A Peaceful Pasture (Open)

[Ulysses]

now closed to Archanex Jotham!
Wind brushed against Ulysses’ face and caressed it with the tenderness of a lover. It stroked his cheeks and face and gently eased him out of slumber. Mind still clouded with the fog of sleep, he sat up and opened his eyes. He was sitting on a grassy knoll in a sea of green pastures. The azure sky above was devoid of clouds. There was a cow only a few feet away from him. The cow was staring at him like some bizarre, transparent deep-sea fish had suddenly appeared in the grass before him. A few other cows were scattered in the distance, but none seemed to be paying him any attention.

A weird feeling of dissonance filled him as he woke up a little bit more, and memory flooded to him. He hadn’t gone to sleep in some random pasture at all. What he remembered last was falling asleep in a small cot in the heart of the Citadel. The day before he’d battled a strange mage over a lake of lily pads, a match that had ended in a stalemate. The monks had healed his wounds, and led him to a small room to sleep and then…

Pasture? Cows? Maybe he was still dreaming.

“You are not dreaming,” the cow said. Ulysses looked at the cow, alarmed. There are very few other appropriate emotional responses to a cow talking to you. He then laughed hysterically.

“I think the fact that you’re talking is proof to the otherwise,” Ulysses said to the cow.

The cow frowned. Up to this point, Ulysses would have said for certain that it would be impossible for a cow to frown. “I am not really a cow, of course,” the cow said. “Or at least, this is really a cow, but I am one of the Monks of Ai’Bron simply possessing it temporarily in order to convey a message to you.”

Ulysses nodded, figuring he might as well go along with it. Cow-message service? What was next? Chicken sorcerers? Sheep swordsmen? Sure. Why not. Very little in the Citadel seemed to obey normal laws of logic or physics.

“You overslept this morning, Ulysses,” the cow/monk said. “You were magically transported to your match at the appropriate hour, which was about five minutes ago. Your opponent will be arriving shortly, and my time in which to explain the rules of the arena to you is short.”

“This is the arena?” Ulysses said, gesturing to the rolling green hills around him.

The cow/monk nodded. Ulysses had to stop himself from laughing again. “More importantly, there is the matter of animal I am currently possessing. It is no ordinary cow, you see.”

“That much is obvious,” Ulysses muttered.

The cow pretended like Ulysses hadn’t said anything at all. He wasn't sure that he'd ever been condescended to by a cow before. “This match will be one of mounted combat. The first participant to fall off their mount will lose, as will the first participant to be knocked unconscious or die.”

“What mount?” Ulysses asked. This whole affair was just getting strange. He had come to the Citadel to hopefully attain a greater mastery of his skills and knowledge of his own unique brand of magic, and even more than that he'd been lured by the promise of heroic enterprise and honor. Now, however, he felt more like a pawn of the monks than anything else. He hadn’t even told them he wanted a second match, they had simply decided this for him. He wasn’t particularly complaining but…still. Now mounted combat? He had no experience riding horses; not to mention that there wasn’t a horse in sight. All there was was…then he made the connection. “You want me to ride a cow?”

“No. This animal is a shapeshifter. Simply mount it and then picture any animal you wish to ride, and it will change to that form. Very convenient magical beast. You should be honored that you are being allowed to ride it for the space of one match. Your opponent is being provided one as we speak, of course. Once you are both mounted, he will appear in the arena. Don’t expect to keep the mount, by the way, obviously. Now I must depart, as your match will be beginning momentarily. Good luck.”

There was no visible sign that the monk had departed, but Ulysses thought he saw a glint of intelligence from the cow’s eye depart. The animal was just a cow once more. Or, a strange magical shapeshifting cow. Still unsure if this was a dream or not, Ulysses walked over to the creature and mounted, climbing onto it as one would climb onto a horse. There was no saddle, and the animal’s back was uncomfortable.

Now how was this supposed to work? The monk said that he just had to picture any animal he desired to become his mount. Not feeling creative, Ulysses pictured a horse. He pictured mare of medium size with brown hair, a black mane. A knight’s mount. It was sort of animal that you could depend on, not to be flashy but to perform exactly what was needed of it. People who didn’t know anything about horses always thought that knights rode great huge stallions, but this was far from the case. A stallion had a bad temper, would get distracted, and generally just made a poor steed. A mare was dependable. He closed his eyes and pictured this beast for a moment, then opened them, feeling foolish. This was all probably a dream, or a trick by the monks to get him to ride a cow and look stupid.

He realized that he’d been clenching the hair of the creature below him when its consistency suddenly changed. The short, bristly cow-hairs were replaced by smooth, long, brown ones. He looked down, astonished, and found exactly the mare he had pictured. The horse whinnied and Ulysses chuckled happily. It occurred to him now that he really could have pictured anything—a dragon, a flying horse, a massive snail, whatever. He really couldn’t have been happier than with this simple horse, though.

The horse seemed very intelligent, as it moved with the slightest signal from Ulysses’ legs. He wasn’t an expert rider, or even a good one, but this animal was clearly used to reading the cues of its owner. He found that he didn’t even need to hold on with his hands—as long as he gripped tightly with his thighs, and squeezed with one leg or another to direct the horse. He wondered if the mare would respond to vocal commands, and he decided it almost definitely would.

