LCC - R1: Lute & Hammer VS Carry The Flame

[Enigmatic Immortal]

This round begins at 12:00 PM PACIFIC TIME on Friday! Good Luck!!!

[Erirag the Poet]

Terrinore was but a dark shadow on the horizon. The orc sat on the beach of Lornius and gazed outward past the waves that clipped and stung upwards from the dark, roiling sea. The air smelled like salt and rain, tinged only with the smell of a dead fish that was half buried somewhere in the tan pebbles around her. Her toes were there too, ducked under the cool rock. She could feel the dampness that lay under them, though the tide had begun to recede and the rocks on the surface were dry. They wouldn't be for long, she knew. The sky was a dark mess of quickly moving clouds, not a peek of sunshine or powder blue behind them. A deep grey had overtaken them and it almost felt as if it should be far later on the shore, though she knew it was just the coming storm that darkened the sky.

The thought of lightning in the sky, the anticipation of pain and battle were buzzing in the giantess' bones. It hadn't been long since she'd met Otto in the Citadel. To be among orcs again was almost a heavenly experience, no matter how different her new friend was from her own tribe. As quickly as they'd met and allied for the tournament, they found themselves on the beach with just as much speed. She craned her head back on her thick neck to look for Otto as she thought of him. When their opponents arrived, she could delight in struggle and strife with him as equals, instead of as opponents. It was enough to make her want to write sonnets.

"Gurum!" she shouted, lifting her fists in the air. It was hard for her to remember to let the tongue of her people go and speak the tradespeak. Thinking suddenly about her companion's inability to understand her, she fell back and called out, "Otto! Death! We gift death to gods in deep water!" Oh yes, when they got out of here, she would compose the greatest of sonnets of the way she and the orc of iron had made sacrifices to Poseidon and painted the waves red with blood.

[Otto]

These days Otto felt like he was only just waking up to the world. Not a week ago he had been resigned to an apprenticeship, followed by life-long subordination as an assistant smith. The promise of that life had felt hollow at the time - yet now with the future so uncertain, a small part of him valued the security of the old life. But not enough to consider going back, even if he could. When he had sworn not to settle for such a small lot from life, fate had delivered. He knew that hewas the only one responsible for seizing the opportunity every day that it presented itself. Thus Otto came to be in Lornius, and with Erirag, no less.

Otto's opinion of the woman had changed considerably since they had first met. He had initially thought of Erirag as some sort of savage; one of a 'lesser' people. This misconception stemmed from several factors, most notably her poor fluency in Tradespeak, the rugged, indecent attire, and even her size and brute strength. Now recalling those first impressions made him deeply ashamed. Over the past few days he had learned that Erirag was a poet - a poet! - skilled in her native tongue, and in any case she had a much better grasp of Tradespeak than Otto had of 'Orc' (which was effectively none). She also had a fine voice; the songs she sung were quite unlike anything Otto had heard in Radasanth, leaving him with an acute desire to learn the language. As for the dress, well... it was obviously not an issue for Erirag. Otto's ingrained opposal to the garb now only got as far as 'because...' before the following arguments started to sound pedantic or flawed in their logic whereupon they would fall flat. Most importantly though, she was a fellow Orc. The majority of people in his life had silently disliked him because of his appearance, a few had openly despised him, and fewer still had not seen it as an issue. Erirag was the only one who thought higher of him for it. It actually made him want to measure up.

The beach was not as sandy as Otto had feared and also had a number of rocky outcrops, which could mean better footing. The salt water would play merry hell with his iron armour if he wasn't careful, though. Otto was lagging behind since he was hauling around a full suit of iron armour, which could seriously affect things when straying from a good road. Long before they had reached the shore he had smelled the promise of rain, the sea, the sand, and the dead fish. On the surface it was remarkably similar to home, but to Otto's nose the components were a symphony of a different sort altogether. Erirag's voice, whipped around by the wind, carried along the beach while Otto crunched towards her over the weather-worn stones.

"Otto! Death! We gift death to gods in deep water!"

"Good!" he yelled back. "Not ours, is it?"

