The Anita Chamber

[Silence Sei]

This Cell has the following competitors:

Hysteria
Homunculus
Enigmatic Immortal
Solar Haven
grim137
BlueGhostOfTheSeaside
Prophet
The Hound

The fighting will begin Monday, September 30th, at 12:01 AM.

May the odds be ever in your...you get the idea.

[Silence Sei]

He stood in his tower, a orange and blue throne made especially for him on this day. His blue orbs pierced the soon to be blood soaked battlefield with the precision of a hawk. This was ‘Silence’ Sei Orlouge’s first time hosting The Cell, a tournament he did not care for in, yet participated in several times. He knew somewhere out in one of these three chambers, there would be a single warrior who would rise above it all. Eight people would enter the arena, yet only the three best amongst them would advance. The Cell was bloody, inhumane, and morbid to no end. Yet, The Cell was a staple in Corone, and since the Ixian Knights had seized the country, Sei had been advised to let the people continue as if there had been no Ixian War. It was ironic; a bloody battle simply laid the groundwork for a bloody tournament.

Sei had chosen to name the largest arena the Anita Chamber, after his second daughter. The arena itself, as always, had a barrier surrounding it. Sei had enlisted the help of the Mystic race, both the practitioners of Shadow and Light magic, to create the unbreakable barrier. To the common eye, the half-mile long, half-mile wide training grounds of Ixian Castle were merely protected by an invisible dome. A dome in which nothing could enter or leave without the youngest Orlouge’s express permission.

The ground was brown earth, with a few leaves of grass sprouting up from the cracks every so often. Four silver stoned walls rose up easily thirty feet into the air. The East and North wall’s stones were almost completely devoured by moss; a testament to the age of the castle. Bugs would occasionally scamper out of the green and scuttle to other parts of the wall before diving back into the stones. The West and South walls had to be completely redone after Cassandra Remi’s attack, each stone meticulously placed, the cement used to seal the granite shaven off at just the right point. Whenever a breeze caught the training grounds just right, a small dust cloud would form and dance across the field, before being stopped by the magic of the barrier.

The sun was almost at its highest point in the sky, almost time for the tournament to start. People had lined the walls of Ixian Castle, some bringing chairs, some sitting upon the wall itself, and more still choosing to stand, not wanting to miss a second of the action. The wind gave a nice cool whisper to the grounds, though the sweltering sun above threatened such a luxury at any given moment. Sei smiled at his handiwork, pulling up a clipboard that Anita had given him listing the warriors.

Amongst the combatants were three Ixian Captains; Talen Shadowwalker, Arden Janelle, and Jensen Ambrose. Talen was one of Sei’s most trusted generals, there with the Mystic since the formation of the Knights. He was also one of Sei’s opponents during the last Cell, a memorable encounter that spawned a deep friendship between the two despite the younger warriors death at the telepath’s hands. Jensen was the leader of the Wetworks Team, a division of the Ixian Knights that dealt in secret assassinations. He was also Sei’s primary bodyguard for his ability to simply not die. Such a trait would prove itself useful. Finally, Arden Janelle had been Sei’s rival for quite a while, and while he now was the head of the Ixian Monster Hunting team, that rivalry still burned on between them. The strategist wondered exactly how the leader of the Scourge would seek to earn his ire today. Even his newest recruit, Kyle the prophet, who survived days encased in a steel cocoon in the blistering heat, had decided to participate. There was no doubt in Sei’s mind that there would probably be an early alliance between these four.

There were a few wildcards on the list as well. Ashla Icebreaker, whose deeds in Fallien mostly involved a lot of collateral damage in the brawls between her and a tiny demon. She was said to have ice powers that could one day rival the great Ashiakin, a legendary ice warrior of Althanas. There was also Xanbata Grim, a man Sei had fought once before in Radasanth. This was a man who was dangerous, cold, and borderline insane. The competitors would have a tough time against this apathetic contract killer.