He drew his steel longsword and it glinted in the mid-afternoon sun. In his left hand he held his oak buckler—a small shield, but a sturdy one, as it was reinforced with an iron rim. At his left his shortsword remained sheathed. Trying to fight with two weapons while on a horse would be foolhardy. A more traditional sword-and-shield approach would work better.

Within him, the spirit of the Knight awoke. Ulysses had been chosen some time ago by the Spirit Cydonia to be a heroic champion. The spirits of ancient warriors from another world lived within him, and to some extent he could call on their skills as necessary. One of these spirits—that of the Knight—was used to fighting with a sword and shield on a horse. That spirit awoke, and Ulysses was prepared to channel its skills.

Then there was one single golden moment of peace. The wind brushed against his face once more, and it ruffled his hair. He surveyed the surrounding pastures and waited for his enemy to appear.
The only special rule for this arena is that you have to remain on some sort of a mount the whole time or forfeit the match. What form that mount takes is entirely up to you. Other than that, the arena is simply a relatively flat field of grass, with a sparse scattering of cows.

[Archanex Jotham]

The recent events within The Citadel were changing the Overmage drastically. Normally a pacifistic individual, the Overmage was awakening to a single, razor-sharp truth. We live in a violent world filled with many blades ready to be plunged in your heart. If we don't adapt to this danger-filled environment, we will be swallowed by The Scourge. Jotham was busily writing in his journals after recovering from his battle with Irene, the Summoner he'd encountered several weeks ago. Her summon, Grath, made short work of the Overmage.

Taking the pen and ink to his grimoire, the Overmage wrote thoughts and analytical observations down on the paper. He felt the flutter in his chest from what the monks of Ai'Bron had discussed with him after the events of that battle. Thinking back to that event, the Overmage closed his eyes as he vividly pictured his memories. Like a liquid funnel that cascaded all around him, fragments of memories flowed out from the abyss surfacing forward. Jotham's eyes were closed as he thought back to the events in question.

Jotham felt the bandages around his body as if they were still fresh. His body was laying on the same bed it had been for several hours now, several days in fact. The battle with Irene had taken a lot out of the Overmage. Also, he had found himself somewhat attracted to Irene. But she had mentioned interest in another, so he would not bother pursuing someone who was already spoken for. Laying in the bed, he overhead the Monks speaking about his battle with Irene. Information had been exchanged that was gathered from Irene and Jotham. A certain Elder Monk named Duncan Lightrunner sat on a chair next to the Overmage's person.

Sitting there, Jotham listened to what the Elder Monk had to say.

"You know. The nimbus that surrounds you is quite interesting when you cast that ability." Duncan said. "It seems that there is a potential that you can control it if you focus your emotions enough." Duncan added. "But that's the key, when you cast you're ability you have to focus entirely on it and nothing else. I understand it is a price of the power you control." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Elder Onox was right. That nimbus that surrounds you is a predictable manifestation. Though your ability is quite powerful, you must learn to control the side-effects if you are to succeed."

Jotham turned his head towards Duncan, he'd been listening to his friend for a long moment.

"How do you propose I do that? As far as I know the nimbus that manifests is a direct visual component of my ability. I don't know if there's anything I can do about it. But I am willing to try to get things under control."

"When you recover, I will have a task ready for you. We will put you on the path to gaining control of your abilities." With that, Duncan left and the memory faded.

Jotham returned to the present moment as he continued to write in his grimoire. His eyes were burning from staring at the page for so long, but he didn't care. He had a job to do. Jotham listened to the silence in the long hallway of the medical wing for a moment or two, then resumed his current endeavor. A presence manifested from further down the hall. Jotham could hear the boot-falls of the individual coming closer. For a moment, the Overmage stared into the dark until the presence of Duncan Lightrunner appeared. Sighing with relief, Jotham put his pen down, closed the ink-well and stood up. He greeted his friend with a warm embrace.

"I thought about what you said." Jotham said, speaking to Duncan casually. "I think, there maybe a way to control the nimbus cloud after all. I have been doing some research on the matter. My people are able to manipulate the Elements and the Arkanos Arts to their will." Jotham folded his arms across his chest. His battle-staff leaned against the nearby wall at a forty-five degree angle. "I have to achieve a level of concentration that I have not yet been able to achieve." Jotham said. "I hope to someday be able to control my emotions through all these crazy events..."

"Do-not worry Jotham. If you have faith in Khal'Jaren, all knowledge and wisdom will be revealed to you soon. Just keep moving forward with the matter at hand." Duncan said. "In any event, your next task is ready for you my friend. Gather your belongings and follow me."

***

With that, sometime later, Jotham found himself in a large pasture. Many trees decorated the landscape. A cool breeze came in from the North, from Salvar. Jotham was reminded of the endless plains from back home, back in Ayenee. The planet of Ayenee was somewhat different from the star of Ayenee. Many worlds comprised the system of Ayenee. Thousands of worlds, rich in resources. He thought about his adventures back home, and missed his family of fellow Overmages. Once, there were billions of Overmages. A legendary people that spanned across several worlds within Ayenee. Many wars started by the sides that represented The Light, and The Darkness diminished the population of the Overmages until there were only hundreds left where there were many.

