Quarterfinals: Thoracis v Zephyriah

[Max Dirks]

Round 3 will begin at 12 AM EST on Friday, April 7th. Good Luck!

[Zephyriah]

There is nothing worse in this vile, corrupted world than poor competition being hurled before my feet like fallen angels to be judged before an omnipotent God. It is a repugnant stench rivaling that of an unclean traveler mixed with a soiled brown stained diaper. The mere sight, the mere thought is enough to drive me insane, searching for the quickest, most effective way to eradicate the unworthy challenger before me. Jake Narmolanya was such a victim that fit into this category. A man full of bravado that strutted around that portrayed himself as a stout warrior but was far from acquiring such a title. Usually any victory, whether long or brief kindled a powerful rush of joy within me, but not this time. No, quite the contrary I might add. This sour taste of victory left me gripping my blade tightly as I kicked stones on my way back to the Pistons Pleasure Palace in an uproar. Seeing me looming in the horizon, I knew that nervous took root in several of the guards for their frantic paces as if unaware of how to approach this situation were indeed apparent. To them, the sound of my footsteps and the sight of my bloodied intimidating visage was the foreshadowing of trouble to come.

It was like a terrifying villain in some mythological tale approaching. Two options were before me. I could ease their worrisome minds by confronting them cordially or my discomfort with facing such a pathetic opponent, or I could feed off of their fear and demand of them to give me what I’d entered this idiotic, unchallenging tournament in the first place for; to slay the one known as Thoracis Rakarth. “Bah! The latter option is the only option suitable for such an occasion!” So, snatching one of the black suited guards by the throat, I laid forth my demands candidly.

“Rakarth, or your life. Choose wisely!” Clearly by the look on the fool’s face he did not understand my statement. But ignorance was not bliss, nor would it grant him any favor from me. Due to this, my blade had rose, as I prepared to deliver a quick, effortless thrust that would’ve certainly stabbed through him, breaking bone and piercing organs. But his partner had verbally intervened, claiming to be able to give me the answers to my request. A wise lad he was, not that he possessed the gift of eloquence, but the sheer fact that he approached a hostile situation in a manner that would not cost him his life.

“Mr…Mr…Zephyriah sir. Because you won your second battle, you’ve advanced to the quarter f….”

“Spare me the ‘what I’ve won’ speech! I’m tired of being pitted up against weaklings! If Thoracis isn’t my partner in the next round, I’m taking this entire place down along with all of its inhabitants!” The suited guard in all of his nervousness pulled out a piece of paper that consisted of all of the remaining contestants in bracket style. I scanned the paper hastily, and quickly found that my dream had come true.

“Haha! Thoracis, you’re mine!!” I hollered, forcibly taking the paper away from the guard. The man uttered directions in which I would be able to locate the place in which the Alerarian General and I would do battle, but they weren’t all that extensive. He simply said, “If you follow this road over the hill, and then make a left at the fork in the road in the forests, and you’ll come to a warehouse.” Time could’ve been taken to rant and rave, belligerently stammering about in order to get the guard to elaborate, but for some odd reason, the challenge and uncertainty as to what would truly lie ahead was exciting. Thoracis was heralded as being extremely adept in the magical arts. However, until I saw it for myself, it would be nothing but hearsay.

Once I arrived at the warehouse, I stood outside its ominous iron doors. “THORACIS!! You’re death dealer has arrived!!”

[Max Dirks]

Zephyriah advances to the semi-finals.