The Ella Chamber

[Silence Sei]

In this Chamber, we shall see the following people fight:

Reine
Tourneymant
Breaker
Roht Mirage
blackshadow
Warpath
hoytti
Dead & Walking

Start killing each other Monday, September 30th, at 12:01AM Central Standard Time.

The Wheel Of Fate Is Turning! Rebel One, Action!

[Silence Sei]

He stood in his tower, an 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.

The Ella Chamber was the smallest of the three arenas, named after the smallest of Sei’s four children. The arena was much smaller compared to the others, estimated at a diameter of one hundred yards. Due to the other two arenas taking up so much room, Sei had made a clearing a half a mile outside of Ixian Castle to make way for the fights in the Ella Chamber. Tree stumps and splintered wood dotted the mix of brown dirt and green grass on the ground. Sei’s microscopic vision could easily still make out the area, even from large gap between him and the invisible dome.

The Dragon of Drantrak had enlisted the help of several Mystics from the home town of the race. They combined their powers to make a seemingly invisible dome, though to one with a penchant for seeing spells would recognize the swirls of white and black that dotted the barrier. The massive shade provided by the surrounding trees of Concordia Forest helped make this arena the coolest of the three, though there were beams of sunlight slipping through the foliage, hinting at the heat the sun provided. Dozens of people, mostly Imperial loyalists who wished to not enter Ixian Castle, dotted the outside area of the Chamber. Without the Ixian Knights to police them, several illegal activities were happening in the area. The strategist could easily make out drug abuse and illegal gambling amongst the people, deplorable acts that would on any other day have them visit the inside of a jail cell.

Sei broke his vision off from the arena itself to look down at his clip board. A list of fighters had been meticulously written in a pretty cursive style by his daughter Anita. The biggest name on the list, and the one receiving the most bets to win this Chamber, was Joshua Cronen. Sei had fought this man in last years Cell, and the mute had learned first-hand what a powerful beast he was. It was why the mute pooled his resources to invite the man to head up the Ixian Knights Investigations Division. Surely, Joshua would be the one to beat amongst these warriors.

Roht Mirage was name Sei had not heard of until this morning, when Anita delivered to him a report about last night’s festivities. This woman was single handedly responsible for causing a massive bar brawl before the Ixian Knights had to come in and separate everyone. There was no serious injury; the worst damage was somebody taking a wooden chair to the back of the head, but it was more of a message to the Mystic than anything else. Roht Mirage was dangerous, and however she did it, she could turn people against one another. Her manipulating techniques would surely do her well here.

Reine was a femme fatale with sticky fingers. Rumor had it that she had a pair of shoes that helped her accomplish a lot more than any normal person could alone. It was said that she could turn on the charm just as quickly as she could pull out a weapon. It would be interesting to see who could play the warriors against each other better, Reine or Roht. An alliance between those two would definitely spell disaster for the combatants.

Barnabas Tourneymant was a strange fellow. He had come from a long line of people whose only notable endeavors were entering tournaments. The man was said to be not only invisible, but seven feet tall. Considering the arena was only twenty-five feet high, this would give Barnabas the ability to cover the field quickly. However, he was still not the tallest person in this chamber.

Sorish Mon Larsh registered at a whopping eleven feet tall, almost half the height of the Ella Chamber. Sei had never encountered his race, ‘Coral Man’, before, but if the race was also an apt description, then Sorish would at least have the advantage of a sturdy defense. Perhaps he would wait out his opponents and then come and sweep up any stragglers. Sei could not wait to see this man’s strategy.

Somehow, a zombie had also managed to get his name registered onto the list. Regardless of whether this was a trick by one of the various Ixian Knight enemies, or a legitimate bid for the crown, Sei was unsure how good the walking dead’s chances were in advancing. While he had the advantage of eternal unlife, he also had the disadvantage of rotting skin. Of course, Sei had few encounters with zombies, so he would have to see Grond prove himself.

Black Shadow was an archer, something that would prove nearly useless unless the man found a strong ally to cover his back. He had been a prince now excommunicated from his country, and now sought the warriors path. If he were to be successful here today, he would have his name inked among the greats. He would truly be a giant killer.

Flint Skovik was a criminal, through and through. That was not to say he did not have a reason for commiting crimes; had Sei been in the warriors shoes, he probably would have done the same things. This showed thanks to Flint’s compassion for a certain girl, one whom he didn’t do such heinous things around. He was a shining example of what a man could accomplish, what chains he could sever both literally and figuratively when put to the right motivation. He would most likely be Joshua’s biggest opponent, unless the two formed an alliance. In that case, the rest of the Chamber was probably screwed.

