LCC Final: Super Awesome Fun Time, Best Pals Go! v Unreasonable Gentlemen

[Logan]

Prior iterations of the LCC have seen those who reach the Finals left to their own devices, but this year we wanted to shake things up a little bit. What follows is the beginning of the prompt which will see the combatants brought to the island of Lornius via the port city of Lyridia.

The Final Round begins June 5th at midnight (12:01AM) Eastern Time, and will end June 19th at 12:00AM) Eastern Time.

The two figures stood across an oaken table checkered with ebony and ivory squares covering its surface. Atop the squares rested four marble figurines in equally matching black and white, while other figurines were set aside.

The first of the two figures, a man of average height clothed in all white and a pair of patented weapons at his side, reached out to grab one of the pieces. Before he moved it, however, he paused, and then released his grip. He scanned the available moves before him, and then at the man opposite himself.

"You do realize if they ever find out about any of this, they will have us put to the stake or worse,” he asked of his counterpart.

The second of the figures smirked an all too familiar smirk. His hands lowered to the hilts of the two small swords at his sides as he nodded.

“Of course. But I’d like to see them try and succeed,” he replied as his smirk was replaced by an arrogant grin.

“Very well, then. I shall make my final move, but just remember our little bet when this is all said and done, and my chosen have bested your chosen,” replied the man in white.

The man with the swords laughed heartily, a bellowing chuckle that reverberated among the stone walls of the room. He pointed toward the shimmering window, which was nothing more than a scrying spell placed upon a wall allowing the two to watch over the festivities.

“Can’t you see? You lost long ago. I picked these two,” the swordsman said as he motioned to the two ebony pawns remaining on the board, “from the beginning. I even told you they would best any obstacle you could throw in their path, and they have, and they did. And what of your chosen ones?”

“My chosen ones? I picked them because I believe in them," the man wearing white rested his hands upon the two pieces matching his attire before continuing, "I trust them, and I know them. I have fought alongside them and against them in wars. I have seen their iron will firsthand. They are survivalists, and while they may not best all thrown their way, they always seem to walk away victorious. Your chosen ones might be stronger, but mine will survive this war of attrition.”


The two teams will arrive at Lornius via the port city of Lyridia, but how the two teams opt to write that is up to them. This Final will take place in Lornius, but as to what part of Lornius that is up to the writers. The two "familiar figures" from the intro are available for commentary and interactions, but are not meant to aide or hinder combat in any way, shape, or form. The writers may opt to use them or not, at their discretion, and bunnying is approved. Good luck!

[Storm Veritas]

A sharply unsettled feeling rattled Storm Veritas from what felt like the edge of eternity, as he awoke in what he envisioned must be the epitome of oblivion. He was in some small, square quarters, looking through bleary eyes at a room of grey, flat and nothing.

The “nothing” here could not have been more literal. There were no windows, and no doors. Some alien light shined from behind all four walls, but was distributed so evenly that only the tiniest of shadows afforded him realization that the room had corners, a floor, or a ceiling at all. There was no furniture whatsoever; the quarters appeared to be a great synthetic thing, an illusion that offered no connection to reality. He tapped on the floor with a roll of his fingertips, hearing the softest of muted sound record back to him.

What in the actual hell is this? Where am I?

Rayse!?

A false wall had receded soundlessly, creating a new, seamless room of twice the size. His old partner, Rayse Valentino was now visible, laying motionless on the ground, hands at his side like a felled statue. He appeared prepared somehow, like a worthless castaway carelessly cropped for an unceremonious funeral. Gone were his dress clothes, replaced with some horribly pedestrian grey tunic, pants, and shoes. Only his weapons stood apart from the fashion apocalypse the electromancer witnessed.

Shit…

Storm tapped his chest, heart sinking to find the texture of broad-thread and wool. It was the same monochrome lead color that was thrown upon Valentino, although it had taken him moments to acknowledge it. The fit was shockingly perfect, and the clothes hung over him without weight or burden. He instinctively tapped at his waist and underarm, the rhythmic acknowledgement that his blades and satchel were intact and in place. A small wave of relief filled him in that at least he had some of his things; the small tether to reality was reassuring.

The elders were often buried with their most prized possessions; is this a tomb?

“The F*CK is this place!?”

His exclamation went unanswered, as a small memory quickly entered his mind. He recalled his last memory; of Shinsou Von Osiris and his horrible dark magic. Storm pulled at his tunic, rifling his hand to where the spear of purple-black darkness had torn clear through his left arm and entered his chest. The spot was pristine; the only pink and new skin on his body. No roughness, no hair, no injury; his flesh was baby-smooth and suspiciously devoid of pain.

His nostrils flared as his pupils dilated, a great and mighty fear filling the hollow of his stomach. Was he dead? Extending his hand before him, he focused briefly and watched five twisting arcs of white and blue form a swirling ball of electric energy a few inches above his palm. A small relief, as perhaps his abilities didn’t make sense for the afterlife.

A small groan came from Valentino, sending Storm sprawling to his side. A sneer came across the handsome fire-wizard’s face, although the source was unclear.

“Rayse, relax, it’s Storm. Well, don’t relax, or do… I don’t think it makes much of a difference, given that I’m fairly certain we’re f*cking dead.”

The sneer transformed into a smirk, as the older wizard’s rush to judgment clearly amused the pyromancer.

”We’re not dead, you god-damned idiot. Haven’t you heard of Lornius before?

The wide, confused eyes of Storm relayed his ignorance of the situation. A few moments passed as Rayse stood up, ignoring the inquisition of his dumbfounded accomplice. As the two powerful men at last stood again, a single mid-range tone sounded from behind what they would later learn was the eastern wall.

A bright white light cut a dark black seam across the wall as it moved, forming the outline of a door which dropped away. Squinting against the brilliant light, Storm made out a flat, stone-laid floor before him, and details of green and blue began to come into focus. Their time in the chamber of tranquility was over, and Lornius awaited beyond the door.

[Revenant]

“Artur Eld 1124.”

William stumbled through the streets of Lyridia like an automaton, one bare foot after the other slapping the stone streets. He mumbled to himself repeatedly, the words tumbling from numb lips. He didn’t know what they meant, but clung to them with a desperate intensity. After all, they were the reason that he was here.

Everything that he’d been through since the golden wood ships of Amra had returned him to Althanas has been leading him to Lornius. Scara Brae’s carnival, partnering with Talen, fighting Seth Dahlios, and the sinking of Cudlitz Pride, all of it was linked to him in the form of some twisted game. That phrase, “Artur Eld 1124,” was the only link that he had to the people behind the whole affair. The shadowy puppet masters who’d made the mistake of involving him.

Truth be told, though William would never admit it, this challenge had taken a toll on him. Physically, he could hold up to the stresses easily enough, regeneration was quite handy for that sort of thing. Mentally however, William was exhausted. He’s made a stone of those words and wrapped his mind around it, using it as motivation to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The endgame was in sight.

“Artur Eld 1124,” William muttered, his eyes occasionally jerking up from the wet stone to scan the street signs and business placards. He continued this way for an hour, mindlessly wandering the streets of Lyridia pursued only by the hostile stares of the natives.

Hunting for the Ixian Knights had taken William all over Althanas, but he’d never had the fortune to travel to Lornius. It seemed that the isolated nation either had few monstrous incursions to deal with or else they handled them internally. And William didn’t care much for travelling to new places purely for pleasure. Still, he was well read and knew enough about Lornius to know that he would find little welcome here. Few would.

Despite this, none of the xenophobic Lornians were brave enough to do anything other than spit curses in his direction as he passed. Not for the first time, William was thankful that for the air of formidable hostility that he exuded.

The standoffish nature of the Lornian people proved to be a mixed blessing. They were leaving him alone, which was nice, but they were also refusing to respond to his inquiries regarding “Artur Eld 1124.” He thought about using violence to get them to open up a little, but discarded the idea. And so he was left to his own devices, which were getting him nowhere.

”Not surprising,” William thought. He and Talen had been planning to let Talen undertake the scouting portion of the trip once they made landfall in Lyridia. The shadowmancer’s creepy familiars were much more effective than his own two feet when it came to quickly combing information from the surrounding area. He idly wondered what had become of his partner. He had no doubt that Talen had survived the sinking of Cudlitz Pride just as he had, he’d seen the boy-thing do stranger and far more esoteric things than flee a sinking ship. But from there, he had no idea. He had to trust that Talen would have made his own way to the city and would be using his freakish creations not only as the two of them had planned, but also to locate William in this mess.

He repeated the mantra as he stumbled down one street after another. Warmth began to radiate from the wet stones as the lessening cloud cover gave way to a new day, and soon the whole city hung heavy and humid. At least that was something that William didn’t have to worry about. If there was one thing he could stand, it was a little heat.

[Rayse Valentino]

As the light flooded into their chamber, Rayse could see clearly beyond it. He stepped through with a concerned look on his face, panning around the new… room… they were in. He could only describe it as a rotunda, with the dome-shaped ceiling sporting familiar tapestries of blue and green. The stone floor was smooth to the touch, almost pristine in appearance. There were many chambers like their own, although at a glance all that could be seen of them was a rectangular indentation in their walls.

Yet the various palace-like extravagance meant nothing to the pyromancer. Embers wafted in the air, and his gaze was drawn to the massive source of it in the center of the room: An enormous pit with a seemingly endless fire burning in it. His eyes were fixated on the flames, for they were white as alabaster, the color of annihilation. If it wasn’t for his apparent precognition, he would’ve thought he was back in the goddess-damned Plane of Unlife.

Speaking of which, the one fact that Rayse spouted caught Storm’s attention, after the lightning mage was done being agog at his surroundings, “Wait a second, how do you know we’re in Lornius? Is it known for its featureless rooms? Did you already wake up earlier? What the f*ck?”

“You don’t remember?” Rayse asked, genuinely surprised. “Shit, I guess it’s just me then. When that fucker stabbed me, he sort of probed my mind, and I guess I… Probed it back a bit? I don’t know how I did it, maybe it was a side-effect of what he did, but I didn’t get much out of it. All I know is that he wanted to bring us to Lornius… or maybe in my case, back to Lornius. I’m sort of a wanted man here, in more preposterous ways than any other land.”

“We were stabbed? All I remember is uh, bleeding, and then I saw you and you were bleeding. I only remember like… a second of it. Who did this to us?”

“I don’t know. The only thing I can tell was he was an Akashiman. Either way, uh... " Rayse was transfixed by the fire. It couldn’t have been real. This whole place was some sort of illusion. And yet, even with all this, he should have been far more agitated.

I should be freaking out. I should be looking for the nearest exit as fast as I can. Dio they really reconstruct this from my memories? Why?!

He was oddly calm about all this, but he didn’t know why. It was almost as if he was seeking death in his recklessness, and when he finally subconsciously got his wish, he was brought back. He fell right into their trap, but their goal wasn’t his death, at least not permanently. It was some sort of sick game. One that he wasn’t… completely unwilling to play. Even a month ago, he never would have imagined feeling this way.

[Hysteria]

“Nice to know that you’ll go out of your way to make sure a friend survives a shipwreck,” said Talen with more than a hint of sarcasm dripping from his words.

William turned his eyes from the stones at his feet and met Talen’s. The hostile presence of the Revenent had seemed to grow steadily more unhinged as their journey continued. Talen had to admit that he felt the effect of the chase as well. He was tired, and not just from lack of sleep that punctuated their journey into Lyridia. There was a constant shadow that hung over both the dark child and fiery man. Talen wasn’t used to being caught in someone else's’ web and the unusual experience irked him to no end.

“Friends?” asked William with a smirk, “You took your time finding me.”

“Well, funny thing about that,” said Talen as he turned towards the innocuous door just a few feet from the pair, “I didn’t find you at all, I found this. I guess it’s true what they say; all roads do lead to Radasanth.”

