Logan
01-24-08, 10:12 PM
Ok, this battle is open to players who will post at least once per day (and yes, I will post just as frequently). I am demanding a high level of quality in each post and will do my best to ensure I keep up my end of the battle. I want this to be good enough for others to take notice and desire to read it. So if you think you are up for the challenge...read on and take heed. This will not be easy and will require communication with me over AIM daily -- scr101282. You can PM me if you cant reach me on AIM, too.
Death. It wasn't something Logan ever truly took lightly. It was true that anyone who died within the confines of the Citadel's magic would awaken with nary a scar or wound with which to remember the battle they had fought by. Yet, still each death held a strange attachment for him. Every darkened moment of unconsciousness caught the veteran off-guard and ill-prepared for it's all encompassing feeling. It truly seemed like it was real and permanent each and every time. Yet, somehow the permanence and realness always seemed to fade as Logan returned to consciousness within the care of the monks.
It was this very thing that had brought Logan once more to the gigantic archway that led to the vast expanse of hallways that twisted and winded their way throughout the spralling Citadel. The monstrosity was really nothing more than a huge temple which contained hundreds, if not thousands, of highly skilled and highly magikal monks of Gol'Bron. However, even it's hugeness Logan never once became lost or confused. Every time he entered he either sensed where he needed to go or the monks would ensure he found his destination with little wasted time between. Perhaps that was one of the most alluring features of the Citadel.
Or maybe it was the capability to create or recreate any chosen atmosphere, setting, landscape, memory, etc. Many of the Citadel's most frequent warriors had requested recreations of the past for more than mere enjoyment. It was truly a marvel to return to a point in time when one made a choice or a choice was made and see the all-encompassing effects it truly had. Everyone wants to know what their future holds, and in some small twisted way the Citadel offered that opportunity in a very unique way. It was possible to return to a choice made and having already lived the effects of the choice also return to the emotions and relive the choice. One truly could know the future in the confines of the magikal Citadel. It had to have been a part of the reason the structure was erected in the first place. This, too played a role in the veteran's appearance at the Citadel that day.
Logan's entrance under the archway was stopped abruptly short by a small, pudgy man who happened to be in such a big hurry that he plower the psion over and just continued on without noticing. The psion laid on the cold limestone walkway for a moment just staring blankly up into the vastness of the sky overhead. He rose slowly and carefully before turning around to try and spot his assailant, but it was to no avail. Dusting himself off with his hands, the psion turned back to the entryway and began his quest to enter once more. A few seconds later and he found himself within the walls of the Citadel as a smile washed over his face. Something about this place always made the veteran smile, but he could never quite put his finger on what it was. He turned to one of the monks who seemed less pre-occupied than the others as he asked aloud, "Sir? Might I be directed as to where the arena I requested has been erected?"
The monk looked up from the counter he was standing behind and adjusted his glasses. He was an older monk, one whom Logan could've sworn he'd seen before and probably even knew. After a few moments of looking the smiling psion up and down, the monk nodded and pointed at a small, but sturdy looking wooden door. "Mr. McCloud, over there you will find the arena just as you requested. Though, we did elect to make one small, teeny-tiny adjustment to your request. We do not believe this will be an issue for you, as everything else is exactly to your specifications," the older monk responded rather kindly, almost grandfatherly. Logan nodded. He had learned it was simply less trouble to just leave the monks to their work even if occassionally some small detail was just slightly off. After all, they had thousands of arenas to conjure up every minute, and who was this lowly psion to question that?
He made his way without much interference to the door the monk had pointed at and with one hefty push he had opened it. As he entered into the arena he had chosen for this fight he couldn't contain his jubilation. When his feet had touched the ground within the arena he let out a small cheer. As unusual as it was for the psion to do such an improper thing, it was known to happen on occassion. It was at that moment that Logan felt the first few drops of the rain. He stepped deeper into the arena and as he shut the door behind him he heard the sound of the rolling thunder not so far away. Flashes of light glowed all around him and the water began to pelt him incessently. The rain would not stop this day. At least, not until the battle to be waged had claimed it's victim and it's victor.
