The Felicity Chamber

[Mage Hunter]

Chaos.

That was this call that she heard in this cell chamber. Her attack with her bow as a distraction had paid off a little as she had actually caused the girl to fall against the table. Seeing the success she snarled as he blade cut through the air and found no purchase in her soft skin. She had traded a bruise for a bloodless dodge and to the Mage Hunter she was impressed at her ability to sense the flow of battle. This girl had trained well and learned how to compete against dirty fighters. Her shortened spear was a godsend in and of itself as the recoil had been dramatically reduced and allowed her more freedom in the enclosed space.

So much so that when the knife flew over the girls shoulder Drusilia felt a wince as the other one hit her squarely in the shoulder, her good one to be precise. She spun from the force of the blow in time to watch the dazzling display of the human at the far end sending the magical icicles to shred the automaton. As well a vicious kick from the girl next to her went off the mark, only adding to her spin rather than doing any true harm. She let her spin carry her to the ground as she looked up at the falling rain of icy death and curse, “Shu!”

A flash of white light was all the crowd saw as the ice disappeared. Nothing happened to the Drow left prone on the ground as she looked and saw that another man had moved between her and yet another attacker. The Drow remained there for a while before with a grunt she got up, leaving the blade in her shoulder as she glowered venomously at the girl, “You must be Faelynn, for him to put so much attention into me.”

Using the sword for a crutch she hauled herself up before she brought the sword about two handed and took her stance. The pain surged through her before she growled out, “It’ll take more than the best intentions of some asshole mage to save you little girl.” She brought her hand out and gripped the dagger before she pulled it out gritting her teeth. Stabbing the knife into the table next to her she felt the cool rush of air into her wound and knew it would allow her greater freedom in the fight. While the wound would open and reopen, causing blood loss, it was a trivial wound compared to the hobbling injury the girl had tried.

Gritting her teeth against the pain she muttered under her breath in Alerian, “Ril drada nindol kluthak mzild lu'mzild saph vel'drav usstan malaruth Sunscar...”

She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, as Nialon Sunscar had nearly killed her. Still she could not wait for the girl to get back use of her magic and instead began to tease and prod at her testing her defenses as she slashed and parried quickly ignoring the feeling of the wound opening wider under her shoulder. At this rate she was likely to tear the arm to pieces if she kept it up and while her other arm was good, it was not her strong hand, then again this girl while practiced in the arts of the spear, the brown haired female was not an expert.

The form was flawed and she was beginning to see the holes in her defense. In the middle of the attack she balled her right hand into a fist and brought the hand behind her back while tossing her sword into her left hand. She kept up the fighting, but now her wounded shoulder would have time to close up and she could continue the series of feints pokes and slashes, waiting for the girl to figure out the hole Drusilia purposefully put in the pattern.

She would always take a step forward as she parried, moving into the attack. The second the girl tried to take advantage of it, she was going to find the Mage Hunter’s right hand go right for her jaw, and that would be the only opening the Mage Hunter would need to finish off the little brat before her would be protector could intervene.

A couple of notes for this post for those who think they can skim over it.

1) Null stone is in use currently. Until I’m going to say at least two posts from different people have been posted; Jensen, Draug, Drusilia, and Faelynn have no access to magic and any magical items are turned off. This has also dispelled Joshua Cronen’s magical Ice darts. As his expert control makes me think they aren’t a conjuration but an ongoing magical effect in the manner he’s chosen to use them.

2) Drusilia has unknowingly been infected by Draug’s Plague, the effects of this haven’t begun yet as it’s still incubating.

3) Faelynn’s kick did not take out her knee but it did hurt a bit.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Draug had managed to keep the immortal at bay with his limb play, but that was to be expected. He was still the swifter of the two and he made sure to press each advantage on the Homunculi. They smashed dishes, crushed food, wasted drinks and smashed their weapons against one another in a display of sparks and echoing laughter.

The crowd ate up the performance of the arena, and Jensen felt his whole body grow excited as the hype of carnage built into a crescendo. The infection of carnage made his blood boil and stomach churn with laughter. He let each sadistic note of glee ring in the abomination's ears, his blade ringing in the other. In an attempt to catch Jensen off guard he pushed one of his tentacle like limbs out, the extended fist enlarging like a disgusting growth. It popped like a pimple, causing more than one spectator to loose their lunch as a net flew outwards rapidly. Jensen's eyes lit up with excitement as he brought his blade outwards, teeth shivering with anticipation as he screamed for it to come with a shriek of malice and distorted pain.

When the net spun forwards Jensen diagonally slashed his weapon out catching the net in the blade, activating the scythe mode with a flick of his thumb over the rune, pushing the attack to the side. He let the weapon ride off into the barrier, smashing the glowing crystal fracturing it in the same manner as a spider web collapsed upon itself. The immortal laughed spinning in a tango, arms thumbing the loops of his throwing knives letting them loose in a dance to the macabre.

Draug's body compensated for the threat, dashing in a sideways run. Jensen spun in circles releasing his throwing weapons at the pinnacle moments. Draug's bloody appendage absorbed the attacks, the stump turning to shredded, bloody ruins. Jensen followed the insane man's rush, darting low and kicking stiffly with his foot into Draug's stomach. One limb grabbed his ankle, twisting sharply and tossing him aside like a rag doll into a table. It toppled with the immortal, smashing him against the barrier and he felt his world spin from the impact.