Talen reached up a hand and placed it against the wooden frame. It was cold, despite the sun’s gaze upon it’s wood and rising heat of day. The youth turned back and looked up at William. Talen’s eyes flashed with excitement that managed to cut through the dark rings.

“I think our goal is finally close…” Talen paused and the fire in his eyes died for a moment, “but this could be another thread leading to nothing.”

Before Talen could think further William wrapped a hand around the handle, jerked it open, pulling it nearly off it’s hinges and shattering the rusted lock as he did. The action burnt away any doubts in Talen’s mind. It was as if a voice called him from the stairs below and without a word he dove through the door in front of William.

The youth stepped out into a large room, partially buried underground to achieve the sizable height of the ceiling without towing over the other buildings. The youth’s eyes were instantly drawn towards the center of the room and the unnatural fire burning therein. The fire seemed an affront to everything the youth was. Pure white, shedding embers into the air like tiny fireflies, the fire's warmth filled the youth even from the doorway. Behind him and up the stairs of the modest doorway Talen had entered a curse carried down from William. The Revenant started down after Talen while the youth slowly edged around the outside of the room with his eyes on the fire. So much so was the youth’s focus he failed to take in any other details of the room.

[Storm Veritas]

The words that Rayse spoke offered only cursory reassurance that Storm wasn’t dead or in some dream. In a dream, the electromancer wagered, Valentino would be more articulate than this; the natural disposition and genuine lack of finesse that the brutish fire mage offered was simply too preposterous to fake. For his lack in linguistics, Rayse was still far from stupid, and seemed to have some passable knowledge of their situation. Their location seemed logical enough.

Lornius… let’s see what all the goddamned fuss is about.

For all of his travels, Storm Veritas had never been to Lornius. Here, it appeared that they had been transferred, like captured animals set to be supplanted into synthetic habitats. They were definitely being screwed with, but the experienced wizard surmised that they were not in a position for negotiations. He was grateful to be on the sunny side of terra firma, and would do what needed to be done to stay there.

“Whatever you say. Whoever he was took my good shit from me; no more cash, whiskey, or tobacco. WHAT A DICK. I still have my knives, which can’t be a coincidence.”

Were you brought here to fight Rayse? Why? Premium gladiators, perhaps?

Either way, don’t even think about it, it’s f*cking suicide. You’ve seen his speed, and you can smell the fire from here. Would be like shoveling sand against the sea.

Storm’s voice lowered to a whisper, although he wasn’t certain that his words would go unheard to whoever dropped him into this charade. “Stay together, stay alive. Try not to show your whole bag of tricks right away…”

The intimation wasn’t direct, but Valentino would no doubt understand Storm’s intention of unleashing the full wrath only upon the Puppeteer. For now, he was on strings, and would dance in accordance. The stage was certainly dramatic, as he was greeted by a dull buzzing sound that had begun to grow.

Seriously, do they contract this shit out? How does this get made?

“No fucking way. They’re fucking with us. With me.” Rayse’s words were a mix of disbelief and anger.

With Valentino by his side, Storm carefully scanned his surroundings as he stepped into the massive arena. Their chamber behind them appeared as one perfect stone in a gargantuan ring of stacked stones, perhaps two hundred meters in diameter. Black paint framed the doorway, as striking religious marks were hand drawn upon the walls. A massive crowd was assembled above and behind the walls, the roar growing ever louder as the two magicians emerged into view.

The ceiling reminded him of a great gothic church in Radasanth, only far larger, and some thirty meters in height. A steady, thin white plume of smoke rose high towards the center of the smooth domed ceiling, escaping through a tiny porthole that seemed altogether impossible. Beneath them, the familiar rebound of hard, smooth stone greeted his shod feet, leading downwards from the perimeter towards a blazing, obscene white fire within this bizarre hallucinatory edifice.

Reminds me of that story Rayse told me about Lornius, two bottles deep in rum on the top of the bar in Lounton. Hadn’t he spoken of a place -just- like this, with some other folks?

What felt like sunlight on his face disappeared to blackness, and a deafening, primal crowd’s roar briefly drowned out any rational thought. It ceased after a few seconds, as three spotlights erupted, blinding from the black. One spotlighted blasted its white fury upon Rayse and Storm, a second upon strangers at the opposite end of the arena, and the third above them.

A voice boomed from above them from the third location of concentrated light. Two large men stood upon a floating pedestal, high above the wizards and clearly protected by some finely crafted magic shield, which shone as a soft yellow bubble about the entire platform which held them.


”WELCOME TO PARADISE, TRAVELERS.
YOUR PATH HAS BROUGHT YOU TO REST IN LORNIUS. “

Another roar of applause, and the beam shone more brightly on the tandem opposite Storm. A second voice crackled above them.


”On my right, a man of fire and fury, the mighty William Arcus, known to many as ‘The Revenant’. With him, the Great Changer, the man of Many Names… ‘Talen Shadowalker!!!’”

Arcus. That was the name of the man Rayse mentioned. That rum was shit, must not have hit me as hard as I thought.

So they both have been here? And I’m what… side dish for the entrees?

A great explosion of applause and cheer surrounded the arena, as many had apparently bet heavily on what was apparently the opponent picked for Storm and Rayse. Veritas squinted to oppose the spike in light that came with a spotlight’s focus, shielding the incoming light with a hand in a gesture that may have resembled a wave.


”On my left, we have wizards of multiple forms. A master of electricity, known for both bolts AND blades, ‘Storm Veritas’! Not to be outdone, he is joined by the notorious master of all things fire-borne, ‘Rayse Valentino’!”

F*cking weak! He didn’t mention Serenti, the Adventurer’s Cup, the Dragons… what a hack.

Another round of applause ignored Storm’s internal complaints; the spotlights faded as the artificial sunlight reclaimed its warm hold over the arena. The buzz in the room was tangible, although the electromancer still had no tangible idea as to how or why he had been chosen for this gladiatorial display.

Before any escape plan could be hatched, the first, booming voice once again dominated the arena.


TWO OF YOU SHALL BE CROWNED CHAMPIONS.
TWO OF YOU SHALL BE BURIED.

WALK AMONGST THE GODS.

The final eruption of applause almost completely hid the otherwise deafening gong sound which screamed across the arena, marking the beginning of the end.

[Revenant]

Hearing his name broke Talen’s fascination with the white flame. “Well,” he murmured, “Looks like this was the right place after all.”

Now that he wasn’t enthralled with the alabaster flame, Talen took a moment to look around. The room itself, while fairly massive, was a simple affair. “Definitely not up to the standards of the Ai’Brone,” he thought, images of the Radasanth’s famous Citadel running through his mind.

“I guess they don’t want anything to be too distracting from the little dance they’ve set up for us,” Talen muttered under his breath. Dismissing the chamber, the shadowmancer instead settled his attention on the shielded platform overhead. More specifically, he locked his eyes on the duo atop it.

The platform floated four dozen handspan above them, low enough to be clearly visible to the crowd but high enough that it was out of the combatant’s easy reach. The men atop it were utterly unassuming, and if it hadn’t been for the opposing black and white suits the men wore, Talen would have had a hard time distinguishing between them. These must be the men that they’d gone to so much trouble to find, the Lornian corporate puppet-masters. Only instead of finding them, he and William had played right into their hands and stumbled into their endgame.

As he watched, the man in white finished his announcement and the artificial sunlight once again flooded the chambers, bringing with it tumultuous applause. The man casually walked back to his companion and both began to shuffle carved figures around on a table that they had setup between them.

Realization flooded Talen’s mind and he looked from the floating platform to the other pair of combatants on the opposite side of the arena. Storm Veritas and Rayse Valentino appeared to be experiencing just as much confusion and hesitation as he himself was feeling. Clearly, these men were as much pawns of the colored men as he and William were.

“Are you serious?” Talen laughed incredulously. He looked up again just in time to see the man in black firmly place one of his pieces in a way that pushed one of the man in white’s pieces to the edge of the board. “Are they literally playing a game with us?”

Talen turned to William. He was preparing to let the Revenant make the first move. Knowing that William’s method of fighting was far more straightforward than Talen’s, the two of them had decided that they would best be served in a fight with Talen’s abilities being used to play around the demonic warrior’s aggressive style.

But instead of the look of imminent violence that he expected to see, Talen was surprised to see a look of terror on William’s face. Something was wrong.

***

William stood locked, transfixed by the pillar of flame before him. The weary numbness that he had been feeling was leeched from his body in an instant, replaced by a bone-deep cold. “No,” he thought, “Not this. Not again.”

The icy cold in his limbs was familiar to William. It was a sensation more intimate than any lover could be, and more invasive than a knife to the guts. I was the feeling of living death that William had borne for years upon countless years in the timeless hell of the Plain of Unlife. He had escaped that prison only though what seemed a lifetime of constant strife, and by bartering his body and soul to certain powerful forces within the realm. And then he had betrayed them and sent the whole place reeling into chaos. He was not, nor would he ever be, keen on returning.

A heavy clack broke William from his reverie and he rounded to see that the door they’d entered through had sealed. Heavy locks were clamping into place behind a massive door of steel and stone. The two of them wouldn’t be escaping that way without considerable effort and time.

“Get ahold of yourself!” William barely heard Talen’s barked command. Something in his head, something worn and tired from everything that he’d been through, twisted.

“Of course we can’t go back,” William cried, ignoring Talen. His eyes, which normally burned with an insatiable rage, now burned at the edges of madness. The sight stopped Talen cold, another string of words dying on his lips.

“Portals only work one way,” William continued, his fervency growing. “So I’m not going back.” William’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he said this. Flecks of spittle flew from his lips. “I’m not going back.” And then William’s eyes slipped past Talen and he saw the men opposite them.

The other pair.

Their opponents.

The man called Storm Veritas and ….

Rayse Valentino?

William’s eyes widened in recognition. He’d been too entranced by the white flame to notice before, Rayse stood across the chamber from him. The savage guttering flame between them seemed to drown out everything in the chamber, but not Rayse. Instead, the fire’s flickering lines silhouetted the contractor, pulling him sharply into William’s focus.

“Rayse!” he bellowed, loud enough that the other man could doubtless hear him across the chamber, even over the continuing roar of the crowd. Talen staggered away from William, caught by surprise at the sudden outburst. It was just as well, because an instant later William’s flesh exploded into thick charred leather and blackened bone, fatigue washed away in a bloom of hot madness.

When William moved, he did so with full, flashing speed. He leaped a heartbeat later, launching himself into an impressive arc with all the strength that his demonically charged body could provide. He sailed out over the arena like a shot, the tremendous leap carrying him the hundred meters to the pillar of white flame and then over it. When the initial momentum of his leap expired, William subconsciously shifted to his heated flight, using that to carry him the rest of the way. When he landed, William stood a dozen meters past the white flame on the downslope of the opposing side of the chamber.

It was an impressive display and it caused the crowd to erupt anew with a frenzy of cheers. Overhead, the colored men shifted pieces again, moving to encircle and ensnare each other. William paid attention to none of it. He only had one thing on his mind.

“Rayse!” he roared up the slope. “I’m not going back. Do you hear me? I’m not going back!”

[Rayse Valentino]

All flashback bunnies of Revenant approved.

It wasn’t more than a few months ago that Rayse was in a room similar to this one, except without the audience or the assholes playing chess. He looked a little different, sporting charcoal-colored skin that was as hard as it looked, cracking at the joints. His eyes were pure white, matching his hair. All beings in the Plane of Undeath were like this, but escape offered the hope of regaining his humanity. He blended into a procession of zombies wearing hooded cloaks, marching toward the pit of everlasting fire. Except this one was a real White Fire, not the illusion in the present day.

The pyromancer wasn’t there to appreciate the destructive power of the flames, nor was he there to build rapport with the rest of the decaying denizens. He was in disguise, posing as a member of their cult. His goal was to deliver vial of the coldest substance in the plane into the hottest substance. Why? Because he was goddess-damned told to, or else he was never getting out of this nightmare. Also, it was the only thing capable of putting out the eternal flames.