[Firebrand]

Waves crashed against the beach. Soft sand shifted beneath her feet with every step. An ocean breeze washed over her skin, its touch gentle and caressing. She breathed in the salty air.

Disgusting, all of it. Of all the places for her first fight, Fai could think of nowhere worse. An active volcano would have been far more preferable. Even a pit of rotting corpses would have had more charm.

"Why do I have to be here?" the girl grumbled to herself. She briefly looked toward the sea. A distant storm grew on the horizon, its dark clouds threatening to consume all they lay before it. She already felt nauseous. Her hands grew sweaty, as if to remind her of the coming rain. She shivered.

She was here for the tournament, Fai reminded herself. The Lornius Corporate Challenge. Here, she would fight some of the greatest warriors in the world. Here, she would learn from a man who could move fire as easily as his own arms: Elijah Belov. The perfect teacher for a little firebrand like herself. As they continued their trek, she reflected on their first meeting.

***
Fai first saw Elijah at the Citadel. While roaming the halls, she chanced upon an open door from which the sounds of combat echoed. Never one to pass on a brawl, the girl snuck into the room.

The scene within betrayed her expectations. It was certainly not a mere duel. Instead, a man stood at the center, surrounded by fire that he conducted like a maestro at a symphony of flames. He moved with the power and grace of a storm at sea, forcing the conflagration to follow his directions, striking where he willed it. A sudden screamed pierced the air before being swallowed by the roar of the inferno. Entranced by the spectacle, Fai stood unmoving at the door. She hardly believed that a mere human held so much power. She could learn much from someone like him.

The thought came unbidden, yet seemed only natural. The man's mastery of flame mirrored the strange power within her -- a power she may never unlock on her own. He clearly understood the nature of fire and managed it at levels far beyond her comprehension. What secrets did he hold? She had to know. Thus she decided: she would become his student.
***

The distant rumble of thunder drew Fai from her thoughts. She cast another wary glance toward the incoming storm, then peered into the darkness ahead. Two figures stood out in the gloom.

"Hey, Teach!" She looked toward her companion. "Think that's them?"

[Christoph]

Bunnies between Firebrand and I are approved.

“I would imagine so,” Elijah replied, his voice as light and calm as a summer breeze as he scanned the shoreline. Sharp rocks jutted like rows of jagged teeth from the sand. “Unless we stumbled upon a pair of wandering minstrels or something, which I doubt. A pity, really.” He chuckled.

He felt his student's gaze still on him. Her fiery red eyes, which barely came up to his shoulders, held a certain intensity that mirrored the approaching storm. She was eager, but also nervous. He could almost feel her anxiety bubbling up from the core of her being, and she looked to him for guidance and assurance. How strange, that he would play mentor to a girl not much younger than him. He felt old beyond his years; surviving three wars can do that to a man. Now was not the time for brooding, though! He looked to the storm them back at his student; she flinched slightly at the rumble of thunder.

He shook his head, smirking ever so slightly. “It's just a little water, you'll be fine,” he assured her, knowing fully well that she wouldn't be. “Just remember our first lesson.”

*

Elijah Belov first met Fai in the streets of Radasanth. She approached him right outside the Citadel, wasting little time on pleasantries as she made her request. She wished to study under him. What a silly notion! He was a great many thing, but not a teacher. Yet, even as he walked away, she persisted. Something in her voice gave him pause; something about the burning glint in her eyes sparked his curiosity. A strange power stirred beneath the surface of this waifish girl, a presence he could not identify but instinctively understood. After all, he had once served host to a foreign entity as well; he had learned to sense it in others.

He stopped then and looked her up and down. “Now this is interesting.”

She blinked. “What is?”

“We'll discuss that later. But first...” He sniffed and curled his nose, tossing her silver coin. “Get yourself a bath. You need one.”

The strange girl grimaced. “But... I...”

“Are you afraid of water or something?” he joked. She didn't laugh. Realization dawned. “Oh. Well, then. At least we now know your first lesson.”

*

“Fear is the greatest barrier to greatness, Fai.” The words felt odd on his tongue, sounding wiser than he felt. Master and student stood, facing northward along the shore. Gusts of salty wind swept his too-long brown hair and his grey cloak. As a son of Salvar, he barely noticed the touch of cold in the air. He narrowed his eyes as he took measure of their foes, who remained perhaps fifty meters in the distance.

