Encounters 2∼William Arcus

[Mutant_Lorenor]

And 'lo the mutant found himself facing the halls of The Citadel. After the encounter with Jensen Ambrose, Lorenor found himself slashing at shadows. Every step was taken extremely carefully. Every ally or enemy was christened just as carefully. The obsidian walls of The Citadel looked as menacing as always to the mutant, its aesthetic architectural design mocking all known aesthetics of the current races of Althanas. Lorenor oft wondered who actually built The Citadel, but those were mysteries for another hour. Now, was the hour for battle. Now was the hour to focus for the task at hand.

Lorenor knew now that he was the target of the Order of Apocalypse. As it was explained to him by a fellow member of The Order of N'Jal, The Order of Apocalypse was a neutral agency. They hunted powerful enemies who were aligned to either extreme light or extreme dark, Lorenor knew now that he was one of their eventual targets. Used to the hunt, Lorenor was at once terrified as he was excited at the prospects that new enemies could bring.

It was a chance to test his faith. It was a chance to spread the glory of N'Jal, and most important, it was a chance to test his own skill level. For now though, there was a current task at hand. His eyes narrowed as he climbed the obsidian steps of at the front of The Citadel. They seemed unusually taller despite the fact that he'd climbed those very steps over a billion times throughout his career. Lorenor's eyes remained narrow, his face crossed with determination.

He walked towards the registration area. Several monks of The Order of Ai'Bron were visible as they discussed the various global affairs of the hour. Though a neutral organization, The Order had several divisional groups within its ranks. Some of the members were for interference whilst still others were against it, just like any body of major political influence. Lorenor looked at the various monks gathered in the registration area, there seemed to be a commotion. Several of the monks looked flustered as some sort of an argument was taking place. Lorenor looked at the odd scene unfolding for him and his lips moved into a grin. This reminds me of that one about the monks. So a member of the Order of Aibron, a High Priest of The All-Thayne, and a thief walk into a Radasanth bar... Lorenor chuckled as he thought about the rest of that old joke.

One of the monks noticed Lorenor standing there patiently.

"Oh. Forgive us Lord Lorenor. We were discussing various important matters concerning the world we live in." The monk shrugged. "It is of no consequence, let me know your will, mi'lord." The monk asked. His robes suggested he was a monk of some considerable ranking within The Order. They were elegant, but not gaudy or flamboyant.

Lorenor's own robes were much more vibrant and well made than the monk's. But the members of The Order were much more prudent group of folk than Lorenor and his N'Jal cultists ever could be. Lorenor was a villain, and as such, the villain needed to be loud and arrogant. His dress, attire, and weaponry reflected that desire to make an impact. The mutant listened to the monk and nodded casually.

"It should be obvious why I am here. I have used the chambers within this grand structure oft enough." Lorenor said. "I wish for a battle against any foe you can conjure. Their skill level or power level matters not to me. I simply want to fight." Lorenor said with an indifferent tone. His eyes were locked on the monk. "I wish to do battle in one of the monk's training chambers. My aim is to improve basic tactics and..."

The monk cut Lorenor off.

"Right this way." He said.

Lorenor felt a hint of irritation, but let it go. He was guided towards one of the many training chambers in the first layer of The Citadel. The Citadel did not have floors, it was so gigantic it had layers and sections.

***

Stepping into the chamber marked thirty-three, the mutant knew he did not need to use the monk's infamous magical powers for this arena. It was a pre-established arena made for fearsome warriors to train. Lorenor would have no fear of death, and neither would his foe. The mutant walked towards the center of the one-hundred by one-hundred circle in the middle of the dirt arena. The circle was painted with red paint. Lorenor stepped onto the direct epicenter of the combat circle. His eyes looked up to the gathered priests and monks of the Order of Aibron. They sat on the floor with their elegant robes.

Lorenor nodded to them out of respect but no true loyalty. He saw several monks gathered, at least twenty of the fellows. He turned to face the double doors to the chamber that he currently sat in. It was an outdoor arena, and the night was cast overhead. Several torches and many candles were lit to provide lighting to those unable to see in the dark. Lorenor sat down in the center of the arena, his eyes closed, and he moved to the lotus meditation position. He cleared his mind and listened to the will of N'Jal.

[Revenant]

William Arcus found himself, as he so often did in recent days, frustrated and depressed. His magical research in the various libraries of Radasanth was going abysmally. It didn’t help matters that he had no formal education and only knew what little scraps of learning that he had managed to pick up during his travels. But regardless of the slow pace he was forced to adopt, William was sure that he should have found something by this point. Slowly however, he was being forced to come to grips with the fact that that his chances of discovering a translation for the arcane tome that he carried were fading. Even the tremendous library of the mystical Hero of Radasanth, Sei Orlouge, had turned up nothing that he could use.

It wasn’t that Sei hadn’t given William all the help that he could give. The mute mystic was one of the few people who William could call a friend, but even his knowledge and influence ended when it came to matters of William’s distant homeland of Amra. The sigils within Kal’Necroth’s tome were written in the magic language of the Ancient Amran, and there were few in Corone who had ever even heard of Amra let alone knew that ancient language.