He was perfectly content walking towards the pit, even though in this state he felt like he was in an extreme sauna. One little job, and he was home free. At least, that’s what he believed. He had to believe. As soon as they were done with their ritual, he would stay behind and dispose of the parcel.

Speaking of the ritual, it was getting started. They were dragging the corpse by his elbows, his knees scraping along the floor. Rayse couldn’t get a good look at the sorry rotter from the back of the formation.

"On this day, the third solstice of Arkh'Girah, set in the Uli of the sixth, let it be known that Gor’Havah The Skullbreaker has become a Lost One in our realm. We are both deeply saddened to lose another one of our kind, yet deeply happy to offer him back into The Void. May The Writhing God bless our sacrifice of his body, and may his spirit return to the plane."

The fuck did they just say?

A chill ran down his spine, when the gravity of the deception was borne before him. He remembered the rumors of rotters who weren’t actually dead being tossed in as a means of silencing them, but he never imagined it would actually happen to William. Although he was in his war form, he was still William Arcus, the man who saved him and guided him out of this accursed city. Rayse’s plan was to wait for the ritual to end, safely toss in the vial, and head back up to the Upper City to collect his boon. But… that would mean…

What do I care? He made his choice, and it backfired for him. Them’s the breaks.

…

Between all the manipulation and half-truths, William was the only one here who was honest with Rayse. He was the only one who genuinely wanted to leave the plane. Was Rayse really going to get an escape route out of this deal? Why would they ever grant that to him? He’s either useful as a slave or a loose end to be stamped out, they would never just let him go. Hell, he was probably next in line to be tossed in.

…

Maybe it was time for a change. Maybe it was time to take his destiny into his own hands. The chaos that would erupt from the surrounding zombies would likely put this whole place under lockdown. It would summon the giant, skeletal Servitors who would make short work of him. And yet, all of that sounded better than letting William die. He pulled down the hood and reached inside, pulling out a glowing blue cloth that contained the vial. It was a special material that ignored the effects of cold, and was the only reason that Rayse and everything around him were not freezing over.

You better be worth it, you goddess-damned blithering idiot!

He threw the vial as hard as he could into the pit.

* * * * *

It was a big world, but apparently not big enough. He never thought he’d see William again, but then there he was, hopping up to him like a giggling schoolboy. This scene was more jarring for Arcus, since he was stuck in the undead plane for years, as opposed to the weeks for Rayse. It was his life, his curse, and now it threatened to take him back. Rayse could feel William’s rage, and all his excitement about the situation faded away. There were no puzzles to be solved, no quests to be conquered. No, they wanted him to fight William. He never wanted to do that again. Not even because of the man’s martial prowess, but well… the premise left a bad taste in his mouth.

While Arcus demonstrated that Storm wasn’t the only one who could dance in the clouds, Rayse turned to the lightning mage. His literal partner in crime perhaps needed no conniving to actually participate, he was a man who relished in the opportunity to compete. If it was a regular tournament with no trickery involved, he may have even stuck around. But there was no guarantee either of them were leaving here alive, even if by some miracle they won.

“Storm, I fucked up back there. I fucked up bad. I should’ve seen this coming, but I didn’t. I was so absorbed in my own shit that I was blind to what was right in front of me. I don’t feel like dragging you down with me. I’ll cover you, so fly up to that hole all the smoke is escaping from and get the fuck out of here.”

When William reached him, he sounded like a maniac, and Rayse couldn’t tell whether or not the warrior was blaming him for this mess.

“Relax, William,” Rayse said, trying to hide the disdain in his voice. “This is just a joke they constructed out of my memories. Or maybe, your memories?” The embers floated beside him, indicating that the heat of the fire was at least real, even if its color was merely imitating the eternal flame. The warrior’s visage was a sobering one, driving out the reckless notions in Rayse’s head. “Are you actually planning on humoring this charade? I thought we both decided not to be manipulated anymore.”

[Hysteria]

“At least the fire has returned to his eyes….” muttered Talen with a hint of desperation sitting along the edges of his voice.

William launched himself over the fire as if the fear that had pulled at the strings of his madness were suddenly cut. Talen knew that not to be true, the actions of a madman are not devoid of fear. They are driven by it. The words his partners shouted were shrill and impatient by comparison to the stoic rage that normally bubbled beneath his charred skin. Talen had some consolation at least that he would not be left alone against their two opponents.

With nerves twitching and his gut filled with a swarm of Madison Freedbirds hornets, Talen steeled himself for action. He pushed aside the thoughts of the men above, aside the fact he was a puppet on a string, and most of all, aside the memory of Storm Veritas striking down the dragon Sunwing with a single bolt of lightning. For now the youth had to think; he had to fight. When the battle was over and victory claimed, then he could end the charade with a dagger. These were the words he told himself.

The youth let William go, using his partner’s fiery display as a distraction. Talen’s form disappeared in a blink of an eyes to then slide back into reality on the opposite side of Storm and Rayse to William. The youth’s small body stiffened, his arms reaching over his head as he called forth energy. His face twisted into a snarl; a black pup emulating its red wolf partner. Both hands shot forwards towards Storm and Rayse and from the darkness that bubbled within his palms emanated glass like shadow shards coated with necrotic poison.

Talen’s attack was one of knowledge and opportunity. He had used William as a distraction to attack from his opponent's flank. More importantly, with William in the line of fire of Talen’s attack, it was the youth’s knowledge of his partner’s tough skin that allowed him to take such an action. The shards would not pierce him, indeed they could barely peirce leather. They only needed to be strong enough to pierce flesh and deposit the poison. In William’s case even if they did, his fire would most likely destroy the poison before it had a change to atrophy and weaken the affected flesh. It was only under that knowledge that Talen dared shoot the blast of shards. Talen lowered his hands and reached for the sword secured within his loose cloak.

[Storm Veritas]

The exchange between the two fire-borne warriors William Arcus and Rayse was a passionate one; it was clear the two shared a bond with their individually unique but collectively tethered histories. Valentino’s words to Veritas were taken with consideration, as he rarely showed the vulnerability displayed as he acknowledged his own errors. Storm tried to casually slough them off, assuring him that the two wizards were also brethren; in some ways nearly by blood.

“Saved my ass more than once… Consider this one a favor.”

The experienced wizard was also keenly focused on the other little one, a lad juxtaposed from him. Talen, as he remembered, was deceptively powerful. The form he took was amorphous, it was merely the face he showed the world. The innocent looking boy had held a great role in the fall of Sunwing, and his powers had barely been exposed in doing so. When his form popped from sight into a fleeting set of thin ebony wisps, a chill ran down the spine of the notorious electromancer.

“Shit, look out, that little bastard’s coming!”

Storm’s eyes sought frantically to find the beast, hidden under the visage of a boy. He couldn’t see the reappearance behind him. Worse, the crowd’s wild roar at his spontaneous disappearance completely muted the faint crunch of dust underfoot and hiss-hum of energy being generated behind him. It was only the eyes of Talen’s “teammate”, if that’s what he was, setting upon a spot between Storm and Rayse that betrayed his position.

The wiry Veritas leapt hard to his left, away from Rayse and Talen in a valiant effort to dodge whatever summoned hell the diminutive monster had conjured forth. Despite his dive, the blast of hot black plasma still cut sharply across the meat of his back, the glancing blow searing like sunfire. He tumbled as he fell forward, rolling over his shoulder and feeling a horrible burn like whip-strikes across his back. His shoulder had smacked hard upon clay-dusted stone as somewhere deep in the background a crowd erupted. Their bloodlust had been teased, and the white noise about the audience caused the massive granite pillars of the arena to vibrate. The familiar pang of deep pain gripped Storm as he had left a few streaks of some viscous, mud-colored burned blood in the wake of his roll.

The pain was a blessing in disguise. Whereas the gentlemen had been considering alternatives to playing into the hands of the Puppeteers up above, Talen had stripped them of options or negotiation. The devil in Storm had awakened; there was no more time for consideration around details or minutiae. There was no time for hypotheticals or planning, it was only time to kill at all costs. A great whiteness overcame his eyes as he felt the electromagnetic energy surge through his veins.

You little dickhead, so much for history. Have it your way. Ride the f*cking lightning.

Storm rose to a single knee as he pushed himself up from the unforgiving floor, raising his right hand directly at Talen Shadowalker. For a brief moment energy spiraled in from his fingertips, compiling in a twisting azure orb floating before his palm. A loud hiss-crack sound erupted, and Storm fired back at the boy with a positively vicious blast of twisting electric fury.

[Revenant]

William paused, though he remained tense and ready to strike. Someone had targeted and deliberately pulled him into conflict with others like him. Rayse seemed to be an obvious choice. He was one of the most powerful men in Althanas, with contacts at his disposal in every corner of the world. He was wealthy, driven, and intelligent enough to have set this whole thing into motion. And, William thought as he listened to Rayse’s words, he was also an extremely accomplished manipulator.

Molten desire coursed through William’s veins, screaming at him to ignore the contractor’s words and just lash out, giving no quarter. Rayse had to be setting him up to catch him off-guard. But could William be sure? Everything was hitting him too hard right now and his thoughts were a jumble. How long had it been since he had slept? Two days? Three? Mix that with everything that he’d been through over the last two days and William wasn’t surprised he was on the verge of breaking.

So he kept his eyes on Rayse, sizing the man up and trying to decide what the truth was. There had been a time when Rayse had been given a choice between putting himself at risk to save William and helping himself by letting William die. Rayse had chosen the former. Shortly after that, William had been given the same choice and had chosen the later, leaving Rayse in the midst of a nightmarish horde to ensure his own escape. Rayse had survived somehow, and when he’d caught up to William their reckoning hadn’t been pleasant. Had Rayse been holding out for a moment like this, using his wealth and power for revenge?

Darkness coalesced as Talen oozed into existence opposite William. William’s eyes flickered to the shadowmancer for a heartbeat, acknowledging his partner. As they had planned, Talen was using him as a distraction to bring down their opponents as quickly as possible. Only the situation wasn’t as cut and dry as they’d first imagined. William instead found that he had a choice to make. He could err on the side of caution, protecting himself, and simply let Talen’s attack take Rayse. Then the two of them could work to bring Storm down. It would be simple; as easy as doing nothing. Or he could trust Rayse, and in doing so expose himself.

William made his decision.

“Dodge, rotter,” he yelled at Rayse, falling into the familiar cadence of the Plane of Unlife. It wasn’t much, but he hoped it would be enough to jar Rayse to action.

Alongside them, Storm too had dodged, but had replied to Talen’s attack with a blast of energy. William sprang into motion, trying to tackle the lightning mage before too much damage could be done and their conflict be made irreversible. He let his demonic form slough off as he did so, assuming a human guise once more in the hopes that Storm wouldn’t understand that this wasn’t an act of aggression. William would rather fight their true foe together, but if Storm pressed the matter he’d have no choice.

***

Above them, one of the colored men’s pieces tipped and rolled from the board.

[Rayse Valentino]

After hatching a plan to escape the Plane of Unlife, or Undeath, depending on how optimistic you were, Rayse and William had endured trials and tribulations to get to the Halls of Fleeting Remnants. As part of one of the tallest towers of the Upper City, the halls were some of the oldest structures in the plane. They were maze-like in nature, with narrow corridors leading to four-way intersections. Navigating through them was a nightmare, as spatial concepts deteriorated the deeper they went, meaning that anyone attempting to go in one direction for too long will find themselves back where they started, or somewhere no one has ever been before. If it wasn’t for the map they procured earlier, they likely would have been trapped here forever.