Each step forward into the field brought Jotham closer to his mount. As he walked, he recalled the rules set to him by Duncan Lightrunner. Unfamiliar with mounted combat, the Overmage wondered exactly how this was going to work. He limped forward towards the nearest of the cows and saw that his opponent was already waiting nearby. Jotham looked at his foe's general direction, nodding with profound respect at Ulysses. The pacifist found himself in unfamiliar territory: I am becoming a war-monger now. Under normal circumstances, the Overmage would have preferred a diplomatic solution rather than violence.

However, these were not normal circumstances. This was The Citadel! And in The Citadel there was only one rule: survival! Using his battlestaff as a walking stick, the Overmage walked over to the nearest of one of the animals. Thankfully, his opponent was relatively near to the door's position when it vanished from the controlled reality of the combat chamber. Jotham extended a hand and looked at one of the majestic creatures. Though they were obviously a cow of some-sort, Althanas animals were logically quite different from Ayenee animals. Back home, on Ayenee, cows were bovine creatures that could have as many as five heads and six tails! The cow he was looking at had several pairs of eyes and blinked each eye individually.

The markings on the white fur of the cow had intricate colors on them, some were blue, some were green, and some had colors which had no name. The one he looked at had two heads. Its snout was decorated with a pair of protruding tusks. Jotham studied the best when he noticed that the intricate markings of the creature moved on their own periodically creating a hypnotic effect for the Overmage. Staring for a moment, Jotham found himself getting lost in the intricate patterns. Forcing himself to look away from the beast's moving marks, the Overmage blinked several times. He placed a hand on the flank of his chosen mount and passed a hand across the creature. Muscles tensed beneath the thick layer of fur for a moment but soon got used to Jotham's touch.

Patting the great beast a few times, Jotham mimicked the motion of his opponent and attempted to climb atop the great beast. Surprisingly, the creature complied to his actions. There was no resistance. Jotham sat atop the great creature. Then, following the instructions given to him by Duncan, the Overmage carefully conceived of a creature suitable for the task ahead. At about the same time, several grunts from the beast beneath him signaled to the Overmage that the transformation was complete. Jotham looked down towards the great Amothuar from Ayenee. The beast had a thick set of armoured scales that were as strong as steel. A pair of spiked tails extended from the creature's spinal column and lashed about violently.

The creature, completely opposite Ulysses' mount, was male. It had a reptilian skull structure. Several pairs of eyes were visible beneath well formed and armoured orbital structures. The creature's maw was great with several rows of rotating teeth that made it look like an organic saw. Tusks and horns were visible on the creature's skull. Furthermore, the beast had spikes sticking out of various places of its skull and along the length of its body. The beast was situated close to the ground, with eight powerful legs that were short but very muscular. Terrifying to behold, the beast was ready for violence in a world gone mad. Atop its form was the single mount set up that was prepared for just such a beast by the riders of Amothuar back home. Jotham wondered if this manifestation was wise, but knew that he had to take the upper hand early in this event. Grabbing the reigns of the great beast, Jotham sheathed his battle-staff and drew his twin Iron daggers...

If Ulysses had come for a fight, he'd found one.

[Ulysses]

If this truly was a dream, it had just become a nightmare.

The abomination before him filled Ulysses with a primal sort of fear—the kind that makes children pull blankets over their heads and makes grown men leap at shadows. The creature was some sort of monstrous reptile, but not of any sort he’d ever seen. Perhaps it was a demon. Its rider was a large man in an elegant brown robe, with a red beard. Given his staff, it seemed likely that he was a mage. What kind of man, however, would create that creature? Surely such a thing could not exist in nature; it must have been spawned from the dark recesses of a twisted imagination. Ulysses could tell that even the horse below him was uneasy. He patted her flank, trying to reassure her.

He supposed that he could change his own mount’s form again, to make it more intimidating, but to what purpose would that serve? He had no desire to ride a monster. Besides, as frightening as the creature’s appearance was, Ulysses might have something of an advantage. The monster had seven or eight legs and multiple tails—sorting all of those limbs out would probably require some amount of concentration, at the cost of speed. All those spines and bones and armor would probably slow the beast down as well. Ulysses’ mount, on the other hand, was simple and swift.

If we’re going to be fighting together, I suppose I ought to give you a name, Ulysses thought, considering the horse beneath him.

There’s no need, I already have one, the mare thought back. Ulysses nearly fell off, he was so taken aback. My name is Eran, and yours I know to be Ulysses. I fear we are outmatched, but your heart seems noble, and the form your imagination has given me is pure.

He felt a sudden rush of positive emotion from the creature beneath him, and he was afraid no longer. This battle would require oneness and respect between rider and steed, and that he thought he could achieve.

Then another voice came into his head—that of the Knight. I am by thy side as well, the Knight said, his voice archaic and noble. Once again, Ulysses was reassured. His eyes flashed and changed from his usual gold to the deep blue of the Knight. At once, he felt as calm as the great white cliffs of the Knight’s homeland. His grip on his sword and shield became tighter and more experienced, and his posture shifted from an uneasy slouch to a confident, almost regal demeanor. The wind ruffled his hair, and with his sword and shield and on his noble steed, he was momentarily the absolute picture of chivalrous knighthood. Above, great white clouds sailed across the calm blue sea of the sky.

