Conference I Championship: Cyrus the Virus vs. Solomon

[Atzar]

To make up for the difference in progress of Conferences I and II, this round is going to be longer than normal.

This thread will end in three weeks on Tuesday, July 24, at 11:59 PM. Good luck!

[Cyrus the virus]

It was an hour past midnight in the city of Radasanth. Corone’s nightlife, an invitation to the thrill-seekers and ill-doers of Althanas, was only just beginning. The music was loud, driven by fast drums and energetic guitar strummers that pounded to the beat of the flashing lights, filling each of downtown Radasanth’s clubs with rhythm.

The music was distant background noise to Luc, who remembered a time when he participated in that scene. Now it was below him. He no longer needed to put any effort toward bedding a woman, so blending in with the crowd and impressing them with tricks was a task he could now avoid.

His ability to brainwash a woman presented a new problem, however. When Luc needed a fuck, he got it near-instantly, when it used to take time to get a woman drunk enough to have him. Now he had too much free time, and as much as Luc enjoyed the study of magic – he still had dozens of tomes to read through – it was not a study he could lose himself in for an entire night.

So his time on this cool Radasanth night was spent at the edge of a dock, the calming sound of the sea Luc’s only preoccupation. He was in meditation, thinking deeply of his role in Audeamus and where he would head next. His feet dangled under the dock, kicking back and forth in childish restlessness.

[Solomon]

There was something bitter in the wind this evening, a cold taste or a stale flavour that seemed to wash up against his face as he trekked the distance to the piers. He was passing through the end of the city, leaving the shouts and the songs of the people all behind him. The air inside the great walls of Radasanth had been flavoured by frothy drinks and steaming food. It was though they had been synthesized by some greater being to make the whole town more appealing to the wandering soul. Trying to convince you to stop by and hang your hat for a little while. Who knows? Perhaps you'd like it there.

Once on the outside of the city the wind turned bitter. The merriment of the people held no power outside the walls. Here is where their songs ended and the real world opened up, leaving one to their own deeds and fortunes. It was a similar bitterness to the autumn winds that snuck in before the summer was over. Signifying to the whole land that the days of summer play would end and the harvest was soon to begin. The wind chilled the sweat that stuck to his forehead, almost feeling like a paste in his hair and eyebrows. His stride was almost a march, as after a long night he was now closing in on his goal. He had spent many hours giving people a description of the geomancer, and now he was walking down the final trial. After this battle, he'd have what they wanted. After he did this, he'd be freed of his questions and anxieties. There was only one, simple thing that he had to do tonight in order to finish his tasks, and get what he desired.

He was to Kill Luc Kraus, and return with his heart.

The memories played through Solomon's mind. Giving him a nauseous feeling in his stomach, like thick slime running down the back of his throat. He gritted his teeth, and felt the sweat grow ever colder as his feet pushed him onwards towards his inventible encounter. He had failed to get the crystal shard from the girl Khalxaen, she had escaped before he could grab it. How stupid he felt after that! The two old sages who kept sending him on these quests were even more unimpressed then he was, and they let him know it. For the first time since they hired him, Solomon felt their fury. Normally he would have turned his back on them and walked away, but for the shame he was feeling for being beaten by the young girl. Making him determined once again to prove he was not a failure. The tiny little ray of hope was now about to be snatched away unless Solomon would do the only thing to compensate the loss of the crystal. Bring them the heart of Luc, an element of great power, from a drifter whom nobody would miss.

The winds rolled over him once again as he came to the peak of a small hill. The brilliant moon came and went as the clouds were pushed on by, and the stars shone lazily through as the clouds migrated east with the wind. The piers were in sight now, and with it, a little speck against the murky horizon. Luc was there, sitting on his lonesome. It looked as though he awaited a phantom ship to come parading into the harbour, and bring back to him something he had lost. Whatever his reasons were, Solomon would not think of them. He was here to murder the man, and if he dared think about it anymore he'd probably loose his strength. Everything in his life right now rode on this very encounter, he wasn't about to let it go.

