Round 1: Christoph Vs Symbiosis

[Silence Sei]

You have 2 weeks to complete this battle. May the best man win!

[Christoph]

Clashing multitudes shook the earth in a storm of blood and steel. Two armies, one garbed in red and the other in green, crashed together in their thousands across the bloodied mud: a tide of swords against a reef of shields. Fire rained from the sky. Trees burned and grassy knolls lay trampled. The stink of death, smoke and ancient magic hung thick in the air like mist.

Elijah Belov strode through the chaos, blade singing above the violent dissonance. An arrow zipped by his head, leaving a red gash on his cheek. He raised high his gleaming weapon, rallying some red-clad allies to him. Together they charged uphill and carved a bloody path through their foes. Hammers shattered shields; swords cracked spears. Sorcery charred flesh. With a final push, their small formation drove their enemies from the rocky hilltop.

Covered in small nicks and bruises, Eli stepped out and planted a crimson banner bearing Corone’s sword and feather. He gazed across a sea of violence, watching countless men fight with no fear and kill with no conscience. Tearing his eyes away, he looked up.

“What are you doing?” A young soldier of eighteen years stepped beside the sorcerer. His name was Jacob and he had shadowed Belov since first war horns blew. The boy’s helmet was comically large for his head.

Eli lifted his hand. “Listening.” The din of battle washed up from all directions. Shouts and clanging metal failed to drown the rumble of distant war magic. He blocked it all out and listened carefully, then grinned. From beyond and above, he heard the sound he sought trickling faintly through the brutal cacophony. A cheering crowd.

* * * * *

Towering far above the raging battle, obscured with magic from the eyes below, enormous raised stands surrounded the battlefield. Half of Radasanth’s population crowded in to watch the largest extravagance ever displayed by the Citadel. The spectacle, funded jointly by the Corone Assembly and some private investors, gathered a staggering six thousand warriors and many prominent wizards and champions to compete in the first New Imperial War Games. Most assumed that the government hoped to both placate the masses and to prepare them for dark times to come.

The event’s epic proportions exceeded even the Citadel’s legendary capacity and required a new, greater staging area. This arena, if one could call it such, consumed a swath of once-pristine countryside just beyond the city. Stretching a thousand meters at each side, it ravaged green meadows and quiet forests. Workers built the stands from wood and stone over the course of six months while the Ai’brone Monks worked their mysterious magic. The end result was a staggering wonder, elegant in its crudely efficient simplicity. Thousands would die in that cauldron of war, only to be reborn.

With rumors surfacing regarding Elijah’s military exploits in Salvar’s civil war -- many he perpetuated himself -- it came as no surprise when the Assembly personally requested his participation. In the past, Belov might have scoffed at the offer. He, a former Salvic rebel, assist in blatant propaganda? Yet as the Dajas Pagoda declined, his fame dwindled and his hopes of returning to Salvar with the power and resources to set things right slowly slipped away. How could he reject such an opportunity, battling in front of the entire city? This was his chance! He would remind the world that he remained one of its most powerful sorcerers.

[Symbiosis]

Baxter Arlington, Salvarian pen write, had not been a stranger to large militant actions. He had sat with several rebels, soldiers, generals, and the populace who were affected by the squabbling of nobles and dignitaries. However, there was one key difference to those moments as opposed to this one.

He was never in the fight.

Baxter was a scholar, not a warrior. He took to the quill and ink, not the sword and blood. Small wonders that he felt grossly inadequate for this situation as he marched forwards in tandem with several green dressed warriors. Chains were wrapped around his feet and arms, rusted with the use of time, chiming each time they collided. Several robed individuals walked behind them, magical energies pulsing from their finger tips causing the Salvarian native's hair to stand on end. A detachment of elite men pulled him forwards by his bindings like a dog upon a leash. With a sigh he pouted, lips fluttering as he passed air out.

"Can maybe we just forgot I spoke?" Baxter asked to his guardians. A few soldiers looked to him with chuckles as they shook their heads. "Thought not" he mumbled in dejection.

There was a horn that blared two notes in the air sending the soldiers into a frenzy of commands as the squad leaders began to bellow orders. The soldiers all looked to the sky with curses and prayers to their gods as they lifted shields. Baxter was dragged to the ground where four men covered him with large tower shields. All Baxter could see of the sky was a black carpet of red fetched arrows falling upon them. It was like a heavy torrent of rain that pattered and broke against the shields, some warriors unable to escape the nightmare of the archers volley fire. The wizards behind them took casualties as well, some surrounded by a fizzing energy barrier disintegrating most of the wooden shafts in the air to spare them the worst of the assault. After a moment the horns blared again a mighty note and they all stood again. The lead soldier stepped forwards.

"I'm cutting you loose! We can't watch you and our own asses!" He fought with the key, hands shaking despite his even tone. Baxter could not blame him as his own knees buckled in fear. Still, he was not exactly in any position to argue or even be free. A certain someone had made sure of that.

When the key turned there was a click, and the weight holding him together suddenly vanished as Baxter instinctively lifted his hands up, rubbing his wrists. The soldiers all called attention as they formed ranks quickly. Spear holders ran behind the tower shields, creating a deadly phalanx as the man who freed him turned to Baxter with a glare.

