. They needed to be close to her, needed to see their puppet dance for them. The one he was targeting was something higher, something stronger than they had been requested to destroy before. The demon was merely a tool.

{“This one you can finish easily,”}
~+|+~

The woman from within had come to the fight with the demon.

Lounging across the shoulders of the target of the demon’s fury was a man, the stealthy man who had been a distraction. Her hand stroked his chest, running from his waist up. Eyes like smoke wafted from her perfect face. Nothing covered her body from head to toe, but unfortunate as it was the human was larger than her. Modrue straightened as she talked, moving slowly along the outskirts of the fence and watching her scintillating, wispy form.

{“But the one of the white is your goal. Love, for me, destroy him. The shadows are hurt by his existence… wounded by the very power and being he serves…”} With a wink the woman vanished in a cloud of violet smoke.

The words enticed the demon, touched him deep down into his core. He moved slightly, watching the man that she had but second before been lying behind. The man’s shackles were released; he was no fun to the demon if he was held down. Besides, he was also not the intended target. Modrue wasted no time as the man’s hand loosed two small daggers, both of which were well aimed and intended for him.

The unbuttoned coat was tossed over his arm and swung before him like a shield. The steel darts tapped against the plynt plating like rain on a tin roof. In the same fluid motion the demon continued the coat around and threw it high into the air. The shadow the trench coat created grew to its pinnacle before the demon dove into the shadows.

They were cool, sweet, and comforting. He had longed to be released into their dark depths, but had been waiting till the correct moment to do so. Before the sixty-pound, weighted coat hit the ground where he had once been the demon began to move. In the shadows of the cage grating and the other fighters Modrue slipped towards his prey slowly.

[Abenaki]

The score was told in blood as Jada's blade marked the cat-man's shoulder and nearly nicked off the end of the man's already burnt tail. His opponent recoiled briefly, jaw clenched and veins throbbing to hold back the words probably burning in his throat. Shifting his weapon to his left hand, Jada was about to press forward with another attack when he was unsettled by the forced smile and the wild glint that lit up his opponent's face and eyes. He suddenly felt as thought he was a small child again, throwing rocks at the catamounts that used to wander near the winter cooking fires of the Kokopelli...

His feelings now in this instant were the same as then, and the mad look in his opponent's eyes reminded him very strikingly of the half-starved mountain cats looking for an easy meal...

You've messed it all up! Jada thought, reprimanding himself. He had promised himself not to get involved in any one fight. Staying alive was the name of the game, and staying alive meant picking off his stronger opponents as they dealt amongst themselves. Now he was stuck close to one wall, his back towards the majority of his fellow combatants, any of whom might take this opportune moment to end the warrior's life as he contended with the cat...

There was a great deal of shouting and taunting going on in the background, and Jada couldn't have told you if any of the combatants were yet downed. All he could say at this moment was that it was too late to turn his back on his current opponent in search of easier, more distracted prey. If he had turned away or perhaps if he had even glanced behind him to secure his own back, Jada might have missed the nimble string as it leapt out and curled about his sword arm like a vine...

A single word, Awasos, leapt into his mind as the cord tightened on around his left arm. To utter that word meant instant strength for the warrior, and his reactive mind almost coaxed his tongue into using that strength to tear away from the restrictive nuisance. Jada had made that mistake before however, and the level-headed voice in his mind stayed that word in his throat. It was too early in the battle to be playing trump cards...

There were teeth and claws bared for his flesh, seeking to rend the dark skin from his bones. They came in the air in the form of a cat-like pounce. Rather than shy away from the claws, however, Jada attempted to put his airborne opponent to his advantage. He could already imagine the pain of those claws tearing flesh and drawing blood, but to imagine that he could have entered such a battle and not faced pain and injury was foolish.

Jada was prepared to deal with a little pain...

With his arm secured tightly by the string around it, Jada yanked hard, hoping that the cord was indeed attached to its owner, and the sudden jerk would unbalance his leaping opponent. At the same time, as his torso turned counter-clockwise to pull the trapped armed back behind him, Jada brought his right arm forward in a big punch, aiming to catch his opponent in the jaw or neck as the cat hurtled towards a collision with the dark-skinned warrior...

