The beast of many bloods

[Aiko]

The Observer was one of The Eldritch Horrors, alien gods who once ruled the sea of stars beyond Althanas. Now however, besides The Envoy, who was herself now a powerless entity, he was the only survivor. Thankfully, Observer's nature mean he never needed followers to be powerful, for he was the watcher behind time. By majority vote of The Thayne, he was allowed to stay in Althanas, becoming the recorder and keeper of history.

The Observer watched as, exactly one thousand years to the day from the most current point in time, a dark spirit entered The Citadel. No monk seemed to notice its presence, no combatant felt its touch. He watched as it drifted down the halls and into arenas, seemingly satisfied with its new choice of a home. It drifted through the floors, until it reached the bottom level of The Citadel.

Time passed, days flowed one into the other, and still, the dark spirit did not leave The Citadel. Fights continued, and none seemed to know the spirit was there. The Observer watched, as the dark spirit gathered blood from each fight, and collected it into a pool. Finally, one day, a hundred years ago when the current Elder took his position, the pool of blood coalesced into a monster.

It rampaged through the lower levels, and despite their best efforts, the monks could niether tame, nor defeat it, they could only imprison it in the lower levels by sealing them off utterly. Still the dark spirit did not leave, not now that its pet was trapped. Still the fighting in the citadel went on, and the beast born of many bloods became a dark secret of the citadel, until the day it escaped that is.
***
Ailnea was resting peacefully in her chambers, other monks were meditating, or practicing various skills. A tremendous shudder caused her to sit bolt upright, and the sound of her fellow monks rushing out of the citadel caused her to rush to her door.

“HALT ALL FIGHTS! BY ORDER OF THE ELDER, ALL PERSONEL IN THE CITADEL, MONK, COMBATANT, OR OTHERWISE ARE TO IMMEDIATELY EVACUATE THE BUILDING AND HELP CONTAIN THE BEAST OF MANY BLOODS!”

Grandmaster Onox's voice roared throughout the building, enhanced by his own mysterious powers. In response to his voice, all arenas faded, and fights were stopped. Ailnea threw on her robes, and opened the door, running out into the hall.

“What's going on?” she asked the nearest monk.

“Some terrible nightmare of a monster broke out from underneath the citadel. I didn't even know there was an underneath the citadel! It's on a rampage in Radasanth.” the monks said.

Ailnea exited the citadel, and saw the rubble of broken buildings everywhere near the citadel. Nearby, she saw a famous figure she immediately knew she could trust, the red marshal himself, Letho Ravenheart. She drew closer, but another monk beat her to him.

“Milord, something escaped and is attacking the town, have you seen it?” he asked.

In reply, watched as Letho let loose an ear deafening roar at the man. She could only watch stupefied as the hero of corone drew a prevalida tipped spear out of nowhere and impaled the monk with it.

[Cydnar]

Magic corrupts those who do not revere it.

Cydnar opened his eyes at the tail end of his meditate pilgrimage and sighed. Something convulsed his calmness, something rolled into his senses like a juggernaut rampaging through a cityscape. With slow movements he rose in the dark and drew his wits about him. Before had had managed to stand upright and shake the lethargy from his bones, the ancient doors to the chamber fell inward in a wave of purple light, and two figures entered without heeding to the occupants needs.

"We have a dire need of a Salthias, Brother Cydnar," the first man spoke, his long white hair symbolic of a council seat. Cydnar plucked his blades from the floor and strapped them under his belt, not connecting his gaze with theirs but listening intently. The silence signified his curiosity.

"A creature, bound in magical ordainment of change and let lose into the world has begun a rampage through the streets of Radasanth." Cydnar troubled his memory to recall why he had been to Corone so long ago, and the flash of battle and sanctuary burdened him with a dreary need to proove himself. How foolish he had been to think he could find salvation in the human world.

"What can I do to abate this problem?" He looked over his shoulder at the councilmen and leant once more to pick up his spell pouch. With lightning movements he attached it to his belt and walked between the pair towards the door.

"A group of heroes and divinely sensed individuals has focused their means to defeat it, you as our envoy should go."

"I did nothing in the fight with the Necromancer Xem'Zund...what can I do here?"

"You were a child, then, Brother Cydnar, you are a man mighty in his pious faith now - you can move mountains, slay beasts, raise hope in hellish shackles - what can you not do?"

With a slow sigh, the tiredness and relaxation of his meditation now a distant memory, Cydnar nodded in agreement and turned on a heel to find the nearest way stone. No sooner than he had dissipated from the meditation chamber, the two figures pulled back their hoods and smiled knowingly at one another.

"Will he succeed?" Said the Sage, licking his lips.

"Of course he will Yggdrassil, you speak as if the one you chose as your own is not worthy of your blessing," spoke the councilman, and they walked in opposite direction from the Hummel warrior about their everyday business of fate and favours.

[Lord Anglekos]

Anglekos panted heavily as he sat behind a broken stone wall, his breath a physical cloud emitting from between his dry, cracked lips in the cool, autumn air. With his bow knocked with two arrows, he swallowed down the saliva that had risen like bile at the gruesome sight that had greeted him upon entering Radasanth. Closing his eyes, even though it was a bad idea in hindsight, he attempted to catch his breath and remember, just remember, how this had all started.

The Citadel. Yes, he'd been heading to the Citadel for some reason. Something within him had compelled him to go...despite his personal doubts, above all he wanted to forget her. He didn't care if he became addicted to fighting, to bloodshed; he would stay within the halls of the Citadel for the rest of his life, if he needed to, to forget it all. Everything. But when he entered Radasanth, shield slung over his shoulders and both of his long swords strapped to his side, the first smell that greeted his senses was that of blood.

Lots, and lots of blood.

The second, was the scent of smoke, and as his eyes drifted, wide with shock, past the broken buildings and the spatters of blood on the walls, he found the smoking ruins where his ears could feel the explosions still resonating there; could hear the screams of the innocent plaguing his mind. Like claws they ripped at his memories, breaching the inner defenses he'd built up as if they were just paper until reaching into his brain and impaling the most painful parts of his past on the wall for him to see. Every spatter of blood was a story untold; every broken building, was his own. His own home, torn apart, with him sitting there, helpless to do anything. He could almost hear Amalia crying out his name, begging, screaming for someone to do something. To save her, as her entrails were ripped out and her virginity violated by the very soldiers who were sworn to protect them.

It was that last thought that caused his knuckles, already whitened with stress and fear as they clenched around the hilt of not Pardolaes but the old, steel blade he'd kept with him all these years, to tighten even more so as that hand drew the blade forth with a ring almost unconsciously. The destructive power of whatever was destroying Radasanth would have frightened him, were he more in a sane state, but at the moment his mind was preoccupied with barraging him with tortuous memories, his inner voice tormenting him as it struggled to inflict doubt once more. He fought against both, his breathing heavy, as he took to a quick spring around the fallen debris, leaping briskly across both body and rock as he dashed underneath fallen buildings, and climbed over other ones with a swiftness that belied his form and a silence that he gave thanks to the armguards and greaves, both enchanted to imbue him with such.

A scream to his left, and his head snapped, blue eyes bright in their madness as his raven hair wafted in a wave behind him. He skid to a stop, as he sought out his prey with all of his senses. Holding his breath, he listened, but it was now unnaturally quiet. His eyes traveled from place to place, but nothing moved for him to track. He tasted the air with his tongue, and all he could taste was smoke, and all he smelled was blood. Blood, everywhere. Now that he wasn't moving, he slowly slid his blade back into it's leather sheath, letting his fingers brush over the long blonde hair before he lifted it to the bow also strapped to his back, stringing it with a couple masterful movements from his fingers, before slipping two arrows from the quiver at his side in between his fingers to nock them in silence. Stepping slowly, despite the enchantment of silence his armor gave him, he slowly took step by step up the cracked ledge, peering slowly over it.

