Redemption Bracket Finals: Zack Blaze Vs Roht Mirage

[Roht Mirage]

Astarelle fell for it. Unbalanced by his knowledge of her semi-adopted street children living in Ixian Castle, and expecting another ridiculous trick, she moved to catch what might have been a projectile. Pain flared just from spreading her fingers. Her feet shifted, one bracing very close to the edge in spite of herself. She simply had no time to think, and the void seemed to pull at her subconscious with a numbing, comforting song.

The invisible ball came and went, leaving her unharmed and unmoved. She barked a laugh sharply in his direction. In a blink, he was gone. She thought he had hidden behind the shovel-faced brute again, but he was so much closer. Her eyes twitched down just in time to see his obnoxious smirk – boyish yet diabolical, and brimming with dangerous potential. Then, his fist erupted upward into her jaw. She almost blacked out for a moment. Her sand left her, its collected glass tinkling against the floor. Farther down the hall, her gems chips also fell, lifeless. How her Farohtian senses could still work while her physical ones were bludgeoned into uselessness, she didn't know. But, it was those senses that first told her how this battle would end; had ended. The sand and gem chips were moving away, or her from them.

Her eyes cracked open in that direction. The arena lay just beyond her feet, shrinking rapidly. It already looked like a destructed doll house. She could still see into the hall, as apparently even gravity ended at the white threshold, and she had flown upward and horizontally... for all the good directions would do as she drifted away.

“Drift away,” she said numbly, feeling the weight of eternity crush upon her. It was over, and the ending might just last forever. She wanted to scream. Somehow, her jaw did not ache as much as she expected. By all rights, she could have screamed her breath out. However, a tranquillity was seeping into her. She no longer had to worry, it whispered. She no longer had to even breath. It was just so much habit left over from a physical world. The whiteness stole her sight, her pain. It balmed her in silence.

Not yet, she thought meekly. Then, again with greater force to honor twelve-or-so feral children. Not yet! She reached out with senses that the void could not stiffle. She felt her sand, her gems, and the footprints of Zack Blaze. He was the enemy she never wanted, just as she hadn't wished to become caretaker to urchins and a bloody Ixian Knight to boot. Though, if she had to choose, by the depths was it obvious.

Her fingers brushed the pendant that swayed weightless before her. She could barely feel the pain, now. “If you saw the Cell, bastard, you'd know how blasted stubborn I am,” she hissed. With the pendant cupped in her palm, she held it toward the shrinking arena and reached out, embracing the power of her birthright.

In the hall, the grains of sand shivered like a thousand questing hands. And amid them, the gem chips began to tumble.

[Zack Blaze]

The street fighter placed a hand over his eyes and whistled at the airborne form of Astarelle Set'Roh. His punch delivered its intended effect and the girl was now on a path towards the nothingness at the end of the hall. As she flew, pictures rattled themselves off of the studs that held them, and glass cases shattered upon the picture frame collisions. Zack winced as the girl disappeared from his view, and shook his head as she spoke something too far away for the warrior to hear.

"That was a nasty slice. I really need to get back to the clubs and improve my swing," He snickered at the mention of the elitist club of Misery Business back in Berevar. His associates would no doubt be proud that he added yet another Ixian Knight to his list of victims. He stretched his arms out and placed his headphones upon his ears as Makai's voice was drowned out by the padding provided by the device.

He should have left those damn things off.

As he turned, several pieces of what appeared to be a gem launched themselves at Zack. His eyes winded as the shards flew his way, reformed into some crystal, and slammed into his stomach. The hit quickly reminded the manipulator of the damage that the 'Fallien Flower' delivered unto his on body. He let out a raspy breath and began to shout out Makai's name, only for the ogre and the entire room to disappear in an instant. As strange as it seemed, all the boy could feel was emptiness, as if he saw his life meant nothing but a hundred times worse. His body slacked and floated in the air like he were afloat on a river. It was not as if he couldn't fight this feeling, he knew that he could. He just did not have the drive t do so. Every bit of fight that Zack Blaze was known for disappeared from his personality altogether.

