Round 3 Newcomer: Callan Vs black shadow

[Silence Sei]

Matches begin at 12:01 Central Standard Time tonight. Will the shadow take Callan, or will the surprise newcomer shed some light in the blackness? Have fun!

[Callan]

Callan traipsed through the empty halls, feet making scarcely a sound as they slid along the worn rug beneath them. He shivered as he made his way through the large castle. The one window he had so far passed had been made of stained glass; though it had caused beautiful arrays of colored light to fall across the room, it had not permitted Callan a clear view outside. Throughout the castle a loud gusting noise echoed, adding to the eerie void.

Emerging into a grand hall, Callan ran a fingertip through the thick layer of dust that coated the wooden railing before him. Past the railing Callan could see down into the vast chamber, filled with a long table covered in spoiled food. Silver cups and platters adorned almost every inch of the table, and sitting in dozens if not hundreds of chairs surrounding the once great feast were the guests of this banquet of old.

The Fallien moved slowly towards a massive staircase leading down into the room. The wooden railing turned into an ornate bannister as it descended the stone steps, and rich red carpet cloaked almost the entire expanse. He took the steps one at a time: even with his long legs the stairs were too wide for him to skip any. When he reached the bottom, he paused to listen for some sign of life. The cry of the wind was muted, and no other sounds were audible.

The stench was overwhelming. Callan had to force himself not to gag as he approached the seat at the head of the table. Rounding the corner of the chair, he took a better look at the former guests. Pallid skin stretched over the host's skull. His eyes seem fixed on the silver goblet on the table in front of him, never to grace another object with their focus. With a cautious hand Callan reached for the chalice and held it up to his nose.

The scent of acrid wine filled his nostrils, but beneath the aroma of decay he could smell something harsh and familiar. Poison. Specifically one made from a plant native to his home of Fallien. He turned to look out across the banquet hall that now served as a tomb. Cups and goblets sat before every man, woman, and child. A chill ran down Callan's spine, entirely unrelated to the cold the castle could no longer keep out.

No torches burned and no windows let the sun's rays into the room, yet the chamber was still illuminated. Whatever magic provided the light seemed pointedly aimed at preserving the macabre ambiance; it was just enough to clearly see the excess of death that filled the room, but too dim to eliminate all the shadows.

Forcing back another impulse to retch, Callan cast his gaze to the side of the hall. Statues of armor lined the stone walls at regular intervals, but of the servants that should have been standing at the ready there was no sign. Had they been banished before the rest of the castle's residents committed suicide en masse? Or perhaps the servants had played a part and slipped away when their work was done?

A soft noise behind him halted his grisly revery. Footsteps. Fear enveloped Callan. His first thought was that it was his opponent, but what if it wasn't? What if not everyone here was quite dead? He took a quick glance across the table, but all the corpses sat immobile in their chairs. Fighting down his fear, he turned to face whatever it was.

Lifting up the goblet still in his hands in offering, he called out, “Care for a drink?”

[black shadow]

Black Shadow took in the sight of the magnificent castle in front of him. Even the castle that he lived in most of his life could not compare to this structure. The building itself cast a shadow along the moon. Light illuminated the walls, though no source could be seen anywhere. The dark stones had cracks throughout them, and even in some places parts of the wall had completely crumbled. The thick air had caused him to breath heavily as he approached the castle gate, but lessened as he came closer. The smell of the moss along the ground had grown strong, one smell Black Shadow loved to smell. He took a deep breath in from his nose, taking in the fresh scent that he knew. As he reached the iron bars of the gates, he could see a man walking along the bridge.

This must be my opponent. I guess I will follow him, he thought as he began to walk a distance behind the man in order to keep himself from being noticed.

As he walked along the bridge, many spots had been noticeably weak, some even had fallen into the deep river below. Black Shadow had reached close to the halfway point of the bridge when he found out just how loose the stones were. As he stepped onto a sturdy-looking stone, it gave way, almost sending Black Shadow into a watery grave before the fight had even started. He reached to his back and grabbed two arrows, stabbing them to the bridge as he fell through the hole.

Shoot! get up! Get up! he thought as he stopped, inches away from falling through. He ripped one arrow out and climbed out. Oh my gosh... That was close. He brushed off his suit and continued to follow.

