The Glory...(Closed)

[Mutant_Lorenor]

(Closed to the Trap Master)

Pacing back and forth, Lorenor found himself in the corrupted land of Corone.

Matters were proceeding as planned. The Civil War in Corone raged on without any victor in sight, and those who preyed upon the weak were making a profit tenfold. As always, the wealthy, those who mattered, fed upon the helpless like leeches. Like vampires. Raging onward towards eternity, the war continued to claim lives in senseless violence and madness. In Raiaera, the seeds of destruction were already placed in the womb of the Althanas-mother, though the fell Necromancer, Xem-Zund has fallen. The reappearance of the legendary hero Devon Starslayer signaled the end of the fell Necromancer's grip on the world of Althanas.

One tyrant has fallen, and another would rise.

In Radasanth, the senseless Civil War marched across time and history. Heroes and villains rose to answer the call of history. The Glory itself, eluded all those involved. In the private circles, the philosophical opine of the hour stated that the war was a "good war." But there was one, one on Althanas who knew better.

Currently, that individual sat in an expensive, five-star hotel located in the commercial district of Radasanth proper. When it came to this matter of money, the mercantile industry cared very little for the source. The man was a shadowy customer, a consumer of the modern-age. He'd paid for the five-star room in full. Gold on hand. But not out of his own pocket, it was paid for by cleverly placed individuals working within the hotel's edifice. The shadowy individual had obtained considerable influence after his union with the fallen goddess: N'Jal.

Sitting in the center of the living area, the mutant was reading out of a series of very old and powerful books. These three volumes were forbidden to the eyes of men, but Spider Magi were free-game. And Lorenor was well on his way to becoming a full-fledged Spider-Magi. Only the final trials awaited him now. As Lorenor read, he gathered the secret notes of the Necronomicon. A series of works collected after a long career of adventures in and around the known world of Althanas proper.

Lorenor sat in a relaxed position. He was one of many High Priests of N'Jal that formed a dark-clergy in Raiaera. Following the whim of the dark lady, Lorenor had developed a stronghold where Valinatal once sat. A stronghold for those members of the Undead that wished to free themselves of Xem'Zund's iron grip. This stronghold was flourishing as the rest of Raiaera was thrown into an age of anarchy and chaos. As Lorenor sat there, he wore a mask, a mask that was hard-won from another, more recent adventure. Lorenor had become a Hand of the Church of Ethereal Sway winning the favor of Saint Denebriel in the process. These days, the creature was blessed with the powers of the Living Darkness. To some, he was a fell abomination, to others, he was a critical ally.

Lorenor went where few dared to go.

It was in his darkness, and his fierce, tenacious nature that he found himself pondering the hour's next adventure.

Within the chamber sat several other members of The Forsaken race. These were individuals who broke free from the iron-domination of Xem-Zund. With their leader in the exact epicenter of the living room, the mutant found himself sitting on the floor. Two individuals sat on a nearby couch, one stood by a window, and several others were spread about evenly across the room. The Forsaken radiated varying degrees of power, but all were dangerous. Hand-picked by Lorenor himself to be his personal escort and body guards. Reading from the volumes, the would-be Spider-Magi carefully pronounced each syllable of the Spider-Magi's tongue. It came naturally to him now, an uncoded secret of the past.

The gathered members of The Forsaken repeated everything that Lorenor read from the books. His mask rested on the floor next to his person. His equipment was present in the chamber along with the equipment of the rest of the Forsaken. As they recited the mantra-like verse of the Spider-Magi, Lorenor felt a presence approaching the nearby front door of the apartment. Lorenor took a smell of the scent, it was unfamiliar to him. He knew how things in these establishments oft worked, the servants were carefully chosen by the master to monitor individuals bound to the regulations of the house. Lorenor knew that he could start no trouble in the sanctuary-environment.

A knock. Thrice. Lorenor made the individual wait on purpose. It was a woman judging by the pheromones that came from her body. Lorenor could see the shape of the body through the door by reading the heat that rose from her heart. It was strong, potent, in another hour would have made a worthy sacrifice. Lorenor rose from his position. But one of the gathered Forsaken answered the door for the mutant. Grinning, the mutant had time to place his mask upon his face. He closed the books so that they would not appear so suspicious and nonchalantly dumped a nearby back-pack on the volumes to hide them.

A woman with blue hair and dark-brown eyes entered the room. She wore a long dress and carried an almost regal demeanor about her person. The mutant sensed the hungry eyes of his fellows, both male and female, watching the girl with great interest. There was no fear on the woman's face, only a strange sort of morbid curiosity. The Forsaken that answered the door addressed the girl.

"Lady. What is your business here?" He asked.

"I am not here to speak to you, servant." The girl said coldly. The mutant admired that greatly, courage, bravery. She turned to look directly at Lorenor. "You can remove your mask, mi'lord. I know of your people, I know of your kind."

A trap? Lorenor thought to himself, but he amused the curious girl. Carefully, he took his mask off and placed it on the ground nearby revealing his hideous face. Long dreadlocks flowed from his scalp down to the small of his back. His eyes, dual-fountains of purple energy, were flowing like a liquid spilling from a goblet. Lorenor stood there with confidence, being a High Priest of N'Jal had won him that much at least. Lorenor had dark-gray skin now. The scar on his face was long ago removed by the power of a sword he had acquired many ages prior. The mutant, had no eyes, no nose, and no tongue. He also had no ears. He needed none. Lorenor's eyes narrowed quite subtly as they observed the girl. She gave off an energy that was unknown to the mutant. He thought he'd seen it all.