“Welcome, warriors of the Ella Chamber,” Sei ‘spoke’ in his soft mannered, calm ‘tone’, which was actually a psychic message inside the minds of the competitors. “The fight is about to begin, if you will all please step into the designated clearing, so we may get the tournament underway, it would be appreciated. At high noon, the battle shall commence.”

“Good luck, ladies and gentlemen, and remember that the wheel of fate is turning! To the victor go the spoils!”

[Roht Mirage]

For months, she had been a ghost, flitting through the lives of Coronians with nary a ripple. She was the simple Fallien girl they saw in the bazaar, the quiet spice fields daughter they shared a single meal with at an inn; meek, bland, and utterly unmemorable as one foreigner in a land that saw so many. She had grown to feel safe, having seen neither shadow nor blade of the Kar'Roh. Perhaps, by the mercy of a more hospitable god, she was out of Roh's reach.

Unfortunately, when one is running from a pack of wolves, it is easy to overlook the smaller predators.

“Desert rat's hiding in the garbage,” sneered a hairy brute at the mouth of the alley.

Astarelle pawed at the rickety wall blocking her way. Mismatched boards rose higher than her head on crossbeams that seemed securely mounted to the opposing brick buildings. Through the knotholes, she could see the alley that someone had claimed as their back yard, unaware that they might be enabler to a murder.

She heaved her shoulder at the boards, producing an aged creak, but lost her footing in the piled, stinking refuse and fell to one knee. With her staff, she kept herself from crumpling lower into papers, rags, and wetter mysteries. If I could vault it, she reasoned in a hopeful frenzy as she gripped her staff and pulled herself up.

And up. And up. The monster of a man, breath as stale as his clothing, hoisted her by her throat. Her staff clattered to the ground behind him and rolled into the shadows of evening, for in the alley night had already fallen. “Maybe he'll give me a few minutes with you if I charge him half the finder's fee,” he laughed sourly.

“Go sting yourself,” Astarelle hissed with her remaining air as her face began to... shift. The facade of a sun-browned Fallien commoner puffed away in a cloud of sand. What lay beneath was the softer tone of one who escaped the worst of the desert sun, and an intricate mark of black and white set starkly over the brow. The beautiful, exotic lines of her face were twisted by fear, but her steel-grey eyes burned indignantly.

The brute blinked once in surprise, then again, with a curse, as the airborne sand rushed into his face. He snapped back a hand to scrub at his eyes, and Astarelle's toes touched the ground. Only her toes. With one hand, he still held her throat in a serpent's embrace. The coming of night hastened even more as she choked and twitched, one hand straining toward the shadows.

With a heavy clatter, her staff lunged from the darkness, catching the monster mid-cough in the back of both knees. He finally let go to scrape dirty nails down the brickwork as he fell. Astarelle followed, purposefully bracing one foot in his groin. He grunted. She twisted on her toes, ripping from him a howl, as she performed a dancer's spin that pounded her other foot upon the meat of his chest. Her newly-returned staff rode the momentum, sweeping high over her head.

The beast, his eyes bulging, let out a pleading wheeze. She answered with a scream as she swung. The reed of her staff bit a chunk from the far wall, then cracked across his face as heavily as an iron bar. Teeth and blood jetted across the alley.

Astarelle stumbled off him and flattened her back to the bricks. A moan came from the shattered ruin of his jaw, low and pathetic. She was breathing haggardly and her eyes ran with moisture. “I should kill you,” she growled, though she didn't move.

The brute rolled away, curling into himself. His breath rattled with the blood and teeth floating in his throat. “I should,” she tried again, but her knees betrayed her, dropping her heavily to the ground. Shoulders to the wall, she pressed her face into the soiled material over her knees, begging for breath to return to her from the long chase, and begging her eyes to stop watering.

“This will save me some coin,” someone said near her in a banal tone. She looked up just in time to see a heavy boot come to rest on the wheezing man's skull. As surely as a vice, as wetly as a butcher's maul, it pressed the whimpers into an eternal silence.

“Who are-,” Astarelle began, her voice flat with incomprehension. The new arrival interrupted her with a swift step forward. She threw up a hand defensively, but be caught her wrist in a grip akin to being thirty paces under the desert floor.