Half wheezing, half chuckling, the immortal made to move when he felt his chest glow with white hot agony. Something within him started to rebel, as if it shuddered and waned, and his eyes went wide with panic as he coughed up blood. The crowd cheered, and Jensen could feel something within the air shift like the wind on the sea. It took him a moment to realize what it was, but when he did the immortal felt his spine shiver.

Oh shit! I lost my connection to the Breath of the Undying!Jensen placed one hand on the barrier, the humming energies making his teeth rattle in his mouth as he struggled to stand, his own body warring with the anti-magic spell. Jensen turned to the audience, and he felt his heart spike with red hot rage, fingers curling into a fist as he started to vomit his own blood.

"What's wrong?" Jensen could barely hear, but he could read the lips of the man outside the barrier. He spoke slowly, carefully, and articulated his mouth to ensure there was no discrepancies. "You feeling sick, immortal?" Jensen felt his anger boil, and he made to retort with a solid middle finger. His head exploded in pain, white flashes impairing his vision as Draug's fist grabbed the back of Jensen's head and slammed it into the barrier, holding his face against the magical energies. He could have died there, but something in Draug was rebelling, as if he was forced to hold back.

"Look at this," the man said again. "Here I am, eating chicken from your army, sitting with my dirty bloodstained boots on your armies table, watching my grandson kick the shit out of the best this army has to offer."

"Jebb..." Jensen spat, his mouth muffled as his head swam with a hazy pain.

"The best part is, that Drow whore just sucked all the magic out of the arena. You're little ressuerection trick just got put on hold. And not a moment too soon," Jebb chuckled, eating a large glob of the chicken leg, letting the juices run down his shirt onto his overalls. "And you may not even realize it yet, but Draug's a little special. You see, now you are getting infected, and without your nasty ability to stay alive despite death...well I do think you sir are screwed." Jebb's laughter was full of malice, and the father of the most notorious serial killer was hiding in plain site, his private conversation lost to the crowd's cheers for Joshua and the woman Drusilla.
Jensen felt his head start to sweat, body shivering with the chills as he felt a fever take root. He coughed blood onto the barrier, the red substance oozing down the barrier. Draug turned and tossed Jensen onto the table pieces, a sharp end of the shattered wood impaling Jensen in the back. The crowd winced to see blood spurt out as Jensen hollered in suffering, his teeth stained crimson and his drool bloody. Draug looked to Jensen, as if disgusted, before turning to a young woman who was fighting against the Drow.

"I want you to watch," Draug said. "Watch me kill everyone in this arena and tear them apart. I want you to feel hopelessness, despair, and terror knowing you cannot do a thing about this. You'll die again, Jensen, and you know what? I think I'll make that female over there scream like mother made Stephanie scream when she killed her."

The immortal felt his will start to sap, body broken as the undying energies within him attempted to pulse and repair the damage, but whatever it was Drusilla had done broke the connection Jensen had to the orb that resurrected him. He fought to survive, just to hold on, but he wasn't sure how long he could as the world started to darken around his vision.

[Reine]

Even on the ground, the flash of white light blinded the thief momentarily. It enveloped the area around the Drow woman and spread outward. Somehow, she felt it on her, in her. It did something. She felt no pain or discomfort, but she sensed something snake into her body and suddenly a disconnection was made in her. Like the fire had been snuffed out. The boots that covered her feet went dead. The symbiotic pull they had on her energy, feeding off her to stay active, no longer leeched upon her.

Stunned and confused, Faelynn tried to activate one of the enchantments upon them, but nothing happened. She need not use it to know that the enchantment simply would not turn on.

That bitch nulled my magic!

She'd heard there were people capable of such things, but never before had she encountered one. Never before had it happened to her. Without the boots she would be hampered. They allowed the parlour tricks she was so fond of.

No, the boots are just a tool. She reminded herself. Seth has made me fight without them and Jared is right, I rely on them too much. I can do everything without The Iron Shackles, they merely enhance my own skills.

Tightening her grip on Amalia, Fae rolled away from those damn blue and orange just as the Drow started rambling into some speech about how she needed an asshole mage to take care of her. Fae's eyes darted across the chamber to Joshua Cronen and the armour, the reflecting, shifting ice that surrounded the man. So, he'd gone from killer to protector in just a matter of thirty minutes. She wasn't going to complain, but she was definitely not going to let some chick she didn't know talk down to her like she needed that protection.

As she came to her feet, the Drow descended on her, sword flashing through the sunlight. Fae raised her spear and a dangerous dance began to play out between the two of them. Their feet shifted on the smooth floor, the rubber soles squeaking and screaming in their ears as the sound of their heavy breathing filled the space between them, those precious few feet that they kept between their bodies.

Metal vibrated with each blow struck, the woman changed hands, changed tactics and her right arm disappeared behind her back. Out of sight and out of mind.

You think I was trained by a fool? You have nothing on the man, nothing. All your tricks are paltry at best.

The Drow gave herself away the moment she hid that hand behind her arm. Like a warning.

Each time she moved forward, she left herself open, just a bit. Just enough. A green soldier would go in for the kill and Fae couldn't help but wonder what she had planned in her back hand. A fist to the face? A knife to the chest? Drow were untrustworthy creatures. She didn't doubt this one would slit her open navel to neck in the span of a heartbeat.