He nodded to himself, and his mouth set into a grim line of concentration. He called out to his opponent. “My name is Ulysses,” he said aloud, “What manner of monster you ride I know not, but be assured that I feel no fear, and I shall give this battle my all. I only hope that you will do the same.”

With that, he urged Eran forward and towards his opponent, and towards the rotating razor teeth of his alien steed.

[Archanex Jotham]

Thinking back to the great land of Ayenee, the Overmage concentrated on the Fields of Lahaksan where the Amothuar was from. Great trees that spanned several miles filled that field as well as the blood of the great caravaners. The tall grass blades were soaked with blood, feeding the ravenous appetites of the native beats. Atop the food chain, the Amothuar was one of many breeds of vicious predatory creatures that stalked the plains. There were those on Jotham's home-world that braved the fileds of Lahaksan in order to attempt to train an Amothuar or other great beasts that resided in the endless field. Jotham's home world had two suns which created very hot days, in an environment that was already particularly devastating. Jotham's world was an M-Class planetoid that supported all manner of life forms and all manners of environments. It was rich with precious resources and valuable technology present from the native species that resided along with the Overmages.

Jotham's home world was called Y'ahanz Five. It was the fifth planet in the system, and supported three orbiting moons. Water covered about 60% of its surface and it had an oxygen-producing atmosphere suitable to many life forms, especially humanoids and many plant-species. Jotham hailed from a city called Raxis. Which was the capital city of one of the main land masses of that world. Similar to Radasanth of Althanas, all though technologically advanced, the city spanned hundreds of miles and was at its productive zenith. It was one of the wealthiest cities on Y'ahanz Five. The Overmage population was particularly large and expansive there.

Thinking back to his early life, the Overmage pondered his training and education. He was sharing his thoughts with his mount as he had heard the legends of the Tamers of Lahaksan before. Sharing much of his life in a fragment of moments, the Overmage kept staring at his opponent as the beast reacted underneath him. The Amothuar was now Jotham's to command for the remainder of the battle. His opponent spoke just then, addressing the Overmage. Jotham nodded as he listened to the small introduction.

"I am called Jotham Archanex." Jotham began but had little time for anything else, his opponent attacked. The Amothuar's snouted head suddenly sprung up at the attention position. With rotating teeth and snapping jaws, the beast was prepared to maul through his opponent. Yet, Jotham worked to calm the beast down. We will not be doing that today. It is my instructions to best our opponent. Jotham thought utilizing the connection to his mount. If he dies early, the match will be over. You want to play don't you? Was all that Jotham needed to say. Then, the Overmage began to prepare one of his spells. A coloured nimbus surrounded the Overmage as he held a dagger in his hands, after sheathing the other. He would have to hold the beast's reigns with one hand as well so combat would prove exceedingly difficult in such a situation. Jotham only hoped that his masterwork Iron dagger would give him the edge he needed to fight. As he channeled the Elemental Manna, he thought about one purpose, and he knew he would have to concentrate to enact his plane. The Amothuar would do the rest.

[Ulysses]

Jotham Archanex? As Ulysses charged towards his opponent and his bizarre mount, he focused on the man in the brown robes. At first he’d assumed his opponent to be normal in comparison to his mount, but now he wasn’t entirely sure. Whether or not Jotham was strictly human he couldn’t say. There was something indefinably alien about him, something Ulysses couldn’t put his finger on but that made the man vaguely creepy nonetheless. He shivered.

Then he was assaulted by images, as powerful an assault as if someone had hammered him with a club. He found himself imaging a strange and alien sky and world. Twin suns circled a strangely-colored sky, great beasts (abominations? Nightmares?) wandered a seemingly endless plain and viciously tore eachother apart with fangs and claws and far stranger appendages. Ulysses swooned, and nearly fell off his horse.

Don’t! Fight it! Eran thought. Ulysses instinctively formed a mental shield by thinking of his own images, peaceful ones of his childhood. He’d been a fisher’s son, and so what immediately came to him was the ocean. Rocking steadily on a little boat, endless sapphire waves to either side. A single, normal sun, setting in the distance and coating the clouds with pinks and oranges, its dying luminescence reflected off the crystalline waves. He was filled with peace, and all images of the alien planet vanished. He opened his eyes (not even realizing that he’d had them closed) and found that Eran had stopped moving forward. He urged her on.

What was that? he asked, still shaken.

Your bond with me has evidently given you some level of low-grade telepathy, Eran explained. Believe me, I felt that as strongly as you did. I wonder where it was, though?

It was awful, Ulysses thought. The mage and his mount were clearly from some harsh, unforgiving alien world. How could he compete with a man from a place like that? Ulysses hadn’t even been raised a warrior—most of his skills came from the spirits of others. He hoped that Eran would offer him some encouragement, but he found none in the horse beneath him.