“That was decent, but you have so much untapped potential.”

A gloved hand was thrust before her eyes -finger and thumb snapped together- and the blackest of nights fell all at once.

~

In a flash of black and white sparks, a long dream ended, its events already slipping from her mind. Astarelle blinked sluggishly and tried to stifle a yawn, though none came. Her body was wide awake.. and constricted. She felt the tension of a braid pulling her hair back. “Too tight, Lisere,” she mumbled into the soft forest floor as she tried to return to sleep, only to have a blade of grass rudely shove itself up her nose. With a snort and a burst of waking adrenaline, she roused herself to her hands and knees. Dappled sunlight played over the backs of her hands and glimmered off a pair of bracers.

When did...

The braid tumbled over her shoulder and swung fitfully at the side of her vision. Her eyes went wide. It was the braid from her childhood; a thick red ribbon woven down the length of it as if Lisere had done it herself. She's still in Faroh, Astarelle remembered, feeling a pang for how immense that distance now seemed. Regardless, it was a braid she couldn't have done herself.

With a shake to send the hair behind her shoulders, she slid one knee forward, then blinked in surprise. Her knee was bare as it emerged from a skirt she had never seen before; long, sleek, and black as night. There was a slit up the front -the front!- that drew back from her leg like a playhouse curtain opening.

Her breath caught as she fumbled for some reaction other than the hard blush she felt blooming. The slit, thankfully, stopped high on her thigh, though the skirt still framed her tautly-muscled leg indecently. There were also leggings below it, but not even low enough to touch the knee. At least I'm not dressed completely like a trakap, she thought with disjointed amusement.

A comfortable breeze tickled her shoulders, her collarbone, her cleav- Bury me, I am!

With all the grace of a spooked rabbit, she bounded to her feet and flattened her back against what felt like a wall. Her eyes almost rolled down her new, shapely figure as she stared. A corset! It was higher than that of a tavern wench, dark enough to whisper of more dominant fetishes, and thick enough to almost -but just barely- function as a stand-alone top. If only her slight cleavage wasn't bordered by the sinuous, enhancing line of a tattoo.

She blinked dumbly. A tattoo?

Her bare skin was a mural dedicated to the desert. Lines in every gradient from rich oasis brown to bone white slithered over her in an abstract rendition of wind-blown dunes. Abstract, not due to the artist's lack of skill, but in the service of accenting her body. Never before had she thought of her shoulders as attractive, but the way the dunes lay over them was amazing, and the way they framed her pouting bosom was... enticing, if not utterly embarrassing. The tattoo even swept up her neck and over her cheekbones. She couldn't see it, but she could feel it... because...

Her grey eyes flew as wide as possible. My sand, she realized, When did- For years, the sand had disguised her as a Fallien commoner. This... this was a spectacle, and only her own will could have shaped it so. With a thought, she could have forced the sand into a less grandiose form, but her concentration faltered as, all at once, her situation became clear.

The wall she leaned against, though it felt more solid than stone, was invisible. Spectators lounged among the trees beyond it like cats. She could feel the palpable anticipation, the thrill of blood sport. Was it an Ai'Brone game? Were they abducting contestants, now? Dressing them, even? She did not move from the magical wall as, with her bewilderment wearing thin, she whispered, “Only in Corone.”

Other characters would have seen Astarelle (“Roht Mirage” to the previous night's revellers) swagger through the barrier, immediately collapse, then rouse herself in the scene above.

[Dead & Walking]

Grond limped slowly through the barrier of The Cell into the clearing full of tree stumps, wood chips, and grass. He had signed up because this would be a great opportunity to show that he was more then just a zombie. He was a tactician and a master of hand to hand combat. He would not loose to a bunch of muscle heads or a trickster. He would be the one tricking them.

I will lure them in with my dumb zombie routine. Then when they get close I'll use my super human strength and mastery of hand-to-hand combat to bring down my opponent. Yes that will do it, he thought as he continued to trudge deeper into clearing as he waited for the first sucker to fall for his trap. Man I wish I could run

[hoytti]

Sorish walked towards his cell. It was nestled deep in a forest. Now Sorish knew he was probably going to be the tallest of all the contestants in the cell. His 11'7 frame was really hard for any creature to beat. Sorish wore his normal Blue & Green Coralian Battle Armor covered in his Hardened White Fish Scale Robe. His Coral Beard was now down to about his chest. Sorish also held a Blue Coralian Short Sword in his right hand as the coral like weapon glistened in the sunlight. He also held a Blue Coralian Shield that also glistened as the sun shone on it.