And what he saw there took his breath, and had he not been consumed by madness before, it surely would have brought him there.

A giant, smoking crater had appeared there, destroying the road to the Citadel, and bodies lay littered, mutilated beyond belief. Arms had been torn off, while others had simply been simply blown to pieces. An eye stuck to the wall here, a phallus's tip stuck into the ground there; the amount of blood was terrifying, even to a soldier like Anglekos. And standing there, amongst the massacre, was a man he'd never seen before.

The murderer was huge, in both aura and size. Despite only being about as tall as Anglekos himself was, the swordsman found himself staring at a giant of a man, with muscles rippling along his entire body, one hand clutching a great spear with a deadly prevalida tip. Although the man's hair was graying, his stature bespoke that of a man who would not be defeated by age alone, and his fierce visage was betrayed by a pair of piercing eyes that swept the area about him with a lion's predatory gaze. As they came near Eric's hiding place, he ducked down swiftly, his breath caught in his throat at the intensity in that...thing's eyes.

And now he sat, trying to catch himself, trying not to move, trying not to do anything that would betray his presence to that monster below him. The creature looked human, but the pure amount of bloodlust that radiated from it....He shook his dark-haired head to himself, even as he pulled tighter on the arrows nocked on his bowstring. Slowly, shuddering, he turned and looked over the ledge once more, just as a series of battle cries rang out from the sidelines, as a fresh wave of soldiers tore out of the smoke, weapons drawn, at the creature awaiting them with it's bloodthirsty roar that shook the very ground, and the blade dripping lust in it's hands.

Anglekos swallowed, and forced himself to watch the slaughter that ensued.

[Hysteria]

A spray of blood etched the ground with death as Talen’s sword cleaved through his opponent’s stomach. The man fell to the ground amid a cry of pain but did not yield. He gripped his sword stubbornly even though he barely had the strength to lift it now. Talen stepped forwards and parried a weak attack with a ring of steel on steel and held the tip of his sword at the man’s neck.

“HALT ALL FIGHTS! BY ORDER OF THE ELDER, ALL PERSONEL IN THE CITADEL, MONK, COMBATANT, OR OTHERWISE ARE TO IMMEDIATELY EVACUATE THE BUILDING AND HELP CONTAIN THE BEAST OF MANY BLOODS!”

The simple arena Talen had entered shimmered and was gone, leaving both fighters standing in a small stone room. The youth raised a single eye brow in interest. The address of an unknown monk was nearly the strangest thing he had ever heard, second only to Jensen Ambrose’s excuse when Talen had caught him coming out of the female toilets in the Ixian Castle. Still, the youth was slightly annoyed that his victory had been taken from him, even though a far more interesting challenge had apparently arisen.

Talen flicked his sword and the blood on the blade spattered against the stone floor. He turned and started walking to the door, but his opponent had other ideas. Talen was just at the door when the man screamed with rage. The youth instinctively stepped to the side as the man’s sword cut into the door just where Talen had been standing. The youth’s blade appeared parallel to the man’s chest. With a quick movement the sword shot upwards through the man’s jaw and into the opening at the bottom of the skull to the brain.

“Idiot.”

Talen pulled his sword out as the man fell to the ground dead and left the room.

The little warrior was far from your average thirteen year old boy. His easy going attitude was matched with strong skills with both his swords and shadowmancy. He abilities were enough to see him into the Ixian Knights where he was in charge of information gathering. At his waist he carried a pair of swords marked with serpents, while through his body he hid a myriad of other items to help when the need arose.

The boy made his way through the halls of the Citadel surrounded by chaos. Monks ran everywhere trying to usher people outside to face the mysterious threat. Warriors egar to prove their worth charged past shouting with excitement at the impromptu adventure. Talen walked through the front doors as a number of warriors charged outside. The youth cut sideways and found shelter against a wall.

The area around the Citadel was in ruins, there was blood and dead bodies everywhere, with a few smashed buildings for show. Talen watched as the warriors engaged the source of the destruction, apparently a slightly past his prime warrior dripping in blood. The wave of warriors was quickly cut down by the man’s spear and the little warrior watched and noted.

The blood, it’s not actually drenching the fighter, it is the fighter. Where do I know that warrior from though? He looks familiar...

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen Ambrose looked to the fleeing monks as they shouted for help about some crazed blood thingy or something or other. He didn’t know what to think of the situation, instead pondering if he should just continue his sandwich or offer to help. A good Ixian Knight would have put lunch on hold, lifted his weapons, and joined the Ai-Bron monks in detaining whatever foul thing was happening. Sei would even probably do some heroic bullshit speech to give everyone a boost of confidence. Then they would get to the fighting, and do their Ixian Knight thing.

So Jensen decided to eat his sandwich.

The peanut butter and jelly sandwich Jasmine had made for him was one of those rare treasures you find once in your life time. A sandwich so delicious that he woke up extra early just to have it. He didn’t pretend to be a good Ixian Knight, in fact he knew he was a terrible member of the order. He never pretended to be a good Knight of Apocalypse either. That he was positive he sucked at. But he did fancy himself a pretty good all around dick-off and do nothing sort of guy. He felt he had the qualifications and experience to be an expert in the field of lounging around and doing nothing.

“Please sir, do you know how to fight?” A monk asked Jensen before he took his first bite. The whole wheat crust looked back to Jensen, as if pleading for him to take that mouth watering juicy taste of the mixed berries and crushed peanut butter nuts. He eyed the monk, shook his head no, and sadly the man moved in on him. “Then I have to ask you to leave the area! Something terrible is happening and we need to minimize civilian casualties!”

“Look pal, I ain’t leaving this spot.” Jensen placed both feet on the wooden deck to the park eating area. The monk either ignored him, or didn’t hear him, but either way the man lifted a hand to snatch the food out of Jensen’s hand in his urgency. Jensen swatted the man’s hand away.

“Please sir!” He begged.

“Look man,” Jensen said in a deep, darkening tone. “I’m. Not. Moving.” Jensen gave him a warning glare, and the monk sighed running away. Satisfied he could eat in peace he watched several so called warriors retreating with Ai-Bron monks, some doing on the run healing as they all cursed out the beast that they were fighting. All of them seemed to be covered in blood as they bitched about the creature. Shameful, that was what Jensen thought clucking his tongue and shaking his head.

He looked back to his whole wheat goodness, the scent of strawberries filling his nostrils as he opened his mouth wide to take a bite. It was so close to his tongue it began to salivate in joy of the feast he was about to consume. Yes, today was a day he would kill to eat that sandwich.

“Oh thank the gods!” A familiar voice said in deepened breaths. Jensen did his best to push the voice out of his mind, and was in the process of closing his gaping, drooling mouth. “Come on, Jensen Ambrose, I need your help!” His arm violently shook and he nearly dropped his sandwich in alarm. Gripping it tightly he looked to the fat monk of the citadel that always helped him find a rather amazing fight. He met William Arcus, Sei Orlouge, and even Seth Dahlios because of this guy, and so for all the monk had done for him, he allowed the breach of conduct to take him away from his sandwich.

“There’s a blood beast that’s running amuck, and the history is to long to explain. In short, I need you to do what you do best and defeat it!” The monk, who’s name was Belsavius, pushed Jensen forwards.

“I don’t know how sleeping with your mom is going to help, but I’ll do my civic duty,” Jensen joked with a smile as he lifted his sandwich to take another bite. Belsavius slammed his hand into Jensen’s arm, bringing it down so the immortal could see his frantic pleading look. Sweat dripped down his face and he had several sweat stains in his robes.

“You need to take this seriously!”

“No I don’t,” Jensen replied calmly. Belsavius looked like he was either going to scream or cry, such was his frustrations with the immortal. Jensen sighed looking to his sandwich. When he lifted the bread to his lips he could once again taste it in his mouth without even having it grace his tongue. Four inches to goodness. Three inches. Two inches.