Ulysses, with the Knight inside him, and riding the creature known as Eran—three people become one—came closer and closer to the brown-robed man and his steed. At the last minute, however, when they were only a few feet away from the creature’s deadly maw, they veered to the left. Ulysses realized that an assault directly on the creature’s front would be foolhardy. The man Jotham was wielding two iron daggers, which could probably be dealt with easily using Ulysses’ sword…if he could get close enough. The monster seemed like the real threat here. Ulysses had Eran begin to circle around the opponent. His expression was unreadable. In the back were the creature’s tails. In the front were its jaws. Either way, visions of a bloody horse and rider mauled by terrible teeth and spikes plagued him.

The only place the man seemed vulnerable was from above. And that gave Ulysses an idea. Eran sensed it and snorted approval. They began their charge towards Jotham and his mount once more, this time galloping at full speed. Ulysses closed his eyes and focused on the image in his head. This time the transformation didn’t take nearly so long. He looked down and great white, feathery wings had sprung from the horse’s sides. They were like an angel’s wings. The horse’s hair had turned bright white.

Just as they would have been in reach of the monster’s teeth, Eran leapt into the air and began to fly.

Ulysses was now riding a pegasus.

[Archanex Jotham]

Oblivious to his surrounding, the Overmage was chanting the mantra required to activate the Spell Sword ability. Holding his dagger tightly in his hand, Jotham carefully constructed the verbal portions of the Spell Sword. Pulling the rune symbols from his mind, the Overmage constructed the basics of the working of the ancient art. His body was now glowing brightly with the nimbus that surrounded him. Jotham focused on the blade and began to gather the energy towards the blade.

Concentrating on the raw elemental fire, Jotham felt the energy coursing through his body powerfully. Energy manifested around his arms as several snaking spiral-like bursts. These strands of the elemental manna rushed down his arm and towards the blade in his hand. Soon, it traveled up the length of the masterwork weapon. Jotham could feel the cold weight of the iron blade against his very will as he focused on the task at hand.

The intense gathering of energy caused a strong wind to suddenly get kicked up from the West. Even this wind was not enough to prevent the Overmage from concentrating. As one unit with his mount, the Overmage held the reigns tightly with one hand as he focused on enchanting the dagger in his opposite hand. Then, a burst of tremendous energy signaled that the Spell Sword was complete. Radiating with a red aura now, the weapon seemed more vicious somehow. The elemental manna transformed the weapon somehow, unlocking the potential from within the blade.

Feeling the potent heat flowing from the weapon, Jotham grinned. His eyes glowed with brilliantly shining elemental energy. Then, his opponent suddenly leaped into the air nigh a few paces from the side. Jotham came out of the trance-induced effect just as the dark shadow of the flying horse surrounded the Overmage. Jotham instinctively, grabbed the reigns of the beast beneath him in such a way to move away from the flying horse.

The beast obeyed and began to move as fast as its stumpy legs could possibly take the duo. Jotham prepared to raise his enchanted dagger in a defensive posture in case he had to fend off whatever attacks were coming his way. Jotham's entire body glowed with the nimbus cloud that was a signature of his people...

[Ulysses]

There was something glorious about flight. Ulysses and his now flying mount swooped over the mage Jotham’s head, out of reach of his daggers or the sharp teeth of his alien steed. For a moment he simply reveled in the pleasure of flying. He’d had dreams about flying before, but never had he experienced it himself. The feeling of the wind sweeping back his hair, the feeling of freedom…it was lovely. He thought he could sense that the pegasus beneath him agreed.

All of the sudden, a strong burst of wind struck him from the west. The pegasus swerved in its flight and was temporarily knocked off balance, and Ulysses had to struggle to hold on. After a few moments, they adapted to the new wind and were flying as before. He turned Eran around until he was facing his opponent once more.

Now he felt a different sensation: not wind, but heat. The man in the brown robes was surrounded by a red aura, and waves of heat pulsated off of his body. One of the daggers the mage held temporarily glowed with arcane light, suggesting that he’d done something to it.

Another fire mage? Ulysses thought, with a mixture of fear and disgust. The last opponent he’d had had been a mage specializing in fire. Ulysses had ended up badly burnt, and though the monks had healed his wounds right after the battle, his chest and arm ached with the memory. Hopefully he could avoid being burned in such a way this time. That opponent had been noble and human, though, very unlike this strange man from another world.

He began to fly towards the mage and its mount, but his opponent started to flee. Eight little legs whirled like windmills, but the creature didn’t get very far very fast. Ulysses’ assessment of its speed had been correct. He chased after and then swooped down from behind on the mage’s left side. He held his sword out and, as he swooped, he slashed viciously at the mage’s flank. He hoped to strike and then fly back out of range as quickly as he could. Whatever magic the mage had just worked, he wasn’t interested in finding out—especially if it meant getting burnt like that again. If all went well, this battle would be over as soon as it had scarcely begun.

[Archanex Jotham]

Too fast, that nimble horse is just too fast! Just coming out of the euphoric, trance-like state, the Overmage had nothing in his arsenal to assist him in evading Ulysses' attack. Jotham prepared for the worse. His previous defensive posture was the only thing that could possibly save him from the incoming attack. The youth's longsword simply had too much reach, and the boy himself had superior skill to the Overmage's fledgling daggerplay. And so, the youth's longsword struck true.