It was the final name on the list, however, that drew a lump in the Mystic throat. Draug Remi, son of Cassandra Remi, one of Sei’s greatest enemies. He had heard that Draug was entering tournaments, assimilating strong parts and even going on a rampage with Sei’s own brother Ciato. Did the monster truly think that entering a tournament held in Ixian Castle was a good idea? Or perhaps he had become so confident in his abilities after the Ixian War that he thought he could taunt the Knights on their home turf. This was after all a man who slaughtered dozens without so much as batting an eye. He was a different kind of monster from Xanbata Grim altogether, and quite possibly a forerunner for Cell champion. Draug’s presence left a bad taste in Sei’s mouth.

The mute was drawn away from his stupor by the increased cheering of the crowd. The delight in the people, although misguided, brought a smile across the lips of the telepath. Perhaps this was for the best. After all, what better way to show the people of Corone that the Ixian presence did not change anything than by giving them a tournament they so craved. He turned around, preparing to check on his other two chambers. He left the area with a simple thought crossing his mind.

Give em hell, boys & girls

[Arden]

An armoured man crossed the threshold between antechamber and battleground. His heavy plates scraped together, and his crimson cloak danced with seeming sentience. He hung his head in contemplation.

“Do you fight f’r blood, or f’r glory?” a lone figure enquired. His accent hinted at an exotic past.

Blood and glory were the providence of heroes. The Hound of the Scourge was no hero.

“Neither…,” Arden erred. He broke free from the chains of his inner thoughts. “I do not fight for glory.”

That was true enough. The swordsman had wallowed in carnal revelation long enough. He had a purpose, now, and one that served the ‘greater good’, and not just his own self-serving idealology.

“I do not fight for blood, either,” he continued. Bloodshed without ends was never a worthy means.

The figure seethed with tension.

“What is your purpose here?” His voice was otherworldly.

“I fight for freedom.”

With his pledge offered to the guardian of the door, the iron portcullis jolted to life. The man, cowed in coarse wool hemmed with gold, stepped to one side.

“May the gods hear your oath, and bind you to it,” the man said. He gestured to the portal as it trundled open, and fell silent.

Arden Janelle, with a growl erupting from his pauldron, stepped out into the guttural infamy of The Cell.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen leaned against the portal awning to the battlegrounds of the Cell, fingers playing with his knives as they danced around his fingers into and out of his coat pocket. He whistled a child’s tune to himself, his jacket kicking lazily back and forth in the breeze of the tunnel leading to the contest arena. A memory played out in the immortal’s head. It recurred ever since the event took place.

The memory played out like a little scene. Anita stood in Sei’s chambers, at her little desk shuffling around papers. She would see Jensen, give him a genuine smile, and go back to her work. Sei’s little ones, Emma and Ella, would greet the immortal, ask for candy, and run off when Sei told them to be alone. The light would shine in the room gloriously over Sei’s desk, the mystic looking to his Captain and friend over steepled fingers, elbows on the Coronian Oak.

He would say nothing for a moment, watching Jensen sit in the chair that was cast in the shadows made by the tree just out past the training grounds on the hill. Then, he would talk as Sei usually did, before he would sigh, and leave the dossier on the desk. Jensen would see the name, and then his world would grow dark, eyes narrow, and heart freeze over.

Draug Remi was all the immortal needed to see. The genetic freak show and self titled son of the Demi-Goddess Cassandra Remi; the woman who had killed his fiancee. His body would shake as Sei explained the Cell, how important it was that he host it, and why the Ixians were allowing even the scum like Draug to enter.

It all fell on deaf ears. Jensen had instead focused on the night when everything in his life changed, and he merely asked, in a very controlled, but rage filled tone, to be allowed into the Cell. Sei knew that Jensen had just as little care in the tournament scene as the mute did. Both knew they were blood sports, and neither felt like being pawns for others amusement. However, it could not be allowed to let a member of the Cult of Blessed Torture win. No matter the cost.

The scene would fade as the commencement to begin the fight started. Jensen kicked off the wall, walking around the bend into the magical barrier, his teeth humming from the eldritch energy. He looked at his fellow combatants, and nodded his head to those he thought would be a challenge. Yet he gave them all mere footnotes compared to the main focus of all his hatred.

