Round Two: (3) Sore from Sodomy v (8) The Forgotten [Archive]

Storm Veritas

05-19-06, 06:18 PM

Things were never going to be easy for him. Some things had made themselves glaringly obvious to Storm, and this realization was one of them. The fame and fortune he had expected to return to following Serenti had never arrived; instead he returned to a rally of boos, the general quorum realizing that the slippery veteran had won by little more than default. He was a paper champion in their eyes, and the masses would never let him forget it.

Jealous sons of bitches.

Lornius was a cruel place as well. With the aid of the unlikely “friend” Zephyriah, he had handily defeated his first opponent, a game but outmatched single newcomer. The victory was once again hollow, and the applause vacuous. There had been no satisfaction yet again. Looking about at the long, bold gazes, Storm realized that these plebeians would never gaze upon one of the “true” champions with the bravery that they used to bore through him.

Nothing had given him the same satisfaction since he returned. The whiskey tasted stale, the cigarettes lacked bite, and the women lacked fervor. He longed for the days of being “new”, when he could shock the world with a victory over the weakest of warriors, yet gained respect with each transient survival.

But those days are f*cking gone, man, and we’ve got to move on. Hell comes back every morning, a new day, some new punk to try to take the crown away.

Another pull from his cigarette, and the wiry mage simple smiled. For all of it’s supposed grandeur and excitement, the assigned battlegrounds of Lornius seemed awfully clandestine. He leaned against the lamp-post as he examined the “arena”; merely a haphazardly strewn forty-foot circle surrounding the cobblestone street. Pedestrians lingered through, and there was nary an official to be found. To make matters worse, it was f*cking hot, and the sun beat down on the cobbles, warming them to stove-top temperature and burning the undersoles of his leather shoes. Black was a bad choice, but he couldn’t force himself to dress in white, and the tans and leathers were the clothes of the same lower class that he had grown to loathe.

Enough of this. Let’s f*cking go already.

The sun was getting high and shadows short; noon had to come soon. At some point, his teammate Zephyriah would come bouncing in, no doubt somersaulting out of a canoe or perhaps flying out some shop window on fire. The power of the beastly demon was matched only by his flair for the dramatic and lack of common sense.

Zephyriah

05-20-06, 03:25 AM

Several days had passed since the conclusion of the rather disappointing first round of this tournament. The circumstances were already arduous for me. Not only did the elderly executive within the upper echelons of the Serenti board use methods of coercion to insert me into this duo competition with a man that I found unfavorable, but the altercation between the pitiful team known as “The Ringers” was anything less than exciting, due to one of the members pulling a “no-show”. Veritas in all of his selfishness attempted to steal what was rightfully my spotlight despite it being quite obvious that I was a major reason why he was able to defeat our last opponent. I dwelled on this fact for some time but came to the realization that my exasperation towards Storm was nothing but the result of pent up frustration over not being able to free my mother from the abduction of the Serenti executives. This truth was tough to bear, but I found solace in this town’s bar, more specifically in the liquor.

Back in my home region, by me being twenty one years of age, I was considered old enough to be able to handle a “man’s drink” as my father used to say when I was but a young boy. However, I never found alcohol to be all that soothing or refreshing to let slide down the back of my tongue and into my throat, unless I was emotionally distressed like I was now. If anything, it brought me back to stability when suffering from these emotional frustrations so that I wouldn’t lose my mind and start off on a vicious killing spree, gutting open those who really had nothing to do with me. Never did I go over board with beverages though, but I would definitely let the liquor take its toll on me before stopping. In some bars it was difficult to simply drink and relax since there was always some imbecile youth, middle-aged, or elderly person that felt compelled to be a nuisance. In every instance someone with a mind set similar to my own would approach these annoying individuals engaging in fist fights with them which usually killed my mood. But, it was much better that someone else would always get to these fools rather than to let them come within my personal space.

The people here seemed to have a more subtle, mellow way about them which made me feel extremely comfortable. The bartender didn’t ask any ridiculous questions when I asked him to mix two drinks that ought not to be mixed; rather he did what he was told and kept his mouth shut. “Lovely. I should really give this guy a reward of some sort for being one of the few employees of any establishment that hasn’t pissed me off.” In fact, I was beginning to feel that way about every single individual present; being here, you knew that you weren’t alone, but if you dwelled within your own milieu, it was just as comforting. I much preferred the solitude and was quite thankful that everyone else respected that. But, my tune quickly changed when I was approached by a man donning a black collared shirt, khaki pants, and dress shoes. He looked like he’d just come from a date with his mistress and stopped here to get a few drinks in him before the return home to his wife.