A large weapon flew before Jensen’s face, followed by an ear piercing screech as a spear tore into the flesh of the wheat bread, split it asunder into thousands of mouth watering pieces, and the jelly smearing all over the immortal’s face like blood, entrails of peanut butter covering his chest.

“Belsavius,” Jensen whispered solemnly as he pulled out his throwing knives looking to the bloodied body of what he assumed was the enemy. “I’m going to take this seriously now…” The immortal said as he ran at the bloodied image of someone he’s seen before.

“You’ll pay for that bloody cakes!” Jensen said with a chuckle. “Don’t care who you are, or what you’re doing, but the second you took from me a life so precious to me I’d consider renting my daughter out to the family that made me that sandwich, you became a problem. I don’t like problems,” He observed the look of the image before him, and realized he was going to battle against Letho Ravenheart, or at least a mockery of him.

“Should be fun, so let’s laugh and have a blast as I kick your ass!” Jensen let his roaring mirth build up into hideous, demented laughter as he did battle with the Blood Fiend.

[Ailnea]

Ailnea was panicking, it had taken on Letho Ravenheart's form. What if it had his abilities as well? There was no way she could ever hope to defeat it then, let alone anyone else. A soft and gentle hand rested on her shoulder calming her down, and to her surprise The Elder had even left The Citadel. Without speaking a word, she knew he wanted her to follow him. One by one, the other monks gathered near The Elder, and waited for his sage advise.

“Now is the time for this monster to be gone from our world. Conflict is necessary for growth, and our garden is fertile with it, however there is indeed such a thing as too much. Come, it has been so long since we have given a religious service outside of our home. Let us start the day off with the song of sealing, let your spirits resonate with The Multi-verse.” The Elder said.

The Elder took up a single note, Om, and held it, bringing his hands together and bowing his head. Ailnea joined him, and one by one, so too did the rest of the order. The note grew deep and tremulous. The beast turned away towards the monks, inherently sensing a direct threat on its life.

It began to morph and mutate into a great demonic minotaur, and the air began to shimmer and vibrate. Chains of energy appeared out of nowhere and wrapped themselves around the monster, forcing it back into its Letho state. The monks had very clearly sealed the things powers, but even with all of them working together, it was too powerful for them to completely seal.

Forced back into Letho state, the monster drew an exact duplicate of one of the more famous blades in the world, The Lawmaker. With his new blade in hand, the beast turned back to the warriors confronting them, they were the bigger threat now.

[Cydnar]

Cydnar, from the depths of nothing, rose through the cobbled stone of Radasanth eyes set on his adversary and stoic determination lingering in his wake. He rose into the air a few millimetres above the liquid rock beneath his feet and hovered for a moment, the geomagnetic energies of his compatriots holding him free of the chaotic tendrils of energy that parted the earth itself. With a sucking emptiness, the cobbles returned to their solid state, and he landed delicately on Terra firma.

Without hesitation or creed, he crossed his blades, readily drawn in the catacombs of the crystal city that rested far below Radasanth and spread his feet, the tensile weight of his robes and armour acting as a natural webbing about his lithe form. He smiled, blessing Yrene and the accuracy of his peers and observed the 'beast' that was set before him. Others no doubt, amidst the fleeing crowds and the tall spires of richety certainty would be watching, waiting, preparing their charge - Cydnar cared not to find them, they would come naturally and together they would commune that momentary sense of heroism that often found itself born in times of war, danger and impending end.

He kicked into a run with his feet scuffing the cobbles and speeding him forwards as he bore his long fangs at the midday sun. With a guttural stop to his voice he ended his battle cry and let rip with a curdling roar that served to rile his own wits, lest he fall back beneath the beasts sudden, uncertain strength and berserk nature. The form it had taken was not familiar to Cydnar, and he held no sense of the danger the Lawmaker faux in the creature's hand posed to his haematite blades, even when bound in crystal and riled with the power of his patron gods.

Without thinking the beast brought such a blade over it's head and down into Cydnar's crossed guard with lightning speed. A flash of sparks halted the Hummel's advance, and he skidded into the parry. He half folded into the razor edge of the gunblade, and pushed all his weight mustered at the last onto his own blades to ensure the crossed edges did not slip and split him like a hair on the opponent's weapon.

He grunted, stepped back and spiralled out his blades like a dervish. The Beast seemed to smile, if not ironically, then through some divine sense of superiority. With a blink, Cydnar formed crystal dust about his blades and archaically span them in twin-concentric circles like a weaving motion and started to circle the creature, legs bent to a crouch and grey hair flowing in the breeze, a metaphorical motion of readiness and grace.

"You have been judged abhorrent, a magical excess, and have been found already wanting," he recited the Salthias condemnation without caring that the beast could not understand - few knew the Hummel's Judgement until it was too late. "In the name of Yrene, the World Snake, I pronounce the penalty of death upon thee!" He roared again, saliva and spit rolling down his fangs like spider's webs as he ran forwards, Freya swinging into the right and Altheas rising in a hook up to split the beast's stomach.

Cydnar prayed at the back of his mind, amidst the glittering cloud of purple dust that swirled to the ground in his wake, that the heroes of the world would form a battle line alongside him like they had down in the dying light beneath Raeiara - he hoped that Radasanth could fight for it's own bringing of the dawn once again.

[Lord Anglekos]

Seeing as the beast lacks Letho's intelligence, I'm going to assume that it also lacks the wisdom to use his Magic Devourer ability in this situation.

Several warriors and monks ran forward, Eric could see, as the creature began to morph and change in liquid crimson; the blood that had created it, he could see now, warping in several monstrous tentacles before it tried to form itself into a great horned beast, the features of the persona settling slowly in as the blood began to settle. However, out of nowhere, bright white chains of what looked to be energy suddenly wrapped themselves around the crimson beast, and it snarled out in inhuman rage and pain before it mutated back into the appearance of the aging man and promptly drew what Anglekos recognized to be a massive gunblade from nowhere, pointing the bladed barrel at the monks holding hands by the Citadel steps.

Before it could fire, a great scream echoed forth from the Citadel halls, one nearly as frightening as the replicating creature before him, and a pale-skinned and white haired man rushed the beast, crystalline blades held in each hand as his footsteps kicked up dirt. The shapeshifting menace turned it's attention to this new threat, bringing the gunblade up and above it's head in a swift, expert motion before bringing the blade crashingly down, with every intention to split the advancing warrior in half. It was then that Anglekos decided to make his move, using the moment to distract his new opponent from his presence as he leapt over the stone wall, counting on his enchanted equipment to silence his awkward movements before he hit the ground. Satisfied that his greaves were still working properly, he soundlessly rushed the monster from behind, drawing both arrows back simultaneously as he held the bow at a sideways angle.

It was his first intention to use the ivory-haired warrior's sacrifice to his advantage, perhaps wounding the beast in the process, but to his surprise he saw that the other man had survived the initial blow from the massive weapon and was indeed counterattacking. The "man", snarling with monstrous rage, swing the blade backwards, and Anglekos had to duck immediately downwards to avoid being incidentally beheaded. Forcing himself to swallow down the lump of fear that had caught his heart in a vice-grip, he drew back both arrows once more, and instead of pointing them at the creature's ribs as was his initial plan, he waited until the gunblade had swung back over his head to attempt to cut down the other swordsman once more before he grit his teeth and drew sight until the arrowheads were pointed directly at the creature's "head".

Both arrows suddenly erupted into azure lightning as he summoned forth his magecraft, the volatile energy pouring off the bladed shafts until, from a distance, it would appear as if he were pointing two great lances of blue light at the beast from below it. He released the tension on the string, and the arrows fired from his hand like bullets. At the sense of sudden danger to it's "life" from behind it, the creature immediately had turned and was already swinging it's blade at a ridiculous speed to block the projectiles, but it was seconds too late for it and Anglekos was just too close.

