The Reborn. 3.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

(Looking for one level 0-2 opponent)

For the well-dressed nobleman, the streets of Radasanth had become his new home. He liked to hang out oft in front of the building known simply as The Citadel. Slowly, he was uncovering it's mysteries and learning to work with the ever changing world around him. Times were different those days, Radasanth was no longer the city of heroes if had once been. Lorenor was growing impatient, a former enemy had robbed him of tremendous power. He was seeking a way to regain that lost power, but did not want to cheat the system. He wanted to earn it. I have been hiding in the shadows too long. Lorenor brooded. His eyes closed, the glowing vortexes of energy temporarily gone. Lorenor wore his hood up at that particular moment as he sat on the front steps of The Citadel. The steps were a sort of proving grounds to the native Althanians and represented a journey that each one of them had to make. When warriors came of age, all eventually wandered into The Citadel's twisting halls. The Citadel was a complex structure boasting the basic architectural knowledge of all the races of Corone combined.

Lorenor knew that. Some of the sectors of The Citadel were accessible to the general public, others were not. It was those hidden areas of The Citadel that interested Lorenor the most. What secrets lurk there? What are the monks really hiding? Lorenor thought to himself. However, his revery came to a sudden halt when he realized that he was no longer alone. His handler within The Citadel had arrived, or more appropriately, he had manifested into Lorenor's sensory grid. One moment he had not been there, the next he simply was. Lorenor admired that sort of power. It was to be respected. Lorenor's handler sat down on the steps next to The Grand Primus and the two sat quietly for a long moment. Somehow, the mutant was not aware that he was supposed to say something. Turning towards the monk, he nodded casually, but remained quiet. His thoughts reviewing the recent battles he'd faced. Most specifically, the battle against Leper. Lorenor sat with one knee propped up against his chest, the other leg stretched out completely. He kept staring into space, but was actually reviewing the battle over and over for the mistakes in technique he had made. Respecting The Grand Primus, the monk remained quiet for a moment longer.

After about half an hour of silence passed, The Grand Primus spoke. "Apologies for that." Lorenor said. "I was thinking about a matter." Lorenor continued. "I trust you are not here simply to keep an old man company?" Lorenor had a sheepish grin on his face.

"It is not that Lorenor." The monk responded. "I sincerely was curious as to what your people think about. Many in my ranks have never seen a free undead."

"Forsaken." Lorenor corrected. "We are no longer puppets of that madman, Xem'Zund." Lorenor knew that there would always be prejudices against his kind. There were many tribes of undead that were, in fact, mindless agents of Necromancers and their ilk. "Though I admit not all of us are free quite yet. There is much work to be done after that bastard ravaged my kind."

'Forsaken." The monk repeated. It seemed as if he was toying with the term in his head. "What a word. But I apologize to you Lord Lorenor. I meant no harm." Then the monk continued speaking. "You performed elegantly against that Leper creature." The monk said. "It was a strange construct indeed."

"I think so too. I hope to meet it again sometime soon." Lorenor said. "But I do believe the hour has now come." Lorenor stood up and dusted his robes off. He turned to look at the monk. "Fetch me a suitable opponent." Lorenor commanded. "Prepare my chamber. I'd like the same arena I used against Leon." Lorenor folded his arms across his chest. "One subtle difference. Make it rain, sir monk." With that, Lorenor turned towards the edifice of war, and entered the structure once again. His mind was constantly returning back to the battle against Leper. Leper had surprised The Grand Primus. He vowed to make certain it would never happen again. Walking towards his arena, he knew that the monks would already have reset the chamber to his specifications. He wanted the same region of Concordia Forest, the deepest and darkest places where mortals feared to dread. The lair of the spider magi themselves. And other vile dwellers. Lorenor entered the chamber and carefully prepared the journey to where he wanted to be. His instructions with the monks were protocol by then. The monks that were his handlers would give his opponent specific information on where to meet Lorenor in the arena since they tracked his movements anyway.