[Dissinger]

Before Seth could even hear what Chumley was doing in reaction the dust enveloped him. He covered his face as he looked about quickly, before he saw Shadar before him, reaching forward to grab him. Closing his eyes he let himself go as he moved swiftly dodging the incoming strike. Keeping his eyes closed he spoke his arrogant tone causing every word to drip with sarcasm, "So it’s a real fight now? Not some phantom game you wish you could play?"

Moving he began to move at Shadar where he was Located last, his mind racing as it tried to work without his eyes. He was blind fighting and it showed at the less than flawless attacks he tried to rain down on the elder thief. His moves were swift as he tried to go after the man keeping his eyes closed. He knew better than to play with his eyes open against a man who could change things the entire time.

If you were going to chase shadows, you had to forget the light existed.

As he began to find his footing, something unexpected happened. He suddenly felt as if clubbed from behind, and promptly fell to his knees as the pain overwhelmed him, both unexpected, and unstoppable. Groaning as he reached for the back of his head, expecting to find it slick with blood he frowned finding nothing on his fingers. As he tried to recover he had no clue as to what had done this to him. Trying to rise to his feet he felt the beginnings of a pounding headache in his skull.

He was not expecting to feel pain like this; it had been so long since this had happened to him. In fact, as far as he could tell, he had never felt pain like this before. Abrupt and unyielding, even his considerable pain tolerance was of no use against it. Still he tried to focus through it, as it brought stinging tears to his eyes.

He couldn't afford to give ground to Shadar, even if he was on his knees.

In the meantime Liliana watched in abject silence as she watched the cloud envelope Seth. Something was wrong, there was too much going on, and not enough answers. Still, she watched and silently prayed that Seth would come out alive. He had too much to do to be slowed down by dying here.

[Shadar]

Brigitte’s sorrowful wail died to a whimper as she assumed the motions of grieving. Whatever had been there fueling the scream, and there had indeed been something powerful there, was exhausted now. So, she simply quivered as she hung from the ceiling. When her and Shadar had stumbled upon the ruins of a routed town, she had seen a woman at the side of the road doing just this. She was over a body, shaking and crying quietly. Shadar had to explain to her exactly what the woman was doing, and she still thought it was strange. How weak would one have to be to succumb to despair like that? Had she earlier when she pretended to scream? In utter confusion, she stopped her acting and tried to think quietly. It hadn’t felt like an act when he fell from her.

Suddenly, she heard Shadar’s voice from the mist as he shouted some unintelligible swear. Perking her head up to look down at the ground, she scuttled across the ceiling to bring herself directly over his illusion. Holding very still there, she concentrated all her will into it. To her eyes, the mist seemed to thin to the point where she could see two bodies, and she noticed that Seth was wildly making a counterattack. Whatever Shadar had been planning, it didn’t seem to have worked.

“You bastard!” was what Shadar had shouted earlier, for Seth had just dodged away from his grasp… with eyes closed. Veins began to bulge in his forehead. Is he trying to mock me? he shouted inwardly. The satisfaction of penance and the glee of retribution slipped from him. Now, he was just a man, a man who looked to have had a close call with a cheese grater. As the pain roared over him with new and unwelcome heat, he lurched to the side and stumbled to his knees. Vaguely, through his pounding pulse, he heard Seth moving around in the mist toward him. There was a sudden pull of Jackal assuming control of the illusions, and there arose a sound of footsteps moving away from him. Shadar would have thanked the demon for the distraction, despite whatever gloating would ensue, except that he couldn’t bring himself to think of anything other than the burning.

With a mental strain that had him groaning as if injured, he forced his consciousness deep into his own mind to a place Jackal had shown him before. It appeared before him as a dark, fleshy column, though dotted all over with twinkling lights. He didn’t remember the biological details, but he knew this was what controlled his sense of touch. With a calming thought directed at the column, he dimmed the lights. Suddenly, the feeling of having his skin flayed was nothing more than an annoying rash. Everything else faded as well, though. The feeling of his clothes on his back, the uneven pressure of his studded hands bracing himself on the ground, even the sensation of the air around him seemed to disappear. It was as if he was floating in his own body, and so disorienting was it that he had to stand slowly while he got used to it.