They both hit their mark, and explosively so; twin bursts of lightning seeming to crack from the sky as a shock of thunder erupted seconds later from the projectiles, causing the rocks and rubble beneath their feet to rumble and shake. The blood beast stood no chance against the eruptive nature of Eric's magic, especially that it had taken such a liquid form; and, as they struck in the head and chest respectively, both parts of the thing's "body" exploded upon impact. Blood went flying everywhere, as if in slow motion, Anglekos could see it's head and chest briefly cave in from the striking blows, and as the magic worked it's wonders, burst into thousands of little bits of pseudo-flesh and blood. It's "form" now missing it's upper half, the torso-less legs stumbled clumsily around, before they finally gave in and fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

Silence greeted this sight, as Eric slowly stood, backing away from the smoking remains, dropped his bow, panting slightly from the effort of bringing forth his magic in such a stressful and quick situation. Then came the inevitable cheering, as applause thundered around the miniature arena that the monster had created, roars of approval and relief flowing from the people on the stones and beyond. There were a few, however, that did not cheer; and they looked upon the fallen pair of legs with a sense of impending dread. Eric was one of those, as he slowly drew forth his mythril blade Pardolaes and shrugged his shield onto his left arm, the cross a black signature against the white of the metal.

He knew, as the sense of danger had not yet fled his soldier's instincts, that they weren't out of the woods yet.

[Hysteria]

Talen sat down on the steps of the Citadel and watched the action. Had the youth known about TV he would have remarked that ‘this was far better’. He reclined slightly as he watched the action and reached into a pocket of his cloak and pulled out an apple. He bit down into the fruit as the blood creature exploded and rained blood

Talen had moved to a sitting position on the steps of the Citadel just in front of the crazy monks holding hands. The youth watched the action with interest and reached into a pocket in his cloak and pulled out an apple. Crunch, Talen took a bite of the fruit while the combined efforts of Jensen, a mysterious subterranean, white-haired warrior and an archer dispensed the creature in a surprisingly large explosion.

Bravo.

The youth thought the fight was over, but the monks behind shouted a warning.

“Hold fast warriors! The thing is changing!”

Talen’s blue eyes turned to the remains of the creature and he could indeed see it was still moving. The bloody legs started to shift and grow, seemingly gaining mass from nowhere. The form it took happened quickly and a skinny and twisted form lifted itself to a standing position. The image was of a ghoul like person, skinny and decrepit but holding itself with utmost confidence. As the blood formed the last few changes the creature was draped in fine cloths. Two glowing red eyes opened and looked around.

“Gaaha!”

Talen choked on the apple in his throat in surprise as he looked at the figure that had just been formed. A monk hit the youth on the back and the offending fruit was expelled. The boy breathed heavily as he looked at Lorenor. The mutant lifted his hand with tremendous speed and held a fist towards Anglekos. Darkness spiralled inwards forming a swirling vortex just in front of the fist. A mashing, pulsating swarm of darkness exploded outwards towards the man, capable of killing a normal person outright.

The blood’s head shot upwards towards the sun and then back to the fighters around him. The sun’s effects cut the effectiveness of the form, effectively halving his innate abilities like strength and speed. The creature snarled turned to one of the half destroyed building. Talen realised what the form of his teacher was doing and sprung into action. He jumped up and ran across the paved stones between the building and the beast. His hand darted into his cloak and pulled out a small wand. The item instantly glowed and increased in luminance giving off an extremely bright white light. The blood Lorenor shielded its eyes from the effects of the wand Elruiand's Light.

“Earth and Lightning attacks!” yelled Talen to the scattered fighters, “NOW!”

[Enigmatic Immortal]

Jensen was charging the Letho creature when it took on a more hideous form of gushing blood, another warrior darting in and finishing it off. The immortal spun on one foot to a halt, looking as the beast lowered itself before it began to grow again, this time resembling something of a far more grotesque nature. He had seen that face before just outside the Citadel, and he observed the beasts mannerisms as blood finished caking off the last details.

Jensen never wanted to puke so bad in his life, but realizing he had nothing to give, he instead heaved at the monster, lifting upwards and looking to it. Then Talen, the boy general of the Ixian Knights started shouting and in return the beast roared in challenge. Jensen looked to him, spotting the child warrior bellowing with cupped hands to make sure his point gets across.

For what the boy was shouting Jensen shook his head and sighed. For all intents and purposes Talen should have been screaming, “Hey Jensen, use abilities you don’t have!” He rolled his eyes lifting up his punch dagger and charging forwards.

“Damn bed wetter!” The immortal snarled. While Jensen actually had a high opinion of the child, he had recently found himself on the receiving end of an ass whipping by a creature of the Citadel a few weeks back. The two fought valiantly, but in the end the efforts were fruitless as they all died. He had made a bet with the Gisela Reaper, Cassandra Remi, and the fact he lost made him her play thing for a night. That was not the most enjoyable experience in his life.

Jensen dove inwards, looking to the man who finished off the Letho form, giving him a quick nod. “I don’t know much magic, and what I do know is not applicable to this moment.” Jensen lied. He actually knew absolutely nothing about magic. Still, he didn’t need to broadcast that to a man he just met two seconds ago. “So if you know something, tell me now,” Jensen looked to the teenage woman who fought with the beast as well. “What’s up with all the kids today?” Jensen spoke loudly.

“Whatever, look, everyone fighting this thing!” Jensen said at the top of his lungs moving forwards. “I’m going to distract it, you all start doing whatever the bed wetter says!” The immortal ducked a wild back hand from the beast of blood, and returned fire with a punch dagger into the beasts gut. It howled in rage, but gripped his wrist and brought back a hand to punch him in the face. Easily Jensen turned into the creature’s belly, hip tossing it over his back and rushing forwards.

“GET TO IT!” Jensen ordered.

[Ailnea]

Ailnea felt reassured, once she saw that this monster could be thwarted, despite its appearance. Then, it took on the form of her friend Lorenor. The nun felt highly insulted, and stepped away from the monks.

“You, you dare take on my friend's form? My attraction towards him cannot bear this insult, I will kill you myself!” she shouted.

As she walked cracks appeared along her skin, and her entire body shattered, startling the monks and towns people, for in its place was a hideous nightmare of a creature. It was still a woman, and had a female form, but its skin was as an overcast sky, yet seemingly cold and reptillian. Though it was indeed mottled, no scales could be seen on her body. In place of her hair were octopus tentacles, thousands of them. Her hands were monstrous claws. Her entire body, perfect in its proportions, was one uniform shade of gray and no other color appeared on her body without exception. Only the eyes differed, no whites, no blood vessels and no pupils appeared in those cerulean pools. Even the monster seemed taken aback momentarily by Ailnea's appearance.

“Never seen an Eldritch Horror before? We are beautiful, aren't we?” Ailnea asked, seconds before accelerating her pace and moving at top speed spearing the creature in what would be the real lorenor's gut.

Both of them went down, but Ailnea flipped back to her feet. The monster didn't so much get up, as it did liquify and reform in a standing state. Ailnea immediately spun around and kicked it in the head putting it off balance momentarily before it brought its sword around to slice off a leg that wasn't there anymore. Ailnea grabbed the sword arm and twisted, but this creature had no bones. Ailnea settled for a quick punch to the chest.

The monster kicked out her right leg, and Ailnea put all her weight on the left. She brought her hands around to hit it from the side in its midsection, but that attack was halted when the imitation of Lorenor punched her in the face with the hand holding the sword, causing Ailnea to stumble backwards away from it. The sight of its blade reminded it that it was better armed than one unsettling creature.

