Task v. Lorenor

[Taskmienster]

On a throne of smooth oak I waited, a cigarette between my fingers and a glass of hundred year old brandy in the other. The room that the Ai’Bron exiles gave me was cozy, not overly elaborate or poorly thrown together. My walls were lined with books on one side, those with I would never read, and expertly created tapestries on the other. To my back, on the other side of my chair, was a large window that let in the warm sunshine and cast a beautiful golden glow throughout the room. Objects of little interest rested on a desk never used. Small orbs of what looked like crystal lined the top of the cherry oak, the light that struck them streaking through and creating rainbow patterns on the opposite wall. A single small stack of paper rested on main tabletop portion, neatly organized mostly due to the fact that I had never touched them. I closed my eyes and took another sip of the brandy, letting the warm liquid flow through my body. It was the antithesis of an adrenaline rush, a calming touch that spread through my veins. When I opened my eyes I saw the golden room for what it was; fool’s gold.

The entire process of the Dajas Pagoda was just like the room, cast in the false light of perfection. It was a none-so-gentle reminder that there were things in this world, Althanas, which were given a pretty face but had an ugly undertone to them. The Pagoda was a place run by the outcast of the Citadel, monks well versed in the arts of illusion and healing spells. They were a very interesting lot, and their tasks I had come to know well. In order to find oneself not only in the position I was in, but in the luxury of the Ai’Bron’s hospitality one would first have to fight. A bloody path of victory, carved through multiple people, would always offer the utmost opulence.

I, however, knew that it was all a farce. I normally sat in the common room of the Pagoda, watching the waves of challengers pick the lowest tier hierarchy, a warrior, to face off against. They came in eager and cocksure, but it was not so easy to gain the first tier, even more difficult to advance beyond that. Those happy faces and strong bodied were often sent away without a scratch on their persons, but a bruised ego that could not be fixed by magic. Some people just took things, especially this world, far too seriously sometimes.

Bruised egos were to be expected, casting doubt on yourself and your abilities was just childish. I find this truth to be, beyond anything else, the most important to remember. Those that take Althanas to heart are those that are easily broken in real life, those that cannot stand to be put down in a game because they cannot stand up for themselves outside of it. Althanas is a virtual reality game, a world of magic and swords; I am just one character in a sea of thousands to roam it. To me it is little more than a pastime, a place to relax and get away from Earth, so to speak. Others, they seem to take it beyond that and make it like Earth, make it a reality far more than they make their own pathetic lives outside of the server.

“Ethan?” The voice came before the knock. The door slid open without a sound, the joints carefully oiled and regularly maintained. Through the door a tall man appeared, dressed in the casual robes of the Ai’Bron brotherhood he bowed his head thoughtfully. I could not for the life of me remember his name; though he had attended to me after the past three fights I had joined in. A pleasant man, he was always jovial and upbeat despite his job as a healer in a world of combat. “There is a challenge waiting for you. Your arena is prepared already, and your opponent is being informed as well. I know you have not had luck, in a way, as of late regarding who you are fighting. This one should prove interesting though and offer you quite a challenge.”

~*~

My arena of choice was an intricate one not only for myself but for any opponent that found their way there as well. I let my empty hands tug at the leather jacket I had come to be known for, putting it into a place of comfort so the secreted blades could be easily accessed. Its smooth surface was always unscathed, always a dull black color and left unzipped. Around the collar of the jacket was a lining of white fur, neither it nor the leather from any animal. I straightened my tight denim pants and let adjusted the large belt buckle that was always kept to the side. Many knew me for my strange style, but it was only strange in the low fantasy setting of Althanas. On Earth it was a style that many had come to accept and embrace, one that I had been dressing like for years.

A cool chill ran through the clock tower that was my chosen arena, a slight wind that hardly moved through the gut of the tower. If I turned any direction I could not see far through the darkness of the inside and the scattered titanium rods that let the clock work. Walls lined the colossal belly of the mechanical best; the only one that was obviously present was the face. Two hands, the smallest being twice my height moved slowly across the frosted glass. I moved to the white surface and touched it with an open palm, the cold night and the frost bitten lands on the other side of the glass ‘wall’ cooling me as I waited.

What was it that the monk meant by ‘quite a challenge’? What was I going to be fighting? Hopefully not another female warrior like those I had encountered so frequently in the Citadel of Radasanth. I also hoped that it was not another opponent that could not last till the end of the bout; another disappointment would be the final proverbial straw on the camel’s back. I had dealt with enough strange opponents, weak opponents, and those that could not finish the bout. Hopefully the person or thing that challenged me would prove to be one that could finally offer me a true, complete fight and give me the full right to be in the seat of the Warrior tier.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Out of a hat, Lorenors' name was pulled. He was just one of the many jailed prisoners that were recently caught by the Corone Empire. Deported all over the world to various prison establishments, Lorenor was unlucky enough to end up in the Dajas Pagoda. His sentence was clear. Execution. Like so many other revolutionaries in Corone, the short warrior was caught during a recent skirmish. Attempting to raze a village during a raid against the Empire was apparently serious business. So he was taken, arrested, interrogated and tortured. They used a technique known as waterboarding. It was most unpleasant but in the end, he'd revealed nothing. They'd asked about the secret plans of the Red Hand. They asked about trade routes, and the location of a secret township. Lorenor said nothing. He never once snitched, he never once squealed. No matter what torture they put him through, the mutant hung tough throughout the whole process. They had nothing on him. With wanted posters stapled to walls all over Corone's bars, pubs, and taverns, the mutant could not step foot in a civilized city without repercussion.

Which is why he began to hide his appearance. Dressing like a dignitary from Salvar had its advantages apparently. Corone wanted nothing to do with an international incident that could trigger a war with Salvar and its allies. However, the disguise served to protect him very little as he was caught on a recent mission to raze the village of Selkia Surak. ( http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=18775) That campaign ended in disaster after a third party revealed themselves in the middle of what was certain to be a one sided victory. He was caught, arrested, and turned over to the Empire. Now, he stared at the clock-tower as they lead him and several other revolutionaries to their fate. The mutant held his head low to his chest. He was still recovering from the many injuries that he'd undergone once they found out the full strength of his regeneration capabilities. Normal injuries and weak injuries healed quickly on their own with more serious injuries taking quite a bit of time.

As Lorenor walked with the rest of the group, he had a heavy heart. The heavy binds on his wrists and his ankles where holding him in place. "Stop." A nearby guard commanded, and the group, Lorenor included, stopped all movement. Resistance was pointless by now, there was no escape. These guards were amongst the elite in the Knights of Dawn and had specialty training. They were sent to capture Lorenor dead or alive. And so, Lorenor, along with twenty other prisoners were being sent to the maximum security prison located somewhere near the Dajas Pagoda. The Knights of Dawn were in full operation these days as they attempted to crush the rebels of the Civil War, and capture those who still followed the old gods. Lorenor wore a loose prisoner's outfit and had a number etched on his arm like a tattooed symbol. This number was a unique code given to each prisoner that was part of the prisoner census lists. They were forced to walk from place to place. Lorenor's feet were burning and heavily calloused from the long journey.

Sweat freely poured down his back. The suit of that the prisoners wore was all earth-tone brown. They didn't wear any shoes, and they didnt wear any gloves. On their wrist was a heavy metal binding made of masterwork plynt. The chains were green, weighed a ton, and were dragged by the entire group. Each prisoner was linked to the chain. "The Dajas Pagoda." The man said to the group. Lorenor winced as if he had been smacked hard across the face. He'd been to the Pagoda a few times in his life, and was once a member of the warrior's tier under a different set of circumstances. The revolutionary was tired of walking and just wanted to face his destiny, whatever it might be. "Under penal code 77562-4410 of Coronian Empire's Civil Liberties Commission. You prisoners have been found guilty of high treason against the Empire. As of the recent laws of the Empire you may attempt to fight for your freedom in the Pagoda. You are sentenced to immediate combat in the Pagoda for your life and will continue to fight there until you are killed. That is your sentence." The guards kept cold eyes on the prisoners to make sure that none of them attempted anything.

"How do you plead?" The guard asked.

