LCC - R1: League of Nightmares VS Bittersweet

[Letho]

His partner.

When the second part of the opposing duo mentioned Errisa and her possible demise, Letho had to will his eyes to stay level and not cast a glance upwards towards the control room. He had his doubts, but then again he had had his doubts even before the tournament. The elf wasn't off the meek sort, but she still lacked that hardness that came with experience. So far, life had spared her the excruciation of tearing her down and beating her into nothing before building her up again, stronger than before. And while most people went through their entire lives without getting as much as a glimpse of such a decisive moment, none achieved greatness without a near death experience or three. Letho had had his share, spat his share of blood, licked his share of wounds. Now it was her turn. But he wouldn't let her endure it on her own. He hadn't made it through thick and thin all by himself either.

The humanoid with the face of a monster was coming at him with a different, gory tactic now. Holding an impaled body in front of his advance, he kept his own body out of sight, covering it with a tower shield made of dead meat. Letho's first instinct was to shoot through it, but a human body was an unpredictable target at best, making effective shooting difficult. It was enough for the bullet to wing a bone and already it would change direction or shatter, and even if it hit soft tissue, the large caliber would slow down significantly. No, it was the blade that would do the work here, not the bullet.

Draug was still three paces from Letho when the Lawmaker swooshed through the air, the massive six-foot weapon sweeping a wide horizontal arc. The dehlar blade tore through the recently deceased meat and bone with little finesse and a cartload of power, slicing what it could, tearing and breaking what it couldn't. And as the body was cut in half, the sheer momentum threw Letho's foe out of balance for the briefest of moments. It was nothing that the bestial man wasn't able to remedy with a firm step to the side, but by then the Marshal was already moving. Following the lead of his sideways slice, Letho pivoted on his right foot, took a step forward and then brought the gunblade full circle, aimed to sever Draug's head. It was a predictable move, but intentionally so. When his foe ducked beneath it, Letho continued the pirouette and, with another step forward, cut at his opponent's side even as he flashed past him. His attack was aimed at the kidneys as the jagged talon swept from behind, a possible kill shot.

But even as the retired Marshal finished his move, an explosion of pain made it clear that he hadn't made a clean kill. He saw an arm move where no arm should be, saw the hand bring the dagger even as he finished his counter-clockwise spin. And now Letho could feel the dagger in his back, dug firmly into his left shoulder blade. His lips pursed as he sucked air through them, the sharp ache spreading throughout his back like a surge of electricity, expanding with a jolt and taking reign throughout Letho's nervous system. It made the wounded man grin. Pain was an old friend. Letho wasn't immune to its grip by any means, but he had experienced it so many times that he understood it and accepted it, even welcomed it sometimes. Nothing made a man feel alive quite as much as pain.

"So, the beast has a bite," Letho grumbled. He hadn't made an attempt to remove the dagger. It would've taken too long and he would have to drop the Lawmaker in order to do so. Draug seemed more than ready to jump at one such opportunity. But the retired Marshal decided not to give him such a chance. While his move rewarded him with a stab in the back, it also got him on the opposite side of Draug, meaning that nothing now stood between Letho and the stairs that led upwards to the upper levels, the control room and possibly Errisa.

"Here, something to bite back," Letho said, allowing a smirk. And even as the words left his mouth, two tears in reality opened up next to the Marshal, one on each side. Out of these black portals two silver wolves leapt like arrows, landing soundlessly between Letho and his opponent. No words were passed between the canines and their master, yet the mental link directed the beasts immaculately. The larger male bristled and growled as its red eyes locked on Draug while the smaller female stood at the ready next to Letho.

"Now, if you will excuse me. I need to rectify this mayhem."

With those words, Letho charged up the stairs, slinging the Lawmaker into the holster on his back. A sonic boom spread around the bulky man, an aura of white flames enveloping him even as his muscles expanded. Like a white arrow he went up the steps, gaining three at the time before crashing his healthy shoulder against the door between the ground and first floor. He hadn't stopped on the first walkway, though. His ascend continued in a series of mighty footsteps that echoed through the prison like quakes. Only the second wolf remained behind on the first walkway, eyeing Ciato with a hungry eye.