Astarelle was there for only a brief moment. When Zack first arrived there was still a boy full of piss and vinegar at heart. He had slammed his fist as hard as he could into the woman's face, only for her to slip away as gently as a leaf floats along a stream. She disappeared from his vision, probably with the same apathy he now seemed t have. He wondered how long he had been adrift in this cream colored purgatory. Here, there was no perception of time. His whole form felt as if it were doing ten different things back to back only to discover three hours passed in what felt like the span of thirty minutes, only he wasn't doing anything.

As he floated, images filled his mind. He could see snippets of history as though he witnessed them seconds ago, but there was always an askew detail or two. He saw the great Corpse War of Althanas, only with the elven people allied alongside the evil necromancer Xem'Zund and his ilk. He watched as the name 'Orlouge' was spoken in legend as the underdog who defeated the great Max Dirks, only the first name of said Orlouge was 'Ciato'. He saw the mustached man again, atop a throne of bleached white skulls, his black shoes tainted a dark crimson and the familiar ebony steed at his side, held by its reigns.

That last vision was the most vivid to Zack, so much so that he could even remember the words spoken in the implanted memory. A woman whose body was made completely out of mushrooms stood before the Duke that Zack created on a whim any minutes ago. He knew it was a woman, though he did not know why he was so confident in this fact. "My Lord, just as you predicted, the last vestige of Orlouge's rebellion was crushed. We've won. Today is a great day for the Order of the Crimson Hand."

"Ha," Mr. Mustache scoffed and waved at plant figure and still sat slack acrss his throne as though nothing entertained him, "Tell me something I don't know, Madison. Ciato really thought his brother would be his saving grace, but it turned out to be his greatest weakness. They should have known better than to deal with Duke of White Noise. Now perhaps I can live in quiet contemplation."

The mushroom girl nodded and sunk away into the whiteness of the faux flashback, "As you wish, Lord Blaze..."

Zack's body sprang up from the ground at the last words. He was back in the large halls of the Citadel, Ai'Brone monks all around his form. They all tried to ask him questions that he subsequently ignored. The void, as it turned out, was not a portal to nothingness, and whatever Astarelle did, the desert bitch seemed to have the last laugh on the street fighter. He balled both of his hands into fists, the top of his lip raised into a twitchy scowl.

"What....the hell... was that...?!"

[Roht Mirage]

“You-”

The word floated off into the void, diffusing until Astarelle couldn't be sure she had spoken at all before Zack's fist struck her. She could feel the cruel intent in it, but there was no pain. It was the limp, ineffectual punch one throws in a dream. Her dream or his, she didn't know anymore. After some thought, though, she reasoned that it was her's, because he had drifted into the white-washed nothing like just another figment of her imagination.

You wanted Ai'Brone secrets? Wallow in them.

Other figments replaced him, visions of what had been. She saw flashes of the Corpse War, the battles between Raiaera and Alerar, even the War of the Tap. A distannt thought told her that, before entering the void, she knew nothing of these events aside from their names. Yet, she understood them all in a single momment as if between her ears had been planted a history book, and a used one at that. She could feel the edits; blacked-out text and notes scrawled in the margins. Astarelle knew, somehow, that the undead scourge had not swarmed into Alerar. So, why could she so clearly see Xemzund leading his horde across the border? And with a brute of a man at his side. That man's axe had carved a path for Xemzund's conquest. She knew this, and this alone. In the glut of information, he was nothing more than an eraser smudge, a residue on the page of history.

There were other men like him, blank faces in the bared expanse of time. On them hinged what could have been, for good or ill, a multitude of different pasts - and by extension, a million todays. Some of the possibilities surprised her. One in particular rattled her forced composure, nearly breaking her from it.

Suddenly, a rough hand stole her attention. It seized the front of her blouse and jerked on a body that, all at once, she remembered owning. “How did you do it, girl?” growled a mountain of a man, his shoulders wide enough to lift the world, his bald head pristine and an unreachable height above. The lines of his face twisted into craggy, wrathful plateaus.

“I didn't-” Astarelle sputtered, fumbling her tongue. The inquisitor's other hand palmed her forehead, pressing hard against her divine mark. Thick fingers wrapped her skull and applied a force that wasn't physical, yet she felt he might break her open all the same. She could feel the flow of information change. “Stop,” she sobed quietly. The torrent that had bestowed to her all the histories that could have been was used to draw out all of her's that had. She shuddered. Her mind was naked, her secrets displayed shamefully.