A dark, cruel chuckle bubbled out of his mouth when he saw his quarry, and with a hyena like howl he lifted up his switchblade sword, pointing it to Draug Remi and loudly calling out, “Dibs on the freak-a-zoid! Anyone gets in my way and I’ll cut ‘ya down!” Jensen moved into a full sprint, his coat flapping in the breeze behind him as he lost himself to the madness within, his wails of mirth haunting his every step.

((I Jensen Ambrose, give everyone permission to Bunny me.))

[Solar Haven]

Adonis walked with a crowd up towards the castle where the cell would be happening. He had signed up for this tournament as a means to get combat experience. He had left Kit in his Inn room; he didn't want Kit anywhere near this tournament. It was a battle to the death to see who was stronger than the others. Everyone would be revived afterward, so Adonis didn't feel that bad about possibly ending someone's life.

His head hung low as entered the stands. He didn't know how well he would do, but he knew needed to get some battle knowledge. Of course he wasn't exactly prepared for a battle with his rusted sword in its scabbard and his white overshirt just blowing in the wind.

” Come on Adonis! We gotta do this, if we ever want to prove to our father that you can be strong and powerful without murdering people brutally we have to prove we are strong and powerful” Adonis looked up and realized he was up on the walls over looking a large chamber of sorts, the Ground was just brown earth with very few blades of grass and the four walls surrounding the chamber.

“Yeah this is the Anita Chamber! Apparently there is going to be eight contestants battling it out in there!” One of the people said behind Adonis as everyone began settling into place

“Really? Do you know who is supposed to be in there?” Another cried out in excitement.

“Yeah, they announced it earlier but I only know seven of the eight people. The last one I have never seen before,” The first one explained.

“What is his name?” the second one asked.

“Adonis Michael Cedric Cannon” Adonis said as he turned around to face the two before smiling and quickly jumping down from the wall, using his 'wall' magic to create a pocket of air to slow his descent down. He landed on one knee and quickly felt the brown earth. ”Perfect, this earth is not altered from its natural state, I can use this to my advantage!”

Adonis leaned up against the south wall waiting for the others to arrive. As long as the spectators were correct and that this was the Anita Chamber, he was in the right place.

After a few moment the other entered the chamber. one was clad in plate and didn't appear to be very nimble; his pauldrons clacked against the metal of his breastplate. The other one was just as curious in appearance as Adonis himself. He wore black pants, skin tight black shirt tucked into his pants, and a coat of some sort hanging from his back.

After a bold declaration, the one with the cloak sped off towards another in the chamber. Adonis smirked as his right hand began to glow a bright white. Adonis snapped his fingers and an Un-wall formed mere inches in front of the cloaked man, propelling him forward at three times his momentum.

Adonis kicked off the wall and approached the man clad in plate. If he was to have any chance at surviving any length of time in here he would need allies.

[Abomination]

Anyone can control Draug if you're fighting him. Let's get bloody.

The demi-goddess Cassandra Remi floated inches above the ground, her feet just barely touching the carpeted floor below. Torches hung in the audience chamber, illuminating her flowing dress and silky brunette hair. Her loyal resident alchemist and adviser Memnar stood before her, reading through papers on a clipboard he was holding with hushed intensity. He was covered head to toe in a black cloak, his eyes flashing with a glint of madness.

"He shattered all the records," Memnar said. "This much improvement... it's unheard of! He was only gone for what, a couple weeks? And now he wants to enter The Cell! As much as I would enjoy another change in his physiology, this is clearly a trap. I still haven't cracked the barrier they erected in the last edition of this tournament. Can't you send any of the new recruits instead?"

In a soft, motherly voice, Cassandra replied, "Are you concerned for our delightful son? I do think he has rather grown. His voice carries a hidden restraint, his eyes hold a new ambition."

Memnar blinked, "Are you saying he's acting differently around us? I didn't even know he was capable of that!"

"I feel it in The Gift I have given to him. He no longer needs me to direct his evolution. I want to see what he is hiding from us."

"He can't... I mean, compared to the others that have entered... you'd be asking him to take on the entire Ixian Knights at once."

"If that is where his fate takes him, then let him show what it means to know true fear. To know helplessness before my will. There is also one who I believe will follow him in lockstep. Someone whose memories hold a particular key for us."

"You don't mean..."

