Atzar Kellon vs. Zook Murning

[Ther]

This match-up will last until 8 P.M. E.S.T. on 2/16/07. Remember, if you finish your battle early, I can score you early - and finishing early is a good, good thing always.

Best of luck!

[Atzar]

Adventure. Risk. Excitement.

Until recently, the mage had never believed that these three words would become such a major part of his life. He had grown up in Tel’Han, a sleepy little village in the Comb Mountains of Corone, full of mages and wizards and sorcerers of all sorts. To the average outsider, it would sound as if never a dull moment passed in the little town. Fireballs, demons, potions, and spells… life could surely never be boring.

It was.

The sad truth of the matter was that, while such magic was undoubtedly spectacular, it was rarely ever displayed. Rather than show off their