When Black Shadow reached the great hall, the smell of the dead reached his nostrils. The almost unbearable stench was enough to knock him to a knee. Darn my extraordinary sense of smell. He forced himself to get back up though, and noticed the man standing at the head of the table, holding a cup filled with a deep red wine. Black Shadow decided this would be his moment to meet his opponent before they fight to the death.

As he walked, he did not do so in stealth anymore, instead walking loud to try to be noticed. As he approached, he scanned his surroundings. There were not many places to take cover, in fact the only place being under the giant oak tables. The only feature that stood out was what appeared to be a statue that appeared to be sitting on a ledge near the top of the roof.

Now why is that up there? he thought as he continued to walk to the man.

As he reached the edge of the shadows, he heard his opponent ask if he would cared for a drink. The thirst Black Shadow felt now, was not of wine though. It was a thirst for blood. He always got this thirst when he was about to fight, and it was not something he was proud of. As he watched the man hold the goblet as an offer, he did not think of what to do. He pulled out his bow, readied an arrow, and released. A second later, the sound of metal clashing with the marble floor could be heard.

The blood of the enemy shall be spilt in victory today. I will not lose today.

[Callan]

The chalice that had brought death to the banquet's host now granted Callan the opposite fate. His assailant had loosed an arrow before Callan had even gotten a good look at him, and had the cup not been offered in jest the arrow would have taken him in the chest. Instead it struck the silver goblet, piercing both sides but failing to travel all the way through. The impact caused wine to slosh out of the cup, and more splashed in different directions when Callan let it fall to the floor.

He gaped a moment in surprise as the goblet clattered against the floor, but then swordsman's instincts kicked in and he ripped his sword free of it's scabbard and took a step towards the former castle owner. Grabbing the corpse with his left hand, he used the rush of adrenaline to heft the body out of the grand chair. He considered for a moment dropping the man to take refuge behind the thick wood, but realized that would only give the archer time to strafe around and get a better angle. There was little other cover available, and as long as the space remained between the two combatants the archer had a strong advantage, regardless of what Callan tried to put between them.

The only way Callan could turn the fight in his favor would be to get close to the marksman. With barely a thought he whisked his dagger out of its sheathe with his mind, and sent it careening towards the black figure with psychokinetic force. Hoping the attack would buy him a couple seconds of time, he manhandled the corpse about until he had a firm grasp on the man's shirt collar, and held the mass of decay against his body as a make-shift shield. He had taken a second brief glance at the dead man's face, the only sort of apology he had time to make, before ducking his head against the finely clothed shoulder so that he could only just see over it.

"There are much friendlier ways to say 'hello,' you know," he said with words slightly muffled as he turned back to face the archer.

Sword held above the corpse's shoulder, Callan charged forwards. He breathed through his mouth to lessen the putrid aroma emanating from his lifeless ally, but still the smell of death filled his nose. As soon as he had closed the distance to his attacker he would get rid of the body, before he was made to rid his stomach of its contents instead. Besides, though the heavy metal chalice had been able to stop the arrow's flight, at close range the rotting flesh would likely yield far more easily. With a wordless yell bred from the exertion of running while carrying a heavy weight, Callan continued his advance, intent on drawing the archer into a melee.

[black shadow]

Black Shadow readied another arrow as the man threw his knife. Black Shadow released the arrow, knocking the dagger out of the air. The man then began to charge. He aimed, but could not get a clear shot. The body he was using as a shield would certainly stop the arrow from penetrating the man behind him. Black Shadow scanned quickly for an option other than his sword, that was not his specialty. The statue... If I'm lucky, it will be loose he thought as he aimed and shot the statue above. As he released the arrow, Black Shadow jumped back several feet, trying to create a bigger gap between him and the warrior.

A fifty foot gap soon grew to forty, and then thirty. Black Shadow drew another arrow. He took a desperate shot at the man's hand holding his sword. As he released the arrow he could hear loud *clack* of his arrow hitting stone. The arrow he shot at the stone statue struck its target. Black Shadow looked up only to see the statue begin to tip. Come on, fall Black Shadow pleaded. The statue began to fall. Yes! he thought as he looked back at his opponent.