It wasn’t a smooth infiltration. They stirred the hornet’s nest in their wake, and were now being pursued by a legion of Servitors. Their destination was a simple room with an arch-shaped artifact, which contained an ancient portal to a realm even more insulated than this one, but they figured that anywhere was better than here. The walls seemed to grow inward as they ran, and the only light they had was a weak torch that flickered the faster they moved. The stone around them was jagged and rough, almost growing like thorns into the passageways, a stark contrast fron the neatness and perfection of the Upper City.

While they were confident in their speed, the Servitors were threatening to catch up. It would only take one swing of their massive axes to split either of their heads in twain. But then, William sensed a presence far more dreadful than the Servitors, a familiar feeling. He looked back saw a floating set of robes in the distance, moving so fast that it was already ahead of the colossal skeletal enforcers on their trail. Rayse looked back as well, and while he could tell that they were in trouble, it was only his first time encountering The Grand Lich. Hardened by his years in torment, William felt the terror that haunted the dreams of every ghoul, except now it was invading his conscious mind.

They were both going to get caught at this rate. As much as he felt he owed a favor to Rayse, he felt much more entitled to leave. He paid his dues several times over, and any sins he committed in his previous life were repaid in full by now by his suffering.

It was nothing personal.

He tripped the pyromancer.

* * * * *

Rayse remembered what he felt that day. Unyielding rage that overwhelmed him, completely trumping any fear he thought he had. He didn’t care about Servitors, Grand Liches, or being undead. He wanted to rip a man named William Arcus apart.

Those feelings seemed like so long ago, but they stirred fresh in his mind by William’s glare. For a long time, Rayse’s hate seemed like mild malignity. It was a pretender’s hate, with no substance to it. Even if someone injured him, or destroyed one of his possessions, or ruined the lives of the people he cares about, something about it always circled back to something he did. He wasn’t careful enough, or maybe he deserved it. But the hate he felt for William that day was the real deal. It was honestly… refreshing.

The only reply that the warrior gave him was a warning, coupled with terminology of a place Rayse dearly wished to forget. The contractor turned around just in time to brace himself, although his body had reacted faster than him, allowing the glass to pass harmlessly through him, leaving several fiery holes in his body that closed up afterwards. This little punk was known to Rayse, although physical descriptions were obviously worthless. Why he was hanging around with William was a mystery, but he did note that their two antagonists weren’t wearing the same peasant clothes as them.

By the goddess, did they come here willingly or something? Didn’t wake up looking like farmers? Goddess-damn, now that I think about it, does this mean someone dressed me up while I was out? I think I’m going to be sick.

He looked over to Storm, who was considerably more vengeful due to the damage he took. Did they have to fight after all? Rayse didn’t know if he could negotiate with Talen, who completely unprovoked just tried to murder them. Even the almost meditative level of calm that Rayse tried to maintain was starting to become unraveled.

Fine Storm, have it your way.

He gave Storm his offer, he was satisfied even if it was rejected. Whatever happened to the lightning mage from this point forward was not his fault, but maybe it was still his responsibility. He would try to avoid getting his accomplice killed if possible. But since an attempt on his life was already made…

Rayse turned around and pointed his right index finger at Talen. If there’s one thing you should never, ever do under any circumstances, that was to piss off both Rayse and Storm at the same time. A small flame was produced on the tip of his outstretched finger, and by rubbing the ring on the finger with his thumb, the flame suddenly shot out like an arrow, aimed at the instigator’s feet. Even if it missed, it would produce an explosion near enough to cause serious burn damage. Right after the attack, Rayse caught William charging at Storm in a more reasonable form. He shifted his finger over to follow Arcus’ movement, threatening to fire off another round of his gun-like attack. This time, he was the one issuing warnings.

“I don’t know what your game is William, but back off!”

[Hysteria]

Talen drew his sword with a flourish. The dark blade caught the white flickering light that bathed the arena and metal seemed to emit a translucent shine. Talen was acting on instinct rather than thought as he moved the blade between himself and Storm. The child’s face twisted into an angry snarl as he realised his folly. His blade would conduct rather than deflect the attack. He brought the sword down towards the stonework beneath his feet as electricity met blade. The metal emitted a high pitched hum, similar to the large turbines of Alerar airships. A moment later Talen plunged the sword an inch into the ground, but it was a moment too late.

The child pulled his hand free of the hilt but threads of charred flesh remained attached. The audience erupted into another round of cheers as the smell of burnt skin wafted over the arena. Talen didn’t have time to act against Storm as the ground erupted beneath his feet. He launched himself backwards, but the explosion did most of the work for him. At first his small body seemed to ragdoll through the air, but his arms lifted out and his balance brought him to a sliding stop on knee and foot.

Talen’s right hand hung limply by his side. The charred flesh burnt through to tendons and bone dripped with fresh red blood. As the youth stood his legs hadn’t fared much better, with his shoes and pants shredded from the knees down from Rayse’s attack and burns lining all of the exposed flesh. Despite it all, Talen didn’t waver. He had been pulled apart and put together so many times before pain didn’t matter anymore. Compared to the embrace of N’Jal his wounds were a tickle. The only thing that had changed was the amount of force the child was going to use.

Beside Talen two pools of darkness twisted into life. From each portal a shadowy form burst forwards. The creatures were darkness, slowly hardening as they charged towards Rayse until their forms were that of twin black bulls. Their coats shone with a black malevolence and their forms dripped inky black shadows. Their bodies were thick and muscular, made for spending long days pulling ploughs on the farm, or in this case running down uppity fire mages. The creature’s hooves thundered as they charged past Talen’s sword and on their way past Storm and William.

Despite William charging towards Storm, Talen felt a thought niggle at the back of his head. William had warned Rayse of the first attack. Talen didn’t understand why he had done that, or why they would even stop to consider anything but to win. In the child’s mind the answers were simple, strike down all that stood in the way. Talen wasn’t sure where exactly William stood.

[Storm Veritas]

Storm’s assessment was correct; indeed Talen was more than anyone would assume just looking at the boy. His borderline artistic block of the lightning-based assault would have been beautiful if it weren’t so frustrating. The metal of the blade of course served as a lightning rod, attracting the beam with just an artistic flick of what appeared to be juvenile wrists. The angry shapeshifter appeared more furious with the onset of pain a lightning grounded itself in his hands, but it wasn’t as though he had actually appeared damaged.

Well, shit. If I can’t fry the little bastard, I’m pretty well screw…

A second blast had hit the earth beneath Talen, this one coming from Valentino. The earth erupted as loudly as the crowd as the boy was jettisoned backwards, landing deftly on his feet as though it were part of an orchestrated dance. Storm didn’t have time to marvel at the boy before feeling the impact of meat between his shoulder blades.

“Gyaah, f*ck me!”

Arcus had tackled him, wrapping his arms about Storm and encapsulating the wizard as he drove him to the stone below. The magician contorted enough to avoid catastrophic damage as he felt his own shoulder and side driven into the ground, snapping his head backwards in a futile attempt to catch William on the nose or otherwise unaware. His head caught nothing but air as the landing had separated the two, yet an absurd vision did enter his frame of view.

Have to give him credit, the boy has plenty of tricks.

Veritas was calmed for a split second as he watched two dark bulls charge directly past him, thundering hooves despite their ethereal appearance. They were heading directly towards Rayse, their fury and intent unmistakable. Frantically, Storm rolled hard away from the spot where William had taken him down, not bothering to look away from the great ebony beasts. How could he stop them?

When you’re a hammer, every problem is a nail.

Storm took one last lunging step hard to his right, firing a second bolt at the leftmost bull, landing roughly in some of the freshly upturned ground as he dove. If the thing were real, it would hurt or kill. If it were some sort of illusion, perhaps the image would dissipate. In either event, he had granted some physical distance from the man who had attacked him, and stayed the hell away from Talen while scrambling for his life.

“Rayse, to your left!”

It wasn’t masterful articulation, but it should have kept his friend free and clear of the crackling shot heading in his general direction.

[Revenant]

William issued a startled exclamation as he and Storm hit the ground. It was a far harder landing than he’d intended to make and it jarred the larger man from his tentative grasp. William flailed wildly for something to anchor onto but caught nothing as he flew over Storm and back down the sloped chamber.

Each sliding bounce sent an electric jolt of pain through him, the rough gravel easily devouring the remains of his tattered shirt and slashing ribbons of skin from all over his body. Exuberant cries accompanied each hard slap of his flailing body, the mob chanting “oohs” and “aahs” after each painful bounce.

“Thaynes curse it,” William groaned as he finally came to a stop. His entire body stung furiously but nothing seemed to be broken. He was grateful for that. There was a lot of pain, but it was hardly debilitating, and his regeneration would seal the wounds within seconds. Far worse than the pain was the indignity of the whole situation, and William finally decided that he’d had enough.

Gritting his teeth, William rose against the stinging pain of his raw flesh and looked back up the slope. Rayse hovered over him in the same spot as before, not having moved. Only now the fire mage had a ringed finger pointed threateningly in William’s direction. His mouth was moving, so Rayse was obviously saying something to him, but it was a futile gesture and William caught none of it. Rayse was simply too far away for William to hear anything he had to say. There was only the roar of the crowd and the molten thrum of anger in his ears. Besides, the contractor’s general bearing and expression told William everything he needed to know about what Rayse had to say.

Above them all, the shielded platform rotated into view. It bobbed slightly as it moved, following a slow elliptical orbit around the chamber. William slumped back to the ground and focused his cursed, burning eyes on the magical shield surrounding the platform.

His attempt to disarm the fight had gone disastrously wrong. Not only had William utterly failed to save Talen from Storm’s lightning blast attack, he had also managed to hurt himself and draw Rayse’s hostility back to him at the same time. He was more than a little angry that he’d gone out of his way to warn Rayse only to find the man immediately threatening him afterward.

William was done trying to play the good guy.

“Fuck it,” William growled. “Fuck Rayse, fuck this fight, fuck all of it.” Molten power flooded William’s veins as he loosed the bands of his restraint and shifted back into his war form. Let Rayse shoot him. Let Talen trample both men under a nightmare stampede, let them all squabble to the delight of the crowd, just as the colored men wanted. It was time for William to finally vent the full fury of his wrath and he finally had a worthy target for it.

William’s hand blurred as it slung forward, hurling a handful of gathered gravel up as Rayse. The tremendous strength and speed that the revenant possessed propelled the stones up the slope like a shot from a sling, but even so they were too small to do any real damage. At worst they might scratch Rayse if they hit him in an unprotected area, but that wasn’t the intent. William only needed to distract Rayse just long enough to get back to his feet without taking a direct blast from Rayse’s ring shot.

“Let them sort themselves out for all I care,” William thought as he used the momentum of his throw to roll painfully over. The moment his legs were gathered beneath him, William sprang straight up towards the platform. “I’ll kill these bastards myself if I have to.”

[Rayse Valentino]

Ugh…

He couldn’t do it. His level of revulsion for the situation was at an all-time high, and as satisfying as the notion was, he couldn’t blast William off the island. Also, he couldn’t get a good shot, so there was that. The collision with Storm worried him a bit, but both the men appeared to be fine.

Crazy molten men aside, Talen was unrelenting in his bloodlust. There were now two shadowy bulls charging him, whose properties Rayse could not discern. Were they solid? Were they bombs? Perhaps they were simple illusions.

“Reign in your goddess-damned Ixian!” Rayse yelled toward William, but to no avail. His voice was drowned out by the audience, and the pyromancer briefly considered changing his aim to them. “Oh, having fun, are we? By the goddess, I swear I’ll burn this whole shitty carnival down!”

I could really use a smoke right now.