The winds rippled in his clothes once last time, and his bushy hair tangled around the sides of his head. The time had come, and the battle was imminent. With the carving knife and the insulated bag clipped to his belt Solomon narrowed his eyes into the distance. It was time to fight, just for one last time. After it was over he’d have all he needed, he wouldn’t have to do the bidding of these strangers anymore. He was as free man. Free of himself, and free of others.

Still scowling against the wind, Solomon approached the docks. Luc Kraus would not be leaving here this night.

[Cyrus the virus]

A helpful thing, the wind. It came to Luc’s nose, deliberately carrying upon it the scent of an approaching man. The mage’s eyebrow rose – most men knew better than to approach him, considering his recent track record. It had only been three days since the Saucy Spoon was reduced to ash, after all.

“You risk much by approaching me” he said, slowly rising from his position. Turning, the mage straightened his pants, tunic and cape, taking a thoughtful breath in. The sea air was cleansing to his spirit, setting him at ease.

Luc regarded him, slowly. Solomon stood at the very edge of the grass, just before the wood of the dock began to stretch out over the water. He had the gait of a man with purpose, and a steely look in his eye that betrayed his intentions. Luc had seen it so many times before, in the Citadel, in the streets, even in his fellow Audeamus members. It was a comfortable night, and he was enjoying his relaxation – it was not the ideal time to strip a man to his skeleton, regardless of how quickly Luc could do it. He was feeling merciful, if nothing else.

“Your eyes tell me why you’ve come. How much are you being paid? What kind of information did they give you, that I was a mage?” Luc rolled his eyes. “A plethora of assassins have come for my head, my heart, my throat, and they’ve all been ash since.”

His ring blazed, but only for a hot second. The ring craved blood, as it always did when Luc’s blood began to boil, but he and the item settled quickly.

He sighed, quickly losing his charitable mood. The water crashed loudly against the dock’s supports, seeming to grow more violent as the playful smile on Luc’s face grew. It splashed on the dock, flooding the wooden surface between Solomon and his target. As quickly as the water spread, it froze, creating a slippery surface of two-dozen feet between the two men. Behind Solomon, naturally, the grass retained its friction.

“Come or go, then. Either way, you will not waste another moment of my time.”

[Solomon]

The moon's light dared to peek down on them from her place behind the tattered clouds, two thirds full and shimmering off the ice like a frosty mirror. Luc Kraus stood in his trivial glory, asserting himself against the backdrop of the dark ocean waves and the fleeting clouds as they met one another on the horizon; lining up with the mage's waste line. He was not afraid, threatened, or even angered that Solomon had come for his life. He was ready for him. Ready and waiting with a smile on his face. He wasn't just prepared to fight him off, but actually seemed to be looking forward to a battle.

Solomon dared not move, not wanting to take his boots from the grass, not wanting to cross the point of no return. How the mage had sensed him coming was peculiar, but not that surprising to him. Even the trick with the sheet of ice was impressive, but even that was not enough to keep the warrior at bay. It was his Eyes of Life technique, the energy sensing skill that his friend Rakiet had taught to him just over a year ago. Just by hearing Luc's words he could see the strength within him, but there was a moment where Luc's true power flared up and showed itself far more clearer than words or magic. There was a flicker of light from his hand, a ring or some other trinket that responded to his will. The man's power was impeccable, almost invincible. Suddenly he felt not as though he was standing before some mage on the end of a rickety pier, but instead was standing against an entire army. Alone on the battlefield. Their cried to war rattling the earth.

I have to do this... Was all he could think. He knew he was outmatched, but it didn't mean he could not win. Inside of him was a power that was just as capable. Not yet as potent, but just as capable. Still though, this was not going to be like any other battle. His strength, his speed, and his energy would not be able to win this on their own. He had to think of a way to best him, to confuse or to manipulate him. If he could get close enough to him he could break him in four pieces before the mage could even conjure up his next spell. The only question was, could he even get near him?

His eyes stayed bent, and his breathing crackled through his clenched teeth. He was not going to back out of this, he needed this. Live or die, he was going to see this through. Too long he had been laying dormant, searching and wondering. It was time to end it, he deserved his chance at peace. After all he had been through, the enemies he had toppled and the people he had saved, it was his turn for solace. It was only fair.