[Abomination]

Bunnying of Letho's wolf approved.

Letho's speed was too much for the Homunculus. He was swinging around that huge weapon as fast as Draug could react, and as Letho's ferocity came to bear, the Lawmaker found itself cleaving through Draug's side like whipped cream. The Cult's champion found himself losing his balance, the weight of his body shifted as a giant cut appeared on half his body. As the blade passed through, it came just short of his spine, destroying everything in his abdomen. Muscles ripped, organs spilled, and various fluids poured of his body. He fell to one knee on the side of the cut, placing his hands on the wound in a futile effort to stop the cascade of blood. For his trouble, he was awarded with a dagger in Letho's back, but the effect appeared to be minimal.

He was in no condition to pursue his opponent, and even if he could there was the not-so-little problem of the monstrous dire wolf that was left behind. The silver-furred beast growled, its long incisors strong enough to rip Draug apart in seconds. Before the Homunculus could recover, the beast leapt at him, its burning red eyes filled with prejudice. The arms that grew out of Draug's back came up over his head in an attempt to intercept the wolf, but the beast ripped through them like paper. He jumped back at this attack, leaving two bloody stumps hanging from his shoulder blades. The wolf tossed the dismembered limbs aside and growled at him again, blood leaking from its fangs. Draug was uncertain whether his disease affected these wolves, but so far there seemed to be no effect.

Two steel swords bulged from below his forearms, and with a grunt they ripped through his skin, shooting forward along his arm until he caught the handles of the blood weapons. Flesh hung from the underside of his arms where the swords burst from. The bleeding from his side continued, but it was not as bad as before. His blood had compressed around the wound, and his organs had begun to shift and change to fill the roles of the destroyed ones. Blood leaked out of his mouth, signalling that his lungs were part of this transformation. He still could not make any sudden movements, so he stood his ground and held up both swords. The wolf lunged at him again, and Draug tightened his grip in response and swung diagonally down on the beast. However, the wolf dodged the attack the moment it landed, jumping onto the wall and skipping off of it like a rubber call, landing and turning behind the Homunculus. Draug tried to turn around to meet it, but his body was still recovering. The wolf jumped at him, sinking its long incisors into his neck. Draug gnashed his teeth and tried to stab the wolf, but he felt his motor control slipping and he couldn't move his arms. The wolf knew exactly where to bite a human.

However, Draug was no human. His head tilted all the way back, giving him the appearance of someone whose neck was snapped and hanging from their bodies, and he opened his mouth. A sword shot forth from his throat, stabbing the wolf in the back, causing it to relinquish its bite and back up. Draug's head snapped back into place and he turned around, his body finally able to weather the motion without falling apart. The wolf continued to growl now with a sword sticking out of its back, still as ferocious as ever. The skin on Cassandra's champion's back started to bubble with the formation of new arms, enough to make use of roughly half of his stored blood. He had never fought something like this before, and it made him reevaluate the way he fought. The way he used his weapons and his reliance on brute force. The wolf was no different, preferring to cut everything down to size in a primal fashion. Draug almost had more in common with this beast than the people he's fought.

So, he did something new: He dropped his weapons. The wolf charged him again, blood and drool flying from its black lips, and Draug responded by grabbing its neck with both hands, stopping it in its tracks. The force from the action caused him to slide backwards, nearly tripping him entirely. The stone floor beneath him cracked under his power, and the wolf's teeth were inches from Draug's face. Its burning eyes met with Draug's dark spheres. Despite the efforts of the Homunculus, he could not push the wolf back, but the wolf could not push through his grip as well. Their strength was very similar, but the wolf had the disadvantage of being a mere beast. Draug was, of course, an alchemical creation, the ultimate ghoul created from The Cult's darkest teachings.