Some prisoners began to cry at the horrible fate that awaited them. But one of the did not. One of them simply stared at the clock-tower where a hierarch awaited. He clenched his jaw tightly and just wanted this nightmare over with. He had his artifacts with him, and they'd allowed him to keep his books. After all, to those that could not read the Necronomicon, the books would appear as nothing but gibberish. Currently though, the books were useless to the mutant except to provide a source of comfort. He thought about how he carried the N'Jal Protocol within his body. With the sunlight beating down on his person, the mutant was greatly weakened despite the suit that he wore underneath his jump suit. The guards were clever and discovered the mutant's inherent weaknesses relatively quickly. They flashed a lamp of pure light right in his face to keep him in line, until the mutant became not more than a submissive creature. All sense of resistance was gone for the time being.

The Salvarn Lord named Lorenor looked up at the clocktower for a long moment. He didn't even notice the approach of one of the warrior monks. They were a part of the Order of Ai'Bron and served to maintain the facilities of the Dajas Pagoda with their great power. Lorenor thought back to one of the earlier times he ventured into the Pagoda and fought the man named Joshua Cronen. That had been an intense battle for the mutant and he knew that this one would be too. He prayed in silence to the dark lady known as the N'Jal Protocol. Walking towards his position, the guards unlocked him and several other prisoners from the main chain. It seemed that there was someone already waiting for a battle. Lorenor's name had been pulled from a hat literally and handed over to the Monks as a potential challenger. The guards saw fit to punish Lorenor in accordance to his power level. The mutant was pulled along by the Monk's magics. The monks' general appearance was a blur to Lorenor. As were the Coronian Empire's guards.

Lorenor was being pulled by the magic alongside a contingency of monks.

"Your equipment will be confiscated. You will fight with this. It's a standard issue."

Lorenor was handed a weapon, even as they unlocked his chains. He was lead towards the inner depths of the clock tower. There, a single man awaited the mutant. His chains were unlocked, and he was roughly pushed onto the ground. The mutant grimaced and made a face, glad that he was finally free. Despite that temporary respite, he found himself in the dire situation of having to fight for his life now. They threw a single sword at his person that was kept within a simple scabbard. The sword was a steel spatha sword in the design of the Dajas Pagoda arsenal. Lorenor was too tired to give the weapon a proper appraisal. The effects of the sun greatly weakened him and the intense suffocating heat strangely reminded the mutant of the fires of Haidia. As he stared at his opponent, he reached for his weapon and grabbed it. Standing up, pain coursed through his entire body making his knees feel like they were going to explode. Blood stains were visible on his jump suit. The mutant looked very strange indeed.

He held the spatha weapon in his hand and felt the discomforting weight of the purposefully heavy weapon. It was made of a heavy steel alloy that was meant to drag the wielder's arms down. Great. Thanks a lot ye bastards. Lorenor looked at his opponent. "So ye art the lad I am to fight? Very well then let's get this over with. The name's Lorenor. Though that doesn't matter much at this point since I am to face certain death." The mutant said matter-of-factly. He pulled the spatha from its scabbard and tossed the scabbard aside with what strength he could muster. Something about the Dajas Pagoda prevented the mutant from depending on his connection to the Endless. This was not a good development. He had to fight on uneven grounds. Lorenor was standing roughly a few paces away from his opponent facing his front side. Gears churned in the large chamber making a lot of noise. Chains rattled as they lifted machines up the various levels of the tower. Lorenor's hand shook violently as he held the weapon tightly. He held it pointed to the ground, the heavy weight was uncomfortable for him. He was a trained swordsman, but this was a very unfair advantage. He would have to make due and fight hand to hand if the need arose. "Let's make mine last moments interesting shalt we?"

"To THE GREAT NETHER WITH THEE!" And Lorenor began the battle by running towards Ethan unexpectedly.

[Taskmienster]

The… thing that was so roughly brought before me as my opponent was a reminder of the darkness that held a golden façade. It was covered in caked over blood, already beaten before it arrived. Standing only five feet tall, it was by far one of the shortest humanoid adversaries I had been forced to fight. Stocky and muscular, it probably at one time would have been a great challenge. Circumstance was always in flux though, and the means by which he was brought before me was not a self-appointed challenge, but one forced on him. I could not help but feel remorse for the ugly creature. He had not chosen to fight me, was not offered the same benefits as other’s that sought the warrior tier that I had. Tossed into conflict, with a weapon that was not his own, I assumed as much by the way it held the sword, this thing was fighting for its life and freedom.

I had heard tell by others that had been in the Pagoda longer than I that it was sometimes used for the punishment of criminals. A barbaric practice as far as I was concerned. Many had said that the best fights that they had encountered had come at the hands of one who was not allowed to choose to fight or not. Perhaps it was the philosophy of the caged animal that made the captured being so fierce? I could only assume that being put with their back to the wall and their lives at stake made the imprisoned that much more dangerous. I, however, was not one that so willingly took the life of someone, especially if they did not have a choice in fighting me. No matter what their crimes were before they entered the Pagoda by force, I did not believe that the place of fighting was to be used as a place of execution as well.

Instead of drawing weapons and preparing for the fight I stepped away from the creature. At my back the click and grind of precise mechanisms kept a methodical rhythm, a technologically created harmonious tune. It was not a comforting melody. Precision guided timework continued indefinitely, always moving and never changing. The bolted bars and levers stretched like a metallic spiders-web, a trap for any who decided to attempt to escape further into the depths of machinery. There were a few tricks I had learned from the first time I had come to fight in this place, which rods were not bolted and which chains moved and when. It was still no place I enjoyed fighting in. The hands that moved were counting down, no longer waiting for my demise but instead for that of this man, Lorenor.

Click

The big hand moved one sudden jolt, and the words of the creature before me were barely audible above the scream of moving chains. The metallic clattering was a cacophony that struck every minute, tearing through the serenity of the peaceful precision. I had not been able to respond before my opponent charged with his sword, the blade weighted to give me a distinct advantage. Instead of removing my daggers I bounded backwards. No aerial expertise or fluid acrobatics to show off; simply escape and move. The sword clashed with the metal beams that I had been leaning on, a strong blow that would have easily rendered me incapable of further fighting.

“Lorenor,” I said as I tucked myself further into the web of rods and beams. “I don’t know what you’ve come here for, or why you were sentences to the Pagoda. I do not agree that they should use this place as a means of execution of prisoners. I would simply like to extend a greeting before we continue as opponents. My name is Ethan, and I am the first tier in the Pagoda, a Warrior rank opponent.”

The things dreadlocked hair hung around his thick shoulders, the greasy mess disgusting. I touched my own hair, felt the unnatural spike of black and white streaked locks standing tall despite the bars that attempted to push them down. Through the crisscrossed arms of titanium and dehlar my blue-gray eyes met his, for a second I was left without a thought. The purple haze where his eyes should have been was set deep in his sockets, back behind where an orb should have been. They were a soft amethyst color, but weak and wavering. Perhaps it was the abuse he had suffered before coming to the Pagoda that made them seem weaker, or perhaps the spirit of the man was broken already. The later would be a pity, for the breaking the spirit of a warrior was a hard task to accomplish in a fight, but a necessity in order to win. To have a broken soul come to a place of war was like giving an amputee a sword to fight with.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Lorenor's weapon rebounded off a titanium rod. Normally, the steel would have completely shattered given the momentum behind the mutant's sprint. Instead, only a few small pieces of the blade were torn off the main piece. Lorenor growled audibly as he realized that on top of everything else, they gave him a poor quality weapon to boot. Seeing that his opponent had moved completely out of the way of his attack the mutant took a few steps backwards himself. He breathed heavily, feeling acid pumping through his heart. He clutched at his chest and felt the sword drop. A loud clang resonated from the weapon hitting the floor underneath him. Lorenor fell down to one knee and clutched at his burning chest.

It was not a ploy. The severe torture and abuse was taking its toll on the mutant. Blood poured freely down his arm staining the metallic sheen of the floor beneath him. He looked up at Ethan's general position. The man had honor. Lorenor respected that. "Thou wouldst not obey Empirical law and kill me? Thou art an unusual fellow. Like I said earlier, mine name is Lorenor. Forgive mine current state of appearance...I have been in prison now for quite sometime."