Around them, the fight between two others were taking place. Even from the corner of her eye, as the two women danced around each other, Fae could see one of the warriors practically on his last leg, a piece of sharpened wood sticking out of his torso, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. Her heart went out for him, even though she knew him not. She couldn't help it. Watching someone else die and standing around just seemed wrong to her somehow.

But I am no hero.

Playing into her game, Fae lunged at the woman when she stepped into the parry, the point of Amalia heading straight for her stomach. The Drow twisted to the side, the spear point going nowhere and her fist sailed right out at Fae's face. But even without her enchantments and her magic, Fae had speed and agility on her side.

She twisted on her left foot, turning her body and her head, her hand lashed out and wrapped around the woman's wrist. With a twist, she pulled the Drow in towards her and fell backwards. Bringing up a leg towards her chest and bracing her fall with her other arm, Fae hit the ground and rolled. Knee planted in the woman's stomach, she hefted her up and over, throwing her off and away from her. Then she continued with the roll and came to a crouching position on the ground, spear held at her side, ready and waiting for whatever came next.

*~*

“Did you see that, Rynn? Did you see that!?” Connaire grabbed Ferynn's arm in his excited, before he stood up and yelled at the top of his lungs. A considerable yell really. The man had quite the set of lungs on him. “Yeah! Go, Fae, GO!!!! Kick that dark skinned bitches ass in!”

Ferynn said nothing, just watched as his sister crouched on the floor, already streaked with blood from another warrior who clung desperately to what little life he had left. He coughed and sputtered and blood flew from his open lips, coating his face and sending droplets flying in all directions. He frowned and grimaced down upon this disgusting blood sport.

The red head remained quiet, but Ferynn could see a slight smile play at the corner of his lips. If he had to hazard a guess, he would think the man looked proud at the move she just pulled off.

“You seem pretty intent on watching just her.” Ferynn remarked. “Know her personally?”

Grey eyes glanced at him with that searching expression. He could tell the man wanted to know why he asked so many questions, but didn't voice it aloud. Perhaps scared of the answer, or maybe he already knew.

“Yeah.”

“How'd you meet her?”

He opened his mouth and then closed it, as if thinking better of his response. “Just happened upon one another in Radasanth.”

I'm sure you just happened upon my baby sister.

A worried feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Ferynn knew what Faelynn did in Radasanth, what she considered to be her form of employment. Was this man somehow connected to her little thieving enterprise?

[Silence Sei]

Sei watched from on high as the competitors in the Felicity Chamber began to tear into one another. Despite the mute’s faith in his bodyguard, the threat of Draug loomed ever present. Worse still, it seemed as though Jensen was engaged in conversation with a third party during the fight. Using his microscopic vision, Sei identified the form of Jebb Remi within the crowd.

While destroying a member of the Cult would be all too easy for the psychic, he was bound by the laws of the Cell to try and not get the crowd involved in personal vendettas. Whatever trash talking Jebb had for Jensen was proving quite effective. Sei winced as the Cult’s Champion began to lay into the leader of the Wetworks Team as if he were nothing.

“Hey son,” a gruff voice came from behind, it’s owner stepping beside the telepath, “What’s the story with the ice guy?”

“His name is Breaker, and he is one of our newest members. His abilities had me place him as head of the Investigations Team.”

“Investigations? Didn’t that used to be Kyla’s department?”

“It did. At least, it was until I felt she was ignoring Akiv.”

“Well then. He looks quite strong. Mind if your old man takes a few swings in the ol’ Cell?” The question was met with a laugh so loud, it even drowned out Sei’s telepathic protests. The giant of a man jumped, the power in his legs propelling him down the mess hall and straight into the barrier, a hole opening up to allow him in. As he fell to the ground, he readied his arm, landing on table closest top one of the walls (a table no other competitor was around). His sheer force of impact caused the elongated furniture to bow and break under his incredible strength.

Sei’s eyes widened, knowing full well that his father was too powerful for any other Cell combatant to face. “Do it now!” Sei demanded, fear for his men taking precedence over his carefully laid plans. The other Mystics listened, and soon a grenade-like explosion ‘popped’ above the fighters, almost as if it were ‘on’ the barrier itself.

After the first explosion, another took place, this one closer to the action. Then another, and another. Soon, the barrier was filled with conflicting Mystic energies, creating a literal barrier of explosions all around the dome. The Knights had rushed the spectators further away so as not to get caught in the blast. This was Sei Orlouge’s ace-in-the-hole should Draug had made it to the finals. Not even the Cult’s Champion could take too many ‘Mystic Bomb’-like effects and still remain standing. Now, Sei was hoping that his own patriarch would not be able to withstand such an assault.

However, Tinerad Orlouge still stood, the explosions seeming to herald his arrival, and he grinned as he looked to Breaker, a line of fighters between him and the new Ixian. His long flowing hair of gray that reached his back whipped through the wind as he began his run towards Breaker. In the process, the seven and a half foot Mystic backhanded Drusillia and inadvertently kicked Reine. Both blows would be enough to skyrocket a normal man into the explosion-barrier. The brute with the scarred face quickly grabbed a hold of Vyrabon’s body, and used it to slam the construct into Breaker. Unlike the other enforcers, Tinerad Orlouge was not the kind of person to hit-and-run.