Next to Sorish walked his girlfriend Korra, his sister Sanderia, and Korra's brother Ethen.

Korra stood about 13'5, she had on a beautiful rainbow fish dress that Sorish swore made her even curvier then she already was. Her green skin shimmered due to the slime that covered her body.

Sanderia stood at 5'8, She wore a cute little white sundress. She had the same colored skin as Korra. A sword sat in it's sheath on her left hip.

While the the other three coralians looked at least humble. Ethen looked regal. He wore a sailfish robe that his father made him. He also had a cape bade out of the sailfish's dorsal fin. His pure blue skin plus dashing looks would make any woman fall over in shock. Sorish believed that this was the reason for Sanderia crush on him.

As they approached the cell. Sorish noticed that just inside the clearing, a lady was fainted. One he recognized. Roht, the woman who tried to harass him the other night at the bar. Sorish charged forward to slam Roht and maybe even dismember her. "You will pay for forcing yourself on me!" he yelled as he passed through the barrier and was locked in the cell.

[Tourneymant]

Barnabas crept slowly through the forest. He wasn't going to be stupid this time. Last fight he was forced to retreat because of his partner not only left him, but because he had just upped and attacked the men. This time he was ready. He would not broadcast his position, instead he would us stealth and just last. As he made it to the barrier he heard a yell and looked to the left, there was a giant coral man run by, headed towards a woman who was in the barrier. Barnabas shook his head as he stepped into the barrier himself. After a second look, he noticed that the woman was Roht, a woman that he bumped into as she left a tavern the other day.

FLASHBACK

Barnabas had just left the inn he was staying at when Roht left a tavern in a full sprint and ran right into him. He was thrown back into a wall on the other side of the street as she continued to run. She didn't even look back to see what she hit. Now Barnabas would of normal ignored being hit considering he was one, weightless, and two, invisible, people ran into him all the time, but usually they would look to see, who or what they hit, especially when they hear a thunk. But this girl did nothing at all. She just continued on her way. The next thing I know, the tavern was swarmed by Ixian Knights.

Barnabas walked up to a man in the back and asked, "Excuse me sir, care to explain what's going on?" The knight didn't turn to me but said, "A bar brawl happened because of a woman who goes by Roht Mirage." He started to turn as he continued to say, "If you seen anything please tell use." He then looked confused when he looked right at me, a reaction I've seen many times. But then a look of realization appeared on his face and he smiled. "You must be Barnabas Casmir Tourneymant. So as I've said, mind helping us with this case?"

Barnabas smiled, not that the knight could tell. "Of course, I happened to have been sent flying into that wall behind me by a woman who ran out of that tower. She didn't even look back as she ran down the street in that direction." He pointed in the direction the woman ran. "It was probably Roht."

The knight nodded then thanked Barnabas before the knight returned to duty.

END FLASHBACK

Barnabas really hoped Roht survived long enough for him to kill her. However, it looked like that man of coral would get first dibs. He continued to walk till he spotted a zombie. Seriously who lets a zombie in a tournament? he thought. Then again, this wasn't the strangest creature that was let into a tournament. He once had to fight a burrow worm. Not fun.

FLASHBACK

It was years ago, he had entered his first tournament. It was a Battle Royal. They would fight to the death, no revival, and you keep the head of your opponents as a trophy each head you hack off gets added to the trophy stand. Barnabas walked into the tournament and looked as his opponents. Most of them were his brothers and sisters as was tradition. However there were a few none Invisible men.

There was a Gorogonog, A humanoid that had MRI abilities that was so powerful that it could be miles away and still see you. His body was was the normal humanoid however, where his eyes were, there was just Mesh like substance. It was actually quite disturbing.

Another Creature that was around was a Drogno, A creature that looked like a dragon, but didn't shoot fire. Instead it used it's tail as a whip and it's claws as swords. It also had a much harder hide then a regular dragon.

Finally there was the burrow worm. Just as the name suggests, it burrowed underground and when it found it's pray, it would jump up out of the ground and snap it's jaws shut.

Barnabas looked up at the tournament roster as it randomly choose their opponents. And just his luck, he got the Burrow Worm.