“Orcs,” said Elijah, in the way one might comment on an unusual flock of birds. He had seen very few orcs outside of Salvar – just the odd mercenary or outlaw. Of course, in his homeland they carried a grim reputation as fierce warriors and merciless raiders. “This should be a good trial for you, so I will hang back for now.” He did not wait for her to object. “My old sword instructor believed in putting students in places where they must either overcome their flaws or fail. Your fear of water is now your first and most crippling flaw. Defeat it, then your foes.” He paused, then grinned. “I suppose I can give you a little help to begin with.”

The sorcerer closed his eyes and focused. In years past, he might have chanted arcane words or performed intricate gestures to focus his power. Now, he merely forced his will upon reality itself. He felt the threads of creation tighten, responding to his efforts. A single thought formed in his mind, more a primordial concept than a mere word. Fire. Licks of flame flared up from around his feet, swirling about his body and intensifying into a mass of white and orange hovering at his fingertips. With a single mental push, the fireball streaked through the air toward their foes and struck the ground with blinding, deafening explosion of heat and shattered earth.

“That's your cue, Fai.”

[Erirag the Poet]

She had chuckled lightly at his quip, though the light mood didn't last long. Now, the ease of which they relaxed together was erased when a flash caught her attention. Erirag turned her eyes from the sea, ignoring the cresting waves for a second as a ball of boiling flames zoomed towards them. The rush of heat on her skin brought her reflexes to attention in a way that the light hadn't quite been able to. Her arms raised in front of her face and she shrank back from the ball even though it landed several feet from her. On impact, there was a thunderous cacophony, a hiss of steam as wet pebbles were instantly dried, and a thick shower of grit and pebbles. Each tiny piece of stone was superheated, glowing red like embers kicked from a campfire. As they sprayed across her arms and breasts, the orcess hissed angrily. Her thick skin was hardy enough not to burn or break, but damn did it sting. Shards of pebble and sharp bits of shell and driftwood left lines of white against her olive flesh, etches of no race's written language but still a declaration of war.

As she sprang to her feet, a lumbering move of stomping and a whispered rush of grass skirt, amber eyes darted across the beach. There, their opponents and attackers had come to them. She almost chastised herself for not hearing them, but her mind had been in the music and percussion of the tides, her attention taken by the howling wind. The frosty hint in the air was almost as angry as she was now, the wind picking up and pulling auburn tresses across her face. Like a great beast emerging from it's den, she shook, letting dirt and pieces of pebble fly from her locks. The bones threaded in her hair clinked together, and as she let her gaze settle on the redheaded woman standing at the fore she pushed forward. There was no time to check on Otto, though she had every confidence that her friend would be just fine. After all, he was better than these stick figure mortals that dared to attack them without so much as the honor of announcing themselves.

The massive orc rushed towards Firebrand. Her voice was a low screaming grunt, a sound that held none of the eloquence that the bard was capable of. Instead, she was a beast, a mountain orc of Alerar in the midst of battle. As she charged the woman, her fists clenched tightly, her right arm pulling back like the cable of a bow. Digging the ball of her foot into the beach, slowed more than usual by the give of the loose rock beneath her, Erirag let her fist swing forward and was propelled towards the smaller woman's face with the strength of her swing. In the distance, the thunder was beginning to pick up, though the lightning was still hidden in the churning clouds. Nature's great orchestra was rehearsing, beginning to build the first notes of the great tragedy that the orcish duo would compose here.

[Otto]

Otto was just closing the final distance between him and his partner when a brief flicker of motion caused him to snap his head around. Before he could even express his surprise, the world was filled with a blinding light and a din that blocked out the heavy pounding of the sea. Otto instinctively raised his shield as he shut his eyes tight, staggering back against the sudden intense heat. A wave of debris bounced ineffectually off his armour save for one piece, hot and sharp, which struck him below the left eye. He could feel a warm trickle of blood running down his cheek. When he opened his eyes again, Erirag was rising up from a defensive stance to sprint madly down the beach towards two other figures.