The man's cold Ai'Brone gaze read her, nearly tearing the pages. He saw her blessed birth, her childhood in the temple, her eventual escape from a life she never chose. And through it all, he saw the hidden city of Faroh, Fallien's last living remnant from before the Breaking. He ripped out all the secrets she would have kept to her grave, even if she never wanted to return home. Worst of all... his response. Nothing. The most preciously-kept secret in Fallien's history was painted before him, and he just looked onward for the one piece of information he sought.

“Zack Blaze.” His voice was a mountain slide that threatened to forever echo in the void.

Somewhere, Astarelle heard the sound of a door creaking open. She tried to curl into herself, not wanting any witnesses as her deepest thoughts were riffled through and found wanting.

“Astarelle?” came a familiar voice. She jerked, yearning for the familiarity, yet feeling all the more exposed in front of one who knew her.

“Brother Hoak,” the mountainous Ai'Brone thundered. His face twisted with some dark emotion. She thought it might be humor, but he certainly wasn't laughing. “Take your pet from here. If she scurries into the walls again, we will take measures.”

Astarelle was flicked like a mote of dust. Her body reeled with force that the monk had barely twitched on imparting it to her. In a rush of sound -wind outside her ears, renewed heartbeats within- she was back in the hall of the Citadel. Hoak caught her. Some time ago, she had thought his grip as strong as iron. Now, in comparison, it was willowy and waif-like.

“Are you okay?” he asked over the squeal of the door closing on its own accord. He helped her to stand on legs that had resigned themselves to obsolescence.

Astarelle blinked against the dusty air of the Citadel's bowels. The high hall stretching in both directions, utterly abandoned, felt suffocating. “I saw,” she said, forcing her tongue to obey, “The last thing I saw was-”

“Forget what you saw,” Hoak snapped. It had the force of an ultimatum, but the undercurrent of a heart-felt plea.

“I can't.” Astarelle countered. She feebly tried to push herself away from him. The other memories were beginning to fade. But, that last one, the one that had nearly broken the void's serenity, was permanent. She need only close her eyes to see a younger Hoak -full head of hair, face lined with only determination- standing over the body of a woman in white. Fresh blood dripped from a blade in his hands. Beside him, a fallieni woman smiled. Her hand lay affectionately on his shoulder, and her lips parted as if to offer gratitude. Yet, her eyes were heinous and wrathful as she looked down at the body. Hate carved lines into her brow... a brow marked by a familiar symbol. In the history that was, Astarelle was the first and only Farohtian priestess to leave the golden city's veil. She was sure of it; or had been sure.

“For her...” she said accusingly as she escaped Hoak's arms and stood on quaking legs. “For her, you killed the Jya of Fallien.”

Hoak looked down at his feet. He clasped his hands over his robes and took a deep breath, straining for Ai'Brone calm.

“But, I know that didn't happen. So... you couldn't have.” Astarelle finished, her anger fading into a meek, confused question.

“You are correct,” Hoak said without even the warmth of their first meeting, “I did not.”

[Zack Blaze]

Zack grabbed a handful of different colored pills offered to him and quickly threw them down his throat. He reached for a drink with which to swallow his medication and easily wrapped his digits around a clear glass. As he drank the beverage, he wondered where his opponent fled to, and who exactly fashioned that arena. Before the boy could finish his drink, he was pulled up from his position on the ground, and upon his feet in an instant. The monks that surrounded him seconds before had now dispersed back to their everyday activities, and beside the boy was an all to familiar face.

The crooked nose and dark shades of Robert Uccisore, Vice-President of Misery Business Incorporated tugged the arm f the street fighter. While it seemed as though the employer exerted little effort in the motion, Zack felt as though his shoulder nearly ripped out of its socket. He yelped, which brought him back into the attention of several Ai'Brone. He waved them off as though he were a kid who performed a foolish prank.

"I swear, they're like reverser buzzards," he mumbled through grit teeth, "you're dying and they'll kill one another just to get to you. Anyways Robert, what the hell are you doing here? Were you expecting me?"