END FLASHBACK

It took him an hour, but Barnabas finally took that beast down and won that tournament, he also wiped out his species in the process. Hey at least he will be spitting up eggs for the next generation in a next year.

Barnabas returned to the barrier and leaned against it as he watched the other contestants.

[Reine]

[I]"Ella Chamber, huh?["/I]

Faelynn Thiadore's eyes scanned across the barrier that was supposed to contain them. She couldn't see it overly well, but having some skill in the form of magic manipulation, she could see a faint outline, a trick of the light if she turned her head to the side and glanced at it at just the right angle as the sun pierced through the foliage. It kind of shimmered, or perhaps a more apt description would be that it wavered, distorted the world seen through it slightly. The trees on the other side of the chamber looked less real, like a painting that had been smudged by a carelss artist. Even the castle off in the distance looked blurred when seen through the bubble of power meant to trap all of them within.

Idly, she wondered what kind of strength it would take to break that powerful field. Or, what kind of person could make such a thing.

Milling around her intended cage were crowds of people; large and small. They huddle amongst each other, their voices a cadence like cicadas that carried on the hot summer breeze and filled her ears with the constant drone. Just background noise, she told herself. Nothing to focus on, she had enough to worry about when it came to this crazy endeavour.

"Out with it..." Jared said, his grey eyes looking at her pointedly.

"I joined The Cell!" Faelynn blurted out.

He practically choked on the piece of bread he was eating, quickly washing it down with half a glass of water before he looked at her incredulously. His entire face portraying both his surprise, shock and disbelief, crushing any hope that he'd support her right then and there."You're kidding right? That place is a glorified death trap!"

She flinched, the smile on her face vaishing in an instant. "I thought you would be excited for me...and support me"

The expression on his face would have been priceless, quite theatrical really. He opened ad closed his mouth several times as he tried to find something to say to her.

"I do support you." He said, reaching out and cupping her cheek with a warm hand. "I've just seen people walk away from that tournament with scars, and not the kind you can see."

She could still hear Jared's words echoing around inside of her skull. Fae had been so excited when news of the tournament had reached her ears. Finally, a chance for her to test her skills in the ultimate arena against some of the best that Althanas could throw at her. Growing up in Underwood and living in Radasanth, she'd spent plenty of time in The Citadel, but the thief had never entered a tournament before, never dreamed of it really. She preferred not to fight at all. The tricks she had up her sleeve were designed to distract so she could slip away without a blow ever being struck or a drop of blood shed. But all the recent training with Jared Cesarino and Seth Dahlios made her wonder, and that wandering thought had led her to believe she had a chance, and a good one at that.

Until Jared so blatantly called her out on it and crushed most of her excitement in under thirty seconds flat.

At least in the end, her red headed thief had decided to accompany her back to Corone. In fact, he should be here somewhere, cheering her on in that large crowd of people. Or perhaps her Lavinian kept himself to the forest. Her eyes roamed that way, towards the tall trees that bathed as much of the arena in shade as they could. Fae couldn't see him, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. He said he would be. She had no reason to doubt him. Could really only hope not to disappoint him somehow in all of this.

Turning her eyes from the spectators, the young thief started dissecting the other participants as best she could. In all honesty, she was far better at judging how to break into a place than how someone could kill her, but one of the fighters she already recognized. In fact, she watched in surprise as the woman from last night came waltzing into the arena--still wearing that slinky black dress too--and then promptly fell face first into the grass.

Okay...

That, Fae assumed, had to hurt, or at least be slightly uncomfortable.

Wondering if she was down for the count, the thief found herself surprised when Roht Mirage promptly jolted up into a sitting position and took stalk of her surroundings like she had no idea where she was.

This chick has some serious issues.

Of course, she had been all over some freaky looking half demon last night, so Faelynn knew she should not be surprised. She went for him after she'd blatantly been all over Jared. Honestly, Fae left the man alone for five minutes to visit the washroom and came back to find some busty vixen all up and practically on her man. Needless to say, she'd had the last laugh though, when Jared turned her down and Fae got her own revenge.

A smirk touched her lips as she felt the weight of her newly procured items resting against her wrists, and at this point, hidden under the black and purple sleeves of her jacket. The thief didn't normally pickpocket off individuals, but no one touched her man like that and got away with it. Jared Cesarino belonged to her and no one else. She'd left a couple marks on him last night just to drive the point home, you know, in case he forgot and all.