"You are strong," he admitted. "I can feel that you were spawned from chaos, and even with your wound you feel no fear. That lack of fear is something we share. What you lack... is evolution."

Suddenly, the arms that were growing on his back all rushed out, each with a different weapon found in his body. They stretched around his body and stabbed into the wolf, implanting its body with swords, daggers, and a mace. The wolf howled, its legs buckling under the attack, and Draug used this opportunity to pick it up off the ground with his strength, lifting it above the ground and using all his power to throw it into the wall. The wolf slammed into the rotten stone, causing it to crack and crumble. As Draug prepared to finish it off, it vanished from his sight completely, letting all the weapons that were in its flesh fall to the ground, forming a bloody pile of armaments. The arms on Draug's back fell off at the base, and he had trouble breathing. He looked around, but the wolf was nowhere in sight, the only evidence that it existed being the tooth marks in Draug's neck. He walked over to the weapons with a limp, picking them up one by one and letting them sink back into his body. Half of his stored blood was gone now, used up on the beast instead of his opponent. His ability to repair his wounds were diminished, so next time he met Letho he had to be more careful about the damage he sustained.

With the weapons back in his body, he started walking toward the direction Letho took off in. While he was delayed considerably, unless his opponent was forfeiting he was still in the prison somewhere. Draug made his way upstairs, using the trail of dead inmates to guide his path. The use of minions intrigued Draug, and be began thinking about creating his own.

[Ciato Orlouge]

Ciato watched as Letho made his way up the stairs, summoning two wolves in the process. The act caused the Mystic to clap like an excited child, happy to see what new tricks his opponent would perform. He slipped his legs out from their dangling position, standing p straight and grabbing his blade as he stared down the wolf walking towards him. The man and the beast eyed each other like a vulture would a fresh carcass, weary of any dangers that may be hidden.

“What are you waiting for?” Ciato spoke to the animal, a slight smirk across his face, “I’m right here.”

The wolf paused in its advance, sensing something wrong with the scenario. Ciato responded by taking a step forward, causing the creature to bear its fangs and step back. The Mystic continued looking straight into the eyes of the wolf, slowly taking steps forward and causing his bestial foe to lose gradually lose his ground. It wasn’t until the wolf got to the steps that it began to bark towards the encroaching threat.

Each of his steps made the beast growl louder, which in turn made the nobleman quicken his pace. When Ciato had gotten five feet away from the wolf, it made a desperate attack. Its strength and momentum took Ciato down hard to the ground. His head slammed against the metal grating as the beast snapped towards his pristine face. Ciato could feel the heat of the animal, smell the dead animals on the scavenger’s breath. He bent his knees, shoved the wolf off of his form for only a second. The beat landed backwards, but on his feet, and tried again.

This time, however, the animal slammed into an invisible wall, crumpling hard to the floor as a result. The sound of shattering glass filled the entire prison, causing the riots to stop in fear. Many of the men who had been put here in Lornius trembled at this sound, the trademark spell of Ciato’s brother, ‘Silence’ Sei Orlouge. He delivered a swift kick to the ribs of the creature, creating a painful moan to come out of Ravenheart’s familiar. His whole form was now covered head-to-toe in shattered glass fragments.

“Find Ravenheart,” Ciato said, plain as day, to which the crystalline shards shot off in a neatly formed line, seeking out their prey like a transparent snake, not stopping until it swallowed Letho Ravenheart in its piercing bite. Several more howls were echoed throughout the jail, a clear message to the Marshall. “Know today,” Ciato spoke loudly, for all to hear, “That it is an Orlouge who will kill you, Letho Ravenheart!”

With one more quick kick, the dog disappeared, leaving only the blood from its injuries to drip down on those remaining below.