"Tell me young one, how can you know of my Fellows and I? We are the shadows. We are those that lurk in The Living Dark." Lorenor grinned, it was a strange expression on his undying face. Always one for a pretty speech, Lorenor prepared to continue but the girl simply responded with an amused laughter.

She smiled calmly.

And then the world shifted and Lorenor blacked out...

(Yo dude, feel free to describe your Trap. I'll roll with whatever you set up, no problem. Go nuts. I hope you like my intro man!)

[The Trap Master]

He had been stripped of all he had known for so long. He was without the items that made him a force to be reckoned with. He was stuck in a black room, a fixture with a light that not even the great Lorenor's 'eyes' could adjust to the setting it had been set on. The trap had been made, the victim had been chosen, and the game had begun.

The sound of fingers snapping was echoed throughout the room. Within seconds, the roof seemed to come off and reveal where Lorenor had been taken.

Shadows were scarce in this room; there were two in the northeast and northwest corner of the sixty by sixty foot room. There was also shade around the being of Lorenor that stretched from northeast to northwest. Across the room was a red door, the words 'I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT' painted over it in bright red. There was no handle. There was no lock.

Behind him stood a table, a small parchment attached. The writing of the parchment was similar to that of Makira, a former ally to the spider-magi. Upon further investigation it would read the following.

"There Is A Lesson To Be Learned...

Ever since you have made yourself known, your deeds have not gone unwatched. There is a little girl you turned into a vampire years ago that will never forget what you did to her. There are priests that have become disgusted at the things you have done in their name, for their leader. Your greed has corrupted you on more than one occasion. You have failed to see the evil of your ways. Today I will make you see the light."

When Lorenor's eyes had gotten to this point, he would hear a loud humming sound. It would seem as though some sort of intricate machine was starting up. A single stream of magnified light shot down onto the floor. Within seconds the birch wood that lined the ground had caught fire and slowly began to spread. The note would go further to elaborate on this.

"You have thirty minutes to sacrifice each of your arms to the concentrated ultraviolet light beaming down. Your uniform typically allows you to suffer such beams at the sacrifice of half your power. You have been stripped of this garment so you may see the error of your ways. The ashes created from your sacrificed body will be vacuumed into a bag. Once the bag is full, the door will open and you will be free to continue onto the next phase. Be quick. As you accomplish this task, the diameter of the beam will slowly start to increase."

This provided a two pronged attack. If Lorenor could avoid the light, the fire would consume him were he not able to complete his task. If he hesitated for too long, the beam would overtake the entire room and turn the vampire to ash. This whole trial was but the first in a short series made to make the follower of N'Jal reconsider the dark road he was going down. What better way to do that than by shedding a little light on the situation?

[Mutant_Lorenor]

For a moment, The Living Dark surrounded the mutant's perception. He felt disconnected from the world of Althanas at large. As his consciousness effectively reasserted itself in The Firmanent, the mutant found his senses greatly diminished. They were limited to the confines of a certain chamber he found himself within. With his powers of perception returning, the mutant saw a letter which was written in a somewhat familiar hand-writing. A hand-writing he had not see in a very long time. The hand-writing was owned by a certain woman who was allied with his long-term companion, MetalDrago, the leader of the Thieves' Guild. Makira. This realization stunned the mutant for a moment as he realized that potentially a former ally had turned her back on him.

Lorenor stood up from his resting place on the floor. He was wearing cloth attire, his equipment gone from his person. He had nothing to work with, and something in the chamber was greatly affecting his normal potential of power. Discovering that the situation was vastly against him, the mutant realized with a start that a powerful enemy had trapped him somewhere, and he had no idea how to get out. He walked over to the letter, quickly read it and made sense of the situation. As well as he could.

In his insanity, the mutant had never considered being the actual victim. He had long ago prepared for the eventuality of his death, but not like this. Not locked in some foreign trap that taunted the raw intellect of the sado-masochist. He turned towards the letter, and, just as he was about to read it, a portal opened up above him and let loos'ed upon the chamber, a single stream of powerful light. With a terrified look in his eyes, the mutant hissed in the darkness. He took a step back wondering what the plan was for a brief moment. As the letter promised, the Lorenor could detect the heat of ultra-violet energy. His bane was present. It was do or die.

Letting the letter drop to the ground, the mutant felt sick to his gut. He had to expose himself to the very thing that he hated the most. The burning light would seer right through to his very core. He quickly thought about some other way, but realized in a moment or two that there were none. Time was ticking away. This is someone who knows me. Or who has observed me for sometime now. I know not who this stranger is, but it is clearly an enemy. Perhaps someone from my past? Realizing that he had no time to figure things out, the mutant felt tears begin to flow down his eyes.

He had to sacrifice both of his arms. Not just one. The pillar of light taunted the mutant as he stared at it. The bright substance hurting his eyes, making them burn with agony. Lorenor felt his flesh beginning to heat up, and he had only the word of a potential mad-man to go on. Only the words of a letter scribed in the hand-writing of a former ally. The thought of being betrayed by the leader of the Thieves' Guild stabbed Lorenor like a prevalida sword through his black heart. For a moment, he pondered ending it all right then and there, the idea of betrayal from an ally far too much for the mutant to accept.