As Ailnea regained her balance she realized too late she should have fallen. Lorenor's sword sliced up through her body cleaving her in half. It stepped into the pool of liquid pouring out of her body. Her blood was black, and seemed to contain stars. It flowed upwards into the monster.

Grandmaster Onox broke his stance and punched at the creature. Though he never connected with the creature, the force of his blow was so great that it compressed the air around it and sent out a mighty shockwave that blew the creature away from Ailnea's body and knocked over several nearby monks in the process, including the Elder. Then he darted over, picked up the halves of her body and took her away to resurrect her.

[Cydnar]

The weave of fist and pummelling kick and the taint of magic in the air reeled Cydnar's senses, and in a whirl of blades, he retreated to the canopy of shattered roof tiles and broken doorways to gather his wits about his person. With a heavy heart and a heavier gait to his breath, he watched the many figures standing toe to toe with the creature with admiration, but also, callous jealousy.

They had endured, even on their own foolish endeavour. He leant with a delicate hand against the cold stone in the shade, Radasanth's ancient brick work his supporting altar of hope, the floor beneath his feet his temple grande. He had made the grave error of taking it all into his own hands too many times to let pride and arrogance fell him once more, for out here, far from the sanctuary of the Citadel or the revenant saviours of the Deep Battle Chambers of his own proving grounds, death became you, and you would rest in that state eternal.

He grit his teeth and pushed back out into the light as the beast changed and one of their number fell, to be borne away on fettered wings of elder love and respect. Cydnar would have shed a tear, if he had the care or curtsy to barter with the emotions of man. With the sun on his brow once more and his youthful days restored, he crossed his blades thirty feet away from the simulacrum of the one he knew to be named Lorenor, and bore his fangs with tantalising greed.

"Come!" He cast his voice as high and loud as he could, so that all those arrayed against the Beast of Many Bloods would hear his rallying cry. "To me, let us stand together and tear this gluttonous beast from reality - if we are divided, we shall fall." He stood with his legs apart at the centre of the square, and tensed the tendons in his thighs to mock a seat beneath his buttocks and squatted somewhat, as if waiting for a heavy burden.

"Stand and fight int he shadows with trickery and malice, or strike out in arrogance at a foe thrice your strength, do as you will, but heed my call!" A wind kicked up and fettered Cydnar's purple and block robes, they moved in an unseen wind as his geo magnetic magic reached into the ether and formed a spiralling twin column of purple diamond dust.

He crossed his blades over his mi-drift and channelled all his energy into the up-draft, slowly gathering the dust as it went up and fell down on it's own weight to his blades. With crackling energy and powerful cognition, he forged a thin sheath of quartz over each of the schematic swords and with a flash, rent them outwards and sent the dust cloud away in a spectacular wash of colour.

"To me, and let us charge this beast down!" He ran forwards, hoping others would come as he pounded his heavy boots onto the granite cobbles and approached the creature as Jensen buckled and bobbed, and the archer on high reigned down his spells, and the monks stood embattled in their own house.

With a leap Cydnar collided with the creature, driving his blades into the ichor with surprising ease. He landed on them and in a flash, as they gave way to the thick ooze of it's being, drove his fangs into the creature's neck and drank deep. He fell, and at the same time, took a blackened fist to the chest which exploded in dark light as it connected. Without much weight to his fall, he crashed into the street fifteen feet away, swords splayed and dazed.

He threw up.

The magic poured from him, and hopefully, it would drain from the creature, starting the long process of what he hoped would be a combined war.

"Fight together!" He spurted through the black ooze that clogged his throat, as he wretched to free himself of the taint. He pushed himself upright onto one knee, and darted a glare at the beast before dropping his head and rolling into a coughing fit, sodden and drained and momentarily spent.

[Lord Anglekos]

Anglekos couldn't see anything beyond the rush of darkness that flew from the new "form" the monstrosity had taken. Lanky and powerful, the ghoul-like appearance the bloody beast had taken had lifted it's arm with frightening speed and, grinning fangs, launched a blast of shadow from it's fist that howled and screamed through the air with murderous intent. He couldn't hear anything either, beyond the roaring of the blast threatening his very existence, and in his adrenaline-filled panic he shifted his right foot backwards as he brought his shield to bear in defense. Screaming aloud back at the creature, he brought the mythril's enchantment instinctively up, and from the black cross engraved upon the metal came an opposing force to meet the darkness; a wave of light. Emanating from the symbol, the darkness poured forth against the momentary defense, and against this monstrous strength, even with his enchanted armor, he could feel his ground give way. Gritting his teeth, Anglekos whipped Pardolaes and from his veins burst forth his magecraft, illuminating the blade with crackling lightning. His eyes glowing an inhumanly clear azure, he swung the sword vertically with all the force he could muster, and the sword cut through the darkness that threatened his life, splitting the blast in half.

The two halves cut on either side of his body, and had he not shifted his stance sideways he may have lost his limbs there. As it was, he was lucky, and the shadows instead slammed into the stone wall at his back, causing it to erupt into pieces of debris. One of the larger pieces hit him in the back, however, and he cried out in pain, the lightning fading from both his eyes and his sword as he stumbled and fell to the ground, rolling with the momentum of the blow.

Everywhere around him was chaos. His eyes, blurred with pain, focused upon one shady form to the next, for all he could see was shapes through the haze of pain. Gritting his teeth, closing his eyes, and shaking his head, he slammed his shield hand to the ground and slowly came to his feet, gripping the hilt of his sword like a lifeline. His back hurt, but he could move, and he could stand. Slowly, the shapes slowly gave into features as he saw that the beast had forgotten him, probably thinking that it had eradicated the threat with it's blast of darkness. It was not wielding what he saw to be a prevalida long sword with terrible efficiency, as another great, reptilian beast was subsequently cut in half, spewing dark blood everywhere. Less than a second later, a blast of air sent the creature flying and crashing through a wall, and Anglekos briefly thought to himself that he would rather be in a war than in this madness.

A second thought cut off the first. This was his war, now. He may not truly be a protector of Radasanth, and he may not have been some kind of hero, but by the Gods above he was not simply going to stand to the side and say it wasn't his problem. Too many did so already. Slowly breathing and leaning against another half-broken wall, he drew up his strength and blocked the pain from his mind; pain could come later.

Eric looked silently around, taking into account his new allies. The white-haired warrior from earlier, he saw, was still fighting, and though he shouted words before launching himself upon the pseudo-ghoul, Anglekos couldn't hear beyond the ringing in his ears. Another youth who had spoken to the swordsman earlier was also currently engaged in fighting the thing, chasing after it with three daggers in hand. And another young one came rushing forward, yelling something about using Earth and Lightning attacks on--

Hold on. Lightning.

Anglekos drew in a breath, and everything was becoming clearer by the second. Lightning. He could do this. He could finish the creature off, if they distracted it for him. Gathering up the storm of power within his body once more, he sent it rushing down his sword arm and flowing into the mythril blade in his hand, causing it to erupt into magical electricity once more. It cracked and howled hungrily, and that hunger flowed through his body, causing a rush of recklessness that was not to the swordsman's normally careful nature. Bursting away from the wall just as the ivory-haired swordsman from before was also sent flying through the air, he charged directly at the ghoul, just beginning to come it's feet.

He took his chance, just as it launched one clawed hand at his chest. He swung, and it connected. Lightning met flesh as claws met armor, and simultaneously the two erupted into one another. Pardolaes cut through the tough skin of the creature with ease, as the electricity-imbued sword illuminated the entire creature's bones and skin, and it's eyes widened in obvious pain even as it's mouth emitted a hideous sound unlike any other. Anglekos could barely hear above his own scream of pain, as the monstrosity's claws tore open his chest and went straight through his back, sending fire racing down every nerve in his body.

His final thought, as the two figures fell to the ground opposing one another, was at least it had been quick. Then, all went dark, and he was free.