But William wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He knew that the tome he carried, the same one that the sorcerer Kal’Necroth had used to create him, was the best, if not only, hope that he had to reverse his transformation into a revenant. True, the opposing essences of creation and destruction bound to his soul made him inhumanly strong and nearly immortal, but the price he paid for that strength was the blood of his friends and loved ones. He was nothing more than a living weapon.

“At least that’s how I feel,” the revenant growled, pulling his tattered cloak tightly around his shoulders to ward of the chill of the Coronian night air. He had been fashion by Kal’Necroth as nothing more than a living weapon, but following the sorcerer’s defeat he had found his own strength, his own purpose. By accepting his demonic nature instead of fighting against it he learned to control the urge to destroy that pulsed in his veins. But as failure in his research mounted upon failure, and page after page yielded nothing more than wasted time, William found it harder to keep control of his violent urges. Those urges, a red tide surging behind his cold, black eyes, gradually built until they threatened to break him and leave him in a mindless, bloodthirsty rage. He needed an outlet for his primal violence, an outlet away from the faded ink and rustle of ancient paper, he needed the Citadel.

And so it was that each hurried beat of his dust covered boots brought him closer to the ancient stone edifice that dominated an entire section of Radansanth’s streets. Drawn by the lingering aura of battle, by the countless blows of steel upon steel, and the untold rivers of sweat and blood, William came. This place soothed him, calmed the ever-present need for entropy that howled in the back of his mind, and yet at the same time it excited and invigorated him. Never stopping, William mounted the ageless steps that drew him inexorably into the great maw of the slumbering beast.

“Welcome back supplicant.” William nodded curtly to the Ai’Bron monk whose sole function was to assign combatants according to their combat preference. William was no stranger to the Citadel, no young whelp come to cut his teeth in a place where pain was temporary and death had no meaning. William was a seasoned warrior, no stranger to battle and all its horrors, and the Ai’Bron knew this.

“Good evening William Arcus.” An elegantly dressed monk approached the revenant, arms spread wide in greeting. “It has been quite some time since you have graced us with your presence.”

“I’ve been occupied.” William’s face darkened as he spoke. “But I’m here now, and ready for whatever you have available.”

William paused for a moment, as if he were thinking of something, “as long as that idiot Jensen Ambrose isn’t my opponent again.”

“Of course,” the monk responded with a laugh, “I believe we have a perfect opponent waiting for you. I will show you there, if you’d just follow me.” William nodded and gestured for the monk to lead the way, falling into close step behind the man. William only briefly glanced down the Citadel’s seemingly endless maze of twisting corridors as the two men walked. Even though he had seen them more times than he cared to admit, he was always struck by the sheer size and complexity of the Citadel’s interior. Or almost always was. Tonight, in the foul, depressed haze that had settled over him, no amount of magic would rouse his appreciation.

Painted doors passed swiftly by, their painted numbers telling William that he was headed for an area of the Citadel that he had never before fought in. “What is this place?” he asked, prodding the now-silent monk ahead of him for information.

“Not all chambers within the Citadel’s walls are influenced by our magic,” the monk explained, “these rooms are stable and unchanging. Inside these rooms you will find no exploding volcanoes or cloud draped pillars.”

“Then what will I find?”

The monk stopped them outside a door with the numbered mark “33” and gestured for William to enter, “your opponent.”

William grunted at the monk’s dramatic delivery but proceeded into the chamber all the same.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

When a certain presence filled the air, the mutant suddenly stopped the quiet mantra that he had forced upon himself. Lorenor's eyes propped open as he felt a panic aura of a tremendously vile nature. The sudden contact with this panic aura made the mutant smile widely. Standing up, Lorenor stared at the fellow that was coming to do battle. With his eyes carefully narrowed, the mutant observed as The Revenant moved closer.

Sensing tremendous power boiling out of the body of that creature before him, the mutant could not help but grin. Then, mysteriously enough, Lorenor began to laugh. It wasn't a laugh of disrespect, but a laugh of completion. As if the mutant had finally found something that resembled himself. Long had Lorenor fought in The Citadel's halls. Long had he come across a plethora of foes both human and non-human alike. Lorenor had forged a lifetime of siege and tactical warfare so complete, so legendary, that he had given up all hope on ever finding someone he could call an equal. Sure, there were fellows like Letho Ravenheart out there, but the mutant could not call the do-gooder an equal.

There was still power to be gained, secrets to be learned. N'Jal had many great teachings in store for the High Priest. As he observed his opponent, he saw a tremendous electromagnetic field burning through the physical vessel that the man called a body. Lorenor had lived long enough to understand that what existed on The Firmanent, also existed on The Antifirmanent. The two consistently influenced one another.

Laughing still, Lorenor stopped when he realized that he could potentially be insulting his newly discovered prize. Lorenor walked towards the Revenant, prepared to meet him halfway and upon further inspection, he saw that what he needed to see. Masterful use of his Auspex powers examined the creature before him. It was a glorious hour, and the endless sang songs of rejoicing. As if he had discovered a long lost brother.