- -

With a black hood over his face, Draug stood on the walls overlooking the arena amongst the crowd. There were more spectators here than he thought... Were they all here to see him fall? It smelled of sweat, likely from people standing around for hours in the sun. There was an old man standing next to him, leaning onto a cane and not paying any particular attention to the current stock of participants.

"Who are you looking for?" Draug asked casually.

"I heard that monster entered," he replied, still looking out into the field. "My son gave his life fighting the accursed Cult in the war. I'm finally going to see that beast vanquished, so everyone can see that there's nothing to fear, so that my son can rest in peace."

"I see." It would be so easy to stick his hand through the old man, to see the life drain from his eyes as he looked up into the face of his son's killer. "I hope you get your wish."

"Thank you," he said solemnly. "Are you here for the blood sport like the others?"

"I'm here for someone." He stood a few steps toward the edge of the wall.

The old man looked at his cloaked back, "Oh? Who?"

The Abomination put his foot out into the air, which elicited a cry to stop from the old man, but Draug let his body fall down to the brown dirt below, landing on both feet and crushing a few blades of grass. He felt a strange sensation as entered the barrier, the Mystic magic giving him a sting of familiarity. Upon his entry, he removed his hood and looked straight at Jensen Ambrose, who apparently noticed him first and was already charging at him like a lunatic. He had never met the immortal before directly, but the black red hair, the red tips, the brown eyes, and the grin on his face matched the descriptions he was given.

His cloak wrapped around his body, hiding his arms for the time being. Underneath the cloak, his right arm twisted and grew, gaining a foot of length and doubling in size. His hand mutated rapidly and became more like a bear's paw with two claws made out of the iron daggers assimilated in his wrists. When Jensen got close enough, Draug would reveal his mutated arm and greet him with enough strength to cleave through the immortal's torso.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen completely forgot the other contestants existence around him, even unsure how the block of ice moved beneath his feet. The first few steps nearly saw him trip and fall, but with the practice of a man who defied the speed of the average human, Jensen was quick to lock his gait and keep his momentum up. When he approached Draug the man did nothing, his eyes contently locked upon the immortal.

In a split second the cloak was removed, a large hand moving out with enough force to break a boulder. Jensen was moving so fast he nearly lost his footing and tripped into the death blow, ending this run on the Cell and letting all those he knew down. But Jensen wasn’t just swift, he was also agile.

The knight corkscrewed in the air almost floating around the enlarged limb, full body tackling the mutant freak as they tussled to the floor, dust kicking up around them. Jensen’s jacket whipped over his head as he rolled to the moss covered wall, the plants shaking off as human contact was finally made after eons of neglect. Jensen spat a curse and continued to giggle with madness, coming back up to his feet faster than Draug and managing to land his knee on the son of Cassandra’s chin. He pushed the man down again as Jensen fell forwards touching the ground and turning in time to have his sword parry a return strike from the killer’s own blade.

“You are him,” he said, his voice almost devoid of emotion or care. It was like he spoke a simple fact, and nothing more. “The one mother talks of.” Jensen only responded with cackles of sadistic glee, knives coming off his fingertips as he thumbed them in his jacket pocket and let them loose. They whistled in the air, their speed and accuracy nearly throwing off the construct of flesh and alchemy. Yet he merely dodged them, ducking in an unnatural manner and coming back up with his fist launching out. Jensen had to flip backwards to avoid it, and he felt his left shoulder bruise from impact as he rolled away from full contact.

They moved like wolves fighting over a scrap of meat, eyes telling of their stance on one another. Jensen was full of malice, hate, and seeking desire for revenge. Draug was cold, void of emotions but the killer’s intent to do harm, and do it as violently as possible. “Your wife gave her life so mother may become what she was destined to be,” Draug pulled back enough to tap his chest, a wicked smile on his features. “She shares that gift with me. So I must thank you, Jensen Ambrose,” his teeth looked like little rows of razors as he showed a toothy grin. “Without her, I would not be here.”

Jensen felt his brain snap at the comment and with a screech of rage he moved in, fist coming under in an uppercut, his body ready to unleash a series of brutal flash kicks.