The bulls didn’t care about his proclamation, their goal of collision unchanged. Storm tried to warn him about his attempt to help, but it was equally drowned out by the noise. However, the gesture was not unwelcome. The lightning mage's attack was fast, but somehow the bull being targeted managed to hop out of the way just in time, with the lightning hitting near its hooves with a loud CRACK. But while it dodged that attack, Rayse stomped his foot into the ground, sending a sizzling subterranean fire. From under the black bull that avoided Storm's attack, a pillar of flame emerged and engulfed it, causing it to burst into a shadowy mist. The floating platform loomed overhead, reminding Rayse of his true goal after dealing with this ludicrous attack.

A mage fight. This is my worst nightmare realized. There’s nothing worse than a fight between magi! This punk must think I’m helpless in close range fighting.

The other bull was undeterred, its hooven harmony cracking the ground as it approached. Rayse aimed his right index finger at the dark beast, confident that a searing hot blast of fire was enough to cause it to join its brother in Haidia.

Before the contractor could take his shot, a stream of high-velocity rocks pelted him right in the face, causing him to lose focus right at the critical moment. He was disoriented long enough to fail to dodge the shadow construct, taking two bull horns directly into his chest. The pyromancer exhaled what little air he had, the shock of the pain completely stunning him. The force of impact was so great that upon puncturing his chest, the bull actually lifted Rayse into the air and carried it further with its momentum.

The next thing he knew, the creature was blindly leaping into the pit of flames in a sacrificial act of servitude, with contractor still attached. The flames roared around him as they consumed his form, and the crowd cheered wildly at the sight of a gladiator dispatched. Red and blue mixed in with the white of the inferno, blazing blindingly bright for a moment before returning to its illusory white form.

[Hysteria]

Talen was left alone while the others tumbled and flung themselves about. The youth watched with patient blue eyes as one of his bulls was shot down and the other found its mark. The creature carried both itself and Rayse into the white flames in the middle of the room to which the audience erupted into a symphony of cheers and hoots. Compared to the crowd, the bloodlust of the gathered fighters was little more than puddle next to an ocean. Talen didn’t waste the time he had as the action played out. Shadows had wrapped themselves around his arms and legs. They worked quickly, knitting new skin and muscle to replace that which had been burned and torn away. The shadows on Talen’s legs shifted onto his pants, forming new material where it had been torn. On his arms however the shadows hardened into metal. The youth form his viciously clawed punch gauntlets. The black metal that ran from shoulder to fingertip shimmered in the white flickering light.

“Not a chance Rayse…” muttered Talen, “… this isn’t my first party.”

Talen’s words were to himself more than anyone, sitting just above audible. The child remembered the first time he had seen Rayse. It had been in a similar fight to this one, but there had been no teams and a few more people. Back then Talen had been far less powerful, and it had been Sei Orlouge that had claimed his head. The blue-eyed child would not be so gullible to believe that the man of fire would be killed by that very thing he controlled so easy. Talen wanted to move towards the white flames and stop whatever Rayse was planning, but despite knowing it was an illusion he could not bring himself. It still looked like it could birth something in horrible contradiction with his own essence. Every fibre of his body screamed at him to stay away from the flame.

“… and I thought I was the one making bull.”

Talen smiled at his own pun, using the humour to cut through his own doubt even as groans came from the few observant viewers in the audience. With Rayse momentarily gone from sight, Talen was left with only one option; attacking Storm. The child’s feet lifted of the ground as he floated into the air. The youth’s hands lifted out to the sides with his metallic palms opened to the roof. Beneath dark clawed hands fire burst to life. At first it trailed into the air as natural and free as any flame, though lacking the brilliance of the fire in the middle of the room. Talen brought his hands together in front of himself and pushed the fires as one. The twin flames were smothered from sight, but as Talen pulled his hands apart each palm carried a ball of glowing red and white.

Talen didn’t wait to act, Storm had enough time to act as it was. He reach back and flung the first ball towards the lightning rouge. The magic would have carried more weight if it not for the white light that bathed the fighters from the central flame. The attack looked nearly insignificant as he fell towards its target. Talen held the second ready to follow up his attack, the explosion was small enough that he needed to place his second carefully or waste the display.

Each of ball was a compression of fire and force. While they lacked the simple effectiveness of Rayse’s attack, they carried enough heat to char flesh and enough force to crack rock. Encased in a fragile case of force, they would explode on first contact, regardless of how soft or hard it was. The resulting eruption would be enough to encase a man whole, but Talen didn’t think himself that lucky, nor his opponents that unskilled for that to occur.

[Storm Veritas]

If there was one consistent feature of the group of four, it was inconsistency. Four elite warriors, drawn from remote reaches of Althana, were acting as four isolated units, with no coordination nor semblance of any sort of orchestrated ensemble. Such was the melody of chaos, and it was likely the Puppeteers would have it no other way.

Rayse had allowed himself to be enveloped in the great white fire. Storm was certain that his actions were intentional. He had seen the pyromancer disappear in a fashion not different than Talen; had Valentino assessed real danger in his the mighty ivory blaze, he never would have been driven back into the flames.

William had inexplicably been honest during his exposition. He was interested in ceasing the game, and leapt up to defeat the Game Masters upon the floating pedestal. It would cause true anarchy; exactly the type of foray that would normally be a perfect fit for the elemental magicians. Unfortunately for Storm Veritas, his hands were very much full with the boy-apparition.

This F*CKING KID…

Talen had proven himself to be an immutable force of nature; a projectile wielding savant who seemed intent on nothing but dealing death, and doing so with an endless arsenal of brutality. Instead of joining his partner, or lamenting the loss of his conjured bulls, the shadowy figure produced a great ball of gleaming pinkish energy. For an instant, Storm hoped it some form of power electric, as the automaton blasted away and the wiry wizard instinctively leapt. Of course, there was no such luck.

The first ball was hot, searing and splitting the stone floor beneath Storm. Storm controlled his fall by producing a small magnetic field drawn forth from the metallic deposits in the stone, but it did little more than drop him a foot from dead-center, in a red hot spray of what appeared to be newborn lava. The second ball, naturally, was lobbed directly at his chest.

“Oh, for f*cks sake!”

Storm’s hand rifled to his satchel, finding the cold, unyielding presence of metal instantly. He pressed his finger through the smooth orifice, feeling an instant paralysis. The Might of Moxxilus, a plan golden trinket he had once called “more useless than tits on a bull” instantly consumed him with its power, encasing Storm Veritas in a hard crusted shell of green stone. The mass of jade crystallized in a blink, protecting him like an ancient KaBoom Beetle encrusted in Concordian Blood Willow sap. The second orb of red and white splashed harmlessly off the side of the jade. The shell metaphorically laughed at the fireball as it remained intact, unflinching.

Unscathed to the now-howling audience, Storm was in the midst of a full blown panic attack. He had managed brilliantly to put the ring on with the deft and precision of a master craftsman, but had no earthly idea how to get the damned thing off. So tightly compressed in his emerald cocoon was the warrior that he couldn’t breathe, let alone retract his finger. It was mildly encouraging that he could widen his eyelids in fear, but for the life of him, his finger was not moving an iota.

In a moment of absolute brilliance, the world-weary traveler discovered the tailor-made escape route.

The ring IS made of metal, you stupid asshole…

Generating the pulse of electromagnetic energy took precisely zero movement, and sent the ring rocketing through the green stone like a hot knife through fresh bread. Immediately, the green stone crumbled about him, dropping Storm to the ground in a splay of exhaustion and incredulous awareness of his own stupidity. He gasped for the thick, chalky air, enjoying the gritty taste of stone-dust on his tongue as panic hit him once more.

Have to get up, you know that little bastard has some other shit cookin’ already.

[Revenant]

Hot winds whipped around William as the revenant focused his molten core in on itself. The winds caught him up and bore him aloft, adding to the momentum from his jump and bringing the platform quickly within reach. William lashed out as soon as he was able, slamming into the magical barrier around it with all the force he could muster. But though a blow like that from William’s enhanced strength would have been enough to powder rock or crush steel, the shield remained firm. So William struck again, and when that blow landed with no appreciable result, he struck again.

No surprised, William yielded. He fell away from the barrier to assess the damage that he’d done. All that he had to show for his display of aggression was a spider web of cracks against the amber surface which were already sealing themselves. William growled in frustration at the sight, then matched the slow, rolling speed of the pedestal’s orbit around the chamber to better study what he was up against.

Lines of power formed across the barrier’s surface as William watched, his destructive enlightenment scouring the magical shield for its secrets. What he saw was an incredibly complex and interwoven conjuration, something specially crafted to thwart himself and the other combatants who’d been assembled to be the playthings of the men inside.

William concentrated and let his sight delve deeper into the shield. Awareness of the outside world fell away as he slipped further into the magic’s depths. The roaring of the crowd, the chaos going on beneath him, and even the colored men he so desperately wanted to kill faded to a distant murmur in the back of William’s consciousness.

As brazen as the colored men might be to present themselves in front of their combatants, they weren’t stupid. It became apparent to William that the colored men had studied Talen, Rayse, Storm, and himself with serious intensity. The interlocking wards that made up the bulk of the shield were extremely resistant to the fire and lightning elemental magic that the majority of them possessed, plus the darker shadow magic that Talen employed. Such a working would be all but immune to their magic.

Physically, the enchantments had not only been laid out atop each other, but they’d been woven together like a suit of mail. Striking one point pulled energy from the areas of the shield around it as well, so that to strike one part of the shield was to strike the whole thing. It would take a concerted effort of force across the shield’s entire surface to crack the thing, something which William doubted that even four such talented warriors could accomplish.

Still, for all its built-in resilience, the shield had a weak spot. A thread existed in the barrier’s magic, traced across the surface in black lines and woven throughout its structure. It was a single point of failure that had been deliberately built into the magic. All it would take to bring the shield down would be a single command. The correct command.

Knowing this just made William angrier. His destructive enlightenment only showed him that a phrase was needed to break the shield, it didn’t tell him what the phrase was. It could literally be anything. He hurled himself back into the barrier with a snarl, hammering at it with futile effort.

His renewed assault finally caught the notice of the colored men. They paused their game and looked at the burning warrior with a mixture of surprise and amusement. The man in the white made a mocking gesture and said something to his companion, though William couldn’t hear it through the shield. The man in black shrugged and stepped back to scan the floor beneath the board. He laughed when he saw the fallen game piece then casually picked it up put it back on the edge of the board. The two men gave William a contemptuous nod and then resumed play.

“Thaynes curse it all,” William roared. He needed help is he was going to have any chance of getting to the colored men. Still hovering next to the pedestal, William looked down and took stock of the situation.

Talen and Storm were still trading magic back and forth, and Rayse was nowhere to be seen. Had Talen killed the contractor? If that were the case then he and Talen could simply finish this stinking affair by killing Storm and then working together against their next set of foes. Just like they’d done since being reunited in Scara Brae.

William coalesced his power into a shot of liquid fire and gripped it in his molten claws. He watched Storm intently, waiting for the perfect opportunity to hurl the fiery explosive. It would all be over soon. The staged matches, the travel, the cryptic messages delivered by shadowy figures, none of it would matter in a few minutes. He’d finally be free from being a pawn in this sordid affair. All he’d have to do would be to release his magma shot at Storm’s unprotected back.

A staggering realization hit William. He and Talen had been given a message in Scara Brae at the start of all this. A single phrase which both of them had received. It had brought them together and then driven them to Lornius. William paused for a single moment, looking between Storm and the amber shield hovering next to him. Then he placed his free hand against the magical field and said, “Artur Eld 1124.”

The barrier shattered.

This time it was confusion that reigned on the colored men’s faces as they whipped around towards him. The confusion quickly turned to terror as they saw the glowing orb of liquid fire clutched in William’s hand. Both men reached for the weapons sheathed at their hips, but William was faster. Snarling in victorious rage, William’s hand shot forward, releasing the magma shot directly at them.

[Rayse Valentino]

Bunnying of Revenant approved.