"Damn!" shouted Otto. He hoisted his spear from it's catch and took off after her. Normally, Otto didn't run full tilt in his armour, but he had to forget about pacing himself and put on an extra turn of speed to even come close to matching Erirag's long gait. There was no telling how long she'd last if she had to fight their opponents alone. He closed the visor of his sallet, and took a look at them. Both were human, the taller one a slightly imposing but normal-looking fellow with a curious pair of gauntlets, the other a slim girl with flaming red hair, bizarre tattoos... and eyes that seemed to burn through the gloom. Otto hadn't seen who had thrown the ball of fire, but was prepared to put money on it having been her. She also appeared to be Erirag's target, which would leave the man free to attack the giantess from an unprotected angle. Otto, swearing tinnily from within the iron helm, changed his course slightly.

Fortunately for him the regular drills that were part of CAF training had kept Otto in shape. He lagged but a few of feet behind Erirag, coming in at a slight angle. Otto tried to position himself and his shield between the brown-haired human and his own partner. Closer to, something about the man looked familiar - but Otto didn't have time to chase that thought; Erirag was taking a swing at the girl. Otto dug his boots into the rocky ground, raised his shield against the man, and aimed a stomach-height spear thrust at the supposed sorceress. Due to his approach it came in at a slight acute angle to Erirag's fists, extending a couple of feet beyond the range of the other Orc's blows. With a bit of luck, his shield and armour would keep the other fellow at bay while he and Erirag harried the girl.

[Firebrand]

As the fireball struck the sand, Fai prepared herself to attack the two orcs. She expected them to be distracted and confused by the sudden assault. She did not expect a giant green woman to appear from the wreckage, charging toward her with a fist drawn back. Behind the first came the other orc, keeping pace despite his armor and the spear and shield he held in his hands. With little time to think, Fai leapt to one side. The sand shifted beneath her feet and she barely managed recover her balance.

The green orc sailed by, her fist striking the air where the girl had been. The spear of the other orc struck the same spot, though its angle allowed it reach further and graze Fai's arm. The girl flinched and quickly backed away, putting distance between herself and her assailants. One foot landed in damp sand and she stopped, growing tense as she remembered where she was. With a hiss, she moved to the side and quickly glared at the offending patch of land. Despite her anxiety, she resisted the urge to let her eyes drift toward the sea, instead turning her attention to her opponents.

Both of them had a clear advantage in range: the green orc with her height and the armored one with his weapon. Fai would have to rely on speed to do damage and evade their attacks. She decided to start with the lady orc. Someone with that much body to move could hardly hope to match her speed and the lack of armor meant that the giantess would probably take less hits than her partner.

"Not a bad swing!" Fai shouted at her target, unable to resist a jibe, "For a cow!" She snapped her fingers, wreathing her left arm in fire. From experience, she knew that it would be a good distraction, even if it would not cause a burn. The light would also fight against the encroaching darkness of the storm. The thought made the girl wary. Hopefully, she would be able to finish the fight before it caused some misfortune.

As she darted forward, fists held before her face, misfortune struck. A drop of water landed on her forehead, compelling the girl to stop and look up. The rain fell faster, becoming a deluge that thoroughly soaked her. The flames covering her arm vanished and Fai staggered back, nearly tripping in her panic. She shivered violently as the slick water crawled across her skin and her movements grew sluggish, as if the rain was sapping her energy. Desperate, she sought for some kind of shelter, but the beach was too open. Nothing in sight even resembled a tree and the tallest rocks barely reached up to her waist. Only the mountains in the distance might have provided salvation, but they were too far away. And she still had to contend with the two orcs; they were not crippled by the storm.

Fai's gaze fell upon Elijah and she shook her head repeatedly. She tried to stammer something, though only indistinct murmurs escaped her lips. All the while, she backed slowly away from her opponents, keeping track of them in case they attempted to attack her.

[Christoph]

Elijah gave a frustrated sigh; he had miscalculated. Fai's fear of water still crippled her. He could feel the powerful presence within her, raging against its fleshy prison. His student's supernatural phobia would require far more time to conquer – time they did not have. The storm was upon them. Fai could barely fight at all in the torrential rain, let alone overcome two orcs on her own. If our very battleground conspires against us, Elijah thought, then it is only fitting that I retaliate against it.