Somehow, Lorenor thought of the Demon-kin in Haidia. He figured that the creature before him was somehow connected to them. However, there would be a time for questions. Now, was the time for battle.

Lorenor drew his steel, masterwork sword and looked at William Arcus very carefully. The smile never leaving his face. "Creature. You are a truly beautiful specimen." Lorenor called out to the fellow. He felt a tremendously powerful pull towards the Revenant that could be ignored. The mutant studied his chosen foe for a long moment before speaking again. "I can taste the demonic radiance within you." Lorenor paused, perhaps he was overstepping boundaries. "Forgive me fellow. You have caught my interest. The name is Lorenor." He said casually. "What do they call you stranger?"

[Revenant]

A cold wind blew between the two men in the training chamber, a gift from the clouded night sky. It was only a light breeze, but it cut through William’s tattered traveling cloak with ease, sending a shiver down the revenant’s spine.

No, that’s not the wind, William realized, feeling the glowing pin points of his opponents gaze that seemed to look through his very core, it’s him. Submitted to the inhuman glare from his opponent, whom he had falsely assumed was human, William’s hands suddenly felt clammy, a sour twisting filled his gut, and his mouth had gone as dry as a sun-baked stone. Within his breast, his demon-tainted soul squirmed uncomfortably, as if all the will to fight had suddenly drained into his leaden feet.

This is fear, William realized, this thing has power and I fear it. Is this what a normal man feels like when faced by me?

The dry whisper of well-oiled steel leaving sheath broke William’s introspective reverie and William saw that his opponent, Lorenor, had drawn his weapon. But though the man was possessed of power enough to cow even William’s rage, the man did not press his advantage. Instead, he showed himself to be the very soul of courtesy.

The evening wind whipped between the two men, and as Lorenor’s query faded into the night air the only sound to be heard was the flapping clap of William’s tattered cloak. “I,” William began, but found that someone had somehow stuffed his throat full of cotton in the intervening seconds. William forced his way through the obstruction, coughing slightly to clear his throat, “pardon me but I’m not used to being offered pleasantries in the Citadel, and even less used to giving them.”

“I can sense the power that you wield and I am humbled by your interest in me,” William spoke more clearly now, each word helping to wipe the fear from his mind. “My name is William Arus.”

William took a single hesitating step towards the mutant, and then another, and then another. Each step shook off the effect of the other man’s presence a little more as well as restored his desire for conflict. A single click broke the momentary stillness and William’s tattered wool cloak rasped over his shoulders and fluttered to the ground.

“I am man and demon merged.” And there it was again, the familiar tingle of battle excitement, the stinging pain of the molten power coursing through his veins. This time however, William didn’t fight the rising tide, didn’t restrain and hold it back. No, the revenant spread his arms wide and welcomed the fiery power which burned him from within and gave him strength.

“A new being, called revenant by my creator.” William exulted in the pain of his transformation. The charring corruption that spread across his flesh and the twisted bone that tore from his flesh to cover his hands like iron-hard gloves were like a sweet melody to his ears. A melody that fought back against the frustration and depression, a melody that fought back against the fear.

“And I have come to challenge you,” William finished, came to a stop just outside of Lorenor’s reach, and gazed defiantly at the mutant with eyes like burning coals.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Staring at the fellow before, Lorenor felt a certain lust growing from deep within his bosom. The Revenant revealed his nature further gaining the interest of the mutant. With a smile on his face, the mutant could practically taste the scorched flesh of the fellow named William Arcus. Realizing that their chance meeting was probably ordained by fate, Lorenor basked in the glory of the tremendous heat that the fellow gave off. Lorenor heard the powerful heart beating within the chest of William Arcus, and concentrated on that distinct baritone symphony. Hearing the man's heartbeat for a few more seconds, the mutant was able to concentrate on the matter at hand. First, he would have to challenge himself against William Arcus.

After that event would occur, Lorenor wanted to share a pint of ale, or whatever the man fancied as pleasurable. Lorenor saw that the fellow was unarmed, and thus, he stabbed his weapon in the ground. The magnificent steel seemed to radiate power from its very core. Lorenor held the grip for a moment longer, his eyes were never removed from the eyes of William Arcus. With that same grin on his face, Lorenor moved into his chosen combat stance. It was the fighting style that the monks of the order had taught him over time and many years of dedication. All of his trials and tribulations had lead the mutant to this very moment in time. A chance to test himself versus a distinct creature of the darkness.

Sensing the heat that flowed from William Arcus, the mutant wondered just what sorts of power was at the man's disposal. Lorenor remembered the mad chef-magus named Elijah. That wizard proved to be a power-hungry pyromancer. Lorenor partially expected William Arcus to throw around super-heated projectiles at his person with the sole purpose of turning Lorenor into ash. The thought made the mutant physically wince. When that action was over, Lorenor prepared himself to face the Revenant.