Wind continued to pick up harshly. Trees were bent at strange angles from the powerful gust now. The West wind was angry. Beneath the Overmage and his companion, the earth was well pounded as the creature's eight limbs crushed the top soil beneath it. Grass was crushed beneath the weight of Jotham's riding companion.

Jotham held his dagger tightly in one hand whilst he held the reigns of the riding beast in his other. Attempting to pull away from the incoming attacker was his only option. However, the movement had come too late for Jotham to adequately calculate on his own. Having no real experience with mounted combat before, the Overmage knew what was about to happen and he didn't like feeling so damned helpless.

Ulysses' sword came at a striking angle, skilled and confident. Seeing the blade coming out the corner of his eyes, the Overmage calculated that Ulysses and his mount were just within striking distance. He would have to sacrifice a hit in order to strike at Ulysses himself! From his defensive posture, Jotham moved just a bit so that the sword would catch him in a place that wasn't as devastating as possible. However, Jotham's movement came rather late. His opponent had already attacked.

Jotham saw the blade coming at him and his eyes went wide with horror. Fortunately, the blade struck him on his side, and he was able to intercept with the arm that was closest to his opponent. Having no true armor, the steel weapon cut through the Overmages' robes like a hot knife through butter. Jotham felt the blade make a perfect incision through his flesh and cut deep into his body. Furthermore, the flying horses' legs came within range as well. As they kicked out towards the Overmage, they connected horribly with his chest.

Never having a real chance to fight back, the Overmage had a final moment to curse out loud before he was knocked flying off his mount. With the sword cutting deep, and then being cut out of his body once more, the injury was great. The sword had cut through several ribs, and punctured his lungs. The injury was terrible, blood flowed freely from it. Furthermore, the area where the horses' hooves kicked Jotham in the chest and in the face were broken on impact. A broken nose, and his face cracked open, as well as his sternum broken, the Overmage was devastated by the attack. His enchanted dagger fell to the floor, several paces away, as Jotham landed to the ground, wind knocked out of him.

Screaming at the loss of its master, the Amothuar went into a blind rage. Lashing tails whipped out at the horse's legs in an attempt to catch it within the close-range proximity. Then, the beast stomped on the ground, turning partially towards the winged horse. Rotating saw-like teeth snapped the powerful maw at the horse in an attempt to snatch its prey from out of the sky...

Then, a terrible thunderclap resonated across the sky. Jotham cried out in agony for assistance as reality rippled and everything was once again replaced the plain chamber where all had initially started. On the ground, bleeding to death and in a state of shock, the Overmage was a complete mess. Jotham reached up with what strength he had left attempting to reach towards the Monks that were coming to towards the chamber. With blood bursting out of his mouth, it was clear that the Overmage was internally bleeding. A thick pool of blood stained the ground beneath a crimson color. Jotham held on to the images of the Firmanent for a time longer before darkness settled in cold and unforgiving. The last thing he felt was several strong hands reaching out for him.

[Ulysses]

The feeling of sword cutting through flesh was satisfying in a sick way. He could feel the tendons of the mage’s arm ripping, and blood gushed from the wound like water from a fountain.

The next few moments came as a disjointed series of chaotic images and sensations. What exactly happened he would never be sure, although he would ponder it at length later on. It seemed like the swing of his sword had been effective, but more so than that were the hooves of the pegasus. His mount’s legs kicked forward as he swooped upwards, and they crushed into the mage’s skull and chest. Ulysses heard the sickening unnatural crack of breaking bones and winced in sympathy. When he looked down, he saw that the mage had been knocked off his mount, and was falling into the nearby grass.

That means the match is over, right? I won, right? Ulysses thought briefly, but he was soon confronted with other matters.

While it’s rider was gone, the eight-legged monster was not. It screamed in rage (oh god when it screamed it sounded like a child oh god) and lashed upwards with its tails. Ulysses looked below in horror and saw as bright red gashes appeared on the flying horse’s underbelly and legs. Then the monster leapt upwards, surprisingly high, and its massive jaws made contact with the pegasus’s stomach. There was a dreadful ripping sound, and a huge portion of the horse’s underbelly was replaced with a bright red gaping hole, gushing blood.

Ulysses felt enormous amounts of pain. His empathetic link with the creature meant that he, to some extent, felt what it felt—and what it felt was enormous pain. He and the horse screamed in unison, each some mixture of animal and human intonation. The pegasus instinctively flew straight upward, trying to get away from the predator below. Its wingbeats became slow and laborious as it climbed through the air. The sun overhead was large and hot and round, and Ulysses felt (in his dazed state of pain) as though he could reach up and pluck it out of the air like a fiery golden apple.

Eventually the flying horse’s wingbeats stopped altogether, and it simply outstretched them towards the sun. Before it could begin to fall, however, there was a sound…almost like thunder, but far, far louder. He imagined this would be the sound the universe would make if it all suddenly imploded. Not quite a bang, but a sort of a sucking explosion and then…

The pegasus was gone. The pastures and fields were gone. Even the sun was gone. Ulysses was in mid-air, high up, close to the ceiling in an empty wooden room. Gravity and physics, those unavoidable and impartial forces, took hold once more and he fell. Eventually he struck the ground (although it felt more like the ground struck him) and he realized in a dull way that the crunching noise he heard meant that his arm had broken. He looked to his left and saw that monks were rushing to the aid of his opponent, who was lying bleeding on the ground. What happened next he couldn’t say, because then darkness clouded his vision and he knew nothing.