The gap between the two was very small, only around eighteen feet left. Black Shadow noticed the statue again as it slammed into the ground just inches in front of the man, almost crushing him. This is my chance. Black Shadow thought as he ran towards the statue, now crushed into pieces, just enough of it to keep the two hidden. As Black Shadow reached the statue he pulled out an arrow and placed it in the notches of the strings. He took two steps up onto the top and jumped off. As he was above the man, he released the arrow. When he landed behind the man, He placed his bow on his back and ripped out his sword. He stood his back to the man, looking over his shoulder, waiting for his move to be made.

[Callan]

Callan peeked over the corpses's shoulder just as the archer, clad entirely in black, fired another arrow. The glance gave him just enough warning to lower his sword arm beneath the projectile's trajectory, hiding it behind his bulwark of rancid flesh. His arms were strong from hours of daily training, but even withered the corpse Callan held was cumbersome; only a couple dozen feet into his charge he began breathing through both mouth and nose. The scent added increased furor to his sprint. His wish to liberate his nostrils from their fetid prison rivaled his urge to triumph over the onyx-swathed foe before him.

Some thirty feet from the marksman, he saw his dagger lying on the ground off to the side. Impressive shot, he thought, before questing out towards his weapon with his mind. He wrapped a telepathic hand over the dagger, drawing it towards him with willpower alone. Briefly he considered launching it again - the archer would be hard pressed to repeat such extraordinary precision with less time to react - but his foe had not yet nocked another arrow. The lack of action caused Callan to hesitate, and in just a few moments would prove to be the source of his salvation.

The man (though covered head to toe in black cloth, Callan thought the body shape was distinctly masculine) shifted his neck back as if looking up and Callan followed suit as best he could, craning his head around to glance up without exposing himself. Though the Fallien was fond of the occasional and sometimes frequent curse, there was no time for one to pass through his head before the statue crashed down nearly on top of him. The rough stone slid against his face and left hand, leaving lacerated flesh in its wake.

Callan's decomposing aegis fared far worse. Beneath the weight of the giant statue the corpse essentially exploded. Blood, entrails, and bone fragments burst out in all directions, coating Callan's legs in filth. The foul onslaught stunned him for a moment, his eyes glued to the mass of now red stone before him and his mind racing to combat the rise of bile in his throat. A black blur roused him to action, and he looked up as the archer soared above him. Later, he would allow himself a small measure of pride for his reflexes: almost at the same moment he registered the arrow aimed directly at his skull he ordered his dagger to his defence, forcing the weapon to slice through the air above his head with a surge of mental energy. As the arrow descended towards him the iron dagger divided the shaft in two, causing the pieces to fall askew onto his shoulder and bounce off harmlessly.

Had he lobbed his dagger in another attack, Callan was almost certain he would have been unable to thwart the archer's assault. Face burning along the left side and slickening with blood, he couldn't help letting a bewildered chuckle escape his lips. He had not honestly expected for his desperate reaction to work, but did not allow himself to gloat too long just yet. The stench of death was much worse now that the dead had been disturbed, and the mysterious marksman had wasted no time in switching from bow to sword.

I fear that was a mistake for you, friend, Callan thought, reaching out to his dagger with his mind and pulling it to his left hand. The archer-turned-swordsman faced his back to Callan, perhaps offering insult, but the Fallien merely said, "not too talkative are you? Works for me, as long as you can speak with your blade." Blood now trickling from his chin, Callan assumed a proper stance and lashed out with his broadsword, Sunaris. Injured or not, he liked his odds much better now that he was in striking range of his silent foe.

[black shadow]

Black Shadow peered deep into the man's eyes as if trying to look into his very soul. The look the man gave Shadow was not of hesitance, but more of confidence. The thought that then crossed his mind brought fear to his heart. This is what he wanted all along... A sword on sword battle. He thought as he turned towards his foe.

The broadsword the man wielded was sent towards Black Shadow's chest. Shadow could easily tell that this man was not like others he had recently fought. No, he was well trained with his sword, and that meant Shadow was at a disadvantage. If he could not dodge the attacks that were soon to follow, then he would be the one with the loss.