Try as Lorenor might, the Endless simply would not and could not respond to his call. Without the Endless at his disposal, the mutant felt alone and terrified. He doubted sincerely he could survive. Lorenor was prepared to face his death as he would any other match. He remembered suddenly fighting that bastard chef, Cristoph. Shivering visibly, the mutant managed to find the strength to stand on wobbling knees. His pectoral muscles rose and fell with each breath from his tired lungs. Every ounce of him hurt.

Lorenor ripped off the top portion of his jump suit to reveal the musculature beneath. Hidden injuries were now visible as various scars from the lashes of the whip were torn through his chest and abdomens. His back was equally scarred with various implements of torture. After the waterboarding incidents, he was still having trouble breathing. The water torture was particularly unpleasant and made the mutant recall various dangerous days in his life.

The violence was all he knew. He followed the will of N'Jal and was only training to become a skilled Spider Magi. Lorenor's ambitions had lead him to this position in his life, first a wanted enemy of the Corone Empire, and then secondly, a prisoner of the Corone Empire. Why he was offered a chance at freedom? Lorenor would never know. The mutant took several deep breaths and looked at the sword he was given. It was now completely useless to him. The dull sheen had become even duller, and the sword's blade was broken in several places. It would shatter from another missed blow at any moment. Lorenor kicked the blade causing it to fall into the deeper section of the monstrous machine.

Turning his attention back to Ethan, the mutant sighed anew. "I've been here before under various circumstances. Ye must be a new warrior then. Ye art very honorable. I shalt enjoy our meeting then." Lorenor pointed at Ethan with the metallic bracer attached to his right arm. He clenched his fist and moved into a much more controlled fighting stance. Lorenor had a hard time concentrating with all of the noise in the tower.

[Taskmienster]

I strained to listen to the haggard creatures voice, the volume barely audible as the chains and cog movement resonated through the confined space. The lackluster tone was one of weakness, as much physical as mental. The speech pattern he spoke in though, it was a unique blend of Earth’s Olde-English and the Althanas common tongue. It was a difficult dialect to sift through and pick apart, especially when the words spoken were those not used by anyone from my world for centuries. I understood what he said though, despite the noise and the unique language. “Do not worry about the Emperor’s laws; I’m not one to care too much for them. You’re in Scara Brae anyway, this place is outside of the Corone borders, and though allied should not be doing whatever the usurping powers of the other island command.”

If the Ai’Bron of the Pagoda were listening, let them. I did not care for their views on the world, nor their lack of appreciation for the establishment they tended. Nearly forgotten outcasts, the monks that thrived on illusions and healing were far too caring in regards to what their brothers of the Citadel thought. It was sickening to think that they could be controlled so easily. They had no honor, what little that meant in the world of Althanas, I saw them only as sniveling lapdogs trying for so long to regain the favor of their masters.

As the man removed his clothing, I took a step forward. I could see the lines of blood already grooved into his skin. The cuts were shallow at best, but seemed to drip the dark blood of the shorter man like venom. I could tell he had been beaten quite thoroughly. Lashes had torn through his dark skin, opening gashed across his body. For a split second he put both his hands aside, dropping his shirt. To me, he looked like a blasphemous picture of the ultimate martyr. The symbol of the outstretched arms and tattered flesh was the only similarity though. Lorenor was a wicked, horrendous smelling mutated human, not a living deity.

No more talking was necessary, I had not come to do battle with words but with the steel edges of my multiple daggers. They waited anxiously up either sleeve, and I quickly formed a strategy. The first part would be all too similar to the way I began most fights, a simple strategy in order to force the opponent to be careful from that point on. A dagger fell to either hand, the smooth steel ends of the plain blades comfortably fitting in my cupped palms. It was a feeling that I relished, beyond any other in the synthetic world of Althanas.

My arms whirled and the daggers were sent. The first was thrown by my left hand, at Lorenor’s right side. I wanted to make him move; force him to chose a path. The second dagger was thrown towards his left side. If he dodged the first to the opposite side, the second dagger would dig deep. If he did not move to avoid either, they were close enough to catch him should he turn sideways. A simple strategy, one I did not expect to catch an experienced warrior with.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

A simple strategy indeed. Lorenor felt the daggers rapidly approaching more than he actually saw the man physically throw them. They streaked towards his position. The mutant was too tired, too burnt out to mount a proper counter offensive. He tried calling the Endless but they would not respond due to the physical pain the host body was in. Lorenor was at a loss. He found himself coming up with a half-assed plan to evade the incoming attack. He shimmied to the left. Normally, such a movement would take the mutant clearly out of the path of the thrown daggers.

But these were not normal circumstances. Lorenor twisted to his side in order to take the weapons where it would cause the least amount of damage.

One of the daggers struck him in dead in the brachialis region of his arm. The other, narrowly avoided, slashed across his already injured back. It drew more blood and visibly stung the mutant. That dagger continued on its flight path, blood dripping from its serrated edges. Flying towards some moving gears, the dagger bounced uselessly off the center of the brass object and fell off into an abyss of machines.

With his back freshly bleeding, as well as his left arm, the mutant sighed audibly. He took his working hand and proceeded to pull the dagger out of his arm. There was a terrible sound as the object was pulled. The mutant tossed the blade off to the side. He didn't want to disrespect Ethan by stealing one of his precious weapons. Lorenor clutched at his left arm with the right, the cold metallic feel of the bracer making him hurt even more.

He was in a really bad situation now.

Lorenor realized that he was going to get cut to pieces if he didn't act as soon as he possibly could. He stared at Ethan for a moment. The time had come for the mutant to prove himself! Blood freely flowed down his arm now rendering it all but useless. He had to depend on his right arm. The torn flesh at his back stung like crazy adding to the collection of scars and injuries he already had. Due to the nature of the injuries, his regenerative powers were out of commission until Lorenor could rest. Which didn't seem likely to happen for a while.

The mutant began to limp towards Ethan...a plan was brewing.

[Taskmienster]

The blades found their mark with success that I was neither prepared for nor expected. The steel edge, perfectly honed, bit through the thin flesh of the weakened man. A dagger found a point on the left arm, digging deep. The second dagger slashed across him as he turned, adding another line to the multitude of wounds that already traced his back. The blade was deep in his arm, the second passing with barely a scratch, but the man was already crisscrossed. I watched the gush of thick liquid without an expression crossing my face. It was war, however unrealistic, and there was nothing honorable about the state in which my opponent was thrown into combat.

“Need to finish this fight. I can’t lose or I’ll get kicked out of the Pagoda. If I win he’ll be thrown to fuck knows what fate.”

The cogs clicked at a quick pace, but nowhere near as quickly or as firmly as the thoughts that flitted through my mind. They were a constant reminder of my budding prestige, and my possible downfall should I let this battle come to an unfavorable end. I took another step back and let a blade fall to the waiting right hand palm. There was no plan behind my searching eyes, it would take second before another possible escape became possible… until then I would just have to survive.

A creature of darkness was before me, my nerve causing my legs to turn to rubber as I watched the thing approach. My blade feel to the ground, clattering nearly silently compared to the drum of clockwork. Scents filled the still air, my senses being assaulted on more than one front. It was the point of the arena, designed by myself, to create a place of panic for any opponents that relied on superior senses of hearing. The smell of my opponent was overwhelming. The silent reserve I had held to the point of his approach was lost and I let the façade of a seasoned Pagoda Warrior drop as I cringed.

“You smell like death, decay, and years of ignored rot.” I said while backing away from the creature and into a proverbial corner. All around me the burdening work of perfection continued, chains rattling without moving, titanium gears turning in a harmonious unison. Honor was a forlorn concept, one that did not always continue on throughout a battle. “Sorry buddy, but you need more than a little help cleaning up… your situation may suck, but you yourself have to get this smell shit checked out.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Too tired to really hear the words, Lorenor was focused on just the act itself. A blur, the next few moments of his life would decide the future. Lorenor knew he was at a loss. On the one hand, he really liked Ethan, on the other hand, he was a Dajas Pagoda warrior. Still making matters more complicated, the Knights of Dawn were out for blood. It didn't pay being a servant of N'Jal in Corone. Lorenor knew he would have to pack things up and head elsewhere to follow his obscure religion in peace.