[Letho]

He had gained the final walkway and was en route to charge the door of the control room when he heard it. Even in the clamor of a rioting prison, the whistling sound was easy to recognize, alien to the hubbub that reigned supreme. Letho didn’t know what exactly it was, but it was sharp and it was moving fast, and given the animosity that the Terrinore prison had shown him so far, it was a safe bet that it meant him harm. Stopping in his tracks, he snapped his head around. Though his white eyes resembled that of a blind man, there was nothing wrong with Letho’s vision. And he could see the source of the sound, the faint glimmer of magical shards of glass darting towards him as if guided by an invisible hand. They were undoubtedly zeroed in on his location, covering the last few meters at the speed of an arrow.

And yet Letho stood perfectly still.

At three paces away they seemed to disperse, leaving the single column formation in favor of a scattered one that allowed for a larger area of impact. At two paces they seemed ready to impale just about every vital spot on Letho’s body. And when the distance was no more than a single pace, they simply ceased to exist, vanishing without a trace. Letho allowed another smirk. Such was the fate of all magic in his presence, his condition allowing him to extinguish magical energy in close proximity. And while it made traveling long distances a real bother for he could not use teleports, there were times when this curse came in particularly handy. Paying no more heed to the failed attacks or its possible origin, Letho continued with his plan.

The full metal door of the control room caved inwards after a single hit of his boot, the steel surface bent swinging inwards and crashing against the wall as it made the half circle trip. The room on the other side was a mess. Two desks were upturned and tossed aside amidst heaps of papers covered with unfamiliar faces and unreadable paragraphs. Letho recognized the prisoner files – he had read a fair number of them during his time with the Corone Ranger and even written a few. On the far side of the office, the twin doors of the weapon locker stood ajar, its contents most likely pillaged by the only living person in the room.

The woman that stood bent over a small board covered in switches was anything but attractive. Her straw-blonde hair was matted, the curls greasy and tangled. The face that turned towards him as he made an entrance was covered in bruises and blemished by an old scar that obviously never healed properly. She stared at him with eyes as black as coals.

“And who the hell are you, glowing man?” the woman asked in a raspy contralto. The hand that was flicking switches on the board until a moment ago stopped, dropping to the butt of a revolver stuck into her ragged trousers.

“I am the one who will put an end to this madness,” Letho said. The woman looked unimpressed by his rumbling voice and his massive bulk, smiling as she took a step away from the console.

“Funny thing. The two guards that were in here had the same idea,” she said. Though she looked to stand still, Letho could notice the change in her posture. The slight bent of her knees, the tightening of the tendons in her neck, the minute squint of the eyes. She was a viper readying herself for a strike. “And then I sent them straight to HELL!”

The gun was out in a flash, her fingers skilled enough to cock the hammer even as she brought the revolver up. But by the time she leveled the barrel with Letho's head and pulled the trigger, Letho was no longer there. A human head was a tricky target to hit. Too small, too easy to move out of the way, too hard to hit once it was no longer stationary. She had aimed for his face and hit nothing but air, and by the time she even considered a second shot, the Marshal had closed the distance. He came slicing for her gun hand with the talon on his right gauntlet, but the gun-totting wench was nimble, spinning away and slipping behind him.

Her speed caught Letho by surprise. He had grown complacent, lulled into a sense of superiority while the hacked through maddened prisoners like they were wheat. But this woman was a fighter, and one that would take any chance that was given to her to make a kill. She leapt onto his back, grabbing a hold of the dagger with her free hand and giving it a twist even as she brought the gun towards Letho's temple. The pain grew exponentially, sending lightning bolts across Letho's vision, bringing the big man to one knee. But despite what felt like a jagged piece of hot glass tearing through his flesh, Letho managed to bring his right arm up, trapping the woman's wrist and pushing it away just as she squeezed the trigger. The explosion of the shot was like a thunder of the gods, ringing in his ear for a moment until he could hear no more. With a groan and a heave, he yanked on the hand, throwing the woman forward and off his back. Unsurprisingly, like a cat thrown from a window by an angry housemaid, the woman landed on her feet in a crouch. In her left hand was a bloodied dagger, soaked with Letho's blood.