The Genocide Giant was here to stay.

((OK, here we go.

Breaker- You’re opening attack was borderline powergaming.

Reine, EI – you can not edit actions after somebody has posted, and ‘locked in’ your post. You may edit to add descriptive fluff, or perform an action not immediately related to combat. Since EI asked nicely in the OOC thread about it, this is conditional for you based on Breaker’s response. Reine, however, changed the way she dodged, so this is not negotiable for her.

Herald – You simply misinterpreted Breaker’s attack from what I saw, Thus the ‘penalizing blow’ against you will not actually destroy the already incredibly weakened Vyrabond, but simply hurt and annoy him.

And finally Mage Hunter – Your null stone would not work like that against Breaker’s flechette (Sp?), but since the attack was already locked in, you can not edit and thus have to take the penalty.

Tinerad is remaining in this Chamber for the duration of the tournament now, a ‘wildcard’ that can not advance and may help/hinder at random from now on. All of you are professionals at this by now, and I expect more of you. That being said, this is a great fight. I can answer any questions about Tinerad in about 5-6 hours, so if you want to attack him but will miss your post deadline, continue as if he is not there and I will answer any question you have that pending when I get off of work tonight, where I will let you edit in fighting/dodging/whatever actions –only- referring to Tinerad provided your posts aren’t locked in.))

[Reine]

Fae flinched as the first explosion echoed throughout the chamber. Her whole body went tight as a bowstring. At first, she thought it was the sound of a gunshot, her mind flashing back to those instances in the first round when bullets had gone flying in all directions. One even aimed at her. She still didn't know entirely who had fired them or why, but she could hazard at guess at both and neither were comforting answers.

This, though, this was far different than the tricks of flying metal.

This was magic, powerful magic. It conflicted with the barrier around them and Faelynn could see it shifting, expanding and reacting. The energy just barely beyond her perception, like a thin veil placed over her eyes, strained and reformed and then strained again. It was like a war of mystical energies going on all around her. Once one exploded another went off until the sound became a deafening roar in her ears that even bled out the sound of her own breathing and heart rate.

Was Cronen doing it?

She looked towards him, but never got a chance to make eye contact. A boot from nowhere came down towards her and slammed her right in the chest. She went flying backwards, breath whooshing out of her lungs in one great expulsion. Pain exploded along her breastbone and she forgot momentarily how to breathe.

Seeing the tables flying away from her and realizing the kick had sent her flying back, Fae tried to right herself, even as she realized it was futile. Then her boots kicked in. The familiar drain on her energy began once more, puling at her powers in that gentle and caressing way they had. Almost addicting really as she fuelled them with her own life force.

Realizing the nulling effect had worn off, Fae twisted about and pushed off the air like it were the ground. She came to a stop, then started heading back towards that checkered floor instead of the mystical exploding bombs of awesome above her head. Twisting her legs in front of her, the young thief came down with a jarring thump and immediately bent her knees to absorb the blow.

Somehow, she managed to keep a hold of Amalia through all of that and she could really only thank the reflex to desperately hold onto something for that one. Her fingers had tightened around the metal haft like a noose and even now didn't want to let go. Knuckles white, muscles sore.

Reaching up with her left hand, Fae felt her chest and chest to see if anything was broken. It hurt a bit to breathe, but everything seemed intact. At least she hadn't gone splat into that bomb thing that continued to flash and charge above her.

Looking about for her opponent, Fae widened her eyes when she realized someone new was charging at her.

Crap, I'd rather have the drow.

The thing with multiple arms looked freaky at best and downright scary at worst and it was heading straight for her.

Standing to her full, intimidating and awesome height of five feet and a whopping three inches, Faelynn jumped up onto one of the wooden benches and charged her now working magic once again. Just as the thing approached her, she whipped her head out in front of her, releasing a ball of energy between them. Closing her eyes, she could still see the environment lighten considerably as the flashbang exploded. White light enveloped the area just as Fae reached up and covered her ears, negating the deafening noise that followed the explosion.

She waited a full three seconds before lowering her hands and opening her eyes once more to see if it had worked. It hadn't on Cronen, at least not very well, but maybe her Flashbang would have better effect on this thing.

*~*

Ferynn shielded her eyes as the explosion of Fae's flashbang went off in the chamber. He'd been on the receiving end of that often enough to know it's effects rather well. From up here, the muffling effects of the follow-up boom did nothing to him, the crowd cheered too loud and drowned it out. But the white light still created the dance of spots that covered his vision and made it hard to focus and see anything clearly.

Connaire had all but been absorbed by the excitement of the tournament. His friend screamed and yelled and cat called out at anything and everything, including the sudden intrusion of another fighter into the chamber. Fae had dealt with her blow rather well, though he couldn't help but wonder what she'd done to deserve the interference of one of Sei's men. Since he knew nothing about the silent mage, he could not hazard a guess.

Turning his gaze to that redheaded man once more, Ferynn reached up and scratched at the stubble upon his cheeks and chin. His scarred and misshapen fingers a testament to his work as a blacksmith.

“I feel as if I've been rather rude asking you all these questions without introducing myself.”