At this point, he didn't care how he talked. He addressed Ethan in the modern version of the common-tongue. His particular style dialect of the common sounding thickly accented. His Haidia accent came out at that point of no return. Regardless of how he felt about Ethan, Lorenor had to take Ethan down. His very existence depended on it. Another thought crossed his mind. What if the Knights don't honor their part of the bargain and I survive? He was too tired to fight another battle with the Knights. He simply wanted to get out of this situation.

Feeling his healthy arm tense up, the mutant's claws sharpened. When he was in close proximity to Ethan, he began to talk. "I'm sorry there. I wish we could have met under better circumstances but these are ugly days for Corone. I'm sorry, but we must continue now. I hope you can forgive me someday. I have nothing against you but my card has been forced."

Lorenor looked ahead and he could see the Antifirmanent. It was a strange thing being able to see the place that you were about to end up in. He felt his hands tighten. Extending his fingers, Lorenor gathered himself for the next portion of the battle. He suddenly made a slashing attempt towards Ethan's face. It was Lorenor's intention to mar the handsome boy's beautiful face. He would cut Ethan or die trying. His hand slashed at a perfect angle, and the technique was adequate for the situation at hand. It was not a half-assed effort. Lorenor was sincerely attempting to draw blood.

[Taskmienster]

Darkness came in many forms, from the natural shadows that surrounded me to the bile that I could see within the purple glow of Lorenor’s eye sockets. A devious walking corpse, I felt like I was staring down a trapped animal. Death waited for one of us. I wanted to do the honorable thing by letting go of the title that I so adroitly fought to gain; my pride would not let me. The arena, the Pagoda, and eventually the top seat were mine to command. Within the clock tower I could face any foe; the circumstances around me were those that I created. The trap was set and the opponent was walking bluntly into it; his words were lost to my musings.

“Only seconds to go,” I thought when the man prepared his tattered body for a vicious assault. The muscles tensed, blood flowed freely from the open wounds with every pump of his heart. I smirked when he leapt forward. A quick thought was all I needed, and the speed of a thought would always surpass any opponent.

The world became tranquil. The motionless battleground was a snapshot of peace. Gears were mid-grind, the long hand of the clock was a second from its movement, and the opponent before me was frozen mid-stride. If I had more time in the unmoving status of my hacking code, one that stilled the world for a mere two seconds, I would have had more time to take note of Lorenor. His bloodied visage, his saddened and drawn face, even the way the arm was held at a slightly tilted angle would have been taken into note and used to my advantage. The claws lethal talons would be closing quickly though when the code was released from my arena.

A quick push of tensed muscles and I was bounding backwards from the sword. My legs were powerful enough to put a yard distance between me and my opponent. Behind me the cold titanium chain I knew would be in its proper place barely moved as I felt my back push against it. One second down, one to go.

I turned quickly, letting a dagger fall into my left palm as my right wrapped around the chain. It was ice compared to my hot hands. I didn’t realize how much I had already begun heating up with the free flowing adrenaline. The last second was passing as the world returned to motion. The sound was serenity shattering, my mind a crystal vase suddenly smashed by a sonic wave. Eyes closed tight, I couldn’t see the dagger like fingers swinging through where my body should have been had I not used my hacking.

Instead, with my head in a state of panic and my mind trying to get it under control, I felt the chain move as the minute hand shifted. The world within the clock was alive once more. My grip was white knuckled around the titanium; it shot towards the upper ramparts of the inner workings and dragged me with it. My shoulder jerked, but the code that gave me more strength and constitution than the regular person held firm. Instead of waiting till I reached the top I let go and dropped on a dehlar crossbar, a full two stories above my opponent and the ground.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

As Lorenor slashed his opponent with his sharp claws something unexpected happened. Exposed to the stimuli of the code, the mutant saw reality rippling for a brief second. For a moment, he saw a mixture of the air between the Firmanent and the Antifirmanent. The Firmanent was bound reality, and the Antifirmanent was another layer of reality. A realm where the dead walked freely, not bound to the ties of judgment. Lorenor was trapped between the Firmanent and the Antifirmanent as a wayward soul, the creature was capable of sensing things that no normal being should. Seeing a temporary flux of the chains of reality, the mutant saw a code manifesting around the handsome boy before him.

Accessing the very core of reality itself, this code was somehow capable of manipulating certain elements. And Lorenor suddenly understood what he was facing. Damn the Knights of Dawn. One day I will have my revenge, making me face this...whatever he is...in this condition I am in! Lorenor would cry if he could. Lorenor wanted to laugh but it somehow seemed inappropriate. Hell, he started laughing anyway.

Once he saw the effects of the code his claws hit nothing but air. Understanding the severity of his situation, Lorenor came to one conclusion. I am not walking out of here alive. Feeling a sudden terror clenching his stomach, the mutant became desperate. A sense of supernatural desperation filled his vessel from the deepest portions of his gut. Yes. This desperation fueled the fire to survive. Glancing around for a brief moment, Lorenor saw that reality fluttered back to normal. The mysterious code that appeared for a moment, was now gone.

Lorenor wondered just what in the hell had happened. One moment, everything in between the Firmanent and AntiFirmanent was normal, and the next moment, a code manifested that changed everything for the mutant. Looking around for his opponent, Lorenor blinked several times as he wondered where Ethan was. Finally, he decided to look up and could see the youth in the Antifirmanent thanks to the mysterious code-like aura that surrounded him. Lorenor shook his head. He beat me. The son of a bitch beat ME!

His maniacal laughter suddenly turned into a mad rage. His eyes widened, and he began to snarl as he screamed. Lorenor bounded towards the chain that was adjacent to his opponent's landing and moved quickly up the chain, bounding upwards. Lorenor no longer cared for his own safety. He had accepted death, welcomed it, embraced it. Landing on the dehlar platform, the mutant approached Ethan as he snarled angrily. He wasn't angry at Ethan per se, he was just angry. It was an insane sort of fury that burned in his eyes now. Lorenor wanted to rip this boy apart. His claws were sharp and screaming for blood. Renewed with that fire in his heart, the mutant ran towards Ethan and slashes with his claws once again, this time, across the youth's pectoral muscles. He wasn't trying to kill Ethan, no, he was trying to hurt Ethan.

[Taskmienster]

The world around me slowed its sudden chanting, the minute finally done ticking. The clockwork was back to its slow rhythm, a comforting tone. It was not to last as my solace and console. The manic cackling of the ghoul beneath me started to rise through my arena, making my skin crawl and forcing me to look over the edge of the small beam I balanced on. I could see the deep sockets of the devious opponent below me. His head was turned to mine, but I wasn’t sure if he was looking at me or through me. The mad laughter became a ravenous growl, and the beast began to climb the chain that I had so easily used as a means to take a higher vantage point.

Cold steel called for blood, each dagger feeling empty and useless without the edge used to kill. I leaned as much as I could to look over the side, trying to find a point to attack. Networks of dehalr and titanium bars were in the way of my easy kill. If I threw the dagger it would be like a fly caught in a spider’s web, what was on the other side was hidden by the elaborate shield. I had to wait, and watch. My opening for the dagger to come to use showed as suddenly as the foe did. My arm flew forward, the dagger was released, but the snarling monster was not going to be so easily deterred.

As if my ability to use a dagger for precise kills was on par with the newest would-be thief, the blade went wild. I could see it flash in the dull blue light that filtered through the massive clock face, just over Lorenor’s shoulder and off into the distance. No time was left for me to pull more weapons for a counter-offensive; no room was present to dodge to either side. Instead of any movement away from the bar, my instincts suddenly took over.

The claws slashed across my faux-leather jacket, the thin material no match for the sharp weapons. Even with my momentum pushing away from my opponent, it was not enough to escape. Blood blossomed across my chest as the cleanly cut wounds opened. The three lines were as perfectly opened as if with razors, my body slowly realizing it was open before the blood began to bloom. My hands came to my torso and I could feel the opened white shirt that was visible through the unzipped jacket. I took another lung backwards when my opponent struck again, just enough to dodge the attack.

My momentum suddenly stopped as I felt my back clash into one of the many support beams that created the infrastructure. I barely stopped my head from following through with the movement of my body and clashing with the titanium. It would have been the end through a blunder made in my own designed arena. Instead of letting the thing get closer and without any means of escape to elude another dagger clawed strike, I took a much bigger step… or leap more appropriately.

From the second story beam of dehlar I fell to the floor below. Any other person would have probably destroyed the bones in their legs; their knees would buckle and crack if they remained straight legged, shatter in half if they bent them. Neither terrible fate would come to me though, because I had multiple codes that were constantly in place. Strength, speed, and constitution were all nearly doubled on my body; the fall would be nothing but a small step.

Two daggers fell to either hand and I turned as soon as my converses touched the solid floor. My eyes caught sight of the beast that waited above me, and I hoped that by dropping I had not given him an advantage. He was above me now, and the height was significant should he have any ranged magic’s at his command. I doubted it though, since he had used none in the battle. All I needed to do was wait for him to fall and launch a dagger or two when he was on his way down. Well placed weapons were going to finish what the Knights of Dawn and the treacherous Ai’Bron had forced upon me.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Unexpectedly, or perhaps with greater skill than he would have thought, Lorenor cut the handsome boy. Blood streaked everywhere. He could feel the substance flowing down his hand and forearm as the chest was split open. The injury he'd inflicted upon his opponent was a serious one, and the youth was able to take the injury rather well. Lorenor admired the skill and potential that the youth possessed. He was prepared to press the attack when once again, the handsome boy moved with his advanced reflexes and made a leap away from the mutant.

Lorenor saw that and turned to look at the general direction that his opponent moved to. Gears turned in the clock-tower for all eternity. The mutant took a moment to analyze his surroundings quite carefully. He saw the giant gears turning for a second or two, staring at the gear whilst he caught his breath. His lungs and heart pumped acid through his vessel. Lorenor looked at his opponent and immediately suspected some sort of a trap.

Though he was eager to get this battle over with so that he might earn his freedom, the mutant wasn't trying to telegraph any mistakes. He turned to look back at the chains that he'd just climbed a few moments earlier, and decided to err on the side of caution. Grabbing the chain, he could feel the metallic texture against the palm of his real hand. His hand gripped the chain tightly and he pulled himself against the object, quickly climbing down with his enhanced reflexes and speed.

As the time wore on, his regeneration process began to kick in. Older wounds started to heal naturally, but fresh wounds would take a longer amount of time to heal. He made it to the bottom level, on even footing with Ethan. Lorenor was slowly regaining his confidence as a warrior which would be a big factor in the rest of the match. He knew he was fighting for survival. His feet on solid ground, the mutant looked upon the general direction of Ethan. Once again, Ethan had the mysterious air about his person that showed up in the Antifirmanent. Seeing the bizarre hallucination, the mutant was unable to tell the code apart from physical reality. Shaking his head, he tried to focus on the match.

He covered his distance between his last position and Ethan's current position. "This will soon be over for ill or well." Lorenor said out loud to nobody in particular. He was within earshot distance of Ethan by that time. The mutant moved further and was soon in front of the other boy after a moment longer. Lorenor clutched at the injury in his arm, it would be a while before that injury regenerated. Despite it being a minor injury. Lorenor stared at his opponent for a long moment. "Your move Ethan."

[Taskmienster]

“Is this some sort of chess game with live pawns? I didn’t realize I was on a chessboard, playing as the queen with my opponent a lone king. It’s an unfair advantage, but at least I have it.” I looked at the man when his booted feet touched the solid ground, my thoughts keeping time with my body’s movement. I was at a standstill. Though I could move freely across this mechanical board, I could not seem to trap the man in a corner long enough. He was a well versed foe, his ability in battle was probably much better than my own. His weapons were base, feral, and wickedly well adapted to close combat. Mine were ranged weapons, despite their diminutive size and normally close proximity uses, and I had nothing to back myself up.

“That it will.” My response was short, no time or concern with thinking about some intelligent bantering shot back at Lorenor. I was in no mood to talk, barely took notice of my foe talking except for the fact that it was a low growl amidst a world of sharp clicks and taps. In the cacophony of precise timing Lorenor’s voice was a dissimilar tone that would catch even the most focused of warriors.

Inches were the only thing I had when it came to either throwing the blades or if I gained the distance quickly there was only three inches beyond my reach to score the blow. I quickly wished I had something more useful than the spells, or code hacks as I knew them. Another few seconds passed as I watched the silent man, his words still ringing in the back of my head. My fingers milked the twin daggers; I had lost count of how many I had used and how many I had left. There was a decision to make, either commit fully or back down and let him attempt to take an advantage. I did not want the former of the two options.

My options were limited, but I had to go with the bland and probably expected tactics that I knew best. I took aim at either shoulder and let loose both daggers together. The movement made me cringe even as the daggers were being released. The wound across my chest would not close like they would for most characters with regenerative capabilities. I was forced to deal with the pain. My heart raced, allowing more blood to spill from the three long gashes. My chest was rising and falling quickly, my lungs burning with the pain that was but an inch away from the weak organs within.

I did not let another dagger fall to my hands, hoping that the man would close after the daggers were dealt with. My back was to the grand milk-white clockface, probably a mere yard away from it. I wasn’t sure exactly how close I was, but I was certain it was behind me. That was enough for me to take comfort in. I tried to slow my breath, breath through my nose and exhale through my mouth. Those cigarettes I was so used to smoking were affecting my pixilated body far more than they ever had before. It was worrisome, but nothing I couldn’t deal with.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

After his brisk walk towards Ethan, the mutant was prepared for whatever fate might come his way. Ethan was in charged of Lorenor's future, the mutant understood that fact well. However, he wasn't about to let the youth simply steal away all of his bravado. He still had to at least act the part of a veteran warrior. For all intents and purposes, the match was over before it had even begun. His long and epic struggle against the Knights of Dawn was coming to a close, and he would have peace.

Hearing his own words travel across the void, Lorenor felt the backdrop symphony of the gears more than he heard it. It made him want to grind his teeth and a migraine headache from all the noise was developing. This place of machinery and technology represented a sort of hell to the mutant. He knew that the Knights couldn't have pinned him against a worse opponent if they had tried. From what Lorenor had observed in his quick battle so far of the youth, the boy seemed focus on his throwing knives and ranged techniques.

Visualizing the next portion of the fight, the mutant tried to guess where his opponent would move next. One of the possibilities was the idea that his foe might once again attempt to throw a dagger at him. Lorenor had an analytical mind, but he kept his abilities in check. He learned quickly, but he enjoyed making mistakes to throw his opponents off. I know how to take hits with style. He thought to himself as he analyzed the situation. Though he preferred to react in battles, this time he had to take a proactive stance.

Seeing the subtle muscle movements even before his opponent made them, the mutant prepared for the worst. A part of him expected to see some new trick that Ethan was capable of. Some grand ace-in-the-hole. That was not meant to be the case. A dual set of daggers were suddenly tossed in his direction. The throws were somewhat ugly in nature, and the mutant knew that his opponent had better marksman skills than this.

Indeed, the blades were launched quickly for the mutant's shoulders. He saw them coming in, and even though they were in mid-air, he could sense the hungry metal coming his way. Reacting purely on instinct, the mutant decided to take yet another hit in order to obtain a strategic advantage. He turned on his heels quickly in the direction of the closer of the two daggers and suddenly lunged for one of the daggers in an attempt to pull the dagger out of the air. He was hoping to capture the dagger. If successful he had another move planned. The second blade scored an easy mark, to analysts observing the battler, the hit would have almost been pathetic.

Lorenor hissed in pain as the sharp blade struck him on his side. It penetrated his obliques sinking in deep. He ignored the dagger for now as he focused on capturing the other dagger that was coming at him. Where he had no weapons, he potentially stood to be armed and face the youth with more suitable gear. The mutant never removed his eyes from the youth's position.

Black blood trickled down the side of his body in rivulets. Lorenor was growing weaker. He was running out of time.

[Taskmienster]

I know it was lackluster, boring, and altogether expected of me to hurl daggers. I know that my opponent was probably expecting something better, something more befitting the quick pace of the cat and mouse conflict that had developed. More could not be brought to bear though. I was losing patience as quickly as a short fuse, and my frustration was about to be loosed like a small firecracker. Nothing more could be compared to what I had in store for Lorenor, nothing more than a miniscule explosion with little to no adverse affects to be displayed. Daggers were only so useful against something that never stopped approaching. I felt like a lion tamer with only a chair, hoping the four legs of my wooden barrier would be enough to hold back the malnourished and desperate king of beasts across the cage.

The blades flew straight, though with little power. Perhaps the clawed fingers that had raked my chest had impacted me in a way that I had not comprehended. My heightened constitution was wearing away quickly, from the tearing that should have removed my shoulder from its socket when I grabbed the chain to the fall I had purposely taken in order to escape the blows I would have received. I had never reached the limit in a battle against another, but it seemed that the codes could wear away and even return me to another simple and useless child with spiked hair and silly daggers.

The fact that my base of power was slipping slowly was expressed in the blades that flew. One impacted with Lorenor’s chest, the other was snatched from the air. I could hardly believe it had happened. The small blade was protruding slightly from his chest, not deep enough to puncture the lungs or bypass the rib-cage. The second that was caught; I cursed under my breath and watched him turn it around in his ugly hands. It was a delicate tool when in my hands, a beautiful blur of quicksilver when thrown. In the meaty grasp of my opponent it seemed to be a tool for a clumsy surgeon, as if it had become the cleanest scalpel at hand pulled from an old rusty toolbox.

I pried my eyes from the ghoul’s hand and my beloved blade and let them focus as much as I could through slightly watering eyes on his body. Blood dripped from his weak, walking carcass and I could do nothing more than cringe for the umpteenth time. His smell drifted through the still air, making the metallic tinge that seeped from my own chest pale in comparison. I had rummaged through the relatively clean sewers of Raiaera, the feted mire beneath Radasanth, and even been within arm’s reach of an undead necromancer… yet none of them could compare to my foe’s stench at even a proximity as large as we had.

“For fucks sake!” I cried out, winded and nearly whining. The man had eluded death, despite the condition that the underhanded Ai’Bron had allowed him to come in. He had followed after me every turn I took in order to gain an advantageous position. Finally, as if to toss salt across an open wound, he had pulled my own weapon from the air and turned it against me. I took a step back and let one arm clutch at my chest, the other fall to my side almost limply. “You don’t fucking die do you? You want this Warrior position so bad? I’ve had enough of this constant fighting, unnecessary violence and stupid fuckin’ games. If I had any idea of how this place and the ones running it worked, I’d guess they need our blood spilling on the ground in order to power this shitty ass illusion.

Let’s get it over with. This battle’s gone on for-ev-er.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Suddenly taken aback by the youth's remark, Lorenor blinked in surprise. Knowing that there was a reason for everything, the mutant knew why the Knights of Dawn hunted him. He knew why the hierarchy of the Dajas Pagoda despised him. He knew. There were reasons, there were always reasons. Lorenor shook his head. He's giving up? Why? He has me beat! Deciding on his next course of action very carefully, Lorenor understood what this was all about. For the mutant cared very little about the Warrior position. He would spit in the Hierarchy's face if he could. He'd shit on the Dajas Pagoda given a chance. Then why? Why was the mutant fighting so hard.

And the thoughts came immediately. He thinks I want the Warrior position that badly. This isn't about that. This is about my freedom! At first, Ethan liked the boy and respected the handsome youth's cunning. Now though, seeing the youth cowering like a rodent, Lorenor felt disgust in his stomach. He spat blood on the ground even while he was feeling his injuries regenerating. His powers, slowly returning to his command.

Visions passed through his mind as he thought about the pain he'd suffered at the hands of the Knights of Dawn. In their Interrogation Chambers, Lorenor V'Halkulus had suffered unspeakable atrocities. All in the name of the Empire. All in an attempt to get the mutant to betray some intelligence about the Red Hand. Lorenor would have none of it. So he prayed to N'Jal for strength during the dark times. He struggled with his sanity. Struggled with the pain. Scars were visible upon his vessel as an testament to the suffering he'd undergone. Whereas the scars regenerated of their own volition, the mutant knew that they would never fully heal.

Holding the dagger in his hand Lorenor understood that Ethan deserved at least a partial explanation. This was about his war with the Knights of Dawn. His hated enemy. Those bastards, are self righteous and followers of the All-Thayne. They now follow Draconus. Warrior-Paladins. They abhor the Living Dark. But we shall emerge victorious. "You think I care about the Warrior Position?" Lorenor began. "We have begun to know one another rather intimately through bloodshed. I must say I would have taken you for a much brighter young man than what you have shown me. The Warrior Position?! HAH! The Hierarchy can feast on rotten swine. I am not here for the Warrior Position. I am here for my freedom! The Knights have promised me freedom should I emerge victorious from this encounter. I chose you for a reason Ethan. You are the one who can set me free from the bonds of eternal punishment. Death is not something to be feared, death is a release from the turmoil and petty wars in the Firmanent." Lorenor still held the dagger in his hand.

And seeing his opponent's weakness revealed, he rotated the weapon quickly. Showing a tremendous burst of aggression and speed, Lorenor lashed out at Ethan. He held the weapon in his hand with incredible skill, his hand lashed out like a whip. Focusing on one distinct purpose, Lorenor sought to bring this battle to a close so he could be free of the bastard Knights forever. It was a win-win situation. Lorenor would free Ethan of his suffering, and Lorenor would free himself of his suffering. Aiming at the boy's throat, Lorenor waited to see what would happen next. With his strength returning, the mutant would be able to fight the injured youth on more even footing.

[Taskmienster]

My words were shot with a venomous tone, his were returned with the tone of madness. I could hear the sanity cracking and shattering through his response, and yet felt nothing for him. This battle was a mockery of the Pagoda’s institution from beginning to end. It was sanctioned by the Ai’Bron, forced upon both of us by the Knights of Dawn – however they were, I had no true knowledge of them. The words that were spoken told me something far different though. As if the entire bout between me and the disgusting aberration of a human was set up before hand, certain pieces were removed from the board to give him an already losing side to attempt his checkmate with. I, on the other hand, was offered only a single queen to challenge the man with.

“Bloodshed is no way to try and get to know another person. I don’t fight people and kill them to make friends, I do it to get money and pass the time. If I kill you, Lorenor, I want nothing to do with you after this battle. If you kill me, and I lose this position, I want nothing to do with the Pagoda again either. In neither situation is the ‘intimate knowledge’ that we have gained of each other through fighting gonna mean jack shit to me…”

His words made my mind race, though nothing of what he said sparked a particularly intelligent light-bulb. More or less I was arguing with myself when he was talking, since internal dialogue meant nothing to my opponent despite how much I wanted to bicker aloud what I was thinking. Starting a back and forth monologue at the end of the battle would do little more than slow the pacing down, and I wanted to keep it moving as much as possible. The slower it went, the less I was going to have the advantage.

One last ace up my sleeve came to mind when his ‘fearless of death’ rant finally came to an end. I did not fear death, since the world of Althanas was nothing more than an easily manipulated game. The pixilated body that I was seen in, the punk with the piercing from another world, could be recreated in the case of a permanent death. What caught my attention though was that despite the fact that we were in the Pagoda and would be revived… yet another opponent had decided to give a rant about not fearing death. Death in the Pagoda and Citadel was like losing a game; you just loaded your last save and continued on without repercussions anyway.

He moved with an unnatural speed that could have potentially rivaled my own. I did not take the time to see if he was as quick as I was, I didn’t give a fuck about it. My attention span for battles and immortal foes had already ended and the fuse was about to hit the powder. I waited for the last second to move. The dagger sliced at my throat and I ducked and shoved my feet against the cold wooden floor. It missed easily, as if my opponent did not have knowledge of close combat enough to know that anything above the neck was the most difficult place to aim a killing blow. My back brushed the outside of his leg and I spun my body with the momentum.

Before Lorenor could turn I clapped my hands together and let my code for peace-shattering waves of sound free. They pulsed from my point forward, towards the back of my opponent. Such a small distance between us could make the usefulness of the code dangerous. A popped eardrum and loss of equilibrium would be enough to allow me the final advantage that I needed to finish the battle. However, my opponent was not the only one that was affected by the air-splitting crash. Behind him the clocktower’s face cracked, quaked, and exploded. The milk-white glass spilling deviously shaped glass forward slightly before being hurled into the open air.

I watched the glass instead of my opponent, seeing the massive black hands fall with the frosted glass. I had added large shards of glass to the soft flecks of snow that continuously fell on the world outside the metallic coffin. My body surged forward in an attempt to use both my increased speed and strength to grapple the ghoul and take his body with mine through the newly created opening. If I was going to die and give the man his freedom, and possibly my rank as Warrior, I wanted to be sure that he was going to do the same. There would be no easy choice to make by either the Pagoda Ai’Bron or the Knights of Dawn at the end of the fight.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

And something happened when Lorenor went to stab his foe. Just when it seemed that Ethan had all but given up, the mutant missed! He actually missed with the blade in his hand! Lorenor felt furious at such a development.

Lorenor prepared to do something else, when the air suddenly exploded. With a mysterious thunderclap conjured by the boy, Lorenor's head felt like it was about to explode. To make matters worse, his sensory grid went black for a moment thanks to the intense sound conjured up by the boy. I can't sense anything! Fuck! Lorenor yelled to himself and all notion of detection went out of the window. As the sound dissipated, Lorenor's senses came back to normal a split second later. Lorenor had no ears, he needed them not.

However, his enhanced sensory array picked up various external phenomenon with a higher degree of acuteness. Blood trickled from the sides of the mutant's lips. Also, the slits where a nose should be bled freely as well. Lorenor's eyes were darkened with the pain and fury he felt. The mutant attempted to react but that split-second had given his opponent an almost unneeded advantage. The fucker cheated! Damn him! He didn't know if he should be hating Ethan at the moment, or admire the boy's craftiness. Either way it went, Lorenor was in trouble.

Helter skelter came coming through after that. Glass broke everywhere, some of the gears stopped turning cause of the sonic boom, and other resonating effects happened to take place. Lorenor felt the youth suddenly make a grabbing attempt. On instinct, and on pure instinct alone, Lorenor asserted his muscle control and tightened his calves and hamstrings. He was moved maybe a pace or two to in the direction that Ethan was attempting to push him in, but Lorenor weighed two hundred pounds. Yes, he was injured. Yes, he was stressed out and tired. But Ethan weighed a mere one hundred and fifty five pounds compared to the small package that Lorenor was.

The mutant had uncovered his advantage. He could use his superior weight and smaller size advantage to adequate purpose. As Ethan came in close to attempt to tackle him backwards, the mutant felt the man grab him. It was like trying to move a brick wall. Whereas Lorenor's Endurance was not the greatest on the planet, it was enough to give him a slight edge. He stood his ground, he was not pushed any further than those couple of paces.

Once Lorenor regained his balance, it was back to work. Lorenor had the experience advantage on Ethan. Somehow, he'd managed to keep his hold on the dagger. With Ethan's back exposed to the mutant, Lorenor stabbed downward at a forty-five degree angle to the bottom spinal column area of the youth. If successful, Lorenor would then attempt to rip the youth's spine right out of its housing. Lorenor was that furious at the moment. He yelled in anger as he proceeded with his counter. Ethan had surprised him, but he would not make that same mistake again.

[Taskmienster]

The last ditch effort of mine was barely noticeable; no matter what I threw it seemed that my opponent was too strong. My clash that tore through the air did to my opponent’s senses the same as it did to the glass tower face. He was visually hindered for the slightest of moments, and his body was obviously affected. The blood that poured from his nose and lips was just another crimson smear across an already battered frame. As I rushed him I almost felt pity, as if I was sending wave after wave of rocks at an already shattered bastion. There was something more to this fortress though that I had not seen before sending in the frontline troops, something that took its turn to show as soon as I clashed with defenses.

Lorenor was stout and packed with muscle, enough so that the difference between strength was nearly unfelt. I hit him, hard. My arms wrapped around his rancid form, and the fact that I was not taking him with me into the chilling winter air came second to the sudden realization that the stench on him would take forever to remove. I could feel it rub off on my clothes, on my jacket, and on my skin. A resolution to the conflict took a backseat to the screaming that roared through my mind.

Together we slid slightly, his boots gripping the wooden floors whereas my trackless black converse could not grip to continue the push through. My head throbbed when I struck his, an instant headache that accompanied the stench that made my eyes tear up. I slowly stopped pushing, my mind taking over my thoughts and screaming to tell me to force myself to get away. The momentum barely stopped before the cold steel dagger pushed through my jacket, my skin, and tapped the spin before shoving through.

Suddenly my body was cold, I was at peace mentally, but the hair across me stood on end. Stumbling away I reached towards my own traitorous blade, missing it twice before I gave up on removing it. I blinked a few times, hoping that I could get the tears to fall instead of blocking my vision. From a standpoint that was like looking down on my dying, computer simulated body, I watched my knees buckle and falter. There was nothing left to do but let my body fall.

The gears that created the inner workings of my arena shifted in unnatural ways, grinding and tearing at each other. The minute attempted to tick, but all that came was a gut-wrenching sound of mechanics wallowing in their sorrow. All of the noises were muted as my eyes closed and I let go of caring about the battle, the Pagoda and its monks, or the reason that Lorenor had been forced to fight. My position was up for grabs; it was going to be left to the Ai’Bron to decide who the victor was and would take or keep the Warrior position.



Great fight man, it was thoroughly enjoyable. This is my last post. I’m not going to request anything special for spoils, but I’ll make a note after you submit it for judging regarding what we discussed if you don’t want to… or just agree about the dagger and ending thing as we talked about. I’d like moderate commentary, perhaps we can go with a Workshop? It’d be interesting, but in the end it’s up to you.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

All bunnies cleared by Kyle. And dude, yeah it was an awesome match, good luck to you!

Blood spilled through the air, and Lorenor heard his opponent moan in pain. The mutant held the body for a moment even as he was ripping the spinal column out with the dagger and his own hand. A sickening noise traveled through the air and the clock-tower seemed to grow strangely quiet as the symphony of noise died down. There seemed to be a mourning in the air as the clock tower finally went dead paying homage to its master. Several screws and gears came loose in the tower. Finally unable to turn to the next second, the clock hands broke of their own volition with a hideous snap at the same time that Lorenor finished ripping the youth's spinal cord out.

Holding the spinal column in his hand, the mutant saw the extent of damage he had caused to the youth. Lorenor shook his head. What a fucking waste. The mutant thought to himself as he realized he'd just killed Ethan. Dropping the body on the ground, the mutant felt a infernal hunger rise up from the underbelly of his gut.

Like some fell beast, Lorenor knew the time to feed had come. The grotesque task at hand came next. His face mutated to that of feeding position, as muscles and bone stretched and popped. Lorenor knelt down to the body and began to gorge himself upon the youth's flesh. All of the edible portions of the boy were consumed, with the heart being consumed last as a whole. Drinking the blood of the youth and eating the flesh of the youth, many memories passed through the mutant's head. Memories that were not his own, but rather the boys'.

Lorenor ate his fill and soon there was only a carcass on the floor. The dark feast helped to rejuvenate the mutant's power. Wounds regenerated at a much quicker pace and his strength returned. Lorenor's face was covered in blood. He wiped himself on his arm and prepared to have a confrontation with the knights when the doors of the clock-tower swung loudly open.

"Lorenor!" Came the booming voice of the Knight Guard. A small squad of about five fully armored guards came into the room. The leader of the squad was furious, and a shadow crossed his face. They were all in full plate armor, material depended on rank-and-file. The sound of heavy boots crashing against the floor filled the large chamber as they walked towards Lorenors' person and Ethan's body. Lorenor took a step back. He still had the dagger in his hand, and reached on the ground for another dagger.

"Halt! Lorenor. Hold your position." The Guard commanded and approached the mutant. "We have come to report your sentence to you." The Guard said with a note of annoyance in his voice. "My sentence--!? Haven't you've already done enough to me?" Shaking his head the Guard continued. "As an enemy of Corone you are hereby sentenced to freedom. Freedom at the blade!" And before Lorenor could protest, the Guard's sword was unsheathed with a quick motion. Lorenor's senses went blank as his head was decapitated from its body and rolled slowly down to the floor, bouncing a few times. The body then fell down to its knees first, then upon the ground to accompany Ethan in death. "Sentence served. Enjoy your freedom." The Guard hissed and the squad left off into the night. A few moments later, the mutant's body burned up in a burst of mystical fire and became ash.

**The End**

[MetalDrago]

STORY

Continuity ~
Mutant_Lorenor ~ (7/10) You carried forward almost flawlessly from your previous thread, The Dawns' Hate. However, you did not mention too much about what ended you up in this postion, and what you did mention wasn't spaced out quite well enough.In particular, I'd have liked to hear more about the mysterious third-party from this last encounter without having to read the other thread. It doesn't have to be much, but enough to let the reader know what happened to some decent degree.


Taskmienser ~ (5/10) You're a Warrior within the Dajas Pagoda, and... that's all she wrote. You provide a good bit of information about the Order of Ai'bron inside the Pagoda, and how they serve an almost subservient role between themselves and the Citadel. Some mention of who Task had to beat in order to gain the Warrior Rank would have been nice.


Setting ~

Mutant_Lorenor ~ (5/10) You make up for in Continuity for what you lose in Setting. You've left out a lot of things that could have used some explaining, though your use of the surroundings to manipulate the attacks of your opponent and yourself. You play it well, but lack the more detailed orientation that Task presides over withing his own posts.




Taskmienster ~ (8/10) You describe your setting well enough, and use it to great effect. For this, I applaud you, and you do an almost flawless job working on the setting. While it could have been done better, it would not have been by much. There are very few things I can find that are wrong with this whole thing. Overall, very well done.

Pacing ~
Mutant_Lorenor ~ (6/10) You kept the battle going, but you tended to slow it down a lot during some of the more intense scenes. You described things in detail, showing how the battle seemed to slow down for Lorenor during some of the hardest parts of the battle. However, it would seem that there were some things better left out, for the sake of pacing more than anything else. You go through a lot of descriptive text between and during each move played in this battle, and sometimes it kills the pacing of the thread.




However, this is not a bad thing, since the near-death condition Lorenor was left in could be attributed to him feeling, seeing, and hearing everything more intensely, and thus giving the illusion of time moving more slowly for him.




Taskmienster ~ (7/10) You kept the battle moving relatively quickly, and kept the internal and external monologue only to the most suitable times. This is your strong point. However, there are a few areas where you seem to stretch the action sequence on for no apparent reason. If you could work on keeping the heavier story elements out of otherwise fast-paced scenes, you'd score remarkably well in this area.


CHARACTER ~

Dialogue ~

Mutant_Lorenor ~ (5/10) This isn't one of your better areas. Lorenor talks... a lot. During battle, that is paramount to getting yourself killed. However, it was the switch between the older common tongue and the new that really threw this thread off. Lorenor switched his style of talking in the middle of the battle for no apparent reason at all. This is not to say he didn't have a reason. It's just that there wasn't one that I could see. If you had noted, perhaps, that it seemed Taskmienster's character was confused by his dialect, I could have let it slide, but you didn't. In the future, it might do best not to forget those little details, as we know how exceptionally detail-oriented you usually are. As a side note, if he didn't care how he talked, it might have been better to leave it in the fashion he usually speaks. But that's just this one humble Judge's opinion.




Taskmienster ~ (7/10) Very straightforward, with a vocabulary sharp as a diamond-edged sword, Ethan's words are very cruel sounding, with a hint of devil-may-care in his attitude. This is very fitting with his character, and his voice seems to be that of reason when surrounded by a world of madness. He speaks only when spoken to, and tends to have a bit of a sadistic, “I don't give a fuck” attitude. It fits with the character very well, however, and I enjoy reading it as I ever have. You keep the dialogue to a minimum, and when you do include it, it's always toward the point of the battle, pushing it along in nearly invisible ways. Overall, well done. There was only one case where you over-talked. If you care to know what it is, drop me an IM and I'd be more than happy to tell you.

Action ~

Mutant_Lorenor ~ (8/10) A cornered monster, beaten half to death, and thrown to the dogs of the Dajas Pagoda, the Warrior Caste. He fights like a ravaged beast, but with a clarity of thought that can only be proclaimed as the culmination of years of fighting experience and a soul-crippling madness, which is Lorenor's most sincere embodiment. Almost all of the actions Lorenor takes reflect the madness within him, switching between a cool and collected mentality to a full-on bestial style of fighting. It is almost beautiful to behold. This is by far your best area. You performed admirably.




Taskmienster ~ (8/10) You did very well in this regard, as well. You kept him cool and methodical all the way till the end of the fight. He used the clock tower to great effect, keeping his opponent lost within the maze that is the inner workings of such a magnificent structure, and using his knowledge of his own design, he was able to utilize the tower not only as a defense, but also as a practical weapon. “Knowledge of the terrain is only half the battle. One must know how to utilize it.” And Ethan does exactly that. I applaud the effort and the end result.


Persona ~

Mutant_Lorenor ~ (7/10) Lorenor had been beaten to a pulp, thrown to the dogs, and yet retained some sense of self during the battle, and even afterward. He slowly degenerated, regenerated, and degenerated in a cycle, which fits with the persona you've been portraying all this time. Lorenor is unstable, and sometimes even the tiniest little thing is enough to set him off the deep end. You played this to great effect. However, though beaten and bloodied, he still simulated a hidden swell of resolve, perhaps from his will to live on and spread his Dark Ways to the rest of the world. There were some off spots here and there, but overall you did well in keeping with his psyche.




Taskmienster ~ (8/10) You once again show a great command of your character's persona, keeping him in control of himself at all times, despite what emotions he faced. You showed him facing a creature beyond his experience, and allowed him to underestimate Lorenor at a number of turns, thus leading to his eventual downfall. This is what kept your character so believable to me. Despite all of his well-layed plans, he was unable to plan the outcome of a fight with a true, blue psychopath.

WRITING STYLE ~

Mechanics ~
Mutant_Lorenor ~ (6/10) Grammatical errors, missing commas, commas where they shouldn't be... You tend to do this quite a bit. Proofread and clean up your writing a bit, and you'll be in much better shape for your next round.

Taskmienster ~ (7/10) You did slightly better, but still had your fix of missed words, plurals where they shouldn't be, and other things like that. All of these catchable with a good read-through, but you kept it clean for the most part. We should all heed our own words and proofread our posts every time we post them.

Technique ~
Mutant_Lorenor ~ (7/10) As usual, you spend a great deal of your time writing up interesting twists of words and other devices in your posts. It keeps them interesting, but has a way of messing with clarity if you throw them around too often. Be careful of this.

Taskmienster ~ (7/10) You use them to good effect, but you don't let them mess with your clarity. They are usually well placed, and spaced out enough that readers can get back into the fighting when their brains feel all fuzzy from reading something that makes them think.

Both ~ Overall, very good for both of you, but I know you can put forth better. Hell, I've seen it.

Clarity ~
Mutant_Lorenor ~ (6/10) You keep it clear for the most part, but you have some trouble areas, and you need to work on that. In particular, your use of anatomy terms in your posts could confuse some readers. In particular, readers who don't know the first thing about the muscles of the human (or, in this case, humanoid) body. Work on this, and try to keep things at least simple enough for readers not to get lost in, and we'll be much better off.

Taskmienster ~ (8/10) You kept the reader in the loop the entire time. There was hardly a single time I felt lost, and when I was, it was mostly because I was tired or didn't read a word correctly. Very well done.

Wild Card ~
Mutant_Lorenor ~ (7/10) You put Lorenor in a position the likes of which most Althanians would hardly even think of. The main character in someone's story, taking a turn for the worse, and being beaten half to death right before a death match with a Warrior of the Pagoda. Very original, and I must admit, I liked the idea.

Taskmienster (6/10) ~ A Warrior with a heart, forced to face an enemy sentenced to death. This is very touching and convincing, and his tirade against the Ai'Bron only furthers this. Very good.

Overall Score:
Mutant_Lorenor: 64
Taskmienster: 71

Taskmienster wins and gets 2400 exp and 250 GP
Mutant_Lorenor gets 720 exp and 210 GP

[Taskmienster]

EXP and GP added!

I level up to 4. Lorenor, just under 200 exp away from leveling to 7!