[Hysteria]

The second of the blood creature’s forms had been destroyed by the same warrior as the first and Talen slid the wand back into its cloak, now it was no longer needed. The youth felt his stomach turn slightly as he walked towards the gruesome sight of the warrior ripped to shreds. A cry came out from the monks as two rushed forwards and scooped up the remains and carried them off to be resurrected. It was a dirty, bloody job and most of the normally clean monks were tainted by blood.

Talen stopped a safe distance from the sizzling pool of the blood as it twisted upwards in a reverse whirlpool. The blood quickly shifted into a form of a moderately tall man with no unusual characteristics. The disgusting dripping form lifted its hands into the air and roared with anger, a deafening call of malice and rage. The youth looked at the red dripping form of the blood beast’s Jensen Ambrose, and to the real one standing nearby.

“Well I can’t tell the difference…” he said loudly for Jensen to hear.

The little warrior charged forwards and drew his sword. His body twisted down and around a sweep of one of the beast’s arms. The bloody limb past just over his head as he came out of the spin and slashed his sword. It found only air as the creature easily stepped out of the way.

Its too fast..

A cloud of darkness swept up behind Talen he shifted to the side and a bloody fist grazed past his face. Tendrils of darkness launched forwards rapidly changing into black steel chains and shackles. Each one snapped forwards like a pincer in an attempt to hold the fast creature, but the blood Jensen twisted and moved with expert timing and evaded each one. The sound of the dark metal hitting the ground after missing was a signal of failure for the youth as the beast suddenly ducked and twisted and in an impressive display of agility swept his leg under Talen and sent the youth into the air.

The boy could only watch as he came down towards the waiting beast. A glimmer of hope entered his vision as he saw the real Jensen approached the distracted beast.

[Enigmatic Immortal]

“Oh hardy har-har, Bed Wetter,” Jensen sassed to Talen as the boy began to fight the stylishly looking blood Jensen. Cages formed out of the boy’s fingers, and with a howl of rage the beast merely pirouetted and twirled, dancing in rhythm to a beat that was insane to follow.

“Yo, white haired dude with the double swords!” Jensen called to the man who rallied the warriors. Jensen pointed to the beast’s exposed right flank, and Jensen then tapped his eye. The man’s swords lowered in confusion, but that was about all the time they had to discuss politics and tactics. Three bloodied throwing weapons, triangular and sharp in shape nearly took their lives. The swords rose with expert timing, the loud clang sound ringing off the metals. Jensen flipped backwards, body sliding on the gravelly road as he looked to his own self with admiration.

“Screw it, you get the body of our hero!” Jensen shouted, talking about the man who sacrificed himself to defeat the Mutant Lorenor‘s blood mimic. “This bastards mine! FOR THE PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH!” Jensen howled, laughing as his body lurched forward with sudden speed. He felt his boots pounding the road beneath, his blood singing in his veins as the song of battle clouded his mind. His stomach gurgled in anticipation and the immortal’s lips parted into chuckles.

The beast looked to Jensen, and with a warped cry that mimicked laughter echoing from the bottom of a pool, it turned to face him, arms and feet constantly in motion of the favored Caeiporiea stance the immortal was Legendary for. When the two met they both jumped at the other, hand outstretched to collide with the chin of the foe. When they slammed into each other their opposite fists rose to grab the attack, and they fell to the ground, kicking away before both nipped upwards to their feet, twirling to face each other again, muted chuckles and cries of mirth echoing in the still air as monks and warriors watched them dance.

“Did we tickle your funny bone?” Jensen asked to the beast like it were a small dog. Stupidly the beast laughed, blood coughing up in wheezing fits as they both turned opposite the other, letting loose throwing knives. The instruments of their design flew past each other harmlessly as they moved, a synchronized dance that looked almost choreographed in its deadly gait.

After depleting their throwing resources Jensen charged the beast again and found himself face to face the beast. As he tossed out a right hook the blood Jensen ducked low, flipping upwards with foot out in a flash kick catching the immortal off guard and exposed as his jaw slammed shut. Stars rung around his head as he saw a flash of white, eyes grimacing from the kick. The Blood Jensen didn’t let the opportunity go to waist, landing and flipping forwards, hands rotating along the ground as its legs wheeled forwards in a series of multiple kicks, spinning like a top as it did so.

Foot after foot collided with his face and Jensen felt woozy as he stumbled backwards, eyes cast at the creature with a feral, savage joy. His tongue licked his own blood, and the beast mirrored the motion as they both let out another maddened howl of laughter. Jensen turned into the beast shoulder first, slamming into its chest and pushing it back as it stumbled. Jumping forwards and extending a leg out, Jensen twirled with his Typhoon kick, slamming the beast three times in the face. When he landed both tossed out a punch and connected at the knuckles, snarling as they smiled insanely.

“Ya know, I gotta ask,” Jensen turned into the beast, but the beast easily rolled over his back so they were face to face. “When I touch you, are we in effect touching each other? Like lovers? Would that make us gay?” Jensen lifted a knee for his stomach, and the beast rolled to the side, bringing up his fist in a fierce uppercut. Jensen blocked the block with a quick elbow, and grabbed the beast by the collar and rolled backwards with a monkey flip. The beast twirled in the air and landed on its feet, turning sharply to back hand a warrior who thought to take advantage of the creature.

“I suppose if I’m touching myself, then I’d be merely masturbating,” Jensen mused loudly, before chuckling. “Alright then, ya bastard, I think this battle has gone on long enough for us.” Jensen charged the beast again, eyes blazing, lips screaming in mirth. The beast snarled, lost its joviality, and began to scream with rage as it charged as well.

“Let’s see how you’d like to die today, bloody cakes!” Jensen teased as he slid into a powerful gut punch. “Let’s keep it classy!” Jensen began to roll his shoulders as he punched several times into the beasts stomach, but it blocked the blows after a moment to regain itself, ending his Golden Glove finisher. Jensen narrowed his eyes and turned away, leaving his chin extended outwards. “Can’t touch me!” He taunted with sass, as if he was chewing something in the corner of his mouth. The beast merely chuckled tapping his own chin.

Jensen charged forwards, the beast doing like wise. “Then you asked for it! Here comes the finale!” Jensen bellowed, the beasts muted, blood caked words, echoing his own cry. When they collided their fists flew out like ants fleeing a hill. Knuckles collided with each other as blood began to fly from both warriors, so fast they punched and kicked. When Jensen punched it clear in the eye, he was kneed fiercely in the groin. When the beast kicked Jensen’s knee, the immortal did a fierce uppercut to its jaw. They moved in tandem, both beating the tar out of the other as blood dripped from each combatant.

At last a loud piercing laugh took control as Jensen landed a decisive blow to the creatures chest. His shoulder sagged and began to roll, making the blood Jensen’s face contort as its gut became the immortal’s own punching bag. Blood began to fall to the ground in piles as the Jester of the Apocalypse laughed with sinister glee. Each hit from Jensen’s fist created another cymbal like echo of laughter until it built up into a gurgling cry of joy. Jensen finished his rolling punches with a mighty uppercut, landing it flat on the jaw of his blood twin, lifting himself and the creature into the air. His hip pushed the beast to the ground, and Jensen twirled in a dainty fashion before landing in an over exaggerated bow.

“That’s all folks!” Jensen chuckled as he wiped his hands clean of the blood. The immortal turned away from the beast to look for Talen, ask how the boy warrior was doing. He did just defeat this so called beast of a billion bloods or something or other. He wasn’t really sure what it was, or why it existed, and why the citadel kept such useless garbage to begin with. Not to mention the whole turning into a creature of pure terror. That girl, with the blond hair and blue eyes, just looked hideous. And wasn’t really effective either if that ugly freak Lorenor cut her body in half. Though he supposed something ugly could only love something ugly. He shuddered at that revelation. The girl was attracted to Lorenor…that was just wrong. So, so wrong…

Before he could contemplate more he felt something reach deep into his gut and wrench, eyes cast upwards in shock as blood pooled out his mouth. Another knife reached around his jaw and turned Jensen, ripping the blade lodged in his body out with a jerk that made the immortal spit out more blood in a scream of agony. Two daggers impaled the immortal in the stomach and lifted him up, letting the blood drip onto the form of Seth Dahlios as it feasted on the warrior’s life force.