He turned those steely grey eyes on him, brow raising in question and perhaps a bit of surprise. Ferynn didn't know, he had a hard time interpreting this man.

He held his hand out and practically crushed the red head's in a rather strong grip. The younger man flinched, but squeezed back just as hard, even though the blacksmith could barely feel it.

“Ferynn Thiadore.”

The man's jaw practically dropped and the pale skin of his face went slightly paler. Ferynn would have smirked, but he rarely smirked. If he didn't know any better, the man's reaction would indicate that the relationship he shared with his sister was a little on the intimate side.

“Jared...Cesarino.” He mumbled numbly.

“Ah, you're the man that saved my sister's life once.”

He released the iron hold of his grip. He owed the man that much. Jared to his credit pulled the hand back but didn't rub at the red, irritated skin therein.

“Yeah...that's how I met her.”

Ferynn nodded. “And you're helping with her training in Lavinya right now, aren't you?”

He nodded, his eyes dancing back to the chamber as Faelynn engaged that monstrous thing that had basically ripped right through another one of the contestants. So far, she seemed to have the upper hand.

Fae just released Flashbang. It has no limits on how far it can effect people, but we'll just say anyone in the immediately area around her would experience temporary blindness, deafness and their equilibrium will be slightly thrown.

[Abomination]

Permission obtained from Reine.

Draug grit his teeth, his fists clenched so hard that blood dripped from the bandages in his palm. The explosions stopped his charge at Reine, and he was left with his eyes moving erratically across the arena to follow what was going on. The Abomination was programmed with extensive knowledge about the crazy Orlouges, and seeing Tinerad join the fray put him into an almost elated state. Someone like him... if I assimilated HIM... This was more than simple manipulation, Memnar was right about this tournament being a trap. His thoughts were cut short as he noticed Reine landing and turning her attention to the Cult's Champion. Draug remembered his intentions, and he wasn't one to change his mind so easily, so he ran at her again while licking his lips.

She released some sort of orb of energy between them, and Draug did not know what to make of it. He pulled a pair of swords out of his throat and held them in each hand, ready to run around the orb and strike at the girl, but then it burst. The Abomination was in the worst position to take the brunt of the flash, a sharp sound nearly destroying his ear drums and a brilliant light burning out his retinas. The effect would not have nearly been as extreme if he was not virtually shoving his face into it before it went off. The bang stopped him in his tracks, letting him elicit a loud, guttural roar throughout the chamber. He struggled to maintain his balance, feeling as though the world had shifted to a side.

He did the only thing he could, which was spin around with his arms extended and try to deflect any would-be attackers. Reine however saw her opportunity to take out the Abomination, and proceeded to stab Draug in the thigh mid-spin, pulling the weapon out before she lost it to the momentum. Draug stopped his spin, falling onto and breaking a nearby bench, the back of his head smacking into a table and falling into an unfinished bowl of soup. He pulled his head out, his eyes still blinded, and limped forward a step. The pain coursed through his leg, blood dripping out of the wound for a few seconds before his regeneration clotted up the area. Before he could take up another defensive position, from behind he felt the tip of the spear puncture his back between the two spawned arms, ripping through skin and muscle. If Draug's body was not as sturdy, these spear attacks would have run him through completely. The arms behind him tried to attack whoever stabbed him, but the thief was already moving around to his front.

This woman... she has to be getting close to attack me. Even if I can't see or hear...

Draug looked forward and opened his maw, stretching it wide and throwing up a pound of flesh onto the ground. It boiled, grew tumors, and expanded until two dog-like creatures crawled out of it. They were made entirely of muscle and bone, their large mouths dripping with acidic saliva. Like Draug, they could not see, but they had a sense that was unhindered by the explosion: Smell.

The minions immediately sniffed out the closest target and set upon her. They chased her around, trying to bite off her ankles, arms, and torso, but she deftly evaded their attacks. By using the broken tables as leverage, she jumped on top of them and stabbed down to push her spear completely a minion's lungs. She then pulled the weapon out and spun around to avoid a bite from another minion, stabbing it in the head. As she removed her weapon, she noticed that it had stopped moving, and the other one was choking to death on its own blood.

Unfortunately for her, this took long enough for Draug to regain his senses. He lunged at her with his swords, slashing at her with killing intent. Luckily for the thief, she knew that the flashbang had a time limit, so she set up a decoy in front of Draug to absorb the blow. The Abomination cut through the decoy's chest, and then chopped off its head. It popped like a balloon, sending Draug reeling and putting another ringing sound in his ears. He caught the real Reine trying to position herself away from him, and jumped at her, the arms on his back stretching to catch her for when she dodged. The plan would have worked if she did not activate her steel bangles, becoming insubstantial so that the arms on his back passed right through her.

While confused by this development, Cassandra's son did not let up, attempted to fruitlessly pursue Reine for the entire duration of the effect. The moment it ended, Reine spun around and took the opportunity of Draug's sloppy attacks to make a risky play. She noticed that Draug liked to have his mouth open while he fought, and decided to stab him right in the mouth.

Her spear tip hit the back of his throat and tore through his head, coming out on the other side. The swords fell out of his arms and it looked like all of his bodily functions had ceased. For a normal opponent, that would be the end of it.