[Archanex Jotham]

Vaguely, flashes of images filled his head. An intense pain filled his body. Recalling that he could not feel his legs, the Overmage cried out for assistance, he cried to everyone and no one. Hands reached out for him from the darkness. In the back of his mind, he became aware of a presence lurking in the great beyond. When Jotham felt the twilight between life and death, consciousness and the land of dreams, the Overmage had an experience of enlightenment. An intense sensation of elevation filled the Overmage even as he was falling through the Great Beyond.

Life. Death. The Past. The Future. The Present moment in time. All of these notions became as one concept. Then, the Overmage's soul ascended through the Great Beyond. Rising higher and higher, Jotham saw the various planes in his state of displacement from the vessel. It was then that the Overmage saw the ivory-golden gates of The Great After, the land of ultimate rest for souls who were not wicked. Jotham flowed towards the front-gates and he saw the spirits of his forefathers waiting for him. One soul, shone brightly amongst the rest of the souls and made his way towards Jotham. It was Jotham's late grandfather.

A brilliant light radiated from the Gates of The After. The Gates were open and Jotham could perceive powerful energies of the Celestial Hosts that lurked from beyond the Gates of The After. Jotham's eyes were nearly blinded by the brilliant light that he saw everywhere. It was a light that filled him to his very soul. Jotham walked towards the soul that walked towards him. They exchanged an embrace.

"I am home." Jotham began. "Long have I awaited this day..." He said, but something troubled him. He could feel the Monks in the distance working on mending his body. "They attempt to bring me back to the Firmanent, when I do not wish to return..." Jotham said to the glowing presence of his grandfather.

"Jotham. listen to me closely. You are needed. You have a great task to fulfill that only you can fulfill. 'Tis not your time my grandson. Go back and live your life. Jotham the White."

"But I donot wish to go!" Jotham said, attempting to protest. Then, his grandfather touched his shoulder casually.

"Remember my words Jotham. A great event will occur really soon, you and your allies will be tested to the core. You must earn your way beyond the Ivory Gates of The Great After. Go home Jotham."

Before Jotham could speak up, he found himself floating back down to The Firmanent. Jotham awoke soon there after in the familiar rooms of the medic wing of The Citadel. All though he would not notice his platinum white hair until much later on. The events of the citadel battle had given birth to Jotham The White.

The End.

****Spoils****

Jotham The White-Level 0. Having obtained a completely new identity and purpose, Jotham The White has reached an evolutionary peak. Jotham now has platinum hair and blue eyes. These changes are currently aesthetic right now, but more changes will occur as this new ability levels. Right now, the ability is just a physical change. Later on, the ability will change and other evolutionary characteristics will appear. For now though, Jotham is greatly different in appearance. Furthermore, Jotham now has a branding on his right shoulder. This branding is of the Celestial Host of The Great After. It is the marking of a particular Celestial named Ezekiel. Furthermore, the ability has changed Jotham's Nimbus cloud drastically. Instead of a fire-red aura, the Overmage has a golden-aura. Once again, these changes are currently cosmetic in nature. (I would like to be able to use this ability right away if its not too much of a problem, thank you)

[MetalDrago]

STORY

Continuity ~
Ulysses- (4/10) He woke up in the middle of a pasture, because he slept through what was supposed to be his battle in the Citadel. What I’d like to know is why was he scheduled for a Citadel match in the first place? For what reason did he get set up in this particular setting in the first place? Is he in the Citadel for honor, money, fame, or just for fun? Please remember to answer questions like these, if not in the first post, then in bits and pieces as the thread carries on.

Archanex Jotham- (6/10) I really have very little to say on this note. You were in the hospital wing after being beaten by another person and then you agreed to be set up in another match at the monks’ discretion. That at least illustrates why you were there in the first place. However, you could have fleshed out the way in which you were beaten a little more thoroughly, and maybe give us a glimpse inside the mind of the monk as he planned something special for Jotham.

Setting ~
Ulysses- (6/10) A good effort, I must say. Considering you were in a pasture, I know there wasn’t really much you could think of to describe as far as the thread goes, but the thing that really knocked this score up was when you described the sun as your Pegasus flew straight up towards the sun.

Archanex- (6/10) A decent explanation of the surroundings and the effects of the western wind on the field as a whole. I don’t really have anything to add on the subject other than to suggest you try and flesh out what little description is available in a field like this just a little more. Not too much, but just enough to make someone imagine the field better.

Pacing ~
Ulysses- (7/10) Considerably good, for what it’s worth. You kept the story going at a decent pace the entire battle, and seemed not to forget anything that happened in previous posts. You kept it moving forward in a refreshing, very easy to read way. To improve on this, keep fast-paced parts fast-paced and slow-paced parts slow-paced, and it’ll work out just fine.