Noticing the powerful looking claws that seemed to extend from the man's hands, the mutant admired the creature's disposition. It seemed that the fellow had made himself a career of blood and violence, and Lorenor was next. The mutant pondered quickly ending the Revenant, but then he tossed that train of thought aside. He would savor this battle. His hunger for William Arcus grew with every passing moment. But it was a certain lust that he felt as well. Lorenor knew one thing: I want William Arcus for myself. So strong was his desire of William, that for a moment, he forgot where he was and he did not want to bring harm to that terrifying creature that stood before him.

"Well said William Arcus. Then let this game begin!" Lorenor called out to his opponent. After he had moved into his combat position, the mutant lashed out with his own claws, taking the initiative. Lorenor's claws were as sharp as plynt by then. This would turn into a battle of claws versus claws. And Lorenor excelled at close-quarters-combat. Concentrating on his next set of movements, the mutant moved at full speed, easily covering the distance between the two. Lorenor kept smiling the entire time. "After this challenge is over, let us share a tale over some ale in Radasanth!" He proclaimed with delight in his voice. He waited to see how William Arcus would react to his attack. As Lorenor bound towards William Arcus, he took his right hand, and slashed outwards with powerful claws. He slashed at a downward angle, attempting to rip open his foe's chest. He would make the creature before him submit to his desire.

[Revenant]

There was no more fear in William, no more hesitation. The battle rage was upon him and he was the calm center in the swirl of chaos surrounding him. Some warriors are reluctant fighters, forced by fate or circumstance to take up arms. Some warriors are created, forged blow by blow on the anvil of combat. And then there were the warriors who were born to it, whose very nature meant that they were more at home amid the blood and screams of the dying than anywhere else. William Arcus was the first type, a man who through no fault of his own had found himself forced into the fray. But the demonic essence merged with William’s soul was the latter; and in the battle rage, it reigned supreme.

Despite Lorenor’s frightful prowess the mutant hesitated at the onset where William did not, likely the only thing that saved the revenant from a quick and shameful death. William coiled to ready a springing attack at the exact same moment that the mutant made his own lunge. Smoldering eyes widened in shock at the awesome speed that the stocky mutant possessed, but the shock was only momentary and William recovered quickly enough to bring his bone-wrapped hand up to block the mutant’s strike in a backhand swing. Still, though Lorenor’s initial strike caught on the back of William’s bone gauntlet, the mutant’s own clawed fingers dug furrows in the iron hard substance, a testament to Lorenor’s power.

Faster than me, stronger than me, and more deadly, William’s thoughts snarled, need to keep him at range.

Snarling in the mutant’s face, William flattened his inside hand and slashed it across, aimed at Lorenor’s gut. He knew that the mutant’s speed would likely mean that the strike would likely connect with nothing, but the swing was more to give William some forward momentum than to gut his stocky opponent. Leaning into the force of his swipe, William uncoiled his legs, transferring what had been intended for a lunging attack into a ducking roll. He grabbed a handful of dirt from the arena floor as he did so, releasing it behind him with his trailing hand at the rough height of Lorenor’s face to blind the mutant while his leading hand reached for Lorenor’s discarded weapon.

With a heave, William tore the sword free from the earth and spun it backhanded at the hopefully blinded mutant. He was no master of bladed weaponry, but this attack had nothing to do with swordplay and finesse and everything to do with raw hacking power.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Lorenor's endurance played the hero for that exact moment in time. He never moved, not once. In a moment, he had revealed his true nature as a sado-masochist which would potentially give Lorenor an edge in the match. There was never any attempt in evasion, despite the fact that the mutant knew that he could. That made Lorenor even more dangerous than perhaps any other warrior on Althanas. The fucker enjoyed pain, both in giving it and receiving it. In fact, the inflicting of pain brought Lorenor euphoric pleasure that was borderline orgasmic. With his eyes narrowing, Lorenor felt the fellow's claws slash across his chiseled abdominalis region.

Black ichor ripped from his tough epidermis as the outer layer of flesh was cut by his foe. Lorenor's flesh was already regenerating from the superficial wound since it was merely a series of somewhat deep incisions. Lorenor's endurance had increased since his initial nights as a derelict ghoul. When he observed the fighting style of the fellow before him, the movements and calculated precision reminded the mutant of himself. I want him. There is love in his strikes. He thought to himself when the sand touched his face. Of course, Lorenor did not need eyes to see. Particles of sand in a cloud-like formation touched his face. Lorenor closed his eyes, they stung, but he was still able to see even with his eyes closed.

With his auspex powers, the ghoul was able to see everything around him within the sensory grid. When he saw the next few moments of the battle, a certain rage filled his black heart. The Revenant suddenly picked up the special sword that the mutant worked so hard to construct. In a matter of moments, the battle-favor shifted to his opponent's favor. Lorenor had to cheat in order to ward off the incoming hacking attack.