Solomon stepped onto the dock, his stomach tightening and his heart beginning to sound in his chest. His boots made two quiet thumps on the wood, but echoed over again in his mind. It was as if the sound alone sealed him inside this fray, the move had been made and his position was clear. He was not going to back down. He wasn’t even going to answer Luc’s remarks. He was just here to fight, and get it over with. The only question was, how did he begin?

There was over twenty feet of slick ice between him and Luc Kraus, who just stood there with his frolicking cape and a smile on his face. Playful was a good way to describe it, but not in its eager or gleeful sense. It had the darkness, and the delight of a child who much prefers feeding mice to his pet cat while all the other children play with sticks in the park. What powers he possessed, Solomon could only assume. The only thing he knew for certain was that they were great.

One of the fortunes of knowing Luc's strength was that he knew to be careful. His greatest advantage was his strength, rivalled closely by his speed. If he could find a way to get close to the man he might be able to hurt him, but what kinds of things could this mage do to prevent him from coming?

Solomon's mind worked hard to scope out the surroundings, all the while just standing there on the foot of the pier. There was no doubt that Luc was growing impatient with him, but he'd have to make the next move. Solomon wasn't ready. Not just yet.

[Cyrus the virus]

Luc’s ability to hold his temper was severed. Solomon’s moment of decision had passed, his steps too slow. The wind about him died down, setting his dancing cape to rest.

“Look at how frightened you are,” he said in a mocking tone, as if he were speaking to a child. Somehow, that always made these experiences easier for Luc. “I feel badly for you, looking as frail as you do, afraid to cross a simple surface of ice. It’s alright, I can kill you from here.”

Long ago, the mage was notorious in the Citadel for underestimating his opponents, leading to a few embarrassing losses and one tie in a fight he should have dominated against the rock star, Brock Rundgren. As irritated as those experiences had been, with time they had forged a more precautionary Luc Kraus, who had learned to see beyond the flesh. After all, with the exception of his clothes, Luc’s appearance didn’t hint at the magical power he held within.

It was with this in mind that he cast Stoneskin, an enchantment that covered the mage in a faint green aura that would absorb three attacks, regardless of their power – or lack thereof.

Luc’s stance went from relaxed to rigid, as he extended his hands to his left and closed his eyes, conjuring a powerful wind. In a swift movement, he washed his hands over to his right, bringing with them a surging gust with the force of several hundred pounds. The idea was the push Solomon into the water, where Luc would have a very simple time making the remainder of the man’s life miserable. With ice below him and such a strong wind, Luc didn’t think Solomon had a choice in the matter.

[Cyrus the virus]

Perceptions could so easily create a skewed point of view. Solomon’s thoughts of Luc’s innocence, for example, were painfully ignorant of reality. If the man had known a single thing about the mage, he’d have known that Luc had many, many punishments awaiting him in the afterlife. Solomon’s ignorance of Luc’s transgressions, some of which had shaken Corone’s entire population, would have been the man’s death if Luc knew about it.

As it was, Solomon was temporarily safe in the water. Luc was satisfied to sit upon his chilly throne, chin in his fingers, thinking passively about what his would-be assassin was saying. His explanation was incredulous, lacking any semblance of sense or reason. Luc found himself rolling his green, pensive eyes.

“Absurd,” he coughed as Solomon finished his apology, one the mage ignored entirely. “Two old men requested my heart for no reason, and you serve them for no purpose? Your lack of detail is very, very troubling. I will encourage you to relay as much information as you can, while I allow you to draw breath.”

From the corner of his eye Luc saw movement. Turning his head, the mage perceived a group of six people, watching intently the scene before them. To their left were the remains of the dock, now merely a jutting, blackened stump extending from the grassy shore. Pillars of charred wood stuck up from the water, burning still and sending black smoke into the midnight sky. Debris littered the water.

They knew who he was, of course. They lived in Radasanth, a city that had been his playground for the better part of three months. Greenacre had been only two miles west from the Corone capital, before Luc and the Audeamus disposed of it. Word traveled fast, and people could tell who he was just by his apparel.