“Always…knew…you…had a boner…for me…boogeyman…” Jensen whispered faintly as the beast pulled the two knives away, gutting Jensen and spilling all his insides to the floor below.

Jensen’s immortality is a specialized regeneration, and unfortunately the monks will not get him to regenerate in time. This is Jensen’s concluding post, guys. It’s been a blast, but I gotta play by the rules my character has made. Though if someone could make sure they find my body in a dignified state, that‘d be just super!

[Ailnea]

As Jenson's body fell, a troop of monks darted out and recovered his body, taking it to the citadel where its repose could be peaceful. The blood monster had taken on the form of Seth Dahlios, yet The Elder could sense a growing heaviness in its steps. It was tiring, they were winning. Why he had not thought of this solution previously was not clear to him, but running an order of monks can be very distracting.

The Elder, in his blindness, extended his other senses to profound degrees. Rumors had been told of those who had hearing like a dog, or sensitive noses, but Rekashan, Elder of The Aibrone monks, he was in a league of his own. They told him things that it took others far longer to figure out, and lately, he had regained vision, but not ordinary vision. He could see lightning when it was not there, running through all things. After discussing this with others, he came to the conclusion that he could see the movement of energy.

Now it was moving, rapidly. Indeed, this was the form of one of the ten most feared entities in the world, but not all the skills this thing could command were native to this form. With a start, Rekashan realized energy was moving from beneath The Citadel!

In a mighty flash of light, the chains the monks had placed on the creature broke. The monster in dahlios form cocked its head sideways, as though listening to a voice only it could hear, then it grinned. With a wave of its hand, the earth started trembling.

“Be on your guard, it's using our skills at altering reality to create arenas. Monks, stop that chasm he's forming. There's some other power at work, telling it what to do.” Rekashan said.

The monks countered the powers that sprang from their own blood, and the tremors stopped. The blood monster turned and waved his hand again. A tree sprang into being and the monks again countered. The monster created a cannon, and promptly fired it. The monks countered the cannon, but the fireball was still traveling, towards the warrior with purple hair, Cydnar.

“There is no reason for your efforts. What calls you to battle, monster?” Rekashan asked, making a futile effort at communication.

The monster simply roared and called into being another cannon and shot a round of jagged crystals at Talen. The monks concentrated, and re-sealed their powers that the creature had stolen. The creature roared its fury and indignation, and charged Elder Rekashan. The old man made no appearant move to defend himself, causing the monster to become momentarily confused when the elder simply burst into a cloud of light and dissipated.

[Cydnar]

The teamwork supposed by Cydnar fell apart before it even formed, sundered by the beast's strength and corrupting divinity. He felt the bonds break before they could form, and as the defenders of Radasanth fell one by one, he felt ever the more disheartened and broken. With a twirl, he convalesced his energy into a concentric cross before his torso and placed his blades in a similar pattern.

"No more shall die..." he mumbled to himself, the start of his ritual his own to observe in the melee. "You have been judged abhorrent in the ancient lore and rite of man, for that, there is but one punishment..."

No sooner than he had prepared his defence, the beast propelled a ball of fire as bright as the sun at the Hummel, and with a countering motion, he pulled his swords apart, then brought them back to together at the precise moment of impact. The rush of air that left the city streets shattered Cydnar's concentration and invisible tendrils of energy cracked cobblestone and brickwork alike.

Somehow, he had held his posture beneath the sheer and immense energy of the creature's spell, although his blades were blackened and his robes charred from the effervescent flames that had spurned his ability to rise to the challenge posed to it.

"Such raw emotion held in a cloud..."

He looked briefly up at the sky, and as he started into a run, he took the chill whip of the breeze in his stride and fell upon the beast like a cinder scarecrow.

From the steeple of the Citadel, a white hooded figure observed the proceedings, and with a wry smile, he thanked his own gods of gods that he had chosen the right being in all the many stars to carry his mantle.

"For Yrene!" Cydnar roared as he brought his blades up, black daggers poised to kill, and carried his determination and sheer stupidity back into battle with the Beast of Many Bloods.

"Together!"

[Lord Anglekos]

A wave of heat went over the swordsman's body, and Eric Anglekos stirred. He heard voices, as slowly the darkness of death fled before the advance of life, and his eyes parted before spears of light impaled his vision. Wincing at the intensity of the sun, the youth slowly sat up, his hand coming to his chest, patting along the scratched and worn iron armor he wore. Mild surprise flickered across his vision, as no hole of any kind could be spoken of there; but he could have sworn that he'd been pierced through by that monster. Reaching underneath his cloth and armor, he felt along his naked chest; no scar tissue either.

The chaos had not ended, he saw as he glanced up and around. Flickers of magical flame burnt along the rubble as he saw, from a distance, a giant ball of fire erupt forth from what he could only assume was the creature, only to be successfully blocked by the white-haired dual-wielding swordsman. Voices yelled here and there over the sound of the explosion, and as the world came roaring into his mind once again Eric could barely understand what they were saying.

As his hand leaned back to help him push off the ground to get to his feet, he felt two pieces of metal meet his flesh. Glancing down, he saw that it was his shield and elven blade, and briefly he felt a wave of relief at the sight of his silent, inanimate companions. Bringing them to their respective hands once more, he glanced down at his armor. No matter how weak it truly was, the armor was, like his steel blade, a treasure to him; passed down from his father unto him. He was glad that the monks had taken the time to repair it back to it's original state, assuming that it had been the Ai'Bron monks who had done so.

As it stood now, he had two choices, as his bright azure eyes stared furiously down at the destruction being wreaked before him. He could run, and be safe; after all, he had slain two whole forms of the monster. Hadn't he done enough? There were more than enough warriors left to try and take down the creature, and there were the monks themselves. Eric was just a pawn in the chessboard of this battle; barely worth anything but to move forward.

A cry to the far right drew his attention. He watched, with horror, as a female warrior with bright blonde hair came charging over the wall of granite at the blood-based creature, a spear in her gauntleted hands. Already, he saw the thing turning, a pair of daggers in it's hands, and swiftly evaded her blow, decapitating the feminine warrior in one smooth, expert motion. Her blood spilt from her exposed jugular as the body, still clutching the spear in one hand, twitched violently as it fell to the ground, and her blood was slowly drawn forth to the monstrosity, who looked upon the fallen body with no emotion whatsoever upon the false face.

No one moved to pick her up. No one even bothered acknowledging her death. She hadn't done anything to the monster, other than distract it for the briefest period of time. She was just another victim in this...massacre. Eric's fist clenched around the hilt of Pardolaes, and the tip of the sword rose into the air as slowly, he took a few steps forward.

No. This is my war. The words slipped into his head once more. He'd had a second chance at life, thanks to the Ai'Bron. If he didn't do something, the brave blonde-haired warrior wouldn't. Drawing up his power once again, he felt it brim and burn against the walls of his skin, and began to approach the dagger-wielding creature, his magic glowing through his eyes.

[Hysteria]

The ground rushed up and Talen landed hard. The dazed youth twisted his head, expecting to see the next attack coming. Instead he saw the real Jensen engaging the beast in a bloody hand-to-hand fight. The youth took the opportunity and pushed himself to his feet and scampered out of harms way. He reached one of the shattered walls of what used to be a building and ducked behind it. He peaked around the corner at the fight as the two Jensen's ended themselves. The slight feeling of joy at outlasting the immortal was soured by his as of yet, inability to destroy one of the beasts.