"I was told you had some strange powers that would help us. Your mission is to escort the magi over the hill, through the enemy front lines to where the enemy commander is located. Let them tear his strength down, and if they fail to stop him, you step in. That clear?"

Baxter was about to answer before he felt an essence within his chest swirl aimlessly through his ribs, one at a time as a gentle claw like feeling grazed his heart. He clutched his chest and breathed heavily, and when he tilted his face down a darker, more primal power spoke out into the cries of war loud enough for only Baxter hear.

"Binky boy, this war isn't your thing. Why don't you let me take over," Baxter felt his lungs slowly be pushed and his breathing got sketchy at best. He coughed a few times as he narrowed his eyes in anger. The feeling subsided for a brief second and he took a mighty lungful of air.

"You would," he panted. "Love this opportunity to fight, wouldn't you Symbiote?" The demon essence that had fused with his soul merely chuckled as it swam upwards to the pen write's mind. "You got me into this mess, demanding you see if this enemy is the wizard. So even if I did say no, I wouldn't be able to control you assuming the bastard is the one you seek."

"You are starting to get things now, Binky Boy...let me cut loose and I'll show that bastard wizard who's boss." Baxter lifted his head to see the enemy charge down the hill, weapons held at the ready as they bellowed in challenge. The green defenders stood at attention, spears prepped as they lowered in unison to create a wall of death. When the two forces collided the cries of challenge turned to screams of anguish. Blood flew outwards from the initial spear thrust before the second wave stepped forwards and lunged into the enemy. More screams of panic and pain filtered through the air as the ground started to turn into a bumpy quagmire of blood and bodies. The red army surged forwards still, and the green shieldmen were quickly overrun and brutally hacked apart.

"Such savagery," Baxter grimaced. "I concede the point to you, Symbiote. I want nothing to do with this. Time to make the deal: I'll give you full control to achieve your goal, but if and when we find out the enemy leader is not the Wizard you are seeking, I regain control. Deal?"

There was a moment of hesitation before the demon inside Baxter swirled to the front of his chest like a child peering through a window at the first sign of winter snow. "DEAL!"

Baxter felt his body suddenly heave as he fell forwards, hands digging in the dirt as they curled into long talons, his body thrashing about as bones snapped inside his ribs. His arms grew in size as muscles ripped and tore into a larger, cable like mass. His lungs expanded as he took a painful breath into his expanded lungs, his heart beating furiously as blood raced through his system. He lifted himself to his knees as his clothing became tattered ruins, gripping his head as his jaw dislocated with a pop, each tooth growing to resemble the maw of a terrible beast. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, replaced with milky white pupils that narrowed in the leer of a demon.

Now looking like a hulking grotesque, Symbiote leaned forwards in a beastial manner, crying out with distended jaw as saliva flew before him from his animalistic wail of challenge. He roared to the enemy as he stopped down and grabbed the manacles that bound his arms, lifting them up and twirling them a few times testing the weight. With a sadistic smile he jumped forwards into the melee, his pale skin opening each pore to let a clear coat of slime cover his flesh. He spun the iron chains around, the clasp at the end crashing into an enemies skull splitting it as blood spat outwards in a spray.

Symbiote cried out in joy as his fist crashed down upon a helmeted foe, his nose breaking as the weak metal bent from his enhanced strength. With ease he whipped the chain so it wrapped around the man's neck and with a bit of effort he spun tossing him back into a group of charging red dressed men. They stumbled in the man's descent, only one female warrior leaping forwards. Symbiote leaned forwards and pounced her like a cat of the jungle, pinning her to the ground as he howled into her face, salvia stringing from each jagged fang like a spiderweb as she flinched away. He pulled his hands to her head as she fought with him, but with a twist she moved no more.

"I love this shit!" Symbiote cried happily as he lifted himself up. Several green robed magi ran behind him. He gave them all a dark grin, his malicious intent clear. The rallied green soldiers ran to him as the enemy fled for the moment.

"Get going, the magi will begin their part when they get close to the enemy commander!" Symbiote nodded in understanding as he turned to them and motioned for them to get a move on it. He stalked forwards with exuberance as he ran forwards, the thought of getting to grips with his hated foe making his blood sing with anticipation.

"Please don't kill us..." Baxter whined.

[Christoph]

From his vantage point, Elijah surveyed the growing carnage. After the first crash of shield, the armies splintered and the battle scattered across the muddied field into several swirling melees. Twenty red-clad soldiers with kite shields shared his hill, spearmen from the city guard. They looked to him for instructions, even though the army’s true commander marched with his honor guard two hundred yards east, brass trumpets blaring off his orders to unhearing ears. For the time, Eli’s position stayed unmolested; he used the brief respite to take stock of the situation. As always, Jacob stayed at the sorcerer’s elbow.

“What are we waiting for?” asked the youth, adjusting his oversized helmet. He clutched his spear close to his chest fretfully. Amazing, Eli often mused, how the fear and anxiety of combat could grip a man who knew himself safe from death.

“The pivotal moment,” Belov replied with his calm teacher voice. He turned to look at the young soldier. “Battles often balance on a razor’s edge, and there always comes a single crucial moment that determines which way it falls. The choices made at that moment decide the course of battle.” And I plan to show my prowess and acumen to an entire nation. Jacob fell silent then, his wide eyes gazing past Elijah to the battle beyond.