[Hysteria]

The crowed roared, half in exhilaration and half in shock as the immortal and the freak fought. Talen's blue eyes peered silently through his mask at the conflict. Talen rarely fought without an elaborate guise, but this time he had decided it was foolish to present himself as anyone else. He drew solace on the white mask, a simple design with cold eyes and a small smile. His small frame, barely a metre and a half tall, was dressed in a black t-shirt and pants. The mask was framed with his shaggy black hair. Talen stepped up the top of the wall and without another thought dropped through the barrier.

“Is that kid really going compete with those monsters?” a woman, sitting somewhere behind Talen. The youth smiled under his mask.

The calm, stoic demeanour disappeared the moment Talen was through the barrier. His feet pivoted on the wall, kicking himself back up against the barrier. His hands and feet pushed against the solid barrier as he shot on all fours up its inside. The small dark form defied gravity as it moved quickly up the inside of the barrier. Darkness shifted in a haze around the boy's form. His arms thinned and hardened, dark claws stretching down from his fingers and metal encasing his arms up to his shoulders. Spikes of metal shot out of his elbows and knees while two burst out from his back above his spine.

The youth felt his blood rise as he passed over Jensen. Dammit vomit face, always taking the good stuff. Talen was forced to continue, but he had already found new prey. The youth eyed the two men, neither of which he had met before. One was dressed simply, the other in full armour. Talen leapt of the wall, shooting like an arrow towards the two men. His hands lifted out as he twisted and in a flash he had drawn his swords. With concern for himself the youth shot towards the simply dressed Adonis like a shadowy dart. A shrill cry ripped from his mouth, his open jaw bobbing down from below his mask and a his tongue waving in the air.

Talen didn't care if he died, it would only be of a small inconvenience to him. What he wanted was the feel of taking out another in the Cell. In the youth's first foray into the tournament it had been Sei that had killed him, this time he wanted to return the favour to the other combatants. He wanted blood.

[Solar Haven]

Adonis made it about halfway across the arena when a shrill screech was heard from above. His head shot up to see where it was coming from: a figure was lunging straight for him at an astonishing speed. Adonis was never going to be able to unsheathe his sword in time to block. He quickly raised his two fingers up towards the sky as he created a wall of dirt to erupt from the ground.

As the wall erupted into place, eight slimy tendrils erupted from the attackers back and cushioned the blow against the wall.

Adonis unsheathed his sword and released his wall magic, crumbling the dirt wall between them. He wasn't prepared for what he saw: his attacker/opponent was the size of a little kid, with a white mask, dark clothes and tentacles slithering behind his back. Adonis narrowed his eyes; he was going to use what knowledge he had to his advantage.

He swung his sword in a massive arc from the right as a distraction. While his left hand balled up into a fist and went to uppercut his opponent in the chest. Just before he was about to impact with his fist he created a small off white un wall and sent his fist flying three times faster towards his opponents chest.

[Hysteria]

Talen felt his whole body shudder under the strain as he lurched against the competing force of his momentum and the cushioning of the tentacles. The little shadow warrior stumbled backwards as the wall collapsed and his opponent was revealed once again. The tint of failure only managed to fuel Talen's enthusiasm.

As his opponent made to attack Talen played the provocateur, lifting his thin arm into the air to catch the attacking sword easily. The bell of war rung as metal struck metal. A doubt. The blade strike was too weak. The youth cocked his head in a moment of confusion and instinctively brought his right up in front of his body. The blow came hard, catching the metal across Talen's arm and causing the youth to skid backwards.

Talen regained himself and slammed his sword blades into the ground and lifted his hands towards his opponent. The tinge of regret of not getting to fight The Curse of the Ixian Knights had dissipated completely as shadows lifted from his outstretched hands. Blobs of darkness exploded outwards, a cascade of darkness spiralling in a wide cone before arching back into a torrent of hundreds of crows around Adonis. Each one a silent illusion of Talen's darkness.

“Hundred Crows” Muttered Talen.

Two of the tentacles spun around the boy's midsection and wrapped around the hilts of his swords. In a smooth motion they ripped the swords from the ground and continued from both left and right towards Adonis to cut the man in thirds. One aiming for his chest, the other his waist. The white mask continued to smiled its little grin.