As he opened his eyes, he found that the area around him was severely changed. Jackal had twisted the illusion from a cloud to a hollow dome. From the outside, it must have still looked the same, but there was a very clear and bright space around him and Seth now.

What did you do? Shadar asked, stunned at finding his enemy kneeling.

Jackal took a moment, perhaps tempted to claim glory for himself, before he finally said, Hell if I know. I was just giving him noise to chase after like an idiot. Then, he fell down. Maybe the sissy stubbed his toe.

I doubt it, Shadar said suspiciously, as his eyes darkened quickly to pitch black. Seth’s light of intent wasn’t focused on him the way a stalking, waiting predator’s was. It quivered with distraction. That pain on his face must have been real.

Smiling darkly, Shadar raised his right hand to the side as all the metal shards were reabsorbed into the Void. Helpless, he chuckled. If this was anyone else, he might have had some pity, but Seth represented too much to him. Everything that had gone wrong since his return, in fact. Channeling that hatred, he tried to summon to his hand the power of fire that he had acquired alongside Yari, the real Yari, long ago. It was the same power that had marked Seth’s once-pretty face. But, it slipped from Shadar now like fine grains of sand.

Quickly, as he stepped back analytically, he realized what was wrong. He was too annoyed, too conflicted to command that kind of magic. Part of him wanted to capture Seth. Somewhere in that whimpering husk was the knowledge of where the imposter was. But, he also wanted to end this. Seth was an annoyance, a damned dangerous one. Growling to himself, Shadar gave up on the glorious finishing stroke he had planned. Oh, but how that body would have burned…

Instead, he took a step toward the downed man and pressed his hands together. When he separated them, there was a roll of closely-spaced barbed wire stretching between. With a sweep of the arms, he unfurled it over Seth and tensed so that he could twist it to entangle the limbs viciously. This bastard would reap his blanket of fire too.

[Dissinger]

Seth fought through it before he heard a shout, while there was plenty of shouting going on, this shout seemed to cut through the fog. The reason being, it belonged to the one person who mattered most to him. Liliana's voice cut through the fog as he heard her voice encouraging him, "Come on Seth! You can do it!"

The words were more helpful than she could eve know as she shook the last vestige of pain from his figure. As he did so he felt barbed wire begin to fall upon him, before he was entangled in it. The pain of being cut into was ignored as he moved it away from the spots that could take his life. The cuts adding up as it was slipped over his gauntlets and vest, where the vicious barbs could do no lasting damage. Once that was done he glared at Shadar.

"Should have known; thief to the last. Well you should know about cornering a thief!" He said as he tried to get up, the pin pricks of pain that crossed his bloodied body coming forth. He was now a mirror image of Shadar, failing one thing, there was no scar on the left side of his adversary’s face. Dropping Spite and Malice form his hands he grinned as he drew Ebony and Ivory. He was going to enjoy giving Shadar pain.

Rather than focusing on Shadar with his blades he took the tip of his blade and broke the skin of his finger. Feeling the pain welling up in him, as the pain from the distraction, the pain from the barbed wire, and the pain from being pricked began to double, then triple, then rapidly escalate he hissed before he managed out, "You will feel my pain!"

A bright flash of white light erupted through the dome, almost invisible in the arena they had made for themselves. However, the effects of it would be felt, as those within ten feet of Seth, would soon feel the same pain he himself was feeling. A grin crossed his face as he pulled the blade form his finger, dropping again to one knee from the pain, this time legitimately earned. As he chuckled he said abruptly, "Hope you can take it, if not, I'll be more than happy to finish you off."

Everyone within ten feet of Seth is under the effects of Pain. In short, his pain is instilled in everyone within ten feet of him. Be prepared. Click on my link to see what that exactly details, link words crossed the line.