Lorenor felt the tightly packed earth beneath him as he walked into the realm of shadows. His eyes glowed in the dark, carefully he moved. He did not unsheathe his weapon. Instead, he kept his eyes forward as he studied the dark place before him. Lorenor knew that the Spider Magi in this realm would let him pass, but that was all. Other beasts were hidden in the forest and had the role of predator. They would be on the hunt as well. Lorenor clenched his fists tightly. Last time, he had leaned against a tree until his opponent had arrived. This time, had a specific location in mind for his next battle. The clouds overhead were pregnant, and soon, rain began to fall. It was a thunderstorm in moments, and lightly bolts were hurled across the sky. Brilliant shows of blues and purple traveled across the sky illuminating them. Each lightning clap revealed the marred face of The Grand Primus as he walked down the only road in this sector of the forest. His face had a smile, even as he walked. This was home...

[Bellator Magus]

Bell looked around at the opulent hallways and spiraling skyscrapers that were tended by the Monks of the Citadel, and a serene smile crossed his lips. It was time once again to step within their borders and test his wits and his skill against whomever he was chosen to be pitted.

But time had weathered the young scholar, and it showed in his now gaunt cheeks, and the look in his eyes that showed he’d seen much more horror than he had the last time coming within here. The brutal things men could do to one another… which, coming from him, seemed a laugh. An ex-assassin turned con somehow grew a heart for the people?

Not quite. But he was getting there. And he’d learned things that he knew he could never do to someone else. Limits to how far he would go for success. And thus he found himself once more at Corone’s Radasnth. He’d come for a reason entirely different – in fact, he’d come to wage war to liberate the people of this very nation – but he came to the Citadel before it began, the one place that still wasn’t settling battle lines, and came for quite possibly his last time.

Walking through the massive double-door gates in one of the most typical ways of entrance, he nodded once at the monks who looked his way, indicating he already knew the rules and they didn’t need to speak to him.

Nor did Bell want their company.

He stepped into the dark chambers and moved through the corridors, hardly glancing up and down the walls. The familiar knot of nervousness had started flitting around his stomach and he could only stare straight ahead, until finally, he stopped, and turned to face the door he’d chosen.

“Roony,” he murmured, turning to face the dog that followed him faithfully through thick and thin. The familiar perked up eagerly, expecting to be told to do something important; he always was, after all, being such a—

“I need you to stay outside this time.”

The dog’s tail quickly stopped wagging and his head drooped. “What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, buddy, but this is just something I have to do alone.”

His friend nodded and stepped back briefly, allowing Bell the room to open the door and step inside unbothered. For a wild moment, he considered flying in after Bell anyway, but decided against it. He’d just get mad at me, Roony decided, and so stayed.

The door closed.

---

Darkness seemed to swallow Bell in its enveloping maw. His eyes were reduced to slits, and he reached out to the door and opened it a shade more, to be able to see further into the room. But it was hopeless. The light was just dissolving into the inky blackness, so he let the door close with a quiet hiss, knowing that it would not open again until his fight was done.

Stepping forward, he immediately tripped over something hard and face-planted. “Damn it,” he murmured, rubbing the side of his face, irritated, and slowly getting back to his feet. By now, his eyes had adjusted, and he could see a small amount of the scenery around him. Thus, he started to move forward, cautiously, and he didn’t fall anymore.

Time passed, and eventually he found a road, simply in the middle of pure forestry. Stepping onto the worn pathways, he walked, hoping the way he was going would lead to his opponent and not the other way around. With no way to tell, Bell let those thoughts leave his mind, and began to empty his mind in readiness of the fight coming.

Left, right. Left, right. Left, right.

He’d reach the end of the road when he did, and no sooner.

Within a few minutes, much sooner than he assumed, he came upon a figure in the distance, and quickly shifted into a lower stance, crouching and ducking to the side. The person, male, he assumed, wasn't too tall, but seemed to be solid in a way that was difficult to describe. He couldn't make out any real specific features from that far back, however, besides the well dressed attire the man was in. Slightly impressed, Bell looked down at his own clothes, worse for wear, and cocked his head to the side for a moment.

Eventually, he shrugged to himself, as if to say, "Oh well," and continued on, deciding to go for something unusual. As he ducked down and pulled out his bow and arrows, taking care that he was as well out of sight as could be but still see the other figure, he called out, "Hello, there, stranger. Who might you be?" He let one stray shot fly, extremely wide of his target to try and lull him into a false sense of security, before saying, "My name is Bellator Magus, but you can call me Bell if you wish."