The other contestants, so far, seemed to be a zombie--gross--and a freakishly tall giant. And by freakishly tall, she meant it. The guy literally stood at over twice her height. But, at that point she knew it would be a disadvantage to him. She'd be able to sneak right through his legs and come up on his back before he even knew what hit him. He paid no mind to her though, as he charged Roht Mirage, heedless of the fact that the match had yet to even begin.

Pushing up the sleeves of her jacket--damn that sun was getting hot--Faelynn drew in a deep and calming breath. Well, it was supposed to be deep and calming, but it did nothing to assuage the butterflies that danced in her stomach or the nervous twitch of her fingers as they sought some kind of action. Adrenaline already leaked into her body, slowly, making her nerves tingle and her senses sharpen. She took that first step towards the cage a nervous wreck inside, but a confident warrior on the out. Amalia rested on her back, The Iron Shackles on her feet, what more could she ask for?

Victory.

Head held high, wind blowing stray strands of hair about her face and her feet crushing down on grass and wildflowers alike, Faelynn 'Reine' Thiadore strode through that magical barrier like she owned it; no, like she made it. It swept over her, causing goosepimples to break out across her skin, most notable along her thighs where her shorts didn't quite reach down far enough to cover her, and her boots didn't come up high enough. The sensation felt similar to a caress, but once inside the barrier she reached back and found a solid and mostly invisible wall that felt as cool as stone. Apparently, The Cell took it's name rather seriously.

Stepping away from the curved wall of her cage, Fae weaved between the tree stumps and found an area of shade, the tall branch of an oak tree protecting her from the bright sunlight. There she stood and waited for the toll of noon to begin and the fight to start.

[Roht Mirage]

Astarelle absently toed at the reed staff laying before her feet.

“Can the Ai'Brone control my sand?” she mused aloud, more unnerved by that idea than the zombie that stood among the severed tree stumps. They hadn't bothered to cover the mark on her forehead, but she had bared it in a Citadel arena before without the Kar'Roh tracking her down. Yet, there was an unusual amount of sand on her face, more than the tattoos warranted. She lifted a hand to touch the concealed flesh, and it drew a wince from her. “I have a black eye?” she gasped, then looked skyward, “What in the depths!”

A sudden bellow from her left side ended the brooding, and her bruised eye twinged as her face dropped in shock once more. A giant?! It was the only word that sprang to mind. She quickly glanced at the zombie, then back to the giant. Yeah... forcing themselves on others is what they-

He means me! The giant closed with sword raised and face twisted in a horrible rage.

Ai'Brone trick or not, Astarelle ran, her skirt flaring behind her like a sleek storm cloud. The ground shook with the force of the giant's attack. Reflexively, she did a quick two-step skip to ride out the loss of balance, then planted one heavy shoe on a severed trunk and vaulted to the next stump. There, she turned in a crouch. “How did I force-” she began, but her voice sputtered out as the giant reared up. The anger in its eyes wasn't that of a beast or illusion. It was personal and all too real.

“What's wrong?” came a muffled voice. Astarelle snapped her head to the side. Ten paces away, a woman no younger than herself pressed her hands to the outside of the invisible wall. She would have been recognizable regardless, with her forehead discolored by an old burn scar that swallowed part of her hair line, but Astarelle actually knew her... somehow.

“You. You tied my braid!” she shouted as the barest sliver of a memory returned.

The young woman tilted her ear to the barrier as if she had misheard. “Uh... yeah?” she called back with a look of utter confusion contorting the soft face below her scar. “What's wrong?” she asked again.

“Bury me if I know,” Astarelle cursed as she turned away. Whatever was happening, it was real; her scandalous outfit, the familiar stranger, and most real of all, the giant. She nervously locked eyes with it again, then raised a hand to summon her staff. It popped weakly from the torn earth beside the giant's feet, toppled end over end, and wedged itself against a stump halfway between them.

Today was full of surprises; horrible, awful surprises.

[Breaker]

The doorway materialised between a stunted yew and a broken oak that marked Concordia's final fringe. Aside from its sudden appearance in the forest sidelining Corone's bloodiest tournament, there was nothing remarkable about the door. But when its brass knob turned a truly remarkable man stepped through.