"I missed you twice now, burning man," the woman said as she rose to full height. She brought the revolver up and leveled it with Letho's midriff. "I won't miss again."

And she was true to her words, unloading the remaining four at Letho's chest, a much easier target to hit. Letho never moved a muscle. The bullets ripped through the flaps of his duster and through his shirt like zipping wasps. But that was as far as they got. It was an old trick, one that Letho had been using since his earliest adventuring days. By wearing his breastplate underneath his clothes, his foes were often taken aback when their hit didn't penetrate, affording him that crucial fraction of a moment to riposte. And with his enhanced strength, he didn't even flinch at the impact as lead ricocheted off the titanium.

Despite the ineffectuality of her attack, the woman didn't panic. She tossed the revolver away in disgust and charged straight at Letho, dagger switching from her left to her right even as she rushed in. But even with one fully functional arm, the Marshal was out of her league once he was ready for her attack. He backpedalled two steps, away from her slash and jab, feigning a counter with a diagonal slash of his right talon. She pivoted to the right, Letho ducked and swept low, and as she did a backwards vault over his sweeping leg, he launched himself forwards, pushing off with his stationary leg. His shoulder connected with her back, the force of his charge and the momentum of his body slamming her against the wall.

The dagger slipped from her fingers from the sheer impact. Her face was crushed against the metal walls of the room, her mouth full of blood and broken teeth. She could feel pain all the way down to the small of her back, but could feel nothing below that point. Pushing her face away from the wall feebly, she tried to speak.

"I... I... surrender..." the woman tried to say.

Letho, whose hand was around the woman's neck, and whose back still flared with pain from the twist she gave the dagger, and whose code of honor made him detest criminals, and whose entire life was dedicated to contain the scum of Althanas, had no mercy to spare.

"Too late, NOW YOU'RE DEAD!" he bellowed. With a swing that made the woman seem weightless in his hand, he threw her out of the same window she threw out the two guards. Justice has been served.

[Abomination]

Draug was starting to express the hint of frustration as he walked into another cell block. The disgusting smells and terrifying sounds had no effect on a creature with diluted senses such as him, although his sense of touch and taste were heightened above the average human. The problem with the dead inmates was that Letho wasn't the only one killing them; they were killing each other. The Homunculus had no hint of where the former Ranger was headed, for all he knew he was hiding in one of these cells. He walked across the cell block, hearing the clanking sounds of inmates begging to be released, groaning in pain on the floor, or laughing maniacally. Most of the stronger inmates had already fled this area, although he passed by a cell where a green-eyed inmate was sitting quietly. With a purple mohawk on his head and prison rags covering his dark brown skin, he seemed content to remain a prisoner. While Draug had already recruited many inmates that didn't immediately assault him, there was nothing stopping him from continuing the previous mission.

"Do you speak?" he asked.

"Speaking is a right afforded to those with a voice," came a reply from the seated man.

Draug ignored the odd reply, "Do you want to live?"

"My wants have nothing to do with this. My life is not in my hands."

The Homunculus did not understand, "What is your desire, then?"

"I have no desires. I am where I should be. Where I deserve to be."

"What is deserve?" The man's face lifted up to this question. "I only know of have and have-not. You have desires, or you do not. If your desire is to die, I can grant that, if it is to live, then I can grant that as well. Which do you choose?" Draug reached into his throat and pulled out a steel sword with his right hand, pointing it at the mohawk man. The sword was drenched in his poisonous blood.

"If you can kill me, go ahead. There is nothing stopping you."

"Very well."

Draug walked up to the man, towering over him with his extended sword-wielding hand. With a swipe, he brought the blade up to the man's neck intending for a clean decapitation, but it was stopped as if repelled by a powerful force. The recoil almost threw the Homunculus off balance, and he took a couple steps back.