Black Shadow put his sword up, ready to lock the incoming attack. It was then that he noticed the dagger within the hand of his opponent. Telekinetic? He thought, realising that he would not be able to block both at the same time. Reaching into his quiver, he grabbed his solid steel arrow from its casing and threw it, hoping to cause a distraction. The gap between the two was just under five feet, almost enough for his opponents weapon to strike. Black Shadow threw up his sword in a desperate attempt to block the attack he knew would be coming.

OOC: You may choose whether the attack hits me, though I did try to block it, so it would not be a kill shot. There is now also a steel arrow that is being thrown towards you, though it was not aimed, just thrown to be a distraction, possibly a hit.

[Callan]

If you run with me, feel free to bunny me running into the room with you, otherwise let me write my own reaction please.

Callan lifted an eyebrow when the shadowy man started to throw an arrow at him. Perhaps I overestimated him? he thought. Unless Callan got lucky again, an arrow fired at this range would cause a lot of damage. Thrown though? He wasn't sure it was even worth noticing; the arrow would almost certainly bounce off his leather jerkin without leaving more than a scratch. To be safe he gracefully slid his sword out of its offensive arc and bashed the slow moving projectile to the ground with the flat of the blade. He kept his eyes locked on the other man as he parried the arrow, refusing to be caught off guard. The throw had bought his foe less than a second of time, but perhaps a distraction had been all he wanted.

With a smirk Callan let his dagger fall to the ground and gripped Sunaris with both hands. While he usually disdained pure strength in a swordfight, from the way his opponent held their blade he was fairly certain he could drive past their guard. Besides, he hoped that dropping his weapon would work as his own distraction, and if not he could easily command his dagger to shoot unhindered into the man's leg while he attempted to block Callan's sword strike. As skilled as he was at physically wielding sword and dagger at the same time, he had found it was often more effective to rely on his mind to guide his sidearm past his foes' defenses.

With both hands Callan brought his blade up in preparation for a powerful downwards swing. Sunaris would easily push the archer's weapon out of the way and penetrate his skull. The fight would be over scarcely a minute after it began, and Callan would advance to the next round. A shame it was so easy, he thought as he started to bring sharpened death down upon his foe.

But the blow never came.

Movement behind his target caught Callan's eye, and halted his sword midair. The guests of the feast were still no longer. As if on queue chairs began being pushed back by the hundred, and long unused bones creaked as their owners rose for the first time in many years. Callan's lips fell from their grin to a flat line and then dipped into a frown. He took a few quick steps backward and lowered his sword to a defensive stance before switching back to a single-handed grip on Sunaris and levitating his dagger back into his left hand.

With a nod Callan attempted to draw his foe's attention to the strange events behind him. The dead were all standing now, and their eyes were fixed on the living. As they turned towards Callan and the black clad archer, some started to draw daggers. Callan took a few more steps back until he felt the remains of the stone statue behind him, his eyes flashing wildly between the moving corpses and the man in front of them.

When the dead started advancing, Callan spoke quickly. "Up the staircase behind me and to the left I saw a strong wooden door and an iron rod to bar it with. Flee with me and we'll continue this there, attack me now and I promise to make you lament your choice." With that he turned and ran around the statue, taking frequent glances behind him as he reached the stairs in case the archer decided to draw his bow once more.

[black shadow]

Black Shadow became confused. What is he talking about? he thought as he turned to look behind him. It was then that he realised why his opponent had fled the battle. The dead that sat in an eternal sleep slept no more. Umm... I'l follow you. he thought as the dead began to close in on him. Shadow turned and began running after the man, quickly catching up to him.

As they reached the staircase, Black Shadow fired an arrow, sending the bones of one skeleton everywhere. Then the realisation of their impending doom hit Black Shadow. The bones of the skeleton began to be put back together. They would never be able to defeat them all. Black Shadow turned and ran through the door into the dark room ahead. The two warriors then barred the door shut and turned to view their new arena. The darkness engulfed the room, enough to keep entire areas of the room from being unseen. Black Shadow took one step forwards, then felt the floor underneath him sink a little. The room suddenly lit up. It was a circular room, three giant stained glass panes along the wall in front of them. Black Shadow suddenly grew concerned.