But Draug was anything but normal. The magical egg inside him activated, repairing the damage of the spear and allowing him to immediately grab Reine's shoulders with his hands while the spear was still lodged in his skull.

[Herald of the Tempest]

It was disgusting to think he was at the mercy of Joshua. The bastard human was in complete control and had his fingers around the mimics throat lifting him up and slamming the beast through the hard wooden table. HIs body shook and his back sparked signals of torment as he rolled his head back and forth, fingers twisting upon each other, unable to find a fetal position that could cure the ailment in his body. Joshua and broken the table using the construct as the catalyst and the crowd ate it up.

"Did you see that?!?" One man shouted, pointing to the destruction.

"Holy crap! He just decimated that thing!" A second began pounding the table his excitement clear as day.

"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" A third portly man was about to lose his control as he freaked out at what he saw not more than ten feet in front of him. "AS GOD AS MY WITNESS HE BROKE HIM SMACK DAB IN HALF!"

Vyrabond ignored their cries, slowly using a table, once more, to get back up. He was beyond broken now, beyond the ability to be a threat, but still he moved with dogged determination. Joshua Cronen would at least think about messing with the Kron'tyr.

There was a terrible crash, a loud explosion of noise, flashes of white, and the complete loss of orientation and senses. The Construct was lost for words and what to do, at a loss to even stand as he was placed in the merciful hands of whoever placed the Kron'tyr between themselves and their prey. Collateral damage was a by-product of war, attrition a cost of battle, but that was usually the Kron'tyr that was out of the cross hairs.

His body lifted as if angels had grabbed his arms and carried him, talons held to his side as he was blown from his feet towards the target of his choice. He couldn't tell what caused this chaotic blast of energy, but it didn't really matter in the long run. He had little time to think, and even less to process a counter measure. In the end he was just too slow on the uptake to know what to do. He felt his coppery flesh impact upon Joshua's sword, blade slashing a gouge deep into his exo-epidermis shell. His eyes sparked, one of the lights exploding, popping out the glass lens, his skeletal face wide in agony as pain receptors flared, he shook and shifted upon the blade, fingers twitching violently left and right as he thrashed about in pain. He stopped thinking, he stopped processing. His system went into shock and he found rebooting protocols offline.

Vyrabond was dying.

He felt his energy waver, the orb within his chest nicked by the blade and causing untold damage to his chest as he managed to slide off the weapon. The laceration to his chest would have bled like a stuck pig, but all that splashed out was sparks of energy and eldritch energies of dark sciences that were unknown to this culture. He stepped backwards, body shivering and head twitching erratically. For the fourth time he found himself placed against an opponent and a table.

"OH MY GOD!" The portly man shouted, watching Joshua move on the dead creature. "NO! NO, DON'T DO IT JOSHUA! NOT LIKE THIS, NOT LIKE THIS!"

((Vyrabond's orientation is on the way to the action, this is in no way to denote that Josh is ACTUALLY moving on him.))

[Breaker]

The chokeslam had the desired effect, whipping the crowd into a frenzy and seeming to finish the construct. Breaker smiled as he reclaimed his dominant position in the Cell... and then everything went to hell.

An invisible force swelled and erased the ice darts plummeting toward the drowess from existence. His arcane connection to the flechettes snapped back with such force he lost all control for a moment. Rythadine's broad blade sheltered his head as sixty flechette darts shattered on the floor all around him. He brought the sword back down diagonally in front. The drowess was the source of the antimagic and he turned his head to look for her, but a flash of movement caught his eye as a tall man plummeted through the mystic barrier to join the fray. And then Breaker lost track of what he was seeing.

Explosions rocked the arena. Footsteps thundered and tables cracked. Air rippled like a puddle around a large stone. Competitors tumbled like blades of grass in a breeze. The construct's body was lifted and slammed into Josh like a bludgeon, squeezing the double-edged broadsword between them.

The martial artist threw himself backwards as Rythadine bit his bare chest, a desperate bid to lessen the damage. Warmth seeped from a shallow gash as Breaker tucked and rolled along his shoulders and hips, swordblade spinning above the floor like a chariot scythe. He slammed into the mystic barrier at the end of the hall with a grunt so soft is was more of a sigh. Fae's flashbang erupted amidst the mystic bombs all around. At such a distance and with his eyes protected from direct light by the rows of tables, the spell caused only a mild ringing in his ears, which worsened as the mystic bombs continued. But he recognized the flashbang's energy signature as clearly as the girl's voice. Fae had used the spell in the first round as well, but only after she'd been gravely wounded. The furious body-block from Sei's enforcer had winded Breaker badly, but the thought of young Faelynn in pain forced him up to his knees. Even as he regained his breath, he held Rythadine before him in a low guard.

I had to kill Fae in the Ella Chamber, but that's no reason to let anyone else hurt her. The girl hailed from the village he had protected throughout the Civil War. They had both been cogs in a community of survivors, and such bonds ran deeper than the rules for any game of death. Breaker assessed the damage with a quick downward glance.

Blood and other fluids from the floor coated his skin and stained the once-white loose pants he wore. He could feel a wrongness in the gore, a pulsating evil that had entered his bloodstream when the sword opened his chest. Bile gathered at the back of his throat and he spat upon the reinforced linoleum. The disease inside him had a taste, a scent, a name. Abomination. The creature carried that fetid odor everywhere it ran.