“Hey stranger,” He gently said, motioning to the barkeep for a drink. “Haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new?”

“……..I guess you could say that.” I hoped that by the tone of my voice he’d understand that I didn’t want to be bothered, but by him not budging and inch, I knew that he had not caught on. Being firm with him was indeed an option, but in no way was I in the right frame of mind to do battle if need be. Muscles were far to relaxed to wield a sword efficiently.
“Ah, the quiet type eh? Well that’s alright, I understand. I’m just talkative and like to make conversation with people that I haven’t seen before.”

“So I take it you’ve met everyone else in this bar already?” I sarcastically stated.

“Nah, there would be no point. None of them are nearly as interesting as you or you’re situation….….Zephyriah.”

“Heh, liar. So much for you saying you’ve never seen me around here before.”

“Oh no, I really haven’t. But I saw you’re reaction back at the Piston’s Pleasure Palace when you found out that we had your mother captive.”
Hearing this man’s comments and watching that sly grin creep upon his face, I sprung up from my bar stool and attempted to unsheathe my sword. Yet before the blade could be removed from its scabbard, the sharply dressed fellow pulled a syringe from his shirt pocket and jammed it into my neck. Its effects were nonexistent at first, but shortly after my vision became blurry and the world seemed like it was spinning all around me.
“Argh…what did you do to me!?” Frantically, I swung my sword around, trying to connect blows with this new adversary. The sound of glass shattering, wood splitting, and people screaming in panic was what hit my ears vociferously. I could hear the bartender screaming for bodyguards, but my attacker had demanded that no additional members be added to this fiasco for he ensured that he could handle it.

“Now you listen to me Zephyriah,” His powerful fist connected with my jaw, causing my blade to fly out of my hand and my body to flop to the ground. “Do you really think that Mr. Raizo would leave you to your own devices here?”

“R…Raizo?”

“Yeah, Raizo. You know, the old guy that beat the living crap out of you back at the Piston’s Pleasure Palace. He sent me to keep tabs on you to make sure you were following orders. And for right now you’re doing well. You’re cooperating with Storm your assigned partner, and you haven’t tried to flee Lornius. If you proceed in following the rules, then Mr. Raizo has promised to release your mother from captivity.”

“You….bastards…..I’m going to kill…..you…all…”

“Now Zephyriah, clearly that’s the liquor talking. Maybe you should just retire for the night……….”

* *
~

I awoke in an alleyway some time in midday to the blistering, boiling heat of a vengeful, unforgiving afternoon. Steam rose from any area where there was open water, while the smell of melted leather, chocolate, or ice cream conquered me smelling sense. This heat was clearly unnatural, almost as if amplified by the gods in an act of vengeance towards Storm and I and all the evil I’d done. Inserting that elderly woman in the heat of last round’s action must’ve been the final straw for the thaynes, for watching that woman being ripped apart like pig meat was a sight that those of faint or compassionate heart needed not to see. “How in the world did I get here?” Clearly that was the question ringing in my head in conjunction with a loud noise that surely was the after effect of the alcohol that’d I’d drank the night prior. But then it came to me. “Argh….Raizo and his henchmen….” They were the cause for my misfortune, and that Serenti spy from last night had tossed me out here while I was still intoxicated and drugged. Never in my life had I’d been the puppet of any individual, yet with Raizo and his goons, I had no choice if I intended on saving mother.

But why did I even care? Mother and I didn’t have the best encounter last time, for she cared not when her paladins were dragging me through the forest trails of Concordia, accusing me of all types of heinous crimes. She was going to turn her cheek and let them execute me unjustly! That alone should’ve been enough reason to let these manipulators do whatever they wanted with mother. However, I simply didn’t have it in me to leave her fate in the hands of those money hungry men. “They will all taste my wrath!”

Moving along, trying to regain my balance, I walked through the cobblestone streets of this town until I came to an open spot where Storm, of all people happened to be. He was looking quite pitiful, similar to one’s average Radasanthian hoodlum that’d at one time stolen good clothes and never washed them after repeated use. “You should really put that cigarette out,” I said, not even bothering to greet him in any kind of friendly manner. “You’re endurance is laughable as is, and overall you look like hell. Do you really want to destroy yourself any further?”