Talen watched as the creature started to reform again, vaguely he wondered if there was going to be any end to the parade of warriors. He lifted his hand into the air and shadows leapt from his palm into a large ball floating near the wall. The darkness started to slowly twist into the form of a large, unbloomed black rose. The flower slowly started to open as Talen moved around the wall and tried to move around to the other side of the road.

His plan's were cut short as a giant ball of fire ripped towards one of the fighters. Talen didn't have time to worry about the white haired man as cannon blinked into existence pointed directly at him. The youth's mouth gapped at the air was filled with shards of quartz. Talen dove to the the ground as the rocks smashed through the wall behind him. The building, apparently some sort of weapon store that profited off the Citadel's clientele groaned and collapsed.

Talen pushed himself to his feet and continued running, trying to use the seconds bought by the spear wielding woman's quick demise to cut in front of the monks in an attempt to flank the beast. A mumble of words entered Talen's ears as he turned to see an orb of purple shoot from the beasts hands towards him. The youth dove again, but the orb caught him in the side. Talen rolled across the ground expecting pain but none came.

The youth stood with a confused look across his face. The beast smiled at him and turned away. Talen lifted his sword but stopped as pain ripped across forearm. The boy dropped his sword in surprise and looked down. His skin ripped apart in a large gash, the sinew of the skin stretched and snapped open. His eyes widened in horror at the sight as another similar wound pulled itself open higher on his arm. A large gash spread across his cheek cutting through so his teeth were showing. More wounds started opening across his body as Talen fell to the ground in agony.

A monk ran down the stairs to the boy and held his hands out. Light streamed from the open palms into Talen's cuts slowly healing them, but more and more formed quicker than the monk could heal. All the boy could do was lie there and try and grit through the pain.

[Cydnar]

Freya struck first, the blade aglow with it's inner fire as the sparks scattered to the winds against the heavy daggers of the creature stood defiantly before his god's judgement. The exchange was quick, a riposte of a thousand years of secret wars beneath the surface of the world.

"Nagoya lama," Cydnar roared, drawing together the last tenets of his power as he crossed his blades. A fireball cut into the cross-guard and exploded, but was sucked into a singularity of power born of a greater, temporary power. The daggers come down into his defence so quickly as a follow up he was winded just trying to keep his weapons firmly in his grip.

"What are you?" He asked keenly, leaning over the cross to glare into the beast's soulless eyes questioningly. "What made you..."

He fell back deliberately, pulling his blades outwards to allow the dagger's heavy weight to crash down into the floor and shatter the flagstone before the Drossman Brothers Accounting building on the convex corner between Strith Lane and the wider Market Avenue. With careful and aesthetically pleasing movements, Cydnar back flipped out of harms way and sprang up the steps, turning on a delicate heel before the double doors of a green hue. His purple robes stood in stark contrast, marking him further the alien in the city of steam and ruin.

The beast of many bloods cocked it's head, and in the wake of it's destruction, as warriors, friends and lovers lay dead and dying at it's feet, it advanced towards the elf, head raised to keep level with the long grey hair and twisted dragon design of his prey's attire. A low growl rolled up the concrete in the mimicry's image, rough, terrifying, deadly.

Baring his fangs once more, Cydnar threw everything into his last and bitter attempt to do harm to the mammogram creature, and waited until it was halfway up the steps. Certain that he would have enough leverage and movement to clear the beast overhead, he pushed forwards with both feet and ran. With a feline leap, he flew up into the air, swords both pointed downwards in a reverse, savage grip, and landed on the beast's shoulders. He drove his blades downwards, and continued his movement into a bouncing roll and landed haphazardly in a heap at the bottom.

The creature roared in pain as a sharp jab of regret ran up Cydnar's side, and he rolled onto his back covered in dust and sweat and realisation.

"You have been judged, and found wanting..." he muttered, feeling the magic in the creature shift, wane and reform into something newer and more terrifying...it turned slowly, and it's face become blotted by the sun shining down onto the elf's face. Through the glare, he caught the flash of fire and the rush of heat once more, until he saw no longer, and felt himself descending into the darkness beneath the world...

As the creature shifted into it's new form, Freya and Altheas fell to the ground with a clatter, until they too dissipated, dragged through the rock itself by the geomancers of the crystal cities, too weary to lose their last Salthias, too sorrowful to hear his end at the hands of man's foolish inability to control his own creations.

It was up to the heroes of Radasanth now, Cydnar Yrene sighed with lament, before closing his eyes to let sleep take him, satisfied that he had mustered all the defence he could.

[Hysteria]

“You're done.”

Talen opened his eyes as the pain was finally washed away. His clean slate of health meant that the youth would have to enter the fray once more, or perhaps more literally, walk around the edge of the fray. The youth pushed himself to his feet and reclaimed his swords as the the blood beast started its change into yet another form.

There was no knowing how many forms the thing could take, nor even if destroying one of the forms actually moved the beast further towards destruction. It seems just as likely to the youth that they could be going in circles while the beast feeds off the deaths of nearly all it faced.

Talen entered a half-hearted jog to the creature as it lifted and changed. He pointed his sword towards it and summoned the remaining energy he could muster. From the tip of his blade shot a dark black liquid, mixing with the red blood of the creature. The beast didn't seem to mind as it started to look like the warrior it was becoming.

“Sei!”

The well known face of the Saviour of Radsanath took form, the red liquid marbled with Talen's black ooze. The youth summoned more energy, forcing himself to drench the creature before it gained manoeuvrability. The youth dropped one of his sword and as the blade clanged on the stone he held his arm towards the liquid and flicked his wrist. A single spark shot out of the divice and into the jet. The liquid ignited with terrifying speed and flames licked across the ooze and onto the beast.

Bursts of fire emanated from the creature as the liquid combusted from within it. The creature roared with pain, a cold, horrifying scream of pain and anguish. The monks reached whatever it was they had been waiting for and started a chant. White chains of light exploded from the sky and struck the burning creature. In seconds they had encased the beast and held it down. A second verse of chanting came up and another explosion from the sky brought this time a giant sword. The white blade shone with holy light and smashed into the unholy creature.

Talen was forced away from the beast by the force of the blast. The light burning not only his skin, but all present. The shockwave was immense as it followed the strike, tearing away the beasts mortal coil and erasing its very existence.

The youth sat up and looked around. The air was full of dust and dirt to create a weird twilight in the middle of the day. Where the beast had been was only a creator, a massive whole several metres deep and cut straight into stone. Monks were moving slowly through the chaos, taking those who were dead and healing those who were not quite.

Talen stood and walked forwards to the crater. Several monks were collecting the blood that still remained into test tubes. A monk attempted to walk climb out of the crater with a tray of tubes and Talen bent down and offered him a hand. The monk handed him the tray and climbed out. Talen handed it back.

“Thanks.” said the monk.

“No worries.” Talen slipped one of the test tubes into his pocket as the monk walked away.

Spoils:
Blood of the Beast:
A trophy of survival, a small vial of Blood from the Beast of Many bloods.

[The International]

Judgment for Beast of Many Bloods

Plot Construction 22 /30
This started out as a really interesting concept.

Characterisation 19 /30
This was a very nice plot, but I feel like you could have focused a little more on how your characters reacted to the plot.

Writing Style 18 /30
Spelling mistakes were noticeable from some of you.

Wildcard: 6/10
The fact that you saw the thread through as best you can is admirable. It inspires me to go back and finish my load of threads.

Total 65 /100

Aiko gains 72 exp.
Cyndar gains 423 exp.
Lord Anglekos gains 312 exp.
Hysteria gains 455 exp.
Enigmatic Immortal gains 390 exp.
Ailnea gains 215 exp.

Spoils Granted

[Silence Sei]

EXP-GP Added.