Focusing on his Aegis Bracer, Lorenor called forth the shielding power that the artifact possess. Bringing up a single shield of moderate strength, the mutant burned his dark-power for the casting cost. Within a matter of moments, the two maneuvers intercepted one another. Recoiling from the sudden burst of elemental energies, the shield he'd brought up shattered at his foe's attack. Lorenor was knocked back several paces. He looked his opponent in the eyes, with that shadow befalling his own face. When his face had adjusted to the sand, the mutant wiped away what he could. Opening his eyes now, the glowing furnaces of power burned from the very depths of Haidia. Hell. Lorenor straightened his body, resuming a tight combat stance.

"Good." The mutant said in response to William Arcus' maneuver. "I can feel your rage. Your anger." William's rage burned through the vessel like a fire touching the very air attempting to absorb all oxygen from within it to fuel its unbridled destructive capacity. "Submit to the call of N'Jal." Lorenor continued to taunt his opponent. "N'Jal sings highly of your people. Revenant. Demon. All the same. Embrace your destiny and become one of the followers of N'Jal. N'Jal welcomes you home." Lorenor, confidently, walked over towards the Revenant. "I see your eyes. I see what they seek. They possess the same hunger I possess. We are brothers. We can fight out of love, not hate. Your strikes are filled with love." Lorenor said, his voice reaching an almost maddening hysteria now. "Come with me Revenant. I shall show you the secrets of N'Jal. When we conclude this battle, there is much for us to discuss, fellow creature of the dark!" Well within the extreme combat range, the mutant's injuries were already beginning to regenerate. He felt stinging pain from the Revenant's attacks and that pain brought him extreme pleasure. It put a smile on his face.

Looking at the Revenant's face, the mutant felt elation. He had found a brother.

"Your move Revenant." He said, stopping directly in front of William Arcus. Lorenor waited anxiously for the pain that would follow...

[Revenant]

William recoiled, the mutant’s blade torn from his grasp by whatever magic shield Lorenor had used and sent flying across the arena. The revenant stumbled, and instinctively brought his outside hand up to shield his eyes as he twisted to protect himself from the magical backlash.

And here it comes, William thought, mentally preparing himself for the piercing pain of Lorenor’s strike that he was sure was on its way. But when no strike came, William turned his jolt backwards into a defensive stance.

Lorenor was talking now, spouting a stream of nonsense that barely made any sense to William. The Thayne of Althanas were not worshipped in the lands where he had come from, and William had only recently begun to learn about their religion. From the little that he remembered, the N’jal that Lorenor continually referenced was one of the Thayne here, but a dark one whose worship was not prevalent. And also, N’jal seemed to enjoy demonic company if William understood the mutant’s speech.

“You have tremendous power,” William snarled as the mutant finished his speech, “you shouldn’t waste it on talk.”

William didn’t particularly enjoy combat conversation. To his mind, the only people who would choose to waste their efforts on any more talk than snarling death curses were those who were too weak to fight properly. Either Lorenor wasn’t someone who enjoyed the raw physical strain of combat, something William highly doubted given the mutant’s savage grin of sadistic pleasure, or the mutant was testing him.

Though the mutant had wiped the grit from his eyes, he hadn’t seemed all that bothered by it, as if he had advanced beyond the need for such trivial things as eyes. And the ichor had already stopped flowing from the slight gashes where William’s claws had kissed the mutant’s flesh. It was obvious that Lorenor’s healing abilities, like his strength and speed, far outclassed anything that William had to offer.

Knowing how outclassed he was, no one would blame William for submitting, for saving himself the pain and frustration of a savage death at the mutant’s hands. No one that is, save William himself.

What do I care about pain, when my own power burns me alive from the inside out, William’s violent desires howled and his aura of molten heat blazed to new heights of excitement, if it’s pain he wants, then that’s what I’ll give him.

There were no words from William, no well-mannered phrases of appreciation or staunch defiance. There was only a bloodthirsty roar of rage and fury that reverberated off the walls of the training chamber and tore into the dark Radasanth night.

William moved then, amid the echoes of his rage, tearing away every shred of mental barrier which held his power at bay. Knowing that he was hopelessly outclassed and that this might well be the only chance he had, William poured everything, all of his frustration, all of his hate, all of his despair, into his strike, lancing his blackened claws for Lorenor's chest like hungry serpents darting for prey.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Watching the movement made the mutant smile. Lorenor could feel the wrath, the hatred, the despair, flowing so easily from the Revenant's body. Knowing that William Arcus would make a suitable enough ally, the mutant deduced that he would have to completely conquer the bestial creature writhing and twisting before him. Lorenor assumed that he would have to drag William's ass out of there, kicking and screaming, and then the Revenant would thank him for all of his trouble. At least that's what I assume.

When the attack came, Lorenor shifted his body weight ever so subtly so that he stood at an angle. He would accept the damage that would come as was his nature. The very creed that he lived by. When Lorenor's body was further split open, the mutant growled with pleasure. Black ichor spilled everywhere after William's attack connected. Lorenor could taste William's flesh upon his person. So close and yet so far. He wanted to reach out and embrace the man before him, claim him for himself. Patient in his villainous nature, the mutant knew that he could wait. He would patiently wait out all the fury and rage that the Revenant possessed. Then, he would appeal to the logical side of the man.