The glass appeared to have two men on it, one an archer in a black suit covering head to toe, the other a warrior in leather armor. The two were back to back in a large room, skeletons coming closer to the men. The final pane had the two both being killed by the skeletons. That... It can't be us. No! I'm not going to die! Black Shadow thought as he turned to his enemy who appeared to have the same worried look on his face. It but a second later that the sound of a metal door opening could be heard from above them. Black Shadow took a step towards the middle of the room, motioning the man to get to his back. Black Shadow pulled out his sword and waited. As he stood there, he knew what was coming.

Skeletons dropped from above, landing along the walls. Some drew swords, others axes. The dead looked at the two and began advancing. I will not die today... Not like this.

[Callan]

Callan gritted his teeth. The room was barred, but it seemed locking themselves in a different room had brought no reprieve. When the black clad man motioned for Callan to take up position behind him, the swordsman ground his teeth even more forcefully against each other. With an exhale somewhere between a scoff and a snort, Callan waved his blade in a gesture of acquiescence and moved to the archer's rear. His face and fist burned from their earlier encounter with the statue, but he had no time to spare tending his wounds.

Even before the undead began pouring from the shadows above, the door they had blocked with an iron rod began shaking under the blows from those without. Screams, shouts, and hisses passed through the heavy oak to reach Callan's ears, sending another shiver up his spine. Maybe I should have drank the wine, he thought. The door was made of thick wood and he had seen nothing bigger than a shortsword among the banquet guests, so he decided there was little hope for them gaining entrance. That did not help, however, that enchanted skeletons were now enclosing around Callan and his temporary ally.

While the dead that had once gathered around the feast table had been covered with pallid grey skin, the monsters Callan now faced were free from almost all burdens of the flesh. Rotting connective tissue still bound their old bones, and some had patches of muscle and bloody skin still clinging uselessly to their crumbling frames, but not a single one had anything but shadow filling the sockets where their eyes once sat. Whatever foul magic had summoned them saw fit to equip them with various weaponry, and it seemed they were fully capable of employing their gruesome tools without all of their muscles intact.

One charged in front of the rest, raising a vicious bone-handled axe above its head and focusing its eyeless gaze directly on Callan. The swordsman exhaled and forced his fear to the back of his mind, then swung his sword up through the skeleton's elbows, around, and back across its midsection, just above the pelvic bone. Ligaments severed, the bones fell to the floor in a heap, followed by the axe crushing the skull beneath its weight. Callan dispatched two more of the skeletons using only his sword. His dagger he kept at the ready in a reverse grip. If the archer so much as bumped him Callan was ready to launch the weapon backwards with great force.

He considered ending the fight now by simply turning and lopping off the marksman's head. The black clothing might obscure the man's features, but it would not stop Sunaris from slicing through his neck. But the archer had not attacked when when he had the chance on the stairs, so Callan waited, felling undead one after the other. He would win this fight honorably. But to do that would mean putting an end to the skeleton onslaught, and there seemed no end in sight.

As he fought he cast his glance around the room, trying to find some way out of the current situation, but the shadows obscured everything but the eerie stained glass windows depicting the present struggle of living versus unliving.

"Blast," he muttered, slicing through the wrist of a skeleton wielding a steel rapier. He lobbed his broadsword high into the air, and caught the rapier before it fell to the ground. With his mind he sent Sunaris soaring through the air towards the window depicting the two warriors falling to the blades of the undead horde. "Come on! We make our own fate!" he shouted, and used the back of his left fist to tap the archer twice on the shoulder. He made a wild dash through the mob, counting at least two dozen around them.

Sunaris crashed through the stained glass a few seconds before Callan reached the wall, ripping a hole through the glass and metal framework just large enough for a man his size. He laid about left and right with his commandeered rapier, sending his dagger shooting directly through the demons' skulls with telekinetic force. His broadsword was now too far for him to reach mentally, but if all went right he would have it back in his posession soon. He neared the wall, and made ready to leap.

As he jumped out of the gap, he looked down to see snow some twenty feet below. A wordless cry erupted from his throat as he plummeted downwards.