With tears streaming down his face, the mutant walked over to the pillar of light. The letter spoke of matters he could not understand. A girl he turned into a vampire? What does this mad-man speak of? With trembling lips, the mutant walked forward without really accepting what he was doing. There were many men who would be Thaynes themselves. Godhand Striker, Luc Kraus, Dan Lagh'ratham, Letho, and many many other famous warriors of and Magi of Althanas. In what category did Lorenor fall under that all his deeds were coming back to haunt him? All my sins remembered. The mutant thought grimly to himself.

As he felt his heart racing in his chest, the mutant stepped a mere few paces away from the pillar of ultra-violet light. Someone will pay for this, oh yes, someone will pay dearly. His hands shook with a certain fear as he prepared to plunge them into the depths of his nemesis, The Glorious Light. A moment later, Lorenor screamed. Instantly, one arm was gone. His left arm was gone. Then, the arm with the Aegis Bracer attached was next. He placed that one into The Glorious Light, and his flesh burnt up into ash, slowly, painfully. Blue elemental fire burst out from his arm and the mutant howled in agony. He now had two stumps where his deltoid connected to his upper arms. The Aegis Bracer, a part of him now, would also regenerate in a few days or weeks when his limbs returned. For now, he was screwed. He receded to The Living Darkness within the chamber as it was slowly fading away. He continued to howl in agony, only one thought beginning to fill his corrupt mind. Vengeance. By the name of N'Jal, Lorenor would have vengeance.

As Lorenor watched in agony, the ashes of his body were sucked into a large bag that was quickly filled by unknown magics. The sadomasochistic nature of the mutant was fascinated at the same time terrified at the situation at hand. What more would he be forced to sacrifice during this particular story?

[The Trap Master]

The ash that was once Lorenor's arms slowly drifted to the ground, quickly getting swept up underneath the floorboards. Almost instantaneously, the door shot upwards, allowing Lorenor into the next room. He had completed phase one of his test. Now he could continue on to phase 2...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, a strange hooded figure watched Lorenor from a distance. A sadistic smile crept across his face as the spider-magi sacrificed the last things he had come to rely on to the light. He was making progress. With any luck the whole ordeal would make the manipulator change his ways.

The figure reflected back on how he managed to kidnap such a powerful being. It was not an easy task by any means. Luckily, there were those who shared the same type of greed as Lorenor himself, and could be paid off to do a task here and there. All it took was weeks of slowly placing drugs within Lorenor's food and drink. The spider-magi was too well-equipped and guarded to just be snatched. Furthermore, outright drugging his food completely would have aroused detection from Lorenor himself.

Luckily there were drugs that even the mutant could not detect, if in small enough doses. This allowed time for the Trap Master to lay out his contraptions. Each little intricacy had to be perfect. The slightest miniscule detail could be used to Lorenor's full advantage. As Lorenor became sluggish over the weeks, Trap Master became more obsessed with making sure everything went off without a hitch.

Finally, the day came where Lorenor collapsed during a sacrifice ceremony. Two of his followers chalked this up to exhaustion. The same two followers were also kind enough to lead Lorenor to his room. The spider-magi never made it to his regal chambers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second room seemed normal enough. Once again the ground was lined with birch floorboards. The difference would be felt once Lorenor set foot in the room. Each one of the boards had small incantations written on them. Much like the writing on the door in the first room, these incantations prevented Lorenor's full use of abilities. By stripping him down to the bare essentials, Lorenor would have to get back to what really mattered in his life.

These incantations held another power to them. Upon contact, Lorenor would realize that the entire floor was lined with holy incantations. After walking through the doorway the door behind Lorenor would close, a note attached to it. It would read the following.

"There Is A Lesson To Be Learned...

You have completed your first test. Now, how willing are you to take a stand to get out alive? As you no doubt have felt, each step you take will be filled with excruciating pain. You will have thirty minutes to stand in this room. All the while you will feel the burn of the righteous on your heathen soul. The room will continuously sink with your weight upon it. Once the time is up you will be able to leave, provided the floor has touched the switch six feet underneath you. Otherwise you will remain trapped in here forever. Survive or die, do you have what it takes to make a stand?"

The shadows of the room threatened to overtake those within it. The red door with the words "MAKE A STAND" painted over it loomed ten feet in the distance of the former doorway. It was time to see Lorenor's patience, as well as his pain tolerance.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Making it to the next room was an arduous achievement in and of itself. He felt pain in the bloody stumps that were his deltoids, and a bit of his upper arms that remained. The blue fire that burst from within had served to close the wounds themselves preventing the spilling of anymore of his black ichor. Steam flowed into the air from out of the stumps. He left the first chamber, and walked upon the second chamber. Vaguely, he heard the rumbling of the door slide shut. It was at that point that he realized he was stranded in yet another chamber. Someone is really out to get me, someone is...

"Shit!"

The Glorious Light. It was everywhere. His senses had never failed him before, not once, and they would not fail him now. All round the room were cleverly placed symbols, runes, sigilliums that glowed with power. Holy Power. The room was filled with his truest bane. The mutant panicked once again, feeling his chance for survivability sink to the floor. The chamber began to slowly sink as Lorenor walked, very slowly to the middle of the room. Each step shot burning agony up his legs and up his spine. Each step was a burning sensation that promised doom. Lorenor was weakened further with every step he took.