Lorenor's eyes flinched as William's claws cut through the outer layer of his chest. Flesh was torn asunder, and the mutant grinned wider. Already, the flesh was mending itself, but Lorenor willed it to take a little longer than usual. The mutant looked at his opponent for a moment, and with his own claws, he struck back. A counter of sorts. Reaching out with his own claws now, the mutant used the right hand, The Aegis Bracer, and struck out with those exceedingly sharpened claws. Lorenor made a simple, but expert, striking movement that was meant to rake the man's back open if it connected.

"O words are never wasted dear sir. It is in the art of tactical warfare that we mush relish the words spoken by our comrades, and our enemies. For it is only in combat do we truly know one another." Lorenor began talking again, he was trying to irritate William Arcus deliberately. "Only with the wings of the Goddess will we know true freedom. O dear friend, will you mock me even at the moment of my death? Or will you rejoice in the acceptance of a new comrade?" He was citing some play or another, popular in Radasanth. Probably sung by the Tantalum's Troupe out of Scara Brae. "Would you deny me the pleasure of your friendship on the battlefield when I offer mine so freely?"

Lorenor continued the friendship. "O how I long to know thy warmth dear friend. For it is only on the parting, that we know the truest of sorrows, only to be reunited by the will of the goddess once more." The mutant was reciting the play and song as he spoke and attacked. His verse well said and with careful attention to the grammar of the play. It was partially spoken in the old common-tongue, and partially spoken in a stylized syntax of the modern common tongue. "You must admit Revenant, you are enjoying yourself. I can see it is not oft that you get to cut loose in such a fashion. I will show you the limits of your power." Lorenor added the tactical speech in an attempt to throw the fellow off guard.

And then, Lorenor realized one important matter: he was having fun. Win or loose, The Revenant was a blessing of N'Jal.

[Revenant]

William momentarily exulted as he felt the mutant’s flesh wrap around his clawed fingertips. Despite all of Lorenor’s power, despite the tremendous strength the mutant possessed, he was just going to accept William’s attack with no cares. The revenant barked a single, short laugh of triumph as the flesh parted under his touch and Lorenor’s black lifeblood spilled from the wound. But the laughter was short lived and died on William’s lips almost before it began when the revenant realized that Lorenor accepted the attack only because it had no real chance of harming him.

William knew that he was inside Lorenor’s reach now, and that the mutant’s greater speed meant that there was nowhere left for him to run. The only option that he had left was to press forward, driving into the mutant with all of the inhuman strength that his demonic power gave him. That option was easier said than done however, as the mutant’s tough flesh fought him, rejuvenating around the wounds William made almost as soon as the revenant opened them. It seemed to William almost as if he were scrabbling futilely at thick, wet clay. Still, William wasn’t finished yet and steeled himself to shove through Lorenor’s chest plate when a searing pain tore through his back.

Sure enough, Lorenor hadn’t been fool enough to give the demonic revenant free reign at his flesh and had opened the charred flesh of his back with the ease of a blade parting rotten fruit. It was a painful wound but wasn’t serious enough to drop William outright. Still, the nature of the open lacerations down his back meant that every move at this point would be fraught with savage pain.

Fighting to clear the fog of pain from his head, William focused on the words that Lorenor spoke. They were flowery words, words of friendship and camaraderie. William was a creature of violence and destruction, created for no other purpose than to unravel the world in blood and fire, and the darkness within him surged at Lornor’s words. Here was an opportunity to embrace the fury and the rage, to give himself the strength to be the raw force of destruction that he had been meant to be. The man before him was more than a warrior; he was a gateway to everything that William wanted.

But though he had been created as nothing more than a weapon of destruction, William had come far from his roots. He had evolved and conquered his demonic essence. And though the process was slow, he had regained a portion of his humanity in the process. Just as the mutant’s words woke the lust for destruction within William’s breast, so too did it wake the human within the beast.

“You’ll show me the limits of my power?” William hissed a reply to his opponent. “Then cut the talk and show me.”

And with that William lunged at Lorenor’s throat, his jagged snapping teeth leading the way.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Grinning by now, he could taste the hatred that was flowing from the Revenant's attack. Thick in the air, it swirled about the Revenant's halo like a stain of crimson red. It was a sharp feeling that touched the mutant's black heart. Passion burned within that hatred, and with that passion was a certain type of lover. As a sadomasochist, the mutant enjoyed William's responses to all of his manipulation. William's responses were crucial to the observations of the mutant as he began to learn what made The Revenant tick. Manipulation was a subtle art that required precise words and the silver-tongued expertise of a politician.

Lorenor was developing that skill level with his speech-crafting capacity. Though he wasn't a thespian like the members of the Tatalum Troupe were, the mutant was a speaker. Unafraid of public oration, the mutant often took to twisted psychological games meant to throw the opponent off guard. Lorenor was getting under William's skin and the mutant knew it. To Lorenor's twisted mind, the mutant had earned his own victory over The Revenant. The capacity to manipulate others was a crucial skill to have that could often save the mutant's hide. Enraged, opponents would often think without clarity and make mistakes. Lorenor knew what he was doing, he wasn't some court jester, or a fledgling with the verbal tongue lashings he was given. Each chosen verse was a carefully contrived occurrence.