“I think that moment has passed.”

“What are you…” Then the Pagoda Master saw it; beneath skies afire, the tides of battle rapidly shifted.

At the flanks, the Red forces still steadily advanced, though slowly. To the east, blocks of pike soldiers kept formation and pushed against their less organized foes. To the west, armored knights astride huge warhorses fought besides ax-swinging corsair mercenaries in boiled leather. Yet, disaster threatened to consume the center. Their green enemies had rallied there and pushed forward, throwing the red soldiers into chaotic retreat. Men screamed as arrows and spears struck them down from behind. Their enemy’s best now pressed down the center and marched toward his hill.

Eli swore. He would not let this battle slip away from him! “The moment to act is now, before they cut this army in two.” He looked to his small group of soldiers. So few. “Lock your shields and hold this hill!”

Without another word, the sorcerer threw off his cloak and sprinted down the rocky slope toward a sea of spears and shields. Without stopping, he focused his mind and bound the threads of magic to his will. His Prevalida sword hummed with power. The intricate lines of scars covering his torso glowed with heat, smoke rising from his flesh. Flame danced as his feet.

A volley of spears flew through the air. The first missed his head by a foot; the second he expertly smacked aside with his blade. He dove beneath the rest, rolling dexterously over the muddy grass. Heart pounding, he regained his feet a mere three meters from the advancing phalanx. For a fractured second he panicked, knowing that in two heartbeats he would be trampled and skewered. Then he remembered who he was.

With a savage snarl, Belov unleashed a burst of fiery wrath. Raw power erupted from his fingertips in a wave of flame and shattered earth. What he lacked in fine control, he made up for in legendary might. The explosion rocked the ground and shattered shields. A dozen men sailed through the air, mangled and charred. With a series of sharp gestures, he wove tighter the strands of power. His scars bubbled like rivers of lava, but he ignored the pain as he would a nagging wife. Fire scythed through the enemy ranks. The flames grew into a roiling inferno, writhing like a great kraken as it consumed his foes. Countless soldiers burned alive, a chorus of tormented cries. It was as though the entire world burned!

He could not help but revel as an entire enemy phalanx scattered before him. But amidst his sorcerous assault, exulting in his own power, Elijah never heard the singing. From the sky swept a mighty wind, smashing into the sorcerer like a battering ram and tossing him into the rocky mud.

He scrambled to his feet, bleeding scrapes caked with dirt. From the flames stepped two forms, their aura of power unmistakable. The first he recognized immediately. It was none other than the famed Atlin Roterus of the Radasanth Wizard’s Guild, with his red robe, staff, and long grey beard. The second was a woman of unquestionable grace and beauty: a High Elf of Raiaera in silvery silk, and a Spellsinger at that.

The wizard chanted rigid formulae beneath the angelic song of the Elf. Lightning and blades of wind rippled through the air. Eli replied with silent incantation and a casual flick of his wrist. Their arcane assault shattered against an unseen barrier like glass. The curious harmony of wizard and Bard intensified, threatening to crack the heavens. The sorcerer reacted in kind, his voice turning gutturally low: the inside-out cry of ancient magic.

Air and fire clashed between them, sweeping up gusts of scalding smoke. The sky rumbled in protest. Flame swirled into a burning vortex. Invisible spears struck invisible shields. Fiery lances erupted from Eli’s hands, blasting through the raging wind. The wizard raised his staff with a shout and dispelled the attack in a burst of ice and glittering light.

Binding the churning heat and fire to his will, the sorcerer raised his arms into the air, as though conducting a fiery symphony. The flames rose with his hands, growing and intensifying into a massive inferno. The Bard’s song warped into a desperate, dissonant screech as the immense power of Belov’s magic overwhelmed them. Searing wind singed his face, but he did not relent until the very ground cracked beneath his feet.

He did not wait for the smoke to clear, did not allow his foes respite. Sword in hand, Elijah charged into the smoldering air. The wizard and Bard still glowed in his aetheric sight, huddled in a bowl of blackened glass. The arcing golden lines of wards swirled around them, but Belov’s blade pierced them. He blooded his weapon on their burnt and battered flesh and staggered from the dying flame in the grip of exhaustion.

Then he saw the demon, a horrific, hulking beast of tooth and claw. What new witchery did the Assembly have in store for this spectacle? Elijah took a deep, shuddering breath. He reached inside but found little power left. And yet, he was not helpless. With his sword he traced a ring into the dirt and ash around him. Embers danced about his feet. He raised his blade, the blue metal now glowing like a branding iron, and met the creature’s eyes. He felt too weary for fear -- too close to victory to give up.

“Come then, devil.” He forced a smug grin through. “Step inside my circle.”

[Symbiosis]

Symbiote laughed with nihilistic glee at the carnage all around him. There was something magical about the rapid change of life to death. When everything inside suddenly stops, the last passages of air escaping cold lips, and the smell that lingers. Each face would tell a story, and none of them were ever pleasant. Here I am, an unnamed warrior on a battlefield who’s dreams will never be fulfilled. Some even looked confused, eyes rolled to the side in wide expressions of shock. Yes[I/], Symbiote thought bitterly with a leering smile, [I]Death can even claim you! His hands lowered to a skull that had been neatly cut from the body, blood and other fluids leaking downwards as it dripped over his flesh.