After a few moments of the torturous hell he had found himself in, the mutant felt doubt. He suddenly came to realize the very terrible possibility that he could die without ever facing who his opponent was. Without learning the truth, without learning why he was there. Menacingly, the glowing symbols trapped the mutant in the center of the chamber. A few more moments, and the chamber began to sink. Lorenor was powerless. All of his thoughts focused on his most recent adventures. He thought about everything he had accomplished with his own two hands in Salvar, Corone, Raiaera. He had worked too hard following the will of N'Jal to perish now.

Like this. Please dearest Lady, show mercy. Don't let me fall like this, not like this. Lorenor had always been prepared for his own death, he had even tasted death on several occasions in his long, expansive career. Tears flowed freely from his eyes now as he thought about what a creature like he would think about at a moment like that. His life. His pitiful existence had flashed before him and he thought about the meager achievements of his life. The single greatest moment of his life was the fact that he had found his companion, MetalDrago Scorpio, and he had found the N'Jal Protocol. He had worked hard to achieve the heights of power he had currently possessed.

And now it was all gone from him. Stripped down to nothing more than a helpless monster, the mutant's eyes flitted around the room. He was looking for something, anything, he could use to shield himself from the holy presences within the room. He had once met Saint Denebriel herself, and she had blessed his destiny with but a small kiss. Now, the mutant was all alone. The voices in his head were screaming in agony, The Endless begging to be let loos'ed by Lorenor's command. However, the mutant knew he was at a loss. Not even the parasitical organism could save him now. I have to endure.

He found himself thinking about his Captain, MetalDrago Scorpio. His mind remembering the details of the handsome Dragonian. He studied every contour of his friend's face, his body, the shapes of his weapon. It was all he had. In his mind eye's Makira had betrayed him. The only ally he had left in this situation was MetalDrago Scorpio, and The Dark Lady herself, N'Jal. Lorenor closed his eyes, and became as a shadow within the room. The darkness within the chamber seemed to cling to the mutant as he stood there, but this did not offer respite.

Burning brightly, The Glorious Light cascaded around the mutant. Each hungry touch damning the mutant further to a destiny he did not want. He had no choice in this matter. I am going to die. Light trickled up and down his person as he fell to his knees and cried out in agony, shame, defeat. He saw images of the people who had mattered to him in his long life. The faces behind every sin. The faces behind every crime he had ever committed. It was The Glorious Light. It is passing judgment on me!

Lorenor screamed in agony.

"Come out and fight me you coward!!!"

He cried out to nobody in particular. Hanging on to the image of his best friend, MetalDrago Scorpio, the mutant concentrated. Somehow, I have to survive this, somehow...O'N'Jal, please guide your humble servant. The tears were flowing freely now. Each pulse of The Glorious Light attempted to consume the mutant. Yet for some reason, it was not enough to destroy Lorenor all together. Slowly, Lorenor was beginning to understand. This fucker, or these fuckers do not want to kill me out-right. They want to make me suffer. N'Jal. Don't abandon me now, please. I need you. Lorenor felt his forehead touch the ground, and his tears begin to soak the floor beneath him. It was a pathetic thing to observe. The herald of N'Jal, had been defeated by a coward.

And somewhere, the All-Thayne was laughing. The pain was burning through him, each second making it more difficult to stay awake. The image of MetalDrago Scorpio in his head was fading into the darkness. He clutched at it, forcing himself to stay awake, screaming the entire time. For a sadomasochist, the mutant was not enjoying himself now. No, he understood the meaning behind this trap. Someone is out to make an example out of me. Saliva began to flow from the mouth of the mutant, his body shaking with agony, pain, euphoria. Madness. A sharpened edge of a madness at the realization of an imminent death.

The note had given Lorenor half-an-hour. He was beginning to doubt that he had that long. Forgive me my Captain. Steam was beginning to flow from his body. He felt the call of The Soul Harvesters. His senses were slowly beginning to dull into one focused point in The Firmanent. Focusing on the fact that he was about to die, Lorenor stopped screaming. He stopped doing anything, he stopped resisting, he let everything go. All he did was cry. More than he could bare, Lorenor wanted to poof up into ash so that he could be done with his horrendous trap. MetalDrago Scorpio's face faded away after a few, long, painful moments. Then, there was only the presence of N'Jal in his heart.

"Mother! Do-not forsake me in my time of need!"

And a voice responded back in the mutant's head. My childe. I have not abandoned you. I am with you, now in the hour of your need. Focus Lorenor. Did not let a hidden enemy defeat you. I am always with you my childe. Do-not forget that. I am always your Mother. And Lorenor saw the image of N'Jal materializing before his person, the apparition wavering before him. The image of N'Jal gave Lorenor strength, it gave him a sense of hope. Even as he felt the burning energy traveling up and down his spine, the mutant slowly stood up.

Carefully, he found the will to stand...

With tears flowing down his face, Lorenor sucked up the pain in his body. He fought against the death that attempted to claim him. And he waited there, standing. Shaking. Always shaking. Wondering when this nightmare would end.

[The Trap Master]

Lorenor had made his stand. The second trial was completed. Without another moment's notice the door to the third room opened. It was in this room that Lorenor would confront his kidnapper, albeit in a roundabout way. The room had been too dark for even the spider-magi to see. When he ventured further he would hear the door slam shut behind him once more. A little further into the room and Lorenor would find his neck caught on the front of a metal collar.