Though The Revenant spoke at the end of his speech, the mutant wasn't really attempting to get that sort of a response. Instead, Lorenor was hoping to throw The Revenant off his game so that he couldn't focus just enough so that openings would arrive. A single thought burned through Lorenor's mind, and that was the desire to conquer William Arcus. Not in the sense of completely slaughtering him, but rather, in the romantic sense. However, he knew his current situation. He knew that a battle was still being waged and that the mutant could ill afford a mistake. Lorenor saw that The Revenant reacted quickly to his counter-attack. Already, they were both tearing each other apart. Each beautiful sting of The Revenant's attacks brought the mutant tremendous pleasure.

When William Arcus reacted with his next maneuver, the mutant simply stood there closing his eyes. With tremendous skill, Lorenor raised the arm that had The Aegis Bracer attached to cover his throat. He moved in an interception maneuver just before William Arcus's attack could connect with his vitals. Lorenor's eyes opened just as he felt teeth snapping around his artifact bracer. When the attack connected, Lorenor suddenly attempted to rip away from The Revenant's jaws with a simple movement. Then, he quickly moved to strike William Arcus in a potential position that lurked at the side of the man's skull. If it connected, the blow would be a decisive one since the mutant put all his might and speed into the attack...

[Revenant]

Lorenor brought his shielded arm up fast, so very, very fast. The mutant’s defense was quick enough that William barely recognized that his opponent had moved at all. It was as if Lorenor’s throat was a willing supplicant for William’s tearing teeth one moment and a completely shielded fortress the next. Only the trailing afterimage of Lorenor’s movement let William know that he had not foolishly bit at a thick hunk of metal in the first place but had truly directed his attack at the mutant’s flesh. Still, the quickness of Lorenor’s movement left William with no time to stop his gnashing teeth from locking onto Lorenor’s bracer. Driven by the revenant’s inhuman power, the thick, iron hard jagged teeth were powerful enough to shred even light mail, and were even solid enough to suffer little more than superficial damage when they crashed upon the defending hunk of metal. The structural strength of William’s teeth mattered little however, when Lorenor wrenched the bracer away.

William forgot all about the thin pain of his lacerated back as the powerful mutant tore his forearm from the revenant’s jaws. The few teeth that had managed to find purchase on the bracer’s elaborate surface were torn unceremoniously from William’s jaws and flung into the dust of the chamber’s floor amid a spray of super-heated blood and charred gums. A ragged scream formed in the back of William’s throat but was choked out by the bleeding tide flowing from the open wounds.

It was over, William knew. Even if he were able to match the mutant’s incredible power and speed at this point, even if Lornor’s greater healing ability were somehow halted, even if he weren’t nestled inside his opponent’s kill-zone, there was no denying the wave of pain-filled nausea and vertigo that broke over him like a wave crashing onto a hastily built sand castle. William knew what was coming next, even if Lorenor’s incredible speed meant that he would never see it and there was no surprise whatsoever when the mutant’s fist slammed into him like an out of control carriage.

The blow landed just behind William’s left eye and the resulting crack boomed across the open air arena like a steel hammer striking stone. Darkness filled William’s world, which fled from hid down a long, narrow corridor, and the revenant flopped unceremoniously from legs that were suddenly too limp to bear his weight. Surprisingly, William found that he no longer felt any of the pain from either his own charring power or Lorenor’s savage rents. Even more surprising, the putrid, acidic blood in his mouth suddenly had the thick, sweet taste of honey behind it. All this made William want to laugh, made the revenant want to scream and shout in exultation, but for some reason William found that he couldn’t seem to stop the incessant buzzing that continually broke his thoughts apart. In fact, he realized, he couldn’t seem to get his body to do anything that he wanted.

That's odd, he thought, and then with a twitch and a gurgle, died in the blood-soaked dirt.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

(Bunnying of Revenant's corpse is approved)

With an unceremonious crack! of the skull, his beautiful opponent was dead. Lorenor sighed, it had not been his intention to kill the devil. For a moment, the flesh looked ripe in Lorenor's eyes for consumption. He wanted William Arcus, that much was certain. Oh by the will of the goddess, how I hunger for you Arcus. Lorenor walked over towards William's corpse, reached down with both arms, and picked the man up. He cradled him like a newborn baby. Delicate in his embrace of the devil, Lorenor could feel the flaming aura even in the death of the creature. Despite a weakness to fire, the heat was not sufficient enough to harm the mutant.

Opening, the chamber doors revealed several monks that were rushing towards Lorenor's general direction. The mutant moved towards the monks as he held the body close to him. He handed the corpse off to the care of the order. When William Arcus was in the seasoned care of the monks, Lorenor had a downcast expression on his face. Looking down upon the blood-stained earth, Lorenor felt a certain pang of sadness. What is this that I am feeling? Do I regret killing William Arcus? Thinking about the matter for a few moments, he just noticed one of the monks staring at his person. Apparently, the fellow was concerned about several injuries that the mutant had sustained.