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Something whizzed past Lorenor about a few paces off to his side.

Quickly, he spotted the arrow flying off towards the distance and puncturing the ground a few feet away. It made a loud kerthunk! sound and shook violently against the ground. A warning shot, huh? Lorenor thought to himself. The night was cool for a Corone summer. Precipitation made things cooler in general. Lorenor was not bothered by the unusually cold weather, what did bother him was the attack. Clouds loomed overhead covering the star canopy. Rain already fell in a steady fashion at a forty-five degree angle. Lorenor looked at the falling sheets of rain for a few moments, the earth soft with moisture. Lorenor's boots sloshed in the mud as he maneuvered forward. Once the arrow was fired, Lorenor had instinctively stopped upon hearing the zipping![/i] sound that flew right past him. Turning slowly towards Bell, the mutant grinned. I like his style. Lorenor thought to himself. He fully turned around to face the kid before him. He's a young buck, fresh meat out to prove himself. Lorenor considered.

He bowed extravagantly towards the boy before him.

"[b]Ah. So you're the one that the monks chose for me." Lorenor could hear the wind howling all around as the storm began to pick up. I asked for rain, not a damned monsoon! Those bastard monks... "Bellator Magus was it? A most interesting name. I shall remember it, boy." When Lorenor spoke, there was a deep and almost frightening aspect to his voice. It sounded empty too, devoid of emotion. But not bland. Just empty. Lorenor looked at the boy for a long moment as he considered his situation, and that of the boy. "Bell." Lorenor began. "My name is simply Lord Lorenor." The Grand Primus would have said more, but it was pointless to get too personal in The Citadel's combat-chambers. One was there to kill, after all. "Now then, boy. I trust you understand why you are here? If so, we can begin." Again, when Lorenor spoke there was no malice in his voice and a sort of cold, almost politeness to him. However, that emptiness was also there.

There was a distinct lack of any human emotion in that intense sounding voice.

Hollow, would be the best way to describe the strange fashion that the Forsaken's Grand Primus spoke in. After Lorenor had stopped all movement for the length of a full five minutes, he started to walk slowly towards Bell. His clothing were made of Vlince and were quite resilient against the rain. He did not like to wear heavy armour favoring enchanted threads most of the time. It so happened that the particular outfit he wore was not enchanted at all, just plain Vlince.

The mutant was armed.

He could fight with his claws, or the weapon that was sheathed in it's fancy scabbard. It was worn at his waist which signified that Lorenor had some knowledge of the sword. If need be, Lorenor would draw the weapon of N'Jal and use it against Bell. For the time being, he was concentrating on the boy's handsome features. Lorenor had always liked lads in their later twenties to early forties. They were in their prime peak of sexuality, and that meant that Lorenor could have the most fun with them before discarding them like so much trash. That thought made Lorenor smile, a wicked thing. His boots sloshed against the mud as he walked ever so slowly towards the boy. Lorenor was taking his time, even though he knew he didn't have to. The handsome face of the boy was enticing, and Lorenor already found himself hungering for the boy's heart. "I commend you for your bravery, Bellator Magus. But the monks did not explain the severity of the situation you are in to you did they? Ah well. The monks and their games. Before this is through, Bell, I am going to rip your heart out of your chest, and shove it down your throat while you still draw blood." No malice, only a strange sort of lust in his voice. It was husky, disturbing sounding almost.

Lorenor was signalling at the promise of things that were to come.

It was an invitation, and Demons took their invitations quite seriously for Demon society was a contract society. Never make a deal with a devil. Was the old saying. And as Lorenor walked, he finally stopped roughly five paces away from Bell. Well within striking distance. However, he did not attack. He was waiting for something, a sign, something from Bell to invite the devilish bastard in. "With your permission, we can begin." Lorenor found himself saying as if he was putting the rules of the encounter on some sort of sick dinner table. Lorenor kept the grin on his face. The features of The Forsaken were prevalent on him. He had a sunken in cheek bone, and his eyeballs were missing, replaced with twin furnaces of supernatural energy. It was a reflection of the dark in his soul.

Standing with both arms outstretched to either side in a grand gesture, the mutant observed Bell's next set of actions.

"Your move." Lorenor said carefully. "I do invite you to take first attack. If you would be so kind."