The collar would tug on a metal wire which would then cause the back of the collar to clasp shut around Lorenor's neck. This action would also cause several more steel restraints to keep Lorenor from moving. Vision would be granted in the form of the dim fluorescent lights activating. A swirl of blue magical energies would take form in front of the dark one and he would see his assailant within what seemed to be a pool of water.

His stature was slightly tall. His build showed off the form of a slim muscular man. His blue eyes would show off their icy nature to his prey. The pale white features on his face would let Lorenor know who stood before him now. He moved some of the white strands of hair from his face as a smile crossed his lips. Lorenor stood face to face with someone who helped put him in power. He stood helpless confronted by Xan-ris Azzarak.

"There is a lesson to be learned," Ashiakin spoke slowly to the man, "You have seen the light, you have stood up for your beliefs. Now are you ready to taste the pain of others?" As the words finished, the cold steel floor in front of Lorenor gave way to a trap door, which rose up and stood before the Vampire with a single object. It was a small silver cross, no bigger than three inches and encrusted with several fine sapphires and diamonds.

The humming of more machines began to emanate where Lorenor's throat was placed. Without another word from Ashiakin, a small electrical surge would jolt through the mutant’s neck. It would not be enough to do any sort of damage to him, but to let him know that all of the steel collars that held him in place were tinged with electricity. They had been placed where one would not be dealt lethal blows (Aside from Lorenor jugular). One on each shin, one on each of his upper thighs, and one at his waistline all complimented the last collar and, like it, where connected to the next door via chains.

"This trial is simple. You simply have to think about what I am about to tell you, nothing more. Whenever your mind focuses on that small relic before you, it shall fly up and brand itself onto your left 'eye'. It shall then return to the table. Once the cross has collected enough of your charred flesh, the next door will open. You must completely focus on the cross. Otherwise it will not do what is required for you to live. To hinder you will be those collars, sending electrical jolts of increasing watts into your body every twenty seconds. The first three shocks will simply annoy, the next five will increasingly hurt and by the tenth you will be dead. Do this deed and you will be over half way done with my test. Fail and you die."

The magical 'pool' containing Ashiakin quickly swirled into blue nothingness, revealing the next door, a simple lumber made thing that actually had a handle this time. Above the door was a timer which started to go off, letting Lorenor know his two hundred seconds had begun. The door was painted with the words "FIGHT THE POWER, LABEL YOURSELF!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I think that went over well," 'Ashiakin' said as he took off the wig, revealing his graying brown hair. Reaching into his eyes, the Trap Master removed his two contacts. He followed this up by grabbing the sides of his cheeks and slowly peeling off the mask that took the form of Ashiakin Xan-ris Azzarak. Walking over to a mirror, the Trap Master began to observe Lorenor through magics once more.

He had planted the seeds of suspicion within Lorenor once already. Now he had hoped the spider-magi would believe it to be a whole conspiracy. He wanted Lorenor to believe that all of Althanas was out to get him. He wanted to watch this man suffer for the things he had done, the sacrifices he had used in rituals. Lorenor was a sick bastard who held a God of evil within him. The Trap Master was going to give him the opportunity to purify such evil away.

And if it happened to kill Lorenor in the process? Well, that was one more monster kids would not have to be afraid of any more.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

When the clasps shut around his body Lorenor looked around in sheer terror. He had been stripped of everything. Everything that he had held dear except his pride and dignity. His opponent was a coward who hid behind contraptions and traps. He had never revealed himself up until that point. When it was Ashiakin Xan-ris Azzarak. Vaguely, Lorenor recalled the Ice-Mage from an adventure long ago. Something, however, did not sit well with the mutant. Maybe his senses were playing tricks on him, but in the dim-lighting, it had seemed like Ashiakin was someone else. He barely registered the scent that was there. Somehow, it was all starting to add up. The scent was not Ashiakin's scent, but someone else's. However, it was too late to even consider that. The man immediately sending Lorenor back towards the situation at hand. Gasping from the pain that still coursed through his body, the mutant looked at Ashiakin for a long moment. Then, Ashiakin left leaving the mutant with the trap at hand. The first jolt of electricity hurt. It hurt a lot more than Ashiakin told him it would.

Then again, the fact that Lorenor was a Spider Magi did not help matters. The electricity coursed through his body much like the holy energy from the previous room. Lorenor was ready to call it quits. Already unbearable, his bane struck through his body at various intervals of time. With a sore throat, he clenched his teeth tightly with each increasing voltage of watts that poured through him. His tear ducts were dry by then as he had cried enough to last a life time.

At that precise moment, when his body had become numb to the pain and he had accepted that his death would come, the cross flew to his face. Made of Silver, the mutant had discovered a new racial weakness. With an increasingly more terrifying situation at hand, the mutant's face burned. Steam flowed from the fresh wound. It charred his face, the weaknesses to his body more than he could bare. By sheer force of will alone, the mutant faced this trial. Every time that the cold, unforgiving Silver touched Lorenor's face, the mutant felt tremendous pain course through him. It was his bane. It was his weakness. The Glorious Light in all of its forms would claim him that night.