The psion smiled as his hands ran over the hilts of his blades. It was perfect...
Or was it?
Death. It wasn't something Logan ever truly took lightly. It was true that anyone who died within the confines of the Citadel's magic would awaken with nary a scar or wound with which to remember the battle they had fought by. Yet, still each death held a strange attachment for him. Every darkened moment of unconsciousness caught the veteran off-guard and ill-prepared for it's all encompassing feeling. It truly seemed like it was real and permanent each and every time. Yet, somehow the permanence and realness always seemed to fade as Logan returned to consciousness within the care of the monks.
It was this very thing that had brought Logan once more to the gigantic archway that led to the vast expanse of hallways that twisted and winded their way throughout the spralling Citadel. The monstrosity was really nothing more than a huge temple which contained hundreds, if not thousands, of highly skilled and highly magikal monks of Gol'Bron. However, even it's hugeness Logan never once became lost or confused. Every time he entered he either sensed where he needed to go or the monks would ensure he found his destination with little wasted time between. Perhaps that was one of the most alluring features of the Citadel.
Or maybe it was the capability to create or recreate any chosen atmosphere, setting, landscape, memory, etc. Many of the Citadel's most frequent warriors had requested recreations of the past for more than mere enjoyment. It was truly a marvel to return to a point in time when one made a choice or a choice was made and see the all-encompassing effects it truly had. Everyone wants to know what their future holds, and in some small twisted way the Citadel offered that opportunity in a very unique way. It was possible to return to a choice made and having already lived the effects of the choice also return to the emotions and relive the choice. One truly could know the future in the confines of the magikal Citadel. It had to have been a part of the reason the structure was erected in the first place. This, too played a role in the veteran's appearance at the Citadel that day.
Logan's entrance under the archway was stopped abruptly short by a small, pudgy man who happened to be in such a big hurry that he plower the psion over and just continued on without noticing. The psion laid on the cold limestone walkway for a moment just staring blankly up into the vastness of the sky overhead. He rose slowly and carefully before turning around to try and spot his assailant, but it was to no avail. Dusting himself off with his hands, the psion turned back to the entryway and began his quest to enter once more. A few seconds later and he found himself within the walls of the Citadel as a smile washed over his face. Something about this place always made the veteran smile, but he could never quite put his finger on what it was. He turned to one of the monks who seemed less pre-occupied than the others as he asked aloud, "Sir? Might I be directed as to where the arena I requested has been erected?"
The monk looked up from the counter he was standing behind and adjusted his glasses. He was an older monk, one whom Logan could've sworn he'd seen before and probably even knew. After a few moments of looking the smiling psion up and down, the monk nodded and pointed at a small, but sturdy looking wooden door. "Mr. McCloud, over there you will find the arena just as you requested. Though, we did elect to make one small, teeny-tiny adjustment to your request. We do not believe this will be an issue for you, as everything else is exactly to your specifications," the older monk responded rather kindly, almost grandfatherly. Logan nodded. He had learned it was simply less trouble to just leave the monks to their work even if occassionally some small detail was just slightly off. After all, they had thousands of arenas to conjure up every minute, and who was this lowly psion to question that?
He made his way without much interference to the door the monk had pointed at and with one hefty push he had opened it. As he entered into the arena he had chosen for this fight he couldn't contain his jubilation. When his feet had touched the ground within the arena he let out a small cheer. As unusual as it was for the psion to do such an improper thing, it was known to happen on occassion. It was at that moment that Logan felt the first few drops of the rain. He stepped deeper into the arena and as he shut the door behind him he heard the sound of the rolling thunder not so far away. Flashes of light glowed all around him and the water began to pelt him incessently. The rain would not stop this day. At least, not until the battle to be waged had claimed it's victim and it's victor.
The psion smiled as his hands ran over the hilts of his blades. It was perfect...
Or was it?