“Must you be so morbid?” Baxter whined from the back of his soul to Symbiote. The demon lifted one finger to the eye and poked it out before tossing it aside. His finger entered into the socket, lining the curves of the eye socket before he dug a little deeper, like one would grabbing the last of the jam in the jar. “I know I will be damned to hell for asking, but Symbiote, what the hell are you doing?”

“Feasting,” Symbiote said at last as he ripped out a portion of the scooped up insides. He lifted his hand upwards like an offering, his tongue snaking outwards and upwards as he began to lick the brain chunk he found. His eyes narrowed in ecstasy as he shuddered, licking more. Baxter was about to shout for him to stop when suddenly his mind began to rack with visions.

“I will go to this battle, and with the money I earn I’ll be able to afford us a home!” An ethereal voice spoke. A woman’s back was clearly seen, luscious blond hair, and a body that was curvy. She moved in still shots, her body twisting and turning as she turned to vapor. “You fucking whore! I’m going out to die for our future and you waste it away with my brother!” Now there was red slashed all over the picture, the sounds of metal crashing against metal. “I hate you!” The image flashed bright white, and suddenly a pair of hands was holding a lifeless body. “Wake up, wake up!”

There was shout to the side of Symbiote as he turned to see a blond haired woman looking at them, her eyes mortified at what she just saw. Her red cloak whipped behind her as her sword was held tightly in hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She asked in a shakey tone. Symbiote lowered the head down with a toss, turning as he looked at the girl. He stalked closer to her, his tongue moving side to side as salvia built up on the tip and dripped to the ground below. His blood covered arm flexed and relaxed multiple times as the talons moved in anticipation. He let out a wet leopard growl, eyes narrowing on her. “What the fuck are you?” She screeched.

“Listen well,” He spoke in a guttural fashion, each word seeming to vibrate from the base of his throat. Though he spoke towards her, Baxter knew the demon was speaking to him. “I have many, many names, one of which is dream eater. Can see into your thoughts, and I can gnaw away at your dreams. But the best ability I have his the one where I can see into your soul. I can lick your brains and learn all about your hate, your love, your passion. When I lick yours, whore, what will tasty treat will I find?”

Her body stood frozen, her eyes cast in terror as Symbitoe slowly moved his hand to hers, gripping it tightly. With a screech of joy he ripped her arm upwards, lifting her in the air like a child. “You’ve been a bad little girl, whore biscuit. He wanted nothing but to love you, but you loved his brother. In a very loving way that is. You touched him in all sorts of places, and he touched you back here…” Symbiote lifted a talon to her belt line.

“Knock it off!” Baxter shouted, causing Symbiote’s eyes to widen as he loosened his grip. The girl fell to her feet, and turned to run as she shrieked in terror. The moment over Symbiote regained control and grabbed her by her cape, tossing her behind him as he turned and jumped at her, body extended. They collided before she landed, her back breaking from the impact into the hill of dead bodies. She screamed as blood caked her lips, but before she could do anything more Symbiote had snapped her neck.

“Why did you ruin all the fun?” Symbiote mumbled.

“It’s quite one thing to kill these people, but what you were doing I will never tolerate. You may share my soul, but I still have a heart and a conscious!” Symbiote laughed as he turned towards the mage duel, seeing several of their numbers die in seconds as only one or two managed to have any sort of chance against this imbecile of an enemy leader. There was a sudden thought in Baxter’s mind and he grew very, very quite.

“Ah, I remember now. I take it you had a bad flashback of when your mother was,” He never finished that thought as Baxter spoke up.

“It’s in the past. Now drop the subject and just tell me why you were eating that mans brains.” Symbiote shrugged as he started to run up the hill, leaning down to grab an axe that felt suitable in his hands. It was a double handed axe, the twin heads already slicked in gore. He broke off the edge of the shaft, the wood splintering off and falling behind them. He rose to the top of hill and began hacking away at people’s lives in the melee. He jumped into the thick of it as he roared, his spit flying out his mouth as his bulked frame knocked the smaller soldiers aside.

“I can look into the pasts of my previous hosts, no problems and recall each and every memory like a scrapbook. I can do the same with yours as well, but to be honest you’re a rather boring individual - hold on,” Symbiote twirled the axe in his hand to face the blade downwards as he lifted his arm back and tossed it forwards. The weapon flew with a whoosh of air, whistling as it slammed into a heavily armored knight’s chest. It caved in, bounced upwards, and knocked the visor askew. With a throaty cry the demon charged the stunned knight, knocking him down with his shoulder. As the man fell he turned to grab his axe, lifting it up with both hands and bringing it down in a violent executioner’s swing. There was a splatter of blood that flecked Symbiote’s face, staining his maw crimson as his tongue moved out to wipe his face clean.


“As I was saying, If I eat a portion of someone‘s brain, I can see whatever memories they had in there like a little play. It‘s very fun for demons to see what you humans dream…” Symbiote muttered turning to see the last of the magi get frozen over by some weird spell. He lifted his finger upwards and pointed to events unfolding. “Now see, this is why I hate magic! So gods be damned cheap! I’ll freeze you in place, and kill you. Cowards shit really. Sorry, Binky Boy, where did I leave off?”