There was an obvious curiosity in their collective gaze, but Luc quickly turned his attention back to the bobbing Solomon.

“I want to know where they are, these men.”

[Solomon]

Stay focussed, you're not out of this yet. Solomon prompted himself. There was no getting out of this easily, as a mere apology did not excuse him from a fight he had initiated. However, there wasn’t much holding him back at this point. Months and months of confusion and guilt had just reached their breaking point, and now he was laying it all at Luc's feet as though he were an adequate judge of his deeds. If, after this, Luc killed him then it was a death he thoroughly deserved. If Luc left him, then he had the chance to continue on. Already he was making vows inside his own head to never fall this low again, to never let his mind become so contaminated. If he was given the chance, he would do better, he would not live in vanity.

"I confess I fall short on explanations." Solomon said aloud, his eyes still avoiding the man as he answered his questions. "My mind and my spirit have been in a terrible conflict, I followed the sages like a lost sheep. I acted selfishly, stubbornly, and crudely. And for that, I apologise." He further explained. He had never been that good at speaking to other people, he knew this based on the expressions he normally received. He was either too elaborate, or he just sounded out of place. It was a result of spending so much time in isolation, talking to no one but himself. Funnily enough his social handicap was one of the things that Kira thought cute about him. He smiled as that thought returned to him.

Luc had turned his focus for a moment, and suddenly Solomon became aware of other presences around them, even though he could not see them. Spectators had gathered, and responding to the hints his body was giving him he started to swim towards a portion of the dock. The water would be warmer over there, and it would give him something to hold onto. He swam slowly enough that Luc wouldn't suspect him of anything. There was no hope of escape until Luc was 'finished' with him anyway.

The moon's light still illuminated the battle scene, the only other witness to the events that had occurred here in the night. The debris in the water, and the victorious Luc Kraus upon his cold throne all basked in her dim silver glow. Solomon had just reached his hands out to one of the crumbled stumps only ten feet from where he had just been treading the water before the throne. A new thought occurred to him as Luc made one more demand of him. Sitting there on his throne above a ruined battleground, and a beaten foe. If Solomon could guess anything about the man, it would have been he was best friends with his ego. Had he known this going into the battle, he would have tried flattery until he could get close enough to strike. An attempt to put Luc off his guard. Whether or not it would have worked was beyond him at this point, but something inside him told that Luc might like the thought of a cowering slave wanting to come near him rather than a troubled brute. Still though, the battle had played it's way out for more important reasons. With the way his mind had been functioning he couldn't have brought himself to be that 'humble' anyway.

"They move from place to place." Solomon confessed, keeping one arm on a burnt stump of what was once the dock. "They intercept me after my duties. They will be waiting around the gates of Radasanth for my-." Solomon cut himself off, now looking up to the pillar of ice. He didn't want to say 'waiting for my return.' He didn't want to press his luck.

[Cyrus the virus]

His legs crossed, Luc stared into the distance as he listened to Solomon, thinking all the while. It was too common an occurrence for him to sit in silence, listening to a failed assassin spill his story and thoughts. The scenario was often similar, with Luc standing above a defeated foe as he explained who hired him – in the end, the assassin’s fate was left to Luc’s whim at that moment.

As Solomon finished talking, Luc’s throne began to melt, falling apart in chunks and plummeting to the water below. The mage was left floating in the air once more, blinking hard as he considered his course.

“I don’t know why I’m being so kind,” Luc spoke, his voice carrying in the empty wind. “But I do think I’ll let you live tonight.”

It wouldn’t make much sense from Solomon’s perspective, the mage knew. Solomon had, regardless of how unsuccessful he’d been, attacked Luc. For that and for much less, Luc had killed many men. He himself was unsure of his own thinking, but Luc made some sense of it – he wanted to send a message to the man in the water below, a message he could send to others. The ring on his hand began to glow a bright, searing red.

Then with a wide sweep of his right hand, Luc manipulated the earth by the shore next to the six onlookers. A great hand of stone, dirt and mud rose languidly, hungrily, from the ground and washed over them all, driving them to the ground with so much force that each body was brutally crushed. There had hardly been a moment for any of them to scream.