Loosing his will to fight, the mutant's mind once again focused on MetalDrago Scorpio, his best friend. Has he betrayed me? No, not my Captain, not him. Never in all eternity. So bound to MetalDrago Scorpio was he, that the mutant could never imagine a betrayal of this magnitude. Burning, in agony, and completely alone, the mutant tried to focus. On something, anything. MetalDrago's face hovered before him as his vision was becoming blurring. Intervals between each of the Silver cross's touches became more and more frequent. At first, Lorenor tried to count. But by the fifth pressing of cold-Silver, the mutant gave up. His will was broken. Without realizing why, the mutant had given up. He understood that he'd been set-up all along. With each pressing of the crosss against his face, the mutant fell further and further away from the confines of The Firmanent.

Things became blurred. Feeling the weight of the Silver cross against his person no longer bothered him. A detached feeling crossed his mind, body and soul. It was almost euphoric, peaceful. Kind of like being on an underground narcotic substance. A moment later, the mutant felt like he was floating within the confines of The Firmanent. Various images flowed from the very depths of his soul. The first image, was an image of MetalDrago Scorpio. The second image, an image of Makira, the assumed traitor. Lorenor's mind barely recalled the letter written in her hand-writing. The third image was that of Duffy Bracken. The fourth image was that of the Mad-Prophet, Nenkulor. The final set of images were various images of The Forsaken he had begun to call family. An image of the Eye of Fate coursed in front of him. This image was the strongest image of all because it represented the most private, physical representation of N'Jal. It represented the N'Jal Protocol. Seeing that image for a few moments, the mutant called out to N'Jal. His master, The Dark Lady. As he called out to her, the woman manifested before him.

A crafted image of N'Jal, the image represented the mentally perceived image of N'Jal's metaphysical avatar. She walked over to Lorenor, completely skyclad and kissed the mutant on his forehead. My childe. Lorenor. How you suffer right now so. The exit to this chamber is right before you. You need only survive this pain. But it is so great. Look how far your kind has fallen. My kind. The Children of N'Jal. You have the will within you to survive. Seize that strength, call upon your power. It is within the depths of your heart of darkness. The darkness is with you, I am with you. The Light can never truly smite The Darkness. Remember that my child. Focus boy. Release all of your raw, untapped emotion. Focus on your hate. The evil inside you. Your will to survive. Your love for your Master, me, N'Jal. Focus. You can do this, together with me! And the ghost-like image embraced Lorenor, the mutant fell back into his body. The Firmanent spun around the mutant for a few moments as the pain continued to travel its course.

Light. Holy. Electricity. Holy. Light. Holy. Electricity. Holy.

Holy!

Holy!

Holy!

Holy!

Holy!!

Holy!!!

Holy!!!!

Voices called out in the mutant's mind. Voices filled with agony, pain, frustration, doubt. The mutant had given up, but he had suddenly found his surge. Only needing to last just a little bit longer, the mutant found some remainder of strength from the depths of his black soul. As he focused, he felt the weight of the collars clasped around his body. The pain was unbearable, he wanted to simply quit out. But he knew he couldn't, it was almost all over. Then, the cross pressed itself against his face one more time. But this time, Silver chemicals were pouring from sockets within the cross onto the mutant's burnt face. Made a mockery of what he once was, the mutant became an abomination.

Terrible to behold, Lorenor was disfigured by the devastating injuries to his person. Burned patches of flesh peeled off his epidermis. As he was held in place by the dual burning agony of the increasing watts of electricity, only a vicious hatred kept him alive. So complete was the hatred that he felt, that the mutant no longer cared if he lived or died. He simply focused on the hatred in his heart. That hate created enough negative energy from within his heart to keep him alive. To keep him focused. Logical thought was no longer a factor. Reverting to a more bestial state, Lorenor found strength to howl out like a wild animal. The cross was on his face, pouring out the chemicals on him, attempting to finish him.

But the hate, the hate was too strong. The darkness that burst out of Lorenor was a complete one. Ashiakin had promised that there was a lesson to be learned. Lorenor however, had followed N'Jal completely and utterly of his own free-will. There would be no salvation, no redemption. It was do or die. The mutant faced the Silver cross even as it prepared to finish him off. As Lorenor screamed in agony, he vaguely wondered. What was next!? He started to thrash and writhe against the chains that held him, small cuts and incisions slicing his powerful epidermis. Lorenor would go down fighting. Or not at all.

[The Trap Master]

As the cross fell back to the table smoke began to rise from the object. The shackles around the spider-magi released their captor. The room went completely dark, as if Lorenor was directly under a lunar eclipse. Suddenly the light returned much dimmer than before. The table had disappeared and Lorenor was in a room with four steel walls. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air as if to taunt the Trap Master's victim. He was giving Lorenor hope that this would be it. The final test.

A voice echoed throughout the room.

"There is a lesson to be learned...

Lorenor. Despite all you have been put through, you have preserved your life. You have gone through physical pain that no man should ever have to experience. You have been broken down mentally. If you pass this trial, you will not only be free to live, but you will learn the name of your captor. I will become as vulnerable as I have made you. You have seen many words on this journey you have taken. The written words have been clues as to my identity. The task is simple. Correctly arrange the letters to spell my name and you will find yourself out of this hellish nightmare. The specific words have been in front of your face the entire time. If you use a letter not in my name, or fail to ascertain my name, the walls around you as well as the ceiling above will move exactly two feet closer in. There is no time limit. However if you guess wrong too many times, the room will crush you. You will never escape and you will never truly know your killer. You simply have to speak out the name once you have deciphered the letters, but I warn you that not all of the letters will be used. Good luck, because you're going to need it..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was The Trap Master's final work for the mutant. What He had neglected to tell Lorenor was that several answers were the correct one. He had programmed the room to accept several different answers depending on how Lorenors brain would work. One would divulge his identity and expose his location to the spider-magi. One was just cryptic enough to cause The Trap Master to elude death at the hands of the vengeance seeking Lorenor. The last name programmed was the most important. The last name programmed was the whole reason Lorenor had been put through what he had. It was Trap Master's whole motivation for making the dark one suffer so.