“You are insane, you know this?” Baxter cried in fear as Symbiote laughed turning to see a rush of red soldiers coming at him with pike’s lowered. “How do we avoid that!” Baxter cried.

“We don’t and die. Well, this was rather lackluster all things considered…” Symbiote muttered preparing for the charge. As the enemy drew closer there was a sudden cry from behind Symbiote, joined by several others as the green cloaked soldiers dashed forwards, bows notched and letting loose as berserkers ran head long into combat just for the thrill of a glorious death. One man stopped before Symbiote with a large tower shield held up.

“You! The magi have died, you need to strike him now! The cavalry charge isn’t in position yet! Keep that bastard busy long enough to get the move on! We’ll cover you as long as we can.” He shunted aside the first pike and cut the shaft of the second away from Symbiote. The third pike coming for the demon was jerked away as a berserker tackled him. Symbiote looked to the hill where the enemy leader was on, seeing the guard wall and nodding in a knowing fashion.

With all the speed his enhanced muscles could afford him he charged forwards, eyes cast side to side to see if an enemy would flank him. The shield wall turned a few to him in preparation lowering wicked looking spears. He put on the speed some more as he sprinted. His nose flared as he sniffed the air, smelling the tang of sweat and scent of death in the air. He roared in a primal manner, jaws opening like a rampaging lizard beast. When he was within four feet he pushed all the energy to his legs, muscles tightening like a coil as he jumped upwards and forwards. Several soldiers attempted to stop him, weapons rising only to merely scratch at his feet. He looked like he ran in air after using his mighty leap, one arm pushing backwards as he came crashing towards the earth with fist held ready to claim a life of a hero.

[Christoph]

((OOC: Minor bunnies approved by Sym.))

“Be as the fire.” Eli’s first sword instructor, a retired caravan guard with a beard as grey as his blade, once said those words while tracing a circle in the snow. “Fire moves ceaselessly. It lashes out unpredictably. None can touch fire, lest they get burned for their efforts.”

The Pagoda Master had traced his own circle into the scorched earth, and now seemed to dance within it like a candle flame. His twirling blade was naught but a glowing golden blur. Battle turned to chaos all around him as scattered companies from both sides rallied and fought for the center amidst smoke and flame. Then the demon attacked, lunging through ash and smog above a row of spears.

Elijah barely seemed to notice, his movements flickering effortlessly away from the twisted beast’s fist. It landed hard in the blood and soot, but Eli made no move after it. He drank in the full image of the hideous thing, hulking and mutated with a huge chest and vicious claws. The sorcerer would have felt fear had he not seem far worse within his own soul. The creature regained its feet and struck again, slashing with ichorous claws. Eli dodged and weaved, but refused to give ground; he paid for his stubbornness with raw gash across his chest.

He paid the pain no mind, for his assailant had crossed into the circle. Like a stoked flame, Elijah lashed out. His blade danced swiftly through the air like a lick of fire caught in wind. Even the smallest cut would burst into flames, charring flesh and boiling blood. The fire burns. The fire hungers. The fire consumes.

[Symbiosis]

As Symbiote lashed around and violently swing at his far more nimble foe he had a nagging thought. First off, his teeth were subtly throbbing, as if something was making them vibrate ever so slightly. The few hairs on his pale flesh were all at attention, and he could feel an eldritch power forming in the winds of magic.

The closer he got to the Mage the more the signs grew apparent. It was magic, pure and simple. A ritualistic magic as well, which denoted a very strong willed individual. It also meant with a dissatisfied sigh of frustration that this was not the wizard he sought out. Everyone who used magic left behind their own lingering trace, usually trace residue of their power, a spiritual connection to an area, or in most cases a unique smell only the demonically enhanced could discern.

Eyes narrowing he looked to the man who led the red army. He had a tired, but determined face, even a quirky smirk like a cat who caught a mouse. The demon looked to the left and right and saw the powerful circle that formed around his body.

"Fucking magic," He muttered in a wet growl as he purred from deep within his throat. He stalked forwards, cautiously as he eyed his foe. The wind shifted and the smell of decay wafted over his senses and he grumbled what could pass for a chuckle. He stooped low, like a predator as he neared his foe.

He had heard the whistling of air a split second to late as he jerked to the side, an arrow cutting along his arm. If not for his symbiotic armor he would have most likely lost that arm. He had to be wary that open war was happening all around him.

His world returned to focus sharply as Symbiote let out a howl of alarm and pain, jaws distending to the uncaring gods in the sky. His arm that was hit by the arrow burned, burned as if he put it into open flame and stupidly held it there. The feeling managed to at last quell itself, adrenaline rushing back and forth to dull the pain. He had stepped out of the circle to regain himself.

He noticed that the man before him did not.

"I see," Symbiote spoke loudly. "You're hiding in your circle. Clever, I can feel the magic there, but I wonder." Symbiote willingly locked his eyes on his foe as he moved back into the circle and stood over his opponent. "If I strike you, do you suffer the same effects?"

Symbiote swiped one claw forwards as he followed it up with a shoulder tackle.