When he looked back to Solomon, it was with a grin devilish and delighted enough to curl skin. “I will slay a few dozen people tonight in your name, whatever it may be, including these sages that wanted my heart. Live on with their blood on your hands.”

With two spoken words, Luc’s body phased into translucence and took on the form of wind, whisking his conscience away and presumably toward Radasanth’s gates, where the mage hoped to find some shocked old men to slowly kill.

Solomon had been spared, but Luc hoped the man would be forever haunted by his promise. That, the mage thought, would be a punishment even more cruel than death.

((I leave the sages' fate up to you, Sols! Nice battle, bud.))

[Solomon]

It was strange how in times of trouble, and when true feelings really come out, a person can feel as though their listener actually understands them and their dilemmas. The more he had been explaining himself, the more it seemed he was actually reaching out to Luc. To admit his folly, and humble himself in hopes of being forgiven. Although he knew Luc was angry with him, for who wouldn't be if he had just tried to kill them, he had no idea of Luc's true nature. Solomon had been the villain in this fight, up until that moment when the insidious mage revealed what he was; and suddenly his mind was flooded with horror, his breath snatched from his body.

“I will slay a few dozen people tonight in your name, whatever it may be, including these sages that wanted my heart." Luc said to him, floating in the air as though he was anything but a mortal. His brows and his lips bent and stretched wretchedly, purposely out to haunt him in his dreams from that day forward. "Live on with their blood on your hands.”

Solomon didn't even need to turn his head for his eyes to see. There, clutching his stump of burnt wood in silent fear, clinging to it as though it was a dying friend, he felt the surge in Luc's spirit and then the crash of his fatal attack. The shores just behind him shifted to his whims, and the onlookers that had gathered together in the night were swallowed up by the earth. With one last look into the murderer's eyes, Solomon’s fear and his anguish giving Luc just what he wanted, Solomon saw the man no more. The battle was over, and a mage was out to settle his wrath.

Solomon did not move. He did not make a sound. His mouth hung open and his chest trembled with his breath. His eyes stared out over the horizon, but focused on nothing. He looked as though he wasn't even a part of his body anymore.

What have I done? The question seemed more empty than ever, like he had asked it in a vacant hallway. Every door he knocked upon gave no answer, and every light that sneaked through the cracked was snuffed out. For that short moment between this, and that quiet void where he had come so close to death he had felt as though peace was returning to him. Now it had been taken away from him. What had he done?

You've done nothing! These are his true colours. He'd kill regardless. Another side of his conscience came back to his defence. However it did not seem to alleviate him at this point, all he did was tread the water with his hand on the stump, and look onwards as the clouds softly covered the moon.

What have I done?

The climb out of the water took him far longer than it should have. With his body still numb in places from the water, and his strength lessened, a five minute climb turned out to be nearly half an hour. All the while Solomon felt his horror of what had happened stinging through his stomach like a frozen spear. However, as he climbed the feelings began to morph into sorrow, and from there they burned inside of him like rage once again. Perhaps there was a reason the wicket old men wanted his heart. Luc Krause was an evil man.

As he pushed himself up onto the shore, his damp form nothing more than a dim smudge against the fading horizon, he looked onwards towards Radasanth. A single bit of wisdom imprinting itself on his mind. Something his father had never said to him, but it seemed to take on his voice regardless.

"We fight because we can." The familiar voice encouraged him. "Those who have the potential to do so must. If not for themselves, then for those who cannot."

With this in mind Solomon walked on into the darkness. He had done wrong tonight, and he would never forget that. Even if Luc Kraus was a murder to begin with, it was Solomon who had invoked his vengeance. People were going to die, along with the two old men who had sent him. He did not have the strength to stop him. Perhaps not now, but in the future he would. So long as he never forgot why he continued, or what it was those two lost souls whom he loved so much did see in him once upon a time. He could rightfully put men like Luc Kraus in their place, and no longer live with the questions of why he was and where he was going.

"I will never forget you, Luc Kraus." Solomon muttered into the void between the shore and the city walls. "Know that when we meet again, it was you who made me that man."

((Luc kills the sages, and makes it home in time for tea. Thanks for the fight!))