It was sad to see his time with his little play thing coming to an end, but it was for the best. If he had given Lorenor any more time, he would have neglected his other works. There were many people on Althanas that needed testing, many which needed to be proved worthy.

After all, there was a lesson to be learned...

[Mutant_Lorenor]

My conclusion post.

Coils that were like snakes wrapped themselves around his vessel. Pain had become second-nature. The clamps around his body cut his skin adding to the injury. Though he was capable of feats of regeneration, the mutant's powers could do nothing against The Glorious Light. He finally gave in to the attacks, despite the chance at freedom he was given by Ashiakin. None of it made anymore sense. He focused on Makira's letters, the betrayal was what really broke his black heart more than anything else.

Lorenor remained loyal to what few allies he had made in this world. Allegiances were crucial for they would satiate his innate greed. Feeling the electric coils ripping him apart at the molecular level, the mutant could no longer fight. His will was stripped from him.

The last few moments he recalled was...

Pressing on his face, the cross tried to drown him out with Silver. His body was lit up with the glow from the electrical currents mercilessly pouring through him. No longer tense, his body had gone slack. Only a vague recollection of The Firmanent kept Lorenor conscious. Though he had super-endurance, that alone was not enough to keep him alive. Only the hatred of his captor kept him alive. Soon, the electricity was ripping through his flesh and began the early signs that death was imminent. Thinking about the clever trap, the mutant wondered which enemy had set him up.

Electricity passed through his body now at increasing intervals. Black blood poured down to his chin. Injuries were serious and not even his gift of regeneration could keep him alive much longer. Calling upon N'Jal for one last breath of strength, the mutant cried out to her.

"Mother! I have not forsaken you! Please do-not leave me in my final hour!"

His plea was heard by the dark lady. My son. Only a little bit longer. They know not what they do. Hear my words, for my word is law. Death is not the end, but only a transition. We shall become closer now, my son. In death, I shall embrace you. In death you shall know true power as you are released from the coils of The Firmanent. You shal not be alone. And with that, Lorenor died.

But death was not the end. His body burst up in purple flames, the colour of his dark soul. By that point, Lorenor was already gone. His skeleton, charred and electrocuted, hung there slackly for a few more moments. Even this, too, burned up into ash. A large pile of black ash floated downward to the floor where Lorenor's feet was. The remains of the mutant filled the room with a terrible smell of burnt flesh, and brimstone and ash.

***

But death was not the end. Somehow, Lorenor regained his awareness. He stood in an empty place, a gray world. A world that somehow mimicked the dark world that had been his life. Lorenor knew suddenly where he was!
This is the Anti-Firmanent. Looking at the gray world, he glanced around for a few moments. A wasteland surrounded him in all directions that reflected the area of his death. A place of dead trees surrounded him, devoid of colour.

Suddenly, a door manifested right before the mutant. Lorenor took a defensive stance and moved towards one of his weapons. None were with him in this state. He sighed, his claws and teeth would have to do. Someone emerged from the door and walked over to him. Seeing the manifestation of a shadowy figure, the mutant could only discern a shadow-form. It had colour though, purple eyes. Moving quickly towards Lorenor, the shadow-figure spoke.

"Looks like I did not reach you in time." It began. "However, the bastard did not burn your Atma (Soul) which is good enough. I can work with that."

"Who are you?" Lorenor asked. "What in the name of Haidia just happened?"

"You've been betrayed Lorenor. By someone very close to you. When you return, you will have to clean house, but that is not important right now. What is important is that you have reached N'Jal. With the dark lady, you will obtain new found power."

"What happens now?"

"I cannot leave you like this, on your own. I will see to it that you return much faster than you normally would. However, you will need training Lorenor. I am here to give you that training but our time is very limited."

"Why would you help me?"

"I am someone very close to you Lorenor. Only I cannot reveal who I am just yet. In due time though, the truth will be revealed to you. But we must go quickly. This place is not safe for you."

Trust him Lorenor. A flash of N'Jal's words.

"Where will we go?" Lorenor asked.

"Follow me and you shall find out."

And so, Lorenor followed the mysterious shadow through the gate. The mutant never looked back.

Fin.

[The Trap Master]

The door to the Cross Room shot open. The slow sound of several steps could be heard echoing through the halls of the citadel. A hand moved towards the wall just behind the door the vampire had entered. Pressing a gloved hand against a small notch, the button pushed in and the table possessing the cross that had done Lorenor in. Reaching into the pocket of a trench coat and removing a white cloth, the hand wasted no time in wiping down the areas it had touched.

It had to rid itself of all the finger prints. Even if he had touched the area with his clove, he had to make sure that there wasn't the slightest tear in the hand protection. The slightest little mistake could have spelt disaster for him, and there were still too many who needed enlightenment. He had worn his boots two sizes too small for one of his shoe size. It made his feet hurt and him rather uncomfortable, but it would give investigators the wrong type of shoe during their research.