“Fai, to me!” Eli called, kneeling onto the wet earth and pressing his palms into the sand.

He called forth his power once more, letting his consciousness delve into the ground below. For that moment, he knew the rocky beach as intimately as a brother. Images flashed through his mind, a thousand years of battles and storms, of lovers embracing and rivals spilling blood. With this understanding came dominion; he willed change upon the pebbles and sand. The sorcerer focused on his task. He laced his power through the soaked sand, changing it, infusing a spiraling pattern of earth with the essence of fire.

Water will not dominate this battlefield any longer. As those words filled his thoughts, he focused his magic once more. The transmuted sand ignited. A rush of searing wind blasted in all directions as a massive pillar of flame burst from the earth, turning the sand for several meters in each direction into a great bowl of blackened glass. A great cloud of smoke and scalding steam billowed forth, consuming much of the beach.

Here, in this blazing patch of earth, their hellish sanctuary, Elijah's pupil could fight without fear.

[Erirag the Poet]

"Dush!" Erirag's accusation of sorcery came clipped and yelping from her lips as the ground changed under her feet. Despite the wave of disappointment that washed over her when her fist went sailing through the air and she stumbled past the witch, she was starting to feel some measure of exaltation. Alive in battle, a flush spreading across her cheeks and down her bare chest, the bones that draped around her rattling with approval, she turned and tensed as the girl skittered away. It looked for a moment that she may pose a challenge and then with the rain brought a howl of agony. The witch was afraid of the rain, and the bestial terror that rolled from her only served to feed the orc. She brightened as a flower bloomed on the hillside in sunshine and good soil, and readied herself to take advantage of the moment. That is, until the girl's master standing afar turned the world into heat and anger around them.

The steam that rolled and boiled up stung her eyes. She narrowed an amber gaze between the two. She wasn't sure what was happening, but she was sure that this girl was the catalyst for the other magician's actions. If they were to take out the girl, ruin her until her skin was a collection of wounds as red as her eyes, they could solve the problem. Obviously the man cared for the girl enough that he would rend heaven and earth to keep her comfortable even if he wouldn't join her in battle. Were they lovers? A dreadful mistake, she thought. Erirag backpedaled while the rock beneath her feet smoothed to glass, the sand and grit among the pebbles rippling out as it melted and hardened. Even her skin was stinging and burning despite it's thick and tough nature. She hopped and hobbled to the edge of the protective circle. Here the heat could not best the sudden storm.

As the cold droplets hit her back and slid over her shoulders to sooth the heated flush of skin baked by the spell, the orc looked to Otto. The gears in her mind were churning, and she knew what they had to do. The rain would soothe them, but harm this nameless witch as if she were made of cinnamon candies. If she could just drag her to the ocean, roaring for death and destruction behind them, they would win. Erirag knew this deeply, and let her eyes fall to the billows of steam that creeped along the ground like a fog, overtaking the beach. She couldn't see the ground below but knew it would burn and it would hurt. Even if she turned into a torch and had to move like a great blaze along the grasslands, Erirag would prove to her partner that they had the might of their blood behind them.

The poet within her sang, and forgetting that her native tongue would likely go misunderstood, she cried out. She let her voice nearly erupt into song, poetry from her lips taunting and smug. "Balob shatraug! Timoran-ishi Lulgijak?" She hefted her hand towards the crimson she-devil and began to walk confidently through the inferno and pain as she let her strong voice ring out, grinning ever widely as her feet split and the wet grass about her waist smoldered.

"Erirag majabim dru. Shau timoran-ishi - amal lat mushof otugatob dotob?!" Her grip was ready for a physical attack on the girl. If she had to, she would take her in her arms and like a groom taking his bride over the threshold of their home for the first time, bring her kicking and screaming into the swirling tides beyond.

Blackspeech Translation
"Why do you quake like the elves, sorceress of flame?"
"I am Erirag, the keeper of terror. If the rain makes you shake so much, where will you hide from the sea's thirsty touch?!"