[Christoph]

Belov’s blade thirsted for blood. Yet, through tricks of fate his foe seemed always barely beyond reach. He clenched his teeth against frustration. I am not the wildfire, but rather the forge. Clashing weapons and dying gasps echoed through smoke and dust, stirring up hellish memories from past wars. Eli remained blind to the larger battle, but so long as he heard the ring of steel, he knew that hope remained. In his mind’s eye, he could see the young Jacob fighting valiantly to prove his manhood. He spared the captured hilltop a glance; the red banner still stood. Fight on, Jacob. Fight on.

The burning arrow came as a surprise, a surprise that gave Elijah fleeting grim satisfaction. For once, whorish Fate worked in his favor. He stood his ground, pointedly not lunging into combat to capitalize on his enemy’s distraction. Instead, the exhausted sorcerer focused his waning will on that small flame, coaxing it to intensify and grow. He would extract every drop of agony.

When his foe at last clearly spoke, Elijah laughed. “The brute fears a circle drawn in dirt.” Few truly understood magic, and the ignorance of those lacking the true Gift never ceased to amuse him. They would look to lines traced on the ground rather than the blade glowing ever brighter in his hand.

When the beast renewed his attack, Eli stepped back and leaned just out of the claw’s reach. The Master swept his sword in a vicious sideways arc, aimed at his foe’s offending arm. When the tackle came, he merely hopped back like a flickering spark, landing outside of his circle. Without pause, he gripped his burning blade with both hands and lunged forward, driving the sword hard at the creature’s hulking torso.

Five words escaped his heat-chapped lips. “The circle is a lie.”

[Symbiosis]

Symbiote really hated magic. It was nothing more than a cowards way out of attaining power for themselves. They claimed those who had no clue to it’s power as ignorant, but most were ignorant to the dangers of such power. If ever there was an embodiment of the deadly sin of Gluttony, it would be magic. Some had always sought out more power, using magic to protect those they love, damning the costs. Others just simply wanted more and more of the eldritch power to flow through them no matter the price. It was never enough to learn one spell; no the wizard had to learn them all

Angrily he snapped his fangs at the opponent who mocked him for misunderstanding his little circle of uselessness. He watched as the firebrand arched upwards in a mighty double handed thrust, the mage’s lips cracking with glee as he ran it forward. The demon scoffed as he roared in defiance, shifting his body into a stoop to welcome his charge. As he muttered the words about how the circle was a lie the eyes of demon narrowed in concentration. He watched the weapon surge towards him, each movement of his muscles methodical as he moved forwards. With a dark thought he tilted his head.

“THE WEAPON!” Baxter’s voice garbled in his mind. The demon shifted his conscious back a bit to listen to his host. “The weapon is the magical conduit! The circle meant nothing at all! You’re not paying enough attention! It was by no trickery of the circle that our arm felt the burn! It was a flaming arrow! But your superstitious nature and distrust of all things magic-”

“Got it,” Symbiote muttered as he looked to the weapon, cutting off his partner. He watched the last few steps coming at him and grinned darkly as he braced himself.

“Did you not listen? The weapon is-” For the second time Baxter was silenced as Symbiote let out such a frightening roar of pain that the combats in the near area paused for a second. His jaws widened to the sky as his tongue violently lased side to side, his eyes shut tight as his left shoulder exploded in agony. Hot searing pain lanced throughout his blood, boiling it as the nerves in the area felt like they were being cut by tiny razors. The heat never faded either as the blade sunk in, piercing his back as blood flecked outwards in a spray. He thrashed about in place, head shaking side to side as he screamed again, a wet predatory howl as he narrowed his tear filled eyes downwards.

The soulless eyes of the demon peered into those of his foe, and though his shoulder still burned like the forge his other hand lifted upwards to attempt to grasp the mage by the throat. “Got you!” Symbiote seethed through his monstrous maw.

[Christoph]

((Minor bunnying approved.))

His foe's persistent aggression caught Elijah off guard. What sort of creature could fight on through such injuries? A demon. The beast grasped his throat with its massive hand and pressed forward with its superior strength bulk. Belov lost his footing and fell, slammed by his neck onto the rocky ground. Pain cut through him like a cold knife. His gasped for futile breaths. Darkness choked his sight.

It would have been so easy to simply let go, to surrender to the darkness. I cannot truly die here. This trial could not threaten his mortality, yet the thought of defeat left an even bitterer taste. The larger battle still raged outside of his desperate struggle; countless soldiers had looked to him for inspiration and victory. Jaboc... the boy soldier with a heart for glory. Determination flared hot within him. He had not come that far to fail in front of an entire city. He was better than that! Without fear of death to drive him, he clung instead to this abstraction. His pride; his honor.

Belov struggled, pinned beneath the massive beast. Its slavering teeth inched ever closer, viscous drool dripping onto his face. Its rancid breath washed over him. The demon spread its jaws around Eli's head; the pinned sorcerer pushed back frantically, but he just lacked the strength! His body was battered, his magic depleted. Teeth cut into his face. When had he grown so weak? Beneath his magic, he truly was a... normal human. Vulnerable.