Josh stood slowly and conjured fresh water from the air. It splashed over him in a controlled wave, hot as a cup of steeped tea. It gathered the blood and juice and other mess smeared across his skin and the cable wrapped about his abdomen and shoulders. Warm fingers of water cleansed the wound in his chest, drawing out all the badness it could find. And then the water slid away like a snake's skin, leaving him clean and dry. The wave washed over him and formed a levitating ball of murky muck.

More.

The shattered remains of his sixty flechette darts melted instantly, absorbing the blood and juice and sauce on the floor and blending it. A much larger wave than that which had cleansed him rose up to join the ball. Mist surrounded the red-brown liquid as it twisted and re-formed and took shape, rising all the while until it hovered just beneath the arena's ceiling. Grisly flechette darts laced with the Abomination's disease formed aerial ranks, a new stockpile of sixty missiles to replace those lost.

Perhaps the Abomination's own blood can harm it, he thought as the last of the crimson liquid rose from his blade to reinforce the darts, leaving Rythadine sparkling clean. If not, there must be enough goodness in the fruit juice to cure the brute. Aside from feeling disgusted by the sickness manifesting within, Josh caught flashes of Fae's furious duel with the Abomination near the middle of the hall. So he's the one that forced her flashbang, Cronen decided as all sixty specialized flechettes sped forwards.

They zipped along beneath the mystic ceiling, a wall of red-brown bodkin points ten across and six deep. Several spectators screamed warning to the intended targets as the darts divided and dove toward two combatants.

The drowess, and the Abomination. Although he could not see the Aleraran's position clearly, Josh sensed the item she had used to drain the arena of magic. It was like a void in reality, an empty pit waiting to swallow endless mana. He could have found it blindfolded in a Salvic snowstorm. The darts meant for her arced downward and flew beneath the tables the rat liked hiding behind so much. Thirty points (less any lodged in table legs) thick with Draug's disease would come at her along the floor, and strike upward at whichever part of her body carried the null stone.

The Abomination's misshapen bulk made him easy to spot. Thirty darts laced with an assortment of vitamins and minerals dropped from above like targeted hail, but swooped away from the massive upper body and attacked its vulnerable legs. The spiked heads of thirty flechettes thirsted to punch through the Abomination's knees, thighs, ankles, and feet.

Josh finished his icecraft by drawing a frozen bandage over the diagonal gash on his chest, encasing the wound. His instincts urged him to leap upon the dazed construct. His heart told him to seek out the drowess and the Abomination, both beasts who had threatened Fae, and destroy them.

But a mountainous mystic towered before him, and the crowd chanted an illustrious name amidst rhythmic pounding of fists on tables.

"Gen-uh-cide!" Boom, boom. "Gi-ant!" Boom, boom.

As the cheers and jeers and calls for death and mercy mingled against his ears, Josh recognized Tinerad Orlouge. He had heard only whispers describing the legendary warrior's appearance, but the titan was a known favourite at Ixian Castle, and with good reason. A dark bruise blossomed around the encased gash on Cronen's chest, replacing the discoloration healed by the Ai'Brone novice. Winning the round and saving the girl heroically were idle interests compared to an opportunity to fight the greatest grappler on Althanas.

It took two separate movements to stow a sword of Rythadine's reach. The point flicked up and around his shoulder and found the mouth of the scaly scabbard, and then the long prevaldia blade slid home.

The sheath rocked on Joshua's shoulders as he ran. He approached Tinerad with short swift steps that flowed flawlessly into a leap off his left foot. His right leg lashed up like a whip, toe of a black metal boot flaring toward the titan's chin. He'd used the leaping front kick to fell Geoffrey Rythadine, Kristina's traitorous brother. But that attack had worked against an apprentice of a legend, in an emotional mountaintop battle of wills. Tinerad the Mystic would not be caught by such a straightforward strike.

The rising foot whipped downward and left. A feint. Cronen twisted his hips powerfully and barrel-rolled through thin air, left heel coming around in a looping kick at the mystic's head.

Just to clarify, Josh used the elapsed time since Tinerad's entrance to cleanse his wound and blend new ice flechettes. The disease will still effect him but due to his ability 'clean living' the impact is approximately halved. The new flechette darts are still as strong as steel, laced with draug's blood and fruit juice (I don't expect that to do extra damage to the Abomination, I just thought it was funny). Then Josh took a run at Tinerad and Attempted the Insiguri!!!!

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen's breaths were ragged, his chest heaving as blood trickled down the black satin of his shirt. His vision was blurry and he couldn't see much of the arena. The crowd's cheers and jeers turned to a far away hum, devoid of the edge of excitement and anticipation. The immortal rolled his head back and forth, willing himself to stay alive as the seconds ticked away. He felt his vision fade to black and he couldn't hold his head up any longer.

This was it, he was going to die and without the energy of the Breath of the Undying his swift return was dashed away. When he saw the white flash he figured the end had come, like it usually did in the same manner. He prepared for an eternity of darkness, locked in the corners of his own psyche to listen to Draug and Jebb insult him. It wouldn't be the most pleasant of deaths, but it wouldn't be the worst.

Yet in all the times he had died, Jensen never experienced explosions. He felt the screeching of crowds as they hastily retreated, like villagers before a giant. Something was wrong, and the immortal pondered what it could be.