Black metal boots crunched loam and dead twigs alike as Breaker paced a safe distance from the portal and pivoted, shielding his eyes against the rays lancing through Concordia's foliage. The sleeve of his immaculate white denim kimono jacket fluttered in a pleasant breeze. The same wind stirred the cuffs of his matching gi pants and the ends of the red belt knotted about his waist. The symmetrical maul of a massive sledgehammer peeked over his right shoulder, and the plain pommel of a bastard sword balanced it on the left. The dull dehlar of both weapons shone in midday light, but failed to match the proud glow in the warrior's eyes as he watched his friends file through from the door's twin in Underwood.

Anastacia Alliendra stepped daintily over the threshold and strode to his side, green and brown skirts swishing about her knees. Strawberry hair streaked with gold framed her face as she lifted the heels of soft boots long enough to stretch up and kiss him on the cheek. Her lips left a moist rouge impression over the infamous Y-shaped scar that marred his dimples, and she slid a palm up his stubbly jaw and through his close-cropped hair.

"You will win," she told him with overflowing confidence, blue eyes that would haunt the dreams of most men locked into his hazel ones, "the warrior who taught me to wield steel and smile can overcome all this tourny may offer." She squeezed his muscled arm, petite fingers barely able to wrap halfway around the biceps, and then pressed both hands to her belly and breathed slowly. It was a trick for calming nerves she'd mastered during her forsaken career as a golden call girl. Although Stacia had enjoyed most aspects of the work she'd been reared for since infancy - the elegant clothing and costly makeup, the sense of secrecy and anticipation, the control she held over any man who fell between her thighs. But when civil war gripped Corone she'd abandoned her silky gowns and feather beds for practical woolens and begun combat training with the Underwood Watch.

"Yore lookin' dandy, Sheriff," came the gruff voice of Terech Bodorson as he sidled through the doorway. For once the old dwarf wore no weapons on his back nor combat rings in his beard. "I still don't see 'ow garbin' yoreself like some poncey Akashiman prince 'eaded to a royal ball will help yeh in the Cell. But yeh don't be needin' help in any case." A simple belted woolen tabard billowed around short legs and bulky shoulders as he stepped to Josh's other side, wild red and grey hair waving in the wind. The Master of Ravenheart Academy reached out a thick hand, scarred and burned from a lifetime of fighting and working the forge. The Headmaster and the former Sheriff of Underwood clasped forearms and nodded sagely to one another. "This bloody contest better bring us enough fame to find a decent flaming replacement," Bodorson muttered darkly. Since Joshua's recent semi-retirement from the position of Sheriff, demands on the dwarf's time and attention had tripled.

"I'm sure someone will step forward," Breaker said, gesturing casually at the battleground behind him, "the fields are ripe with legends-to-be this Autumn." The dwarf snorted louder than a warhorse. Over of his matted nest of hair Josh saw the doorway fade and vanish as the final member of their party landed on the forest floor.

"Really Josh?" Jake Narmolanya joked, strutting up to his friend and mentor with a spring in his step, "I thought you'd have killed them all by the time I got through." The cheeky half-elf stowed the enchanted quill he'd used to maintain the doorway beneath his brown leather jacket. He clasped forearms with Josh in an exaggerated version of Bodorson's ritual, pounding the taller warrior on the back. Perhaps a bit harder than necessary, after he noticed the shape of Stacia's lips on Josh's cheek. "Is it time?" Jake asked as they separated.

Breaker smiled and stood tall, rolling his shoulders and feeling the weight of his weapons - those on his back and those concealed beneath his clothing - shift and settle like snuggling lovers. Of all the beings on Althanas from the demons crawling in her depths to the deities decorating her night sky, the three standing before him represented his most trusted companions. Stacia, who would place tiny hands on slim hips and tell him he was being a woolbrain, even when the entire Town Council supported his idealistic notions. Jake, who gladly worked to exhaustion day after day helping him train with weapons or empty hands. Bodorson, who had shared age-old secrets of swordplay and spent the previous night putting a razor's edge to all of Breaker's blades.

"Yes... I think it's time," he told Jake, feeling adrenaline trickle into his bloodstream as if through a grudging valve.

The half-elf crowed like a rooster and raced past his friends. He cartwheeled over the first low bushes blocking his path and flowed into a chain of back-handsprings that continued 'till he stood a mere pace from the battleground, faced toward his friends and the growing crowd.

"My lords and ladies!" Jake roared in his best ring-announcer's voice. He cast one splayed hand straight up in the air and pointed with the other at his three comrades, who followed in his wake at a normal pace. "My demons and direlings!" The half elf added as he noted more of the multi-ethnic spectators paying him mind. "My mystics and minions!" Jake built steam like an accelerating Aleraran engine as eyes all around the Ella Chamber fell to him.