The man sighed, "I guess you can't kill me either. How disappointing." Draug tried to reevaluate the situation, but he couldn't understand what stopped his blade. The man looked completely defenseless. "If this prison can't hold me, I suppose I will find one that does. I will take your offer for now, bloodthirsty one." Draug instructed him how to get to the boat which would leave momentarily for The Cult of Blessed Torture, and watched him walk out of the cell and down the stairs at the end of the cell block.

That was when he heard the gunshot. It came from above, and he looked up to see the control room, suspended in the air by wires over the center of the prison complex with various suspended walkways connecting to it. Draug showed the briefest hint of a grin and ran toward the stairs, running up them and following the sound of subsequent gunshots. When he reached the start of the walkway, he saw a woman's body flying out of the window of the room. It finally occurred to him that Letho sought to undo his hard work by locking down the cell blocks. In addition to stabilizing a perfectly fine chaotic situation, it threatened the boat of Blessed Torture recruits in the shore below. He grabbed his steel sword with both hands and starting spinning around like a top with arms extended. While the wires holding the control room were likely strong, any object with enough speed granted the possibility of cutting through them.

He let go of the sword, letting it fly toward the wires.

[Abomination]

The flying sword cut through the wires, sending the control room tumbling toward the hard ground. Draug jumped back off the walkway as it tumbled with the control room, whatever was left of it hanging off the new ledge he was standing on. The Homunculus waited, but it didn't appear that anything was moving in the massive pile of rubble. He couldn't see if Letho escaped or was buried, but it was a reasonable assumption that no mere human could survive that. He still couldn't find his other opponent, but his time was up here. Very soon, the prison would be back under control once mainland Lornius reacted to the events here, and Draug didn't want to waste his time being in the crossfire. He went off to collect Ciato and make his leave.

- - -

On the boat, Haradina watched as The Cult's servants started to pull up anchor and prepare to set sail. The other prisoners gave her some pause, due to some of the most infamous faces showing up and sitting down quietly as if they weren't just locked up in Terrinore.

Suddenly, the boat jolted forward and she lost her balance, crashing her shoulder into a sharp corner. The pain was familiar, yet unfamiliar. She couldn't recall feeling any pain when she was in her cell, no matter what she did.

Blue blood trickled from the wound.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Due to a Player Drop out for Posting, The judge has decreed that Bittersweet is Disqualified.

[Max Dirks]

Solid start. I have very little commentary as the battle never completed.

Judgment

Bittersweet
Letho | Sagequeen

Story - 5 | 2 (Good story development Letho. With just an unconnected introduction from Sagequeen I am unable to score her well here)
Setting - 5 | 2
Pacing - 6 | 2
Communication - 5 | 2
Action - 5 | 1
Persona - 5 | 1
Mechanics - 8 | 5 (Excellent writing from Letho minus a few run-on sentences. Sagequeen's contained some shifts between third person limited and unlimited)
Clarity - 8 | 5
Technique - 6 | 5
Wildcard - 5 | 0
Total - 58 | 25
Team Average - 41.5

League of Nightmares
Homunculus | Ciato Orlogue

Story - 5 | 5
Setting - 5 | 5
Pacing - 5 | 5
Communication - 5 | 4
Action - 5 | 5
Persona - 6 | 6 (Solid development. I was particularly looking forward to a detailed encounter between Letho and Ciato. Hearing Draug's backstory was surprisingly refreshful after seeing none in his finals match)
Mechanics - 7 | 6 (A few extra run-ons from Ciato combined with periodic spelling and grammar mistakes)
Clarity - 6 | 6
Technique - 5 | 5
Wildcard - 5 | 4 (Time penalty from Ciato)
Total - 54 | 52
Team Average - 53

League of Nightmares wins, as you know.

Letho receives 800 EXP
Homunculus receives 4000 EXP
Ciato Orlogue receives 4000 EXP

[Max Dirks]

EXP added!

Homunculus and Ciato Orlouge leveled up!