Yet, the will transcends the flesh. Amidst a sea of desperate agony, Elijah Belov found focus. Complex arcane formulas spilled silently from his lips and the winds of magic danced. His heart thundered in his chest. New vigor surged through his limbs, pushing his mortal frame to its limits; for fleeting moments, his strength would increase sixfold. He reached up and grabbed the demon's head, one hand wrapped around behind and one grabbing at its chin. With a brutally sharp motion, he twisted with all the magic might he could muster, hoping to break the beast's neck.

[Symbiosis]

Hot lava like pain seared throughout his blood, boiling it as the sword still clutched inside his body deeply. As the magical effects continued to wear on the demon his vast strength began to wane. One clawed talon was uselessly dangling from his side, the other hell bent on squeezing the last bit of life out of this wizard who mocked him. All the while Symbiote continued to choke his life Baxter kept insistently asking the same questions over and over. Deep into his mind he echoed, until at last his words shuddered the Demon’s psyche as he felt his control over the body waning.

This was never the wizard, and per the rules of our deal I regain control. The manner in which Baxter spoke to the demon within his own mind was like a teacher scolding a student. Symbiote howled into the real world, his blood flecked lips spitting crimson drool onto the face of his foe as his tongue licked the air. His eyes narrowed as Symbiote sniffed the air, before he began to struggle against Baxter’s desires to regain control.

He’s up to something, Binky Boy! I can smell it in the wind and taste it! My teeth are vibrating with magical energies! Let me choke his life out before he completes his task! Symbiote begged as he placed all his demonic will into the crushing of the red leader’s throat. His eyes grew a bit foggy, a feeling of being shunted aside. Baxter’s essence warred with the demons for control, and in their struggle the arcane eldritch power cackled within the air, though it was not visible to any eye save the demons.

It’s the end of the deal, give me my body back!

He’s gonna kill us! Symbiote screeched as he watched the man’s hands raise ever so reverently, ever so methodically towards his skull.

I know, Baxter replied thoughtfully. This is the fastest way to get us the hell out of here! The demon continued to frantically spit and screech, like a stuck pig as the hands began to grip around his skull, fighting with him to gain a strong hold. The demon forced his will now into stopping this event from happening.

Stop being such a coward! Let’s kill him here and now! Baxter at last asserted the last of his will, much like before when Symbiote was toying with the female soldier, his eyes looking utterly lost. It was in that second of transition that spelled the doom of the demon host as a loud pop filled the air. The body that struggled let out a shuttering spasm, all the muscles rippling like a tidal wave. Then it went limp and grew heavy as the hulking form collapsed downwards, pinning his foe much in the way a dying man would drag down the sword that killed him.

The subconscious mind of Baxter was silenced, death having claimed his body, but the essence of the demon swirled around the Salvarian pen write, hissing as the black tendrils of his soul moved towards Baxter’s heart. The body started to change drastically, the bones snapping one last time as the presence that was the monster revered back into a normal, almost decent looking human being.

Fucking wizards… Symbiote hissed within Baxter’s still heart. Ever since the wizard placed me in this state I vowed to crush every one of them I find…and then you have the audacity to stand in my way? Symbiote took a moment to think about what just transpired before he laughed, loudly so all could hear the demon’s chuckle from the dead corpse.

“Ha! Guess I’m growing on you, Binky Boy. Okay then, you win.” With those final thoughts spoken aloud the demon nestled around Baxter‘s lungs and ribs like a bird settling in a nest before he too slumbered.

~*~*~

“The demon thing is dead! I don’t see the enemy leader standing sir!” A fresh recruit reported as the grizzled warrior sitting atop the war mount looked to the hill where he last saw the two fight. He lifted one hand up, and the ground seemed to rumble like the approach of thunder.

“I never thought he’d do it, but this is it! Prepare to charge! All forces, take spearhead formation! Let’s drive a wedge and split the army in two. Surge outwards and kill as many as you can. In our wake the shock troopers will do the rest. Archers, prepare volley fire and loose into the middle as soon as I yell charge. Right formation, prepare phalanx wall and make sure nobody flanks us! Move it, this is our only chance!’ Order after order was shouted down the pathway hidden behind a hill, as every warrior got ready. A solitary soldier, the same man who protected Baxter Arlington so he could make his way to the enemy leader lifted up a solid green flag.

He looked to his surrounding men and women and with a nod of appreciation he drew his sword upwards and pointed it towards the center of the army. “ALL FORCES, CHARGE!”

[Christoph]

With a final heave, Elijah pushed the dying demon off of him. The abomination writhed obscenely in the ashen mud, its very flesh and bones shrinking back to something surprisingly human. Belov had no eyes for demonic vicissitude. He pushed himself onto shaky feet, his supernatural strength fleeing his body as his weary mind lost focus on the spell. He had never felt so exhausted, not since... since the civil war in Salvar. He banished those dark memories.

In his still moment, the clamor of clashing soldiers washed over him again and the stench of blood and burnt flesh stung his nostrils. The smoke and dust from his previous arcane onslaught finally began to settle, allowing the sorcerer fleeting glimpses of the battle. Red-clad soldiers still held the base of the hill, shields locked and swords glistening with blood.

Then a rumble of pounding hooves thundered over the din of battle. Arrows flew overhead. The enemy at last began their offensive! He glanced around, trying in vain to glimpse their approaching foes.

“The green knights are charging!” he cried hoarsely, hoping the spearmen heard him. Hoping Jacob would hear. “To the banner!” Where was his sword? He needed-- A lance struck his head with a dull wet plotch, splattering his skull like a ripe melon.