He took the cross from the table and placed it carefully inside of his pocket. The figured then kneeled down to the pile of ash that had once been the great vampire Lorenor. Reaching back into his coat and withdrawing a small vial, the figure scooped some of the soot up. Placing a cork atop his specimen, the stranger placed the vial back into his pocket. He stood up once again and finished erasing the trail he had made.

Lorenor would find his weapons back at his temple. His foe had no interest in the armaments. He had known that Lorenor was probably burning in hell, regretful for so many things he had done wrong in his life. Placing the cloth back into his pocket, the figure walked into the Letter Room. The brown eyes noticed that the door had been closed once again. Trapped in his own creation, or so it would seem.

Anna Shelby was the thought that passed through the man's head. Instantaneously the door opened once again as the man stepped out. He would give the cross and the vial to a few of the trusted Ai'Bron monks. He knew they would never speak his name because these particular monks were either mute by natural causes, or had their tongues ripped from them for enraging fighters. They trusted this man to do what was needed to help people, and who was he to disappoint? Surely, the monks would be able to come up with some sort of enchantment for the cross.

A smile crossed his lips as he turned back to the dust Lorenor had become. Then, the figure left as mysteriously as he had entered....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This son of a bitch was Lord Lorenor V'halkulus," Eric Oak said as he looked at the ash, "there's no doubt about it Sarge. He went missing a couple of days ago, and the powder on the floor, as well as the intricacies of all the traps just screams dark spider-magi." Eric stood as he looked to his superior, Sasori Abner, hoping he had found some sort of evidence.

The sarge shook his head before his partner had even asked the question. "Once again, he made a clean getaway. There are no fingerprints that aren’t the victims. The shoe sizes don't correspond to the others that we have. The whole room indicates that this was Trap Master's doing. If we hadn't been studying this psycho for the past few weeks, I would have said that this was Lorenor being put through a test by N'Jal."

"N'jal? The God?"

"Goddess is more like it. She tends to put her avatars through some serious shit. Lorenor being the latest in a long line of messengers." Abner pointed down towards the gray ash. That's what being a worshipper of a dark being will get you if you're not careful."

Oak nodded his reply to Abner. "Any progress on the steel room ahead?"

"None. Whatever the hell it was supposed to do, it's already finished. We can't crack the thing for nothin'. It seems like Trap Master made another clean get away. I'm starting to think that we're going to need someone on the inside to stop this maniac."

"You don't mean--" Eric gulped at the notion his colleague was suggesting.

"Yep. Someone on the force is going to have to become Trap Master's victim."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John Shelby stepped back into his home. The man had used all of his money to buy several safe houses all around Althanas. It was part of his plan to keep his true identity a secret from the authorities. He looked at the clock tower he was temporarily calling his house. The large circular frame of the clock, the shadows of the hands that covered ev4ery part of the room at one point, the smell of fresh cedar and birch. He welcomed them after having to go and take care of his smoking gun.

His feet made a loud hollow sound on the birch floor. He slowly made his way up the long steel steps that lead to his 'room'. Looking at his bed with its red sheets neatly tucked in under the black comforter yet somehow still peeking out. He began to walk to the resting area, but paused when he had reached his oak vanity. Turning to the mirror, John noticed a few more bags under his eyes today. A new wrinkle began to form on his right cheek. He could tell that his work was not only taxing on his victims, but himself as well. Killing people stole your soul, and though John didn't technically kill anybody, he knew his inventions did.

He sighed and stood tall against the mirror. He had to do this. He had to be The Trap Master. There was no glory behind it in all, only teaching humility and self-worth to those who did not deserve such gifts. It was all for her.

The thought of the girl caused the man to turn back to his bed. Sitting on the comfortable covers, he looked at his maple night stand, which held a single picture. The girl's brown eyes were only drawn away by her perfect white smile. She could not have been any older than thirteen years old. Her fair complexion and long blonde hair caused a sigh of happiness to escape from John. Taking the picture, frame and all, John brought it to his lips gently before placing it back on the stand.

"Good night, my sweet Anna," John said, almost choking up as he did so. The man removed the trench coat and then his shirt. His boots and pants quickly followed suit and soon enough John was in his red boxer shorts. He slipped under the covers and nestled gently into his bed. He had to be bright eyed and bushy tailed for tomorrow. He had just avenged the girl who was unwillingly sacrificed to N'Jal nearly five years ago, He had just avenged his daughter. Knowing that Lorenor was at least temporarily burning in hell caused John's smile to widen as he drifted off to sleep thinking about whom else needed help. He had to keep helping those who could not help themselves.

Because after all was said and done....

There is a lesson to be learned....

[Duffy]

The Trap Master

Story (19/30)

Character (14/30)

Writing (14/30)

Wildcard (8/10)

Total: 55/60

---

Mutant Lorenor

Story (15/30)

Character (13/30)

Writing (12/30)

Wilcard (7/10)

Total: 47/100

---

The Trap Master wins, gaining 2,500 experience and 250 gold!

Mutant Lorenor gains 750 experience and 25 gold!


Enigmatic Immortal Receives 50 experience and 50 gold.

Visla Eraclaire, as the top contributor receives 250 experience and 150 gold.

Thank you all!

[Taskmienster]

It's all added.