Archanex- (4/10) A few confusing things you did slowed the pacing of the battle down. Besides that, you tend to take things slowly, even considering that this thread was paced fairly fast, even considering it was a battle thread. Try and clean up how your posts present themselves a little bit, and keep the action feeling real, and you’ll be able to pull this score up easily. I know this may not look like the place for me to describe how a particular action made the thread feel off, but for me, it did kill the pacing more than anything else.

Side-Note to both: The battle ended rather abruptly.

CHARACTER ~.

Dialogue~
Ulysses- (6/10) Though you didn’t spend much time actually talking, the empathic/telepathic link between your character and your mount was well-displayed in terms of them understanding where one another stood. The dialogue between the two, though largely unspoken, speaks volumes in and of itself.

Archanex (5/10) Jotham did not much say anything, though he kept a keen and powerful control over his mount during the battle at large. Though, as Ulysses, the commands and thoughts between the two were largely unspoken, the connection between beast and rider did speak that they had built a respect for one another through the fight. However, you didn’t show much of anything as far as any kind of communication between the two, which was disappointing.

Action ~
Ulysses- (6/10) You did well, describing how he channeled the soul of the Knight, though perhaps a better explanation of how the power worked would be better. Besides that, it was a pretty good job overall.

Archanex- (6/10) As is typical of your particular writing style, you describe the actions with extreme precision. This, however, does not always work in your favor. These actions did seem to fit your character well, few actions though he did take. You pulled two iron daggers in your first post and somehow managed to grip the reigns of your beast at the same time. Then, in following posts, you switched to (apparently) having just one dagger in your free hand. You always do describe your character’s actions with a certain flair for the dramatic, even for the most mundane of movements. This is both good and bad. Be careful about how you use it.

Persona ~
Ulysses- (7/10) Overall, a very good representation of your character’s emotions. You not only conveyed emotions through just writing them, but also through physical and sometimes facial responses. These are all very good representations of emotions for your character, and they felt genuine, even as I read them. The best way you can continue to improve on this is just to practice.

Archanex- (5/10) You pretty much explained his emotions as they happened, but the physical reactions he had as he felt these emotions in the middle of combat seemed a little forced. For someone so unfamiliar with combat, especially considering he’s technically a pacifist, he sure seemed to be in very in control of his emotions. Considering this, an explanation should have been made as to why, maybe stemming from his training as an Overmage. To improve on this, I suggest either working on showing his emotions more or giving some explanation in at least one of your posts as to why he’s so in control.

WRITING STYLE ~

Mechanics ~
Ulysses- (7/10) I didn’t see very many mistakes. Just a few common mistakes were made, easily corrected, so I won’t spend much time on this. We all glance over a grammatical or spelling error in our posts from time to time. Overall, you didn’t make many mistakes.

Archanex- (5/10) You made a few mistakes, one standing out most to me was you spelling ‘your’ as ‘you’re’. Again, simple proofreading will usually fix most of these problems. Try reading over your posts to check for errors like this that office programs won’t catch before you hit the Submit button, and you’ll be fine.

Technique ~
Ulysses- (5/10) I didn’t see anything particularly flashy in your posts, and considering that it was a battle, I’m not that surprised. Storytelling techniques like foreshadowing and things like that are hard to put into battles. The best way to improve on this is to try and include a few standout literary devices in a post or two, something to catch the reader’s eye off guard, so to speak.

Archanex- (6/10) You used a couple of advanced devices in a couple of your posts, though nothing particularly standout. Follow the advice I gave Ulysses above and this score will climb.

Both- I realize that this thread was exceedingly short, so I doubt that this is any reflection on your individual skills in this department, so don’t sweat it too much.

Clarity ~
Ulysses- (8/10) This is your strongest area, by far. Your writing style is exceedingly clear and offers a glimpse not only into what your character sees, but also makes it exceedingly clear to readers what is going on at all times. I never once felt caught up on something I didn’t think fit in somewhere. Practice, practice, practice, and you can clear up your posts even more as time passes.

Archanex- (6/10) You use a very complex style of writing that is, admittedly, a little hard to follow sometimes. Sometimes you have to sacrifice a few descriptive sentences, especially if they cloud up your meaning, in order to make sure your reader understands where you’re coming from. Overall, I could follow where you were coming from with these posts. Still, giving up a little description for the sake of clarity wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Wild Card ~
Ulysses (5/10) An interesting idea that had a very short-lived thread. I’d have liked to see it go further, but considering the circumstances, I can understand where it did not. I liked the idea, and I do hope you use it again, because you don’t see many mounted battles on Althanas.

Archanex- (3/5) Getting pegged by both the rider and the mount was a brave idea, even if it did lead to your character’s early demise in the battle. It was a little give-and-take, though, as the battle could have carried on a little longer, perhaps fleshing out some of the scores above a little more.

Total:
Ulysses- 61
Archanex- 52

Ulysses wins.

If you guys have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me or get ahold of me on messenger. My addresses on Messenger (AIM and Yahoo) are in my profile.

Ulysses gains 550 EXP and 185 GP
Archanex gains 150 EXP and 50 GP

[Zook Murnig]

EXP and GP added!