Alsacia was the realm of angels and nebulosity. The translucent sky was an endless ocean of water that floated overhead, allowing an endless day but also the threat of rain, whose destructive properties forced the inhabitants of the plane to construct elaborate ways of redirecting the water from their cloud kingdom. Rayse and William were on on of those clouds, which like the others had the unique property of being able to support the weight of land on it. Below the cloud were more floating landmasses, and deeper and darker was an endless abyss.

Rayse had managed to escape The Plane of Undeath despite William’s betrayal, and now he was fighting William to the death. They fought for several hours, neither of them gaining the upper hand. The small cloud they were on was the host to ancient ruins for the winged civilization that lived here, but by now nothing was left besides a few decayed, rudimentary stone structures. Being two beings of fire, their battle had set the whole place on fire several times over. Rayse was dumbfounded that William had improved this much since their first meeting, and Arcus was equally astounded that he was getting a harder fight than even his duels with Jensen Ambrose.

However, Rayse wasn’t here to have a fair fight. It would have been nice to humiliate William before killing him, but ultimately as long as the man died he was satisfied. The plateau they were on started to shake and crumble. Despite the special features of the cloud, enough heat caused it to start dissipating. Everything on top of it was starting to fall through. William accused Rayse of being suicidal by stoking the flames this much, but Rayse grinned and put on his special gloves. As the enchanted gloves granted him large, white wings, the land gave way and the older man descended into the abyss.

* * * * *

Of course, this was not enough to kill William, and despite their mutual hate for each other, they found a target far more deserving of their entity: The winged bastard who threw them into the nightmare in the first place. After escaping Alsacia and wandering the planes, they finally made their way back to Althanas. Rayse wasn’t gone too long, but William felt like he endured a lifetime in the planes, and had no intention of going back.

The contractor finally clawed his way out of the pit, once again mentally ridiculing the fakeness of this fire. Sure, it was hot, but it was not the fabled White Fire of Annihiliation, which would have simple wiped him from existence rather than burning him. An arm reached up and slammed down on the stone of the arena, with his head and shoulder being lifted up behind it. He was partially hidden by the flames, but he was so short of breath that he could hardly make use of that advantage.

Luckily, this pit was not endless. Once they reached the bottom, the bull burst into a shadowy mess after being consumed by flames. Rayse’s resistance had afforded him immunity to such a fate, but he was still bleeding out from the chest wounds and was forced to use a memory of his form to restore himself. With very little power left, Rayse wasnted to end this quick and aimed his right index finger at Talen. He had the element of surprise, and it would only take one clean hit to incinerate the little punk.

Yet, he grit his teeth and tried to subdue his rage. William’s actions intrigued him. Rayse didn’t know when he learned to fly, but now he was attacking the magical barrier. It was looking fruitless for a while, but then suddenly he somehow broke it. Rayse couldn’t help but laugh, somehow William had all the luck, but this was luck that the pyromancer could benefit from. He finally pulled himself from the pit and got up, the holes in his clothes in the front and back now visible. He left most of his weapons in the chamber foolishly, but his knife was still strapped to his ankle, and some of his spices were in his pockets.

He could have either tried to fight and keep the restoration as a last resort, or use the rest of his power to get onto the floating platform with William and those chess assholes.

The decision was easy.

He jumped up into the air, his body turning red and bursting into hundreds of tiny wisps of fire. William’s molten attack hit the man in white, causing him to fall to the floor in agony as the lava attack melted away his insides. The man in black backed up nervously, "It wasn't supposed to be like this! You were supposed to fight to the death!"

He was ready to attempt an escape, but then found a knife in his back.

Rayse pulled the weapon out, whispering, “That’s what you get for taking my shoes.”

A man without good shoes was no man at all, and Rayse could not forgive such a disgrace. As the man in black collapsed, the contractor burned off the blood with fire, glaring at William, pointing his right index finger at him. It was hard to tell whenever they met if they were enemies or not. They seemed to ebb and flow between foe and ally, and now was no different.

The crowd began chanting, “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!”

The warriors continued staring at each other, but then Rayse pointed his index finger at the crowd for once.

“Say, William, are you up for a spot of the old ultra-violence?”

[Hysteria]

Talen turned his head to the floating platform. He had failed to entertain the idea that they could somehow bring down the barrier protecting the two puppeteers before finishing the fight. Yet, the moment it was done, it seemed as if it was always destined to be so. Fire seared through one man, and cold steel silenced the other. As their lives slipped away Talen felt the dark strings of machinations fall from his body. He was free and there were no barriers any longer.

Rayse pointed his finger towards the crowd gathered above them. They bayed and bleated for blood, unaware that the lions were now free among the sheep. Talen held no ill will towards Storm or Rayse, and perhaps in a moment of weakness Talen would even admit some ounce of respect. What he didn’t care for was the people watching him in a game not of his choosing. He had competed in fights many times before, some even to the death. However, in every case it had been by his choice. The child swore this would be the only exception as he narrowed his eyes and glanced at Storm. The rouge was in no position to attack, and Rayse and William seemed to have come to some agreement earlier. Talen swallowed the bitter taste at not defeating Rayse for the sweeter dish of revenge. When those thoughts had passed the blue-eyes monster disappeared.

Talen let his eyes scan the crowd for a moment from the back of the seats. It had been hard to see while fighting what had been above them. Rows of stone seats encircled the chamber, lined with simple pillows it was as Spartan in appearance as it was impressive in architecture. The subtleties of the building were lost on Talen, such as the way the stone rings met perfectly with each other, or the way they must have been hewn from huge quarries.

Disgusting…. Rotten pieces of meat. thought Talen. It was the normality of the people in the crowd that turned Talen’s stomach. Average folk, dressed for a day out and a good laugh. They had no idea what he had been through, or what he was capable of. Behind their shield they had peered at monsters. Four men, the most normal of which was a dragon slayer.

“Where’s that snotty kid gone?” came a voice from somewhere in front of Talen. With the sudden death of the two puppeteers the crowd were eyes forward and completely missed the child standing behind them.

The bliss of ignorance faded away, replaced with a shrill cry of fear. Twin bulls, black as the darkest ebony, charged through the stands. Chaos spread quickly as each bovine tore and smashed through onlookers. Each had gone in a different direction and herded the crowd towards the far side of the stands. If Rayse or William didn’t dispatch the growing throng, then Talen would oblige. Talen leapt from one thick stone seat to another with easy movements. The cries of pain and fear were his music and he, the humble player moved through the frets and struts of his time. His cold, dark gauntlets lashed out amid his leaps, catching a man in the throat here, and a woman in the stomach there. The smile that was on Talen’s blood speckled face was genuine.

There are no strings on me!

[Storm Veritas]

In his travels, Storm Veritas had seen several forms of chaos. He’d assassinated politicians in broad daylight, traveled amidst the front lines within the theater of war, and felt the asphyxiating terror as Moonwing flooded Jormungstadt. Regardless of these harrowing experiences, nothing had ever felt as omnipresent and inescapable as the concentrated focus of tens of thousands, resolute on killing four exceptionally terrible men.

The screams came in a wave towards him, a terrible blend of shrieks, swears, and rageful groans. The foursome had killed the beloved overseers, and now Talen was killing the spectators. Thousands flooded for the well-dispersed exits beneath the grandstands, as the beastly black brahmas rampaged through the crowds. Thousands more made their ways over the cement retaining wall, fixated (or so it seemed) on killing the electromancer first.

Seriously, what the f*ck did I do to these assholes?

His body became a blur of frenetic energy, darting, dashing, slashing and spraying electric fury. Blood sprayed in horrible fountains from the fast collapsing bodies of a mass predominantly comprised of men. His pain and soreness washed away like sand beneath the tide as a completely primal instinct took over him, the speed of the wizard initially rendering the assaults of normal humans altogether useless. The crowd had assaulted from all sides of the magician, boldly circling him and closing in with a suffocating squeeze.

Bodies began to pile, however were immediately backfilled with more furious assailants. They began to reach him as fatigue began to lay a soft hand on his shoulder, reminding Storm of mortality’s cruel limits.

Shit, can’t keep up with them, why aren’t they getting scared?

Veritas redirected a thrown knife into the open-mawed face of an angered assailant, catching the long sweet quiet take hold of an attacker in his periphery. Another blast of quick lightning, and down went another in a charred heap, smoke stemming from cored eye sockets. Like the mongoose, he sprung with dual blades at another corner, striking out at two men with sweeping slashes, spilling intestines beneath them before leaping back to the center of the fast closing circle. With each bold attack he pressed back a segment of the horde, however they continued to close on him. Storm felt the great burn of energy pulsing from him; his blood stained skin emanating a pale blue glow as he continued to launch assaults in futility.

There were too many; far too many, and these fools didn’t scatter at the sight of the carnage. These mongers fed on violence, growing more aggressive with each newly minted death. They collectively fought through the best efforts of the electromancer. At first it was an errant punch that found its mark, soon after he felt the grazing whisper and burn of a knife strike. Like a great beetle fighting off an endless plague of ants, the end result would be inevitable.

“RAYSE!! RAYSE HELP!!”

There was no answer within earshot this time. There was no convenient escape route; no pillars to climb or balconies to leap to. The mob closed in, men grabbing at his shoulders and raining punches and scratches all over him. Gazing up, the Gods were nowhere to be found to answer him, only the ugly stone roof of the great arena.

F*ck us all, then. F*ck… You… All…

He stretched his body up, breathing deep to use every ounce of his energy to unleash his most powerful blast of electric energy directly above him. The centered ceiling of the great arena exploded, sending massive, wagon-sized slabs of sun-drenched marble to the arena below. The sun flooded in through the new roof of the now-open coliseum, however the mob remained undeterred, completely overwhelming Storm Veritas in layers of awful, angry human contention and resentment.

Those layers of rage were the first to feel the wrath of the Gods, as the keystone landed upon them all with a titanic crash.

[Revenant]

Chaos reigned.

William watched the carnage unfolding with an exuberant enthusiasm. Killing the colored men had been a catalyst towards destruction. He’d been freed. They’d all been freed. And it seemed that none of the combatants had been terribly pleased with being made a pawn for the amusement of the crowd.

Impassioned cries for blood turned to screams. The pleasure and enjoyment that rolled through the crowd was gone, replaced by bloodlust and carnage. From high up on his perch, William could feel all of it. The cracking bone of those trampled under the hooves of Talen’s rampaging shadow beasts, the popped, cooked flesh of Storm’s victims, each life called out to him, feeding the rampaging beast inside him until William’s destructive nature had filled itself on blood and violence.

“Ultra-violence,” William grunted at Rayse. He idly kicked the smoldering ruins of the man in white, the slight contact hurling the remains into the rioting crowd thanks to his supernatural strength. William grinned at his fiery companion, the heated air around him growing in time with his excitement. “Why not?”

A jagged spear of lightning tore through the space behind William’s empty words as Storm’s attack detonated the building’s ceiling. William could feel the entire structure shift, huge blocks of material suddenly jarred loose by the blast. His molten core still possessed enough wrath to summon several more explosive blasts, similar to the one that had killed the man in white. William let another magma shot coalesce in his claws.

“Good hunting,” he said to Rayse and then took to the air.

Spiralling away from the falling debris, William gave the arena an appraising study. His destructive enlightenment showed William just where to strike to maximize the effect of Storm’s attack and in a flash he sent the magma shot hurling towards a support, then summoned and threw a second at a section of wall twenty feet beside it.

The twin balls of flame hurtled through the air over the roaring melee and exploded brilliantly against the structure points William had targeted. Stone, mortar, and reinforcing beams of wood vaporized under the heat and pressure, just as the revenant had known they would. Suddenly an entire third of the building was left with nothing to support it and collapsed over the stands.

Hundreds were instantly ground to paste beneath the tons of rubble, hundreds more would likely die before assistance ever arrived to dig them free of the rubble, and still hundreds more were left incapacitated. In a single move, William had turned half the crowd into casualties.