* * * * *

“To the hill!” For the first time in his young life, Jacob voice gained a commanding edge. People listen when I tell them to retreat, he thought. My father would be so proud. As green knights swept the red forces from the low ground, Jacob urged his fellow soldiers up the hill, toward the banner that Elijah Belov had placed. Fatigue gripped him and his sword felt leaden in his hand, yet he could not relent. He refused to fail Elijah.

Up and up they ran, Jacob and perhaps fifty others -- remnants from a dozen units clustered together in the chaos of battle. He reached the hill’s summit as their enemies regrouped for their next assault. Jacob felt despair well up in his chest. It was folly! Fifty exhausted survivors against hundreds, including armored knights. Even with the higher ground they stood no chance.

Then, a brass trumpet sang out high and clear. Jacob looked for its source. A hundred meters away, from the red army’s side, came their general, at long last joining the fray. The battle lines had long since collapsed, but somehow their leader had assembled a few hundred soldiers and now marched toward the rocky hill. To Elijah’s banner! The banner would rally the red army, if only it could remain standing.

“We must hold this hill!” Jacob turned, relieving a fallen comrade of a spear. The other fifty lined up beside him, shields up as they faced down the hill toward their enemies. “We yield no ground!”

[Silence Sei]

Final battle I’m doing for Round 1! Yay for progress!

Christoph/Symbiosis


Story 5/5: The story had all the classic elements to a good story, but none of said elements had me wanting to cheer or boo one way or the other. If there was any major flaw with the story category, I’d say it was in both of your conclusions. The two of you left the story in sort of a ‘End before the final blow’ feel to it, and while it was decent, it would have had ore of an effect if you had focused on your ‘supporting characters’ a little more. Symbiosis is more guilty of this than Christoph (Who kept Jacob fresh in our minds), but not so much that he deserved a point lower.

Continuity 7/6: Both of you did well telling me your character’s histories, but I feel that Christoph’s motivation for being in this battle is what really won the day for me. Trying to reclaim his glory so he can go back to Salvar and man up also did a good job explaining how exactly he got there. Sym, you placed your character in the war chained, insinuating he was captured, but I never truly saw how he was captured, or why somebody thought it would be a good idea to put a merciless killer on their side during war games.

Setting 6/6: While it was a unique battlefield, it would have been more suited to a Gisela style match than a 1 on 1. The fact that the bulk of Sym’s posts involved fighting others rather than Eli just furthered that idea.

Creativity 7/6: ‘The Circle is a Lie’, sums it up nice for me, it was a clever ruse by Eli to fool his opponent, and it’s the reason you gained an extra point here. Sym, you have a unique character for Althanas (Though admittedly, not for Marvel Comics continuity, :P ) and I’d like to see you stray away from your source material more to not make me picture this ( http://www.filmsy.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/venom.jpg) Every time I read your posts.

Character 5/5: It was odd to see Eli not betray the people who had asked him to take part in the games by betraying his own troops. This is a guy who is willing to do practically anything to get what he wants, and I completely expected a post where Eli runs his sword through one of his own guys to try and bludgeon/stab Sym. Sym, what I would have liked to seen from you is more internal conflict; don’t misread me, you did a decent job reflecting Baxter’s reluctance, but I moreso expected Baxter to step in the –second- that he realized Eli was not the Wizard.

Interaction 4/5: Christoph, while you engaged with your opponent well, I’m afraid it’s the fact that you did not seem to take setting into account as much as Sym seemed to. Aside from pretty much 1 encounter, there was really no actual engaging of the army from Eli’s perspective. Hell, even if you had came down and incinerated everyone but Sym, that would have been something more to reward you for.

Strategy 6/6: Eli’s ruse with the circle was awesome, and the fact that both of the main characters died was a well thought out plot device by the both of you. War is hell, as they say.

Mechanics 8/4: This is what really killed ya, Sym. While Christoph had some minor spelling and grammar errors, you still made some of your common mistakes (a missed word here, using ‘to’ instead of ‘too’, etc etc). I hate beating a dead horse, but if you would engage in my ‘Three-Aloud’ strategy (Type-Read aloud, Spell check-Read aloud, Post-Read aloud), you could have tied, if not beaten Christoph. Christoph, you missed a word or two, and you even misspelled the name of your own PC. Though Jab co would be a kick ass company.

Clarity 5/7: Christoph, while most of your writing was clear, there was one or two areas I had to re-read in the beginning of your post. I also re-read your conclusion, but that was because I couldn’t believe a stray weapon killed Eli. Sym on the other hand, I could understand his actions much clearer, with an occasional slip up (With the sword piercing him, I had to re-read a paragraph or two, as an example). Sometimes simplicity is the key to a good clarity score.

Wildcard 6/6: Christoph’s head impalement got him an extra point when combined with ‘The circle is a lie.’. Sym, your extra point also comes from your finish, what with the split second that determined your duo’s fate.

Final Score:

Christoph: 59

Symbiosis: 56

Christoph gets 2850 Exp, 100 GP

Symbiosis gets 825 Exp, 200 GP.

Christoph Advances to Round 2!

[Silence Sei]

Exp/Gp Added.