"I was," the cryptic Robert answered, "when I heard about your experiment from Agnie, I knew danger was sure to follow you. It always does. When Makai came back to the base and you weren't with him, we worried more. So I came to the Citadel to look for you and beat some sense into you. What the hell were you thinking Blaze, taunting the Ai'Brone magics like that? You could have been killed, and then we would have had t waste more money finding another valuable asset."

To Robert Uccisore, the bottom line was always the most important factor.

"Sorry," Zack said as if he were a child that got scolded, his apology half-hearted, "but there was something odd about that place. I made up this whole elaborate story about a Duke and when I entered this void, it turned out the story was true, and the Duke was me. Figured it musta been a dream, too many late night pies with Makai or something. Anyways, if you know the story then maybe you can tell me whose fantasy I side-stepped into?"

Robert paused and Zack slammed into the bulky man's grey suit and almost fell to his butt again. Robert had turned around, his glasses half way down his face. Zack could see into the sea of blue and yellow that made up his employer's eyes with ease, and it sent goosebumps down his spine. "Listen to me Blaze, you do not need to g track that person down. She is dangerous, a huge liability t the company, and if you go searching for her, she may very well bring an end to Misery Business as we know it. She fancies herself a soothsayer and as big a boast as such a thing is, I've never seen her proven wrong. Leona Stevvains is one box you do not want to open."

"Phrasing," Zack said with a smile which was returned in kind by the shaded man. Their footsteps echoed through the citadel hallway as if they were two normal warriors on their way to the exit. The inquisitor would find no trace of Zack, Misery Business would see to that. However, behind the youth's playful facade was now an unquenchable curiosity. How did this Stevvains woman know that Zack would be in the Citadel at that exact time? How could she possibly time her speech to coincide with when Zack entered the door? His eyes moved to Robert's bare neck and saw sweat beads roll down the strange man's skin. The mere thought of this woman sent a man who could easily overpower Zack Blaze in a state of worry. That could have only meant one thing.

Leona Stevvains the soothsayer was someone worth looking into. It was this single thought that stopped Zack from his one man crusade against the house of Ixian, and his own self-righteous ego. In a sense, Leona Stevvains saved Zack Blaze from drowning in his own hate for the protectors of Corone by giving the boy a brand new target to acquire...

((Had this written last night, but when I hit reply, the site had already shut down. This was at 10:36 my time. All bunnying in this thread was approved.))

[Max Dirks]

Interesting battle, but it fell somewhat short of expectations. Your respective introductions and conclusions felt detached from the battle, which prevented me from giving you higher story & pacing scores respectively. While it's clear that you both had a higher overarching storylines, the inclusion of the your NPCs was also distracting. Your conclusions made the battle and your previous character interactions seem insignificant. In other words, they were very anticlimatic. As for writing, Zack missed alot of "o's" due to his keyboard issues. His choice in sentences was also bizarre in the beginning of the battle. For example, "...other than the peach like fragrances Zack graced his form with" in post 2. Don't end a sentence with a preposition. Roht's writing was clearer, but was still riddled with run-ons. "Breath tried to return to her, her form shuttering as it did so" in post 8 should have been written "Her form shuttered as her breath tried to return to her." Note passive v. active writing.
As you are veterans, commentary is limited.

Please note: even though Sei was given ample warning of the shutdown, I am giving him the benefit of the doubt. His report coincides with the time I shut down the site.

Roht Mirage

Story- 5
Setting- 5
Pacing- 5
Communcation- 5
Action- 5
Persona- 5
Mechanics- 7
Clarity- 6
Technique- 5
Wildcard- 5
Total- 53/100

Zack Blaze

Story- 5
Setting- 5
Pacing- 4
Communcation- 5
Action- 5
Persona- 5
Mechanics- 6
Clarity- 5
Technique- 6
Wildcard- 5
Total- 51/100

Roht Mirage wins!

Roht Mirage is bumped to the Winner's Bracket for a rematch against Taste of Treason.
Zack Blaze is eliminated.

Lye will add rewards shortly.

[Lye]

Roht Gets:

2,100 EXP
70 GP

Zack Blaze Gets:

600 EXP
35 GP

Points added.