“Did not know who they were fucking with,” William snarled in demonic pleasure. Then, using the last of his molten heat, William flew up and out of the building into the bright Lyridian daylight.

[Rayse Valentino]

Rayse’s jaw dropped as his arm slowly drooped down to his sides. He was planning to fire off a warning shot to cause fear and panic, but this was a bit… extreme. Talen had just decided to go full psychopath on the crowd, William followed suit, and Storm was getting swarmed by people just as crazy as their attackers. He pressed a palm against his forehead, lamenting the growing headache. He tucked the knife away..

This whole month was nothing but misunderstandings. Rayse’s devil-may-care attitude led him into some of these situations, but the rottenness of the world as a core bothered him the most. Was it really so different from the planes? The William he met in the opera house was a man who wanted to see if his power could be used for positive ends. The William he met in the planes was subdued, logical, and lacking empathy, but still had some notions of justice. The William he met just now seemed more unhinged than anything. Rayse guessed that Arcus was roped into this in a similar manner, but before he could ask, the goddess-damned molten man flew away like the ugliest phoenix he ever saw.

A voice came from the floor of the floating platform, “How did he kn, know?”

Rayse looked down, seeing the man in black wading in a puddle of his own bood. “By the goddess, you’re still alive? I must be getting rusty.”

“That passphrase… He- cough! H-he shouldn’t have ever known it. There are only a handful of people that could’ve- hack!”

“So that’s how he broke it, eh? I guess someone wanted you dead more than us.” Rayse paused. “Actually, I’m not sure why I thought you were responsible for this in the first place. I was just following William’s lead there. So, who told him the magic words that spelled out your doom?”

The words fell on deaf ears, or rather dead ears. Rayse peered over the edge at Storm’s situation, which looked like it was improving due to William creating some natural obstacles. However, one of the falling ceiling parts crashed into the platform, sending it and the contractor hurdling towards the ground. The pyromancer managed to jump off before impact, thinking he was about to join Storm on the ground floor of the most absurd riot he ever witnessed.

However, he was staring directly at a huge, overturned keystone where he thought the lightning mage and the angry mob were fighting. Putting two and two together, Rayse started to dislodge the rubble, using his knife as a wedge where appropriate. He was lucky the metal didn’t bend, then again he couldn’t fathom the material it was made out of after his fight with Denebriel. The pile of bodies under the stone was a mass of limbs dressed in blood, but he didn’t give up and removed bodies until he found Storm’s gentlemanly visage amongst the rabble. He pulled out Storm, who looked absolutely ghastly. He lost a lot of blood, and Rayse couldn’t tell how many bones were broken, but he was still talking, so that was a good sign.

Lighting the few mini-bombs that were in his pocket, Rayse detonated them nearby in order to give some space between them and the mob. The air was filled with dust, smoke, and bits of debris from the crumbling colosseum.

“I see you’re having fun,” said Rayse. “I get that. But consider this: Let’s get the fuck out of here?”

Storm was relieved that Rayse was not as bloodthirsty as the shadowy twerp. “F*ck yes, man. Please.”

On second thought, with Talen distracted, this could be my one chance to take him out. He’s already proving to be the most dangerous Ixian I’ve ever seen… then again if he’s with William, maybe he’s changed his allegiances. Leaving him be could cause me a lot of problems in the future. Then again, maybe not.

Rayse took a few steps back, preparing to run into Storm the same way he did in Radasanth. He had enough power left to take them both out of there, but only barely.

Storm and I were likely stand-ins for their real opponents- the giant skeleton and phantom spear man. They were… far more intimidating opponents. I could see William not hesitating at all if he saw something resembling a Servitor. But aside from that… what about me? Am I just living on borrowed time here with this curse? Always being one temper tantrum away from unleashing extra-planar demons onto the world. Trying to ignore it by doing the most dangerous, bone-headed shit I could think of. Becoming more like William. But after meeting Taische, Kryos, Elite Optic, Shin, Talen, and reuniting with William, maybe rather than trying to magic away the curse, I could… trigger it.

The demons were pretty brutal when he encountered them, but people on Althanas might actually be able to match them. What’s the worst that could happen? The apocalypse? The Akashiman especially seemed to have the right abilities for the job. Maybe if he found him and explained his situation, despite the apparent contempt for what the man did, it could work out in Rayse’s favor.

The contractor sprinted into Storm, causing them both to dematerialize into hundreds of fiery wisps.

[Hysteria]

Talen was the last one amid the chaos. From the child’s back four long black tendrils of darkness lashed out at anything that came near. Were it not for the arms of N’Jal he would have been overrun by the civilians when their fear had turned to lunacy. They were sheep, running and acting without truly understanding what was happening. In Talen’s cold blue eyes, they were nothing, of no importance and of no care.

Talen’s cloths were marked with blood from those he had killed. His porcelain skin flecked with red, his ebony hair slick with crimson. He couldn’t turn his gaze from the roof for long, with rubble still falling freely around him from the shattered hole above. Despite the feeling of freedom that had washed over him, it seemed suddenly hollow the moment he was left crushing no-name civilians between rubble and blood.

“Dammit…” muttered Talen as one of the arms of N’Jal upon his back smashed into a man charging at him from behind. The impact with deep and thick as bone snapped and the man was sent him bouncing across the seats.

Once again the child had been left last amid the chaos and death. The sinking of the Cudlitz Pride, the ship that carried Talen and William to the accursed arena was nothing compared to the bloodbath around him. Despite it all he had failed to get any answers. In bitter reflection he could see that it was only his sense of anger that had been temporarily sated.

Have I gone too far Kyla? Is this the monster of Eiskalt? Talen’s thoughts drifted to the faces of dead comrades even as his eyes turned skyward. The blue light of day seemed to call him from the blood stained basin. Deep rich crimson was a stark contrast to the white finery of marble. Talen lifted off his feet, letting his body glide around falling rubble towards the sky bound exit. Once more he was following William’s trails, but the child didn’t know if he wanted to find the man of molten blood again. Where the Revenant went death followed, even more than the child of darkness was used to.

[Storm Veritas]

(The End)

[Logan]

I expect to have this judged by end of the week. (6/25/16)

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Hello everyone. Firstly i'd like to apologise profoundly to the competitors of the LCC final for the wait in judging. Unfortunately Logan is unable to produce a judgment so it has fallen to me to ensure the final reaches a proper conclusion.

I expect to have the judgment up by Friday, but because this is my first tournament judgment my draft will have to be approved by Dirks so please bear with me. This will ensure that ths contestants get the highest quality judgment that this tournament demands.

Once again I apologise for the wait.

Yours,
Shinsou

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

Judge's note: Thank you all for your patience. I am finally able to deliver your judgment! I really enjoyed this thread and the effort put in by both parties.


Judgment


Unreasonable Gentlemen

Storm Veritas

Story

Story: 6

On a base level, I enjoyed your contribution to the story but I felt that your presence served more as a vehicle to support Rayse. Completely accidentally, I suspect, this seemed to put the usually prominent Storm in the unusual position of a supporting role, of which the purpose seemed to be to just “to keep something happening” until you all turned on the chessmasters.

I felt this was confirmed with the pairings in the fight – whilst Rayse and William fleshed out their history, it felt almost as if you and Hysteria were left to your own devices which, inevitably, led to the only course of action possible; a fight between you both before the crowd turned on you. Nonetheless, it was a role you performed well and nothing felt artificial or contrived in the build up to the fight or in the skirmish itself.

Setting: 8

As hinted at in technique, you describe the various settings in a way that brings them to life and makes them seem real without overcooking them. Your strength here is how you not only ensure homage to the larger details but also, quite surgically, pay attention to the smaller intricacies that add splashes of colour to the scene (such as your description of the room Storm wakes in). The way you later used the raging crowds and the destruction of the arena roof helped to add value to the tale by creating a tense atmosphere and your use of this helped to improve your score here.

Pacing: 6

The same reasons for a lower score apply here as they did in the story category. The tempo of the thread and Storm’s involvement at the start felt right, but seemed to degrade towards the end of the thread and his apparent demise in his last-ditch effort to stem the raging horde was too abrupt to leave me content. Whilst Rayse wrote a more profound conclusion, your own seemed quite anti-climatic.

Character

Communication: 8

You performed very well indeed with Storm in this area. His colourful dialogue and logical thought process stood out in this thread, especially in how he viewed being controlled by the “puppet-masters” and his feelings once Talen had chosen to attack. Then, finally, the conveyance of his fear of being swallowed up by the furious masses. The way you allow his emotions to bleed through via the dialogue allowed the reader to delve into the inner workings of Storm’s mind in a way which few can do.

Action: 7

This is what I’d call a quintessential, if not slightly standard, performance. Nothing he did deviated from his character, from the characteristic blasts of that vicious lightning towards his enemies to a last-gasp attempt to fend off the angry mob by blasting the roof and raining down destruction upon everyone. The decision to protect himself with the Might of Moxxilus was a quick witted one and even more so was the escape from the jade cocoon. I also felt you were fair and justified with the hits you took and the ones you didn’t.

Persona: 8

Storm is a character that, when the mood takes him, can provide the reader with a wealth of dimensions but when it comes down to it he is who he is. In this thread, the lightning mage seems comfortable in his own skin and doesn’t seem vulnerable to tangents of personality. Years of experience has forged an understanding of how coldly the world can work and the kill or be killed approach he took with Talen and William is example enough of this, before the chaos brought on by the deaths of the chessmasters. All of this came together nicely to encapsulate what Storm is all about.

Prose

Mechanics: 8

For the most part you produced a solid and well written piece; one, I would point out, whose only real spelling error was in the thirteenth in-character post (“Well, shit. If I can’t fry the little bastard, I’m pretty well screw…”) where you obviously meant to say “screwed”. However, bearing in mind the fine margins we are dealing with in tournament judging, I did have to mark you down for some minor grammatical errors. The main offender was sentence fragmentation (where a semi-colon was needed to correctly break up the sentence and give the correct context to what you were portraying) but you weren’t alone here. In fact you were, overall, the strongest competitor in this category and your ability to write so solidly under both time and performance pressure is reflected in your score.

Technique: 9

The one thing I liked about your writing was how you brought in an entire spectrum of literary devices to give the reader a complete picture of your story. You marry vivid description with easy to understand terminology that brings a scene to life and makes the piece very easy on the eye, but having said that there were one or two occasions where I thought you might have been a little overkill on the descriptions. That said, as the reader, I was never particularly confused as to what was going on and why or how. Your technique is well executed and well practised, with only a minor adjustment to the score to reflect my point above.

Clarity: 7

At first I struggled with how you had both come to the conclusion you were in Lornius, given that you had woken in a dark, featureless room. This was never really remedied, as although Rayse explained that there was a bit of “reverse probing” after being stabbed, I never really understood how or why this happened. Barring this, nothing else that you said or did was unclear.

Wildcard: 10

As per Logan’s guidance on the use of the wildcard in the LCC, full points have been awarded for posting within the 24 hour time-limit.

Final score: 77


Rayse Valentino

Story

Story: 8

I felt you had a bit of a slow start and at one point wondered where the plot was going, but then you more than made up for it by crafting a compelling, gripping tale that you weaved brilliantly into your battle. Your combined history with William Arcus and the Plain of Undeath served to form the core of your presence here and put Rayse and William at the centre of the thread, almost reducing the usually prominent Storm and Talen to supporting roles of which the purpose was just keep the thread ticking over until you all turned on the chessmasters.

Whilst I cannot deny that you and Revenant put in remarkable individual displays in this area, as reflected in your scores, I also can’t help but feel that the one-sided approach affected the balance of your team up until the end when everything coalesced together to form a rebellion against the chessmasters.

Setting: 7

Whereas Storm brings the setting to life, I feel your own description of setting tends to be perhaps a little more “matter of fact”. This isn’t always a bad thing, and it is something I felt you improved upon in this round compared to previous ones, but I still feel there is room for improvement in actually being able to make the reader visualize where you are. I did however enjoy your description of your movements in the Upper City during your flashback.