"Preeeee-senting! The Master of Dajas Pagoda! The spoiler of the Ai'Brone Citadel! The veteran of the Cell! The Dodger of bullets and the Breaker of his Maker.... Josh-oo-waaa Crow-nen!"

Joshua's face flushed as he came to rest a pace from the Mystics' barrier, a smattering of applause and catcalls washing over him.

"Thanks for keeping that modest," he said flatly.

"I could have called you Uncrowned King of the Tiered Mountain," Jake grinned, coming to stand beside Stacia and rubbing her back familiarly, "but I'd hate to make a braggart of you."

"'Twas a fine speech, skinnybritches," Bodorson chuckled, making no effort to hide the smile he'd worn since Jake addressed the audience.

"Can all of you see it?" Josh asked. He stepped close to the translucent shield. To his eyes it appeared as a filmy layer of solidified air, sparking every so often as light and dark magic coursed through it.

"Aye," Bodorson replied, "Mystics do make pretty things."

"It winks in and out," Jake added, "but I know it's there."

"I can't," Stacia said, frustration weighting her tone. "What am I supposed to see?" She stomped the grass with the last word.

"Keep watching," Josh told her as he turned away, "your senses are getting stronger." He gave his friends a final nod and then turned and plunged into the arena.

The mana shield washed over him like a light summer shower, and he left all concerns for the outcome of the battle outside. The Cell's Grandmaster, Sei Orlouge, had invited him to compete alongside a request for his services as Chief Investigator of the Ixian Knights. For years Cronen had avoided affiliation with any of the clans and corporations that fought for precedence in Corone. And suddenly in the space of a few weeks, he found himself involved with two. Shortly after Sei's letter arrived a fledgling group called Chronicle established their headquarters in Underwood. His meeting with the co-founder Luned Bleddyn had been brief but meaningful. Chronicle sought balance, the Ixian Knights order. Two influential groups with harmonious goals akin to his own, and the leaders of both hinted it might increase membership if the Champion of the Cell came from their ranks. Cronen was all for teamwork and synergy, but the final force that pushed him to enroll in the famous tournament had come from no mortal.

As the sun crept to its zenith Josh pulled a long blue satin kerchief from inside his kimono jacket and knotted it tight about his neck. It was a token of his Lady's favor. A calming reminder of her colors. The kerchief waved like a lazy ocean tide as the breeze sprang up again.

The battle began.

Josh scanned his opponents with a glance, recognizing some but fixating on the tallest. The strangely armored man was the first to show aggression, charging one of the chamber's smaller competitors with a roar of rage. The woman turned and fled - she looked familiar for a moment - but then hopped atop a tree stump and faced away. The enraged behemoth bore down on her like a beast out of children's nightmares.

Breaker knew nothing of the coral-encrusted warrior, except that his massive reach would make him more dangerous as the battle wore on. Quickness and strength counted for little if your adversary lopped off your head from four paces away. And at that moment the beast was commited to his attack on the crouching woman.

Cronen cupped both hands in front of his face and and conjured water vapour from the earth and air. Power as potent as that sustaining the arena's shield poured through his veins, opening the floodgates so adrenaline flowed freely. The warmth and vitality that spread from scalp to toes felt better than sinking into a soothing hot spring.

The vapour suspended before him froze into a dozen tiny darts, each strong as steel and sharp as a needle. He arched his wrists and flexed callused fingers and thrust both palms forward.

Ice flechette shot over the woman on the treestump toward the Coralian swordsman. Grouped in tight formation, their frigid points sought to sever that long neck.

I have permission to reference Sei and Luned throughout this thread for storyline purposes, Jake and Stacia are my characters, and Bodorson is an Underwood NPC usable by anyone. Used ice manipulation/craft to attack Hoytti.

[hoytti]

Sorish saw the daggers fly over the head of Roht and raised his shield to protect himself. The needles shattered as they struck his shield, he then lowered it and growled out, "Do not interfere for this woman had repeatedly tried to kiss me as well as activate my mating session last night. If it wasn't for the fact that I grabbed her arm before she rubbed my crown, my girlfriend and I would of had to complete the ritual and produce a shunned child! I will kill her if it's the last thing I do!" He then continue his charge, shield at the ready just in case the man tried anything.