"You're hurt." The monk said. She was a female monk, a neophyte but a powerful healer. She had long green hair, and amber coloured eyes. Her skintone was fair. Her body was adorned with many rune-symbols etched upon it. They were markings that Lorenor recognized as being part of the order. "May I heal your injuries mi'lord?" She asked. Lorenor heard a convincing tone in her voice, it was sincere. She sincerely cared about his well being. Judging from what he knew about the order, the mutant deduced that she had no knowledge of the order's inner workings. She is still a monk, and most of them are not bad. But enough are... He thought to himself as he stared at her well formed figure. She was quite handsome.

"I will be fine..." Lorenor said. "I can regenerate on my...ugh..."

Black ichor still flowed from the mutant's injuries. Apparently, he'd lost a lot of blood. Lorenor fell to one knee before the girl. Immediately, he saw her react and afford him a balancing point. Though he was still regenerating his injuries, he'd just realized how badly The Revenant had hurt him. "Touche William Arcus. Touche." Closing his eyes, Lorenor relaxed and felt magical flow and ebb of The Arkanos as it coursed through his body. Lorenor blacked out a short time later. His last memories were that of several monks running towards his person. If one were to look, they would have seen the smile on the mutant's face...

Fin.

[MetalDrago]

I’ll be listing the scores side by side, Revenant being red and Lorenor being violet.

STORY ~


Continuity (6/7) ~ Overall, pretty much the same. Both players have been to the Citadel countless times before, and they have fought plenty of times to test their skills against people from all over the world. Lorenor brought up one of his fights with Elijah and then went on to bring up the Tantalum from other threads. This bumped his score up by one point. Revenant, you should try and include some history from the Citadel besides just having been there before. I don’t mean all the bloody details of previous fights, but at least give the reader an idea on who you’ve faced or some of what you’ve done in the past.

Setting (4/4) ~ Seriously disappointing, you guys. I had no idea where the hell you were fighting… Even the most mundane training room has some kinda appearance to it, even if it’s flat and boring. I got nothing from this, and both of you should have at least thrown in a description of something, even if the room itself was pretty much featureless.

Pacing (7/5) ~ Revenant, you pretty much kept the entire thread moving along at the rough pace of a brisk walk. There was enough thought and explanation put into your posts that they didn’t seem hurried, while at the same time keeping the overall fierce, fast battle style trucking along smoothly. Try to quicken things up just a little bit and this score will continue to improve. Lorenor… You slowed this thread down a lot. Cut out some of the description and let your readers use their imaginations a little. Also, there is one other thing that I’ve told before messes with both pacing and clarity. Do not use technical expressions for muscle groups in posts.

CHARACTER ~

Dialogue (7/6) ~ Where to start… William Arcus was believable, and didn’t talk more than he had to. After all, he came to the Citadel to work off some amount of his depression and frustration. Talking don’t do that for half demons. So, overall good job. Lorenor, you kept the dialogue pretty convincing, but when you slipped back into the “old common tongue,” even if it was just quoting from a play, it detracted just a little bit from your score. This is simply because you slip between modern English and Shakespearian English in the middle of sentences.

Action (7/7) ~ Very believable for both. Not much to say here.

Persona (8/6) ~ Revenant, very believable, and the addition of the two personas fighting each other over Lorenor’s offer was pretty interesting. I don’t hand out 8’s often, but there you go. Lorenor, you would have got a seven, but especially knowing that the Citadel revives fallen opponents, I don’t see Lorenor getting that messed up over his opponent dying, ever. Seriously.

WRITING STYLE ~

Mechanics (7/5) ~ Revenant, you did a pretty decent job. I only noticed maybe one or two things in your posts that were glaringly obvious. One of them was a three clause run-on. You might wanna watch for that from now own. Lorenor, you had several glaring problems with mechanics in your posts. You seem to be particularly fond of missing commas and comma splices. Be careful of that from now on and you’ll see this score rise pretty high. You’re a pretty good writer, but you need to proofread, or at least have someone else do it.

Technique (6/6) ~ Both of you used a couple of advanced techniques in your writing, but nothing too standout. Don’t sweat it too much, though. This was a battle, and considering the lack of scenery, it wasn’t too bad.

Clarity (7/5) ~ Revenant, your posts were overall very clear and easy to read. Nice job. Just keep working at it, and clear up those few mechanical issues and you’ll have even clearer posts. Lorenor, you can see what I wrote in Pacing, and there are a couple of other things. Never use the term ‘fucking’ outside of dialogue, for one.

Wild Card (6/6) ~ Overall, an interesting read, and a ‘relationship’ I look forward to seeing more of.

Revenant WINS with a score of 65 and earns 3025 EXP and 200 GP
Lorenor gets a score of 57 and earns 900 EXP and 125 GP