Pacing: 7

As I said in Storm’s section, the tempo of the thread at the start generally felt right but I felt you did a better job of upholding that pace with your writing than he did with his. Whilst Storm’s conclusion seemed a bit abrupt, your own was more in line with what I would have expected (although still a little sudden). The thread, perhaps, could have overall done with more consistency between you both from one scene to the next.

Character

Communication: 7

In conjunction with the way you portrayed his persona, you also did a remarkable job at maintaining a high quality of internal and external dialogue. Rayse’s words and thoughts were always appropriate and rarely long or drawn out without good reason.

My biggest issue here was not what you did with Rayse, as such, but the way you bunnied Storm’s dialogue early on. Storm has a very particular style – crass, vulgar and direct. A line in your first post (““We were stabbed? All I remember is uh, bleeding, and then I saw you and you were bleeding. I only remember like… a second of it. Who did this to us?”) caught my eye as simply odd and unfitting of Storm Vertias’s typical dialogue and resembled instead something closer to Rayse (with the “like” and “uh” pauses between words). Luckily there weren’t too many instances of this, but it was enough to make me recoil a bit when I read it.

Action: 8

Throughout this clash of titans, most of what Rayse did followed what I’d come to expect of him in parallel with the story and his character. There were no massively destructive dramatics, but instead a range of well thought out attacks and intricate nuances that helped both your pacing and the overall feel of your posts. The only time I questioned why the pyromancer did something was when he suggested to William they turned on the crowd as it seemed a bit out of place at that point in the fight. Otherwise, you did well.

Persona: 9

Throughout this tournament, Logan noted how impressed he was with your growth and I concur with that assessment. In each round you have developed Rayse more and more until the final, which has really been a fantastic culmination of your efforts throughout the tournament. His fears, his thoughts, his entire world was laid to bare and the flashbacks with William helped this no end. There were moments of dark humour (“Rayse pulled the weapon out, whispering, “That’s what you get for taking my shoes.”) that nicely punctuated a more serious side of him, but never felt out of place.

Prose

Mechanics: 7

For the most part, your mechanics were sound, but there were a few errors in the text which were probably as a result of the time pressure you were under. These consisted mostly of typos and the odd accidental repetition, but these were ones that should have been picked up with a basic spellcheck and a quick glance through. Also I would recommend that you separate your larger paragraphs out a bit – some of the text was, whilst grammatically correct, quite blocky and not particularly easy on the eye.

Technique: 7

What I liked about your work was that you didn’t try to over-compensate and during the times you were fleshing out your history with William, you really pulled me in to the writing and gripped me. You weren’t overbearing or clumsy with description at all but to really put that glossy finish on your work I felt you could add a little bit more literary technique to help add those missing splashes of colour that bring a scene to life.

Clarity: 7

As I said in Storm’s section, at first I struggled with how you had both come to the conclusion you were in Lornius. I never really felt this was remedied, as although Rayse explained that there was a bit of “reverse probing” after being stabbed, I never really understood how or why this happened. That said, nothing else that you said or did was unclear or confusing.

Wildcard: 10

As per Logan’s guidance on the use of the wildcard in the LCC, full points have been awarded for posting within the 24 hour time-limit.

Final score: 77


Super Awesome Fun Time, Best Pals Go!

Revenant

Story

Story: 8

“Artur Eld 1124”. That one line of dialogue hooked me immediately. What did it mean? Why was William pottering about barefoot on Lornius, muttering this to himself over and over? It grabbed my attention and kept me reading. From the first post, you told a fantastic tale that was entwined brilliantly with the battle. The combined history with Rayse and the conflict between you here formed the nucleus of the plot and put you both at the core of the thread, but as I said above this reduced the Talen to more of a supporting role of which the purpose was just keep the thread ticking over. The way that you brought the thread full circle with “Artur Eld 1124” being the passcode to destroy the puppeteer’s protection, though, was brilliant. Well done.

Setting: 7

When it comes to setting, I find you tend to focus more on the important details and leave the smaller ones to the imagination. This is both a strength and a weakness. However, you did a fantastic job of portraying the xenophobia of Lornius at the start and your strength here is how you form a good setting without flooding posts with little irrelevances. Your re-telling of William’s experience in the Plain of Unlife was good and your final post portrayed well the absolute chaos of the incensed mob as they tried to overcome the four warriors. Good job.

Pacing: 7

The pace of your writing felt right for the thread and I didn’t feel the same degradation of tempo I did with Unreasonable Gentlemen. Indeed, the battle scenes were of real quality and I could feel the tension. My only real negative feeling was that your ending seemed a bit abrupt, with no real taste left for “what happens next for William” after you head out of the dome and back into Lyridia. Some might argue that wasn’t needed but I felt you did such a good job on the story that this would have been the perfect way to tie it all up.

Character

Communication: 6


William’s spoken dialogue is about as natural for the character as one could expect; gruff, colourful and, at the appropriate times, filled with rage. Everything he says rings true to his character. Where there was a little internal dialogue, such as thoughts or feelings, these were conveyed well (one such example being the fear during his flashback at the Plain of Unlife) but I would have liked to have seen more of these little thoughts to really crawl inside his head.


Action: 8

I believe that William stole the show when it came to action. Everything he did connected back to his character and it all started with that one-track mind thinking of only one thing once he saw Rayse. I loved the way the rage inside him made him ignore the puppeteers for the most part, but then eventually he weighed up the probabilities and realized the truth of his own manipulation after Rayses’s intervention. My favorite part was when the barrier was broken and William melted one of the chessmasters. It was brutal and fitting.


Persona: 7

Unlike the last round, where William’s personality sort of falls a bit flat under Talen, you really do well to re-establish that furious alpha-male footing again. Arcus is a beast of a man but is not without fear and this is portrayed well in the flashbacks, with the fear of the Plane of Unlife still burning in his mind. This time he is at the very least on equal footing with Talen in the team rather than being ordered about, which feels more natural, and the plot allowed you to reveal more of the real William to us in a way that wasn’t too detrimental. I still feel there is more to come from you though.

Prose

Mechanics: 8

You produced a solid, well written piece that failed to produce a single spelling error. As with Storm, I did have to mark you down for some minor grammatical errors and similarly it was mostly down to the simple placement of an apostrophe here or there to give the correct context to what you were portraying. That being said your ability to write so solidly under both time and performance pressure is rewarded in your score. Well done.


Technique: 7

The way you paint William as a dark and damaged victim of the Plane of Unlife is excellent even just for the few posts of content on the subject and I especially like the way that you linked this to your confrontation with Rayse. However, though your overall technique is good, it is just lacking that literary edge to take you to the top tier. Your approach to writing is generally well done, though, and I don’t want to take that away from you.

Clarity: 8

My final note is on your clarity. There barely any issues at all with this, mostly because there was really nothing convoluted in your posts. You did very well at keeping your posts easy to follow and effective at delivering the story.

Wildcard: 10

As per Logan’s guidance on the use of the wildcard in the LCC, full points have been awarded for posting within the 24 hour time-limit.

Final score: 76


Hysteria

Story

Story: 6.5

Although I felt you did a slightly better job here than Storm, the same comments apply in that I felt that your presence served more as a vehicle to support Revenant. I did enjoy your opening post which retained a sense of continuity, but later in the battle it still boiled down to the purpose of Talen being to just “to keep something happening” until you all turned on the chessmasters.

Being that as it may, I never found myself bored and regardless it was a role you performed to the best of your ability. I liked the fact you kept your continuity going to the end and gave a little nod to Eiskalt.

Setting: 6

I felt your approach to setting tended to be perhaps a little lapsidasical when compared with the others. This isn’t to say you did a bad job, but it is something I felt you could improve upon because most of the time I felt you had drawn me a skybox filled mostly with action and no description. Your opening post was a bit lazy when it came to detail, and I had to even re-read a section of your post to gather that you had entered a doorway. After that, you pretty much gave up on describing the arena which I couldn't help but feel disappointed with given your ability.

Although this improved later in the fight, I still felt a bit short changed by the overall quality. Actually being able to make the reader visualize where you are and what you are doing is so important and on more than one occasion I felt you were lagging behind in this department compared with the others.

Pacing: 7

This is one area where I felt you were one of the stronger competitors. The tempo of your posts seemed to ebb and flow in a way which felt more natural for your role, and I felt your conclusion didn't seem as abrupt as some of the others. Your battle was intense, and everything seemed to feel just right. That said, there is still room for improvement and with a better setting and story you would have likely scored 8 here.

Character

Communication: 6

You managed to uphold a decent level of communication with Talen without also doing anything particularly spectacular. The dialogue fit the character, insofar as nothing seemed out of place, but it mostly felt a bit bland amongst the other strong personalities. I did like the small reflection on Eiskalt at the end, though, and the question of whether or not Talen was a monster. That served to add a little character development into the mix.


Action: 8

What you lacked in setting and story you really made up for here. All of Talen's actions were in line with what i'd expect from the kid in the situation he was in, and the numerous creative ways you found to try and dispatch your opponents were simply awesome. From the shadow beasts to the poison shards, there wasn't a dull moment to be found and I didn't find that anything you did was too powerful for your character. I also quite liked the way your shadow magic wove around you to repair your attire and your skin. Good work.

Persona: 7

You do a very good job of playing Talen and rarely deviate away from his persona: that of a kid suffering from ADHD who also happens to wield incredible power and has somewhat questionable ethics. He believes he may be a monster, and the way his personality bleeds through into your writing you could be forgiven for agreeing with him. The use of his magic shows how relentless Talen can be when he wants to, but he shows an inquisitive side too that ultimately culminates in arriving with William to this place. However, with that said, I do believe that Talen still isn't the finished article, and that there is still plenty of potential there for some really good development in the future.


Prose

Mechanics: 5

Unfortunately, there were a few noticeable errors in your writing. A popular one was the incorrect context of “it’s”, and to explain what I mean I need to point you to your opening post (“It was cold, despite the sun’s gaze upon it’s wood and rising heat of day.” and two paragraphs later “William wrapped a hand around the handle, jerked it open, pulling it nearly off it’s hinges”). In your second post you mis-spell “pierce” (“indeed they could barely peirce leather”) but I’m putting all of these down to time pressure. There were a few more, but the point I need to make is the importance of using a spell-check to eliminate these typos, especially in a tournament where a few marks could mean the difference between a win and a loss.

Those mistakes aside, the rest of the writing was ok and laid out in a way that pleased the eye.


Technique: 7.5


Your overall technique is very good. The way you write when you are in full flow manages to pull the reader into your post and keep their attention firmly on what you are trying to convey without going off on a tangent. Your descriptions are vivid ("The charred flesh burnt through to tendons and bone dripped with fresh red blood. "), and I especially enjoyed the way you described the manifestation of the shadowy bulls, but because of this I found myself almost screaming at you through my monitor. Why did you not apply this level of effort to your setting? You unquestionably have all the tools there.

Clarity: 8

Other than having to re-read a section of your first post to determine where exactly you were going with Revenant (i.e the door), there were no real issues here and everything seemed pretty clear.



Wildcard: 10

As per Logan’s guidance on the use of the wildcard in the LCC, full points have been awarded for posting within the 24 hour time-limit.

Final score: 71

Final scores

Unreasonable Gentlemen: 77
Super Awesome Fun Time, Best Pals Go!: 73.5

Unreasonable Gentlemen win the 2016 LCC!

Rewards as follows:

Storm Veritas and Rayse Valentino receive 4,688 EXP & 185 GP each plus 6000 EXP & 20 AP tournament winnings.

Revenant and Hysteria receive 1125 EXP & 90 GP each plus 2000 EXP & 15 AP tournament winnings.

Congratulations!

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

All rewards have been added!