Wait, i can think? Jensen thought feeling his brain kick. Pain, sweet, agonizing pain coursed through his body and his vision returned. If he could think, and feel pain, then Jensen Ambrose wasn't dead. No, it was a sign of the very opposite.

He had to blink several times to wipe the death from his eyes. After he cleared his vision he looked down upon the energy pulsing around his chest and wound. His stomach lifted in elation, and Jensen's body began to convulse off the destroyed table. The shards of splinters fell from his wound like rain, dust and debris flaking off as he dusted himself off, kicking up his switchblade sword and activating the scythe mode back into the sword. He turned to Jebb, his chuckles slow, building in height as they reached a crescendo, turning back to Draug and running his blade along his throat, the Breath of the Undying's green eldritch energy phasing over his flesh a final time sealing the deadly wound.

"Let's see here," Jensen muttered with a wispy giggle, a whining twitch to it. "I do think you are ignoring me, Druag. So let's try a little harder to keep the focus on me!"

He kicked off the floor, dashing past the mystic giant in his midst. Jensen never met this member of the Orlouge family, but he was sure the man was more than capable of holding his own. The Mystic race were some of the more powerful warriors on Althanas. Besides, his prey was off where the Drow and the other women fought. He moved with the swiftness of a fleeting deer, jacket whirling behind him, the weighted cloth removed in a single motion. He didn't have much in his tank left and it took all his will power to move like this, but he cared not. It was all in the art of the kill, and Jensen was a master of killing. He pulled the switchblade up to his arms, aimed it carefully, and tossed it out like a boomerang, activating the scythe mode.

Jensen knew that Draug wouldn't be killed so easily, but he did know that he too had to be running on empty. Jensen pulled his all into one final attack, bracing himself for the conclusion to their dance.

"Ultimate," Jensen whispered into the wind. "Emerald," he chuckled a little louder. "Immortal," he spoke out loud, aiming his entire body into the move, twisting his whole torso in a corkscrew so he could grab the bastard's waist and set him up for one of his most devastating finishers. "Buster!"

((Jensen threw his switchblade sword like a boomerang aiming for your head Draug, I wouldn't lose it if I were you. In addition, he is using your block to time his finisher -Ultimate Emerald Immortal Buster!: Jensen leans into his foe and slides behind them with a quick kick to their gut, grappling their waist and doing a series of two belly to back suplex, before hoisting the foe to his feet where he spins to their front and hits them in a belly to belly suplex, landing them on their head. As they are down he grabs them by the head and performs a crushing power bomb, lifting them to his shoulders and hoisting them up for added height as he guides them down with a vicious laugh. STR + 3 for this maneuver))

[Mage Hunter]

“Gi vith!” So lost was she in the moment she had never considered maybe this little girl had been trained properly. She had the mind of a soldier and had out thought her twice already, taking a blow when am amateur would have tried to prevent it, and again in setting up a counter trap. The follow up throw was also of importance because she careened into stools along the way and felt one crack but not give entirely under her weight. The sword clattered to the ground as she felt pain everywhere in her body.

Groaning she stood up, feeling everything go out of whack as she clutched onto the nearby table and gripped her head. So lost was she in her own body she missed the punch that sent her flaying through the air, even as the explosions rocked the arena. Flailing through the air she felt herself enveloped in purifying flame as it licked at her causing a white burst of light to emit from her as she collided with the side of the arena, its impenetrable barrier.

Another burst of light left the Mage Hunter at the contact with the spell as well as a sickening crunch that heralded broken bones. Hitting the ground with another bone crushing force Drusilia was left feeling dazed and confused at the headache. Her body trying to keep up with the catalogue of injuries she had been given, before the vomiting began as the mana seeped into her system. Violently she purged the mana through her bile and stomach acid, spilling it on the floor as a few of the people jeered at the Mage Hunter. They obviously had no idea what was going on.

What confused her was the fact that she still felt nauseous which was something that shouldn’t have happened. It was actually the first time she felt so sick after coming in contact with mana. It made no sense and she racked her memory for what could have caused it going back through the many injuries she had sustained. Finally one made sense, one she had shrugged off as a murder attempt. The abomination that had thrown the knife at her had also thrown one at the girl. She had missed a vital piece of the puzzle, as he blade had come out coated in her blood, but the girl’s dagger was also coated in what looked like blood.

The damn thing had poisoned her.

Carefully she grabbed the leg of a stool and pulled herself under a table. She would have to sit this out until whatever this poison was, and the splitting headache she had didn’t help her either. Her sword was lost in the maelstrom of chaos out there, all she had was her other long sword to tide her through the end of the fight, and she wasn’t sure even that would help. She felt so weak, and lightheaded. The more she thought about it the more she though she wasn’t poisoned, but sick.

Moving carefully through the tables, Drusilia tried to remain far away from the action as she fought to recover her gear. Maybe if she could find her bow, she could change the outcome of this fight, because she couldn’t stand in the middle of the fighting anymore, not like this. Her hair was burnt and singed all over; her skin was enflamed, patches of smoke rose from her form. She was lucky to still be alive enough to move, and it was probably only by sheer willpower that she continued to use the stools as crutches and hunted down her bow.

Both uses of null magic were used up Drusilia is dry in terms of abilities once more.