Battle Scrolls 3 Lorenor *v* Harrier

[Mutant_Lorenor]

(Moderator note: Continued from here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=18907)and here. (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=18897) Sword with shadowgem equipped purchased in the second thread)

**I-Quarantine Reports.**

October 29th C.P. 1825




My Dearest Elder,

For the first time in Althanas' history, a section of the Citadel has been put under Quarantine due to the actions of several instigators. After the carrier was identified successfully and restrained, one, Lorenor V'Halkulus, was deemed an extremely dangerous individual. We are extremely concern about the progress that this individual is making. Spies have kept a close eye on the carrier for a time but all have vanished. We are running out of options. The carrier was in our position for a time but has since broken out of the Citadel. Infection has spread throughout the Orders' ranks. There is no cure. So steps have been taken to seal off those who are infected before they can escape. The carrier was seen escaping with several of the infected by his side. It seems notable that those who are infected become a member of a different race all together. What should we do about this situation? An event occurred during the battle with one Veatrix Bane that caused the carrier to develop a sort of insane blood rage which triggered infection. We need guidance from the Thayne now more than ever. Please provide assistance before it is too late.

Signed,

XXX
Seal of the Order of Ai'Bron included.



**II**



Running. I am running now. I have no idea why or for what distinctive purpose. I am simply running. Several individuals are running alongside me but I ignore them. I know not what they are, and yet a part of me understands all too well. They are my children. The children of the Ambrosia Strain. A new plague is spreading across Althanas and I am the cause of it all. That knowledge weighs heavily on my heart. I can see the future and it is a future I don't want. A destiny that laughs in my face for it is within reach and at the same time slips my grasp. I feel the weight of tomorrow bearing down on my shoulders even as today slips past me. It is all a blur. Blood still drips down my mouth from recent kills and inexorably, I am drawn to that place. Even in this distance I can see The Citadel calling to me. Beckoning. A tribute to war. Taking the battle for granted, Citadel occupants are waging a false campaign. But recently, I joined its ranks to further my training and that's what lead me to the predicament I am in now.

So I stop running and face my comrades...



"What do we do now? Ruild (Concordia Forest) will provide safety." As the mad sprint from the Citadel continued, the mutant realized they were not being followed. Some nine individuals accompanied the mutant that were former members of the Order of Ai'bron, now, members of the Forsaken. Their gray skin tone and glowing eyes pierced the dark and became one with it. Some of them still possessed the secrets of the Order. "We left some of our ken back there. They are probably still fighting." Lorenor gasped as he heard that last part, catching his breath. It was all happening to quickly. Thoughts of his battle with Veatrix Bane coursed through his brain. Vividly capable of seeing the images of that fight, the mutant was still trying to understand what had happened. Images of that place he could sometimes see, the Antifirmanent, crossed his peripheral vision. With a racing heart, Lorenor paused and put his hand alongside a nearby tree. He needed rest. He needed to gather his thoughts.

Due to his supernatural senses, Lorenor could see reality unhinged. Able to see the events of the Antifirmanent within the physical confines of the Firmanent, Lorenor was moving deeper into psychosis. Replaying the traumatizing images of the past battle over and over, Lorenor finally got a grip on what had happened. His companions were either talking to him or talking amongst themselves. He'd allow them a few moments to rest and relax as the reality hit home. Understanding duty, a distinct realization crossed his mind. I am responsible for Infection. I am the carrier, I did all that just now. Shaking his head, the mutant came to a single conclusion. I am a counsel member of the Red Hand. I can no longer keep on running. I have to take responsibility for Infection. After gathering himself for a few moments he turned to face the nine or so Forsaken that were with him. "Make your ways to Raiaera. Leave Corone. Corone is no longer a bastion of freedom and heroes. It has become rotten to the core. In Raiaera go to the place where Valinatal once sat and is currently Narenhad. There sits a township known as Mosil-Z'sarug."

"But sire, what about you?" One of the men inevitably asked. Lorenor nodded and placed a hand upon his shoulder to comfort the man. "I have my own matters to attend to my friends. I must return to The Citadel. I am a leader of the Red Hand and must take responsibility for Infection!" Lorenor continued. "All Forsaken are welcome in Mosil-Z'sarug. Live free and fruitful lives. It shall be a long time before we see each other again." Seeing looks of concern and doubt in their faces, the mutant continued. "Take this map with you and some coin." He handed them over a map to the location of Mosil-Z'sarug. He also handed them some gold pieces to see them on their way. Five hundred all together. "All of you will earn the rest. Head Southward through Ruild. Once you reach the coastline, build yourselves a boat to travel to Raiaera. The Lady N'Jal will give you necessary resources to guide you on your way." Lorenor said calmly. "Sire. You should be careful too. Please reconsider. You escaped The Citadel only to return."

"I have felt the wrath of the Knights of Dawn before. I have felt the wrath of the Order. Though Infection was my fault, I shall take responsibility for it this time." There were hugs exchanged between the men and Lorenor decided that it was time to continue forward. Heading South, the Forsaken knew what they had to do. Lorenor headed back to Radasanth, and inevitably, The Citadel itself...

***

With the Citadel's familiar structure standing before him now, the mutant looked upon the wellspring of violence and carnage. He knew what The Citadel stood for firsthand, so he expected no surprises. Once a member of the Order of Ai'bron, the mutant considered the situation at hand quite carefully. He studied the gathered number of the monks before him as several units of the Knights of Dawn gathered behind him. Wanted, Lorenor knew that he would have to give his freedoms up for the foreseeable future. The Red Hand could protect him, but this was Lorenor's problem. Not the Red Hand's problem. With confusion in his heart, and sadness there as well, the mutant drew his N'Jal Sword. It was masterwork quality and would become his preferred weapon of choice against the less experienced rookies of Althanas. Moving with a purpose, the mutant placed his sword on the ground and knelt specifically before the Order of Ai'Bron. He did not kneel before the Knights of Dawn. A ranking monk-elder approached the mutant cautiously to be certain it wasn't a trick.

A captain of the Knights of Dawn approached as well. They met in the middle. One man standing at either side of the mutant. Lorenor could feel the stench of the paladin of Draconus. They were holy warriors, and thusly, their mere presence could harm the mutant. Gathered in mass, his skin was burning with agony but he was used to the pain by now. Lorenor stared at the floor the entire time as his fate was decided. "You've had him in your possession before and failed to dispose of him. Let us deal with him now." The monk said boldly to the knight. Responding with carefully placed etiquette and protocol, the knight kept a cold facial expression. "The failures were not our own, I assure you. Our superiors told us to ensure that the mutant was sent to the Dajas Pagoda. Arrangements were made to be certain of his execution. He was able to pull a victory out of that battle, miraculously and the Pagoda let him go." There was a certain growl in the knights' voice as he mentioned the Pagoda. "What do you intend to do with him monk?" The knight asked.

"As punishment, he will know warfare. We will initiate him into our Order and he will know the baptism of battle."

"That's all? Why not just execute him for his crimes against your Order."

"The Infection was successfully quarantined. Those that escaped will be hunted down and extinguished." Lorenor flinched when he heard that last part. But he kept himself visibly under control. Once it was decided that the Order would have their way, the Knights of Dawn left that location begrudgingly. Lorenor was taken into custody and the rules of his term were explained to him. "You are to become a member of the Order starting at the rank of Initiate. You will owe all allegiances to us. You will battle who we say, when we say, how we say it. You shall have no choice in this matter. Through the fires of war you shall grow into something much more than what you are now, a shadow of your former self. Through the fires of war, you shall know peace with yourself." The monk continued as the mutant was stripped of his fine lord's clothing. He was given a simple monk's robe as clothing, and bandages were placed his one physical arm, up to the elbow, and on both of his shins. He wore simple hide boots. A medallion made of simple materials was given to the mutant to signal his initiation into the Order. He was allowed to keep certain of his hard-won items but could not use them in warfare. Using the battle-data from his previous battle, Lorenor was sent to a single room where he would wait until his next battle.

There, he would study from the pages of the Necronomicon until he was called to duty.

And that was how Lorenor once again found himself in the ranks of the Order of Ai'bron as a member of N'Jal's sect.

[Harrier]

The creature that Wil Harrier had become lurched forwards with the grace of a cudgel. It possessed his memories somewhere within its brain, but it barely understood itself well enough to know what memories were. Even now, as it made its way in the general direction of the Citadel, it was moving aimlessly. Perhaps not aimlessly, for the creature always had goals, it could barely remember them long enough to carry them through. Save for the times when the monster was so fascinated by an object that it consumed the entirety of his focus, he rarely latched onto a goal long enough to achieve it.

Thus, the monster had entered the Citadel out of an attraction for the well mad building, not out of any particular attachment to its purpose. When it entered, it grunted loudly, displeased with the smells of magic and death that reverberated through the area. People were talking all around it, but the monster really have a sense of the conversation. Everything around it was background noise. Had it been more perceptive, it would have known that there was a room marked by a golden door, in which a special battle was being prepared for a warrior for with whom the Ai’bron monks had special intentions. The creature also would have known better than to enter the door, on the expectation that a golden door meant there would be treasure inside.

“You can’t go…” one of the bystanders offered, but the monster didn’t her him.

“Let him enter,” one of the monks replied. “It isn’t what we planned, but it is certainly interesting.”

As the creature that Wil Harier had become entered the room, it was immediately confused. Somehow, it had been transported from the marble walls and floors of the battlehall onto a jagged cliff out facing the sea. Long blades of grass rose up to the creature’s ankle, concealing semi-sharp rocks that lay underneath. Sea breezes lapped up against the monster’s weathered skin.

It took the monster more than a few seconds to realize it was not the only thing there. A strange creature, an outcast much like itself with eyes of purple glowing energy, was also present on the cliff. Sensing power, the monster decided to turn around, only to find that the door out of the room had vanished. Sensing trickery on the part of the purple eyed fiend, the monster bellowed loudly. The air around its hands and forearms began to crack with hot excitement.

Unable to think of the words it wanted to say, the creature only growled and started running straight for the thing it thought was keeping it from leaving the jagged cliff.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Reading from the works of the Necronomicon, the mutant sat in silence. No food, no water. Only expectation and fury. The fury was building up with each passing moment as Lorenor awaited his next bout. His last bout in The Citadel resulted in the near-death of Veatrix Bane. Monks were unnerved by the situation at hand but found a place for the mutant in their ranks. As he sat in silence some time passed and he was called by his elders. Reluctantly, Lorenor went with the monks. He was guided towards an empty chamber with a twin set of golden doors. Seeing the shiny doors, an old impulse surfaced. He was attracted to the shiny doors but he was able to stave off the feelings. It was necessary to keep going in this battle against the Thayne. Monks whispered behind him as he was guided towards the chamber. Lorenor simply walked without saying a word. Not a single utterance. Understanding the severity of the situation, the mutant knew that he was their prisoner. Sorahn un' Rohnahmeh would be up in arms if he were to find out that one of his own counsel members was taken prisoner by the monks.

The Red Hand had suffered a loss. Not just any sort of loss, but a morale and spiritual loss. Lorenor represented one third of the trinity that was the Red Hand. The counsel consisted of Ranger Nailo. The leadership body consisted solely of Sorahn. Lorenor knew this because he was a counsel member of The Red Hand. Accepting his fate, he knew that there would be no members of The Red Hand coming to rescue him. He was a prisoner of The Citadel as once he had been a prisoner of the Dajas Pagoda. Understanding this situation meant that the mutant was thinking clearly about all of the matters at hand. He listened to the voice of the N'Jal Protocol, the deity that rested within. Lorenor did possess power, but it was a power unique to the mutant. It did not make him invincible. It did not make a Godhand Striker, or an Ithermoss, or a Yari Rafanas. Unlike those great heroes before him, Lorenor was not a hero. He was a villain. The darkest of scum, the blackest of souls. Many would consider that the mutant was getting due karma for sins of the past.

Perhaps. Perhaps it was fate that the mutant should suffer such a terrible prison sentence. A lifetime of servitude in the fires of war. Lorenor silently stepped into the chamber. Where he sat in deep meditation, listening to the voices within his head. The loudest voice of all was the N'Jal Protocol. The living incarnation of darkness. Evil itself. N'Jal was the spider queen, the only Thayne that was banished by the rest of the Thaynes. Sent to an asteroid prison in the cosmos, the N'Jal Protocol was banished from Althanas never to return. But they were all deceived. A Necromancer following Xem'Zund's legions cast a meteor spell that back-fired and conjured up N'Jal's meteor. It crashed landed on former Valinatal and that place became known as the burnt land. Narenhad. Lorenor knew this because N'Jal knew this. Lorenor carried N'Jal's living incarnation within his body. Having found out a deadly secret, the N'Jal Protocol was not a giant spider creature as was depicted in the old works. Instead of a giant spider, Lorenor had found a culture of tiny self-replicating sentient machines in the wellspring deep within the asteroid.

These machines were taken within his vessel. And Lorenor became one with the N'Jal Protocol. Time passed, and at long last, an individual entered the chamber. The monk's magics took effect and reality slipped away from the mutant. Vague images of the Antifirmanent passed through the mutant's peripheral vision as he saw reality reset itself. Once the process was complete, Lorenor found himself on the coast-line of Corone. The very outskirts of the great land, with sheer edges rising to form stark plateaus. The rocks were made of granite and colored the entire area with a gray sheen. A typhoon was settling on the Jagged Edge Mountain range. The typhoon's rains poured down in blinding sheets soaking the mutant to the core. His simple cloth robe was immediately soaked in. Lord Draconus tossed his thunderbolts upon the Jagged Mountains making the entire area live with electric energy. Explosions burst in the distance and Lorenor looked upon his opponent for the first time.

Lorenor stood upon the center of the plateau. Several sharp mountain sides rose up at odd angles all around him cutting them off immediately from the rest of Corone. To get back to Radasanth from this isolated place would be a long journey. Beneath them was the coastline, many miles below their current position. A fall would be lethal. Even for Lorenor. So he kept tabs on his position on the slick granite at all times. Standing too close to the edge would mean a certain death. Lorenor felt a tremendous energy burning from within the body of the warrior before him. Staring cautiously, he examined what he could. The energy was phosphorescent, giving off a mysterious glow. Burning off his enemy like a brilliant electromagnetic field, Lorenor sensed something familiar about that energy. His eyes natural switched to infra-red and he could see the blood blossoming from the creature's heart. Staring at the beasts' strange physique Lorenor felt a sort of kinship to the outcast warrior. The air itself rippled in protest against the ultraviolet heat that the warrior gave off.

Sensing a sort of beauty and power surging from within the creature, Lorenor understood that this was a dangerous situation. As soon as it started to give off more energy, the creature ran towards the mutant. Lorenor knew there would be no time for words. Slick with rain from the typhoon, the granite rocks beneath him served as a dangerous obstacle. He could feel his calve muscles aching from the pain of keeping his body perfectly still against the torrents of moving water. His robes were soaked, his hair was wet, his boots were soaked in. Overall, it was a miserable battle arena for a miserable person. Perhaps it was a fitting fate. Immediately, Lorenor reacted as the creature came well within range. Drawing his newly acquired weapon, the N'Jal Blade, the ceremonial weapon had a dark aura about it. Masterwork in quality, he swung the weapon in an arch. Lightning flashed in the distance lighting the sharp steel blade for a brief moment and reflections of both Lorenor and Will were visible. Lorenor slashed in an attempt to strike Will's upper body. He had no intention of loosing this fight.

[Harrier]

The high arching swing of the Lorenor’s sword allowed the creature just enough time to avoid it. With every attempt to stop its momentum before it was within range of the blade, the creature tried to root its legs into the ground. The task was harder than expected. Slick, rain coated grass made traction difficult and the creature’s motor skills were not all that developed.

Thud! As the blade sliced through nothing but air, the creature fell straight on its back. For a brief moment, it was too shocked to react. The creature had fallen sideways, its head and shoulders hung precipitously over the side of the cliff. Someone self aware might have gulped and thanked whatever god they believed in, but the monster that Wil Harrier had become knew nothing about religion.

Instead, it knew only of its goal. It didn’t check to see if it had suffered any damage, it didn’t wince or grunt in pain. There would be no permanent damage suffered from the injury. And the feel of the fall would subside before the monster would have been able to feel it. With a hand still heated to temperatures beyond normal, the creature began its next attack, uninterrupted by the lightning and thunder off in the distance.

The creature no longer remembered why it was fighting Lorenor, only that the purple eyed ghoul had first attacked him with a sword. The monster that Wil Harrier had become now wanted nothing more than to reciprocate the attack for its own sake. It cared little for defense, it didn’t even realize that there was an “it” that could be extinguished. The creature was fearless, but only because of ignorance.

Absent or rage, fear or any other consideration, the monster reached out with its radiation imbued right hand, attempting to grab Lorenor’s anke and bring the purple eyed ghoul back down to the ground. If Lorenor fell, the monster intended to punch Lorenor’s face into submission. Should he fail, his left hand moved instinctively into a position of preventive defense, his forearm blocking his torso from taking a critical hit.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Shocked by the creature's reaction time, Lorenor was slightly taken aback when he saw what the creature had done. Did he do that on purpose? The thing had skillfully evaded the mutant's attack showing an impressive maneuver that put the monster underneath the offending blade. All too late, Lorenor saw that there was an attack in coming. Due to the nature of the granite's slicked up surface and the puddles of streaming water, the mutant was already putting tremendous pressure on his calve muscles. His muscles bulged out as he stood there in a somewhat defensive position. The man grabbed his ankle for some strange reason beyond the mutant's comprehension capacity. Seeing the vast weight different between Will Harrier and Lorenor V'halkulus, he wasn't sure exactly what Will was attempting to accomplish.

Waves smashed against the rocks below. The thunderclouds above roared with a fury that smashed against Corone's coastline. Known for the famous mines, the Jagged Edge Mountains were one of that nation's greatest resources. Primarily exporting copper, iron, steel, and a few other metals, the mines were an important revenue for the Empire. Lorenor knew that control of the mines was crucial to any rising power in Corone. The mutant also knew that there were workers utilizing their craft underneath the surface of Althanas. Lorenor knew this because that fine granite floor contained many secrets. Grass grew on certain portions of the earth bound rock.

Lorenor planted his legs down against the surface of the ground. Utilizing his muscle control and reflexes, the mutant steadied himself as Will Harrier grabbed his ankle. However, there was something that Lorenor could not account for. Feeling the man's powerful hand, Lorenor suddenly felt a bizarre sensation go up his leg. Irradiated, Lorenor looked down and saw a mysterious glow flowing up his leg. His leg felt extremely hot as burn marks began to develop. Lorenor attempted to call the Endless, but the symbiote could not respond to him for whatever reason. Discovering a new weakness, Lorenor screamed in terror at the pain that the radioactivity caused.

Seeing the man on the floor, the mutant became obsessed with the idea of ending Will Harrier quickly. Many voices spoke within the mutant's mind as he considered his next course of action. On instinct, he rotated his sword and stabbed downward on the upper body area of the creature. Lorenor did not know Will Harrier's name, but the man was rapidly becoming a nuisance to the mutant. Lorenor sent the sword down towards the upper body of the man hoping that he could claim a hit. Even as he moved, the burning energy placed in his leg by Will Harrier was spreading up to his thigh quickly causing low-degree burns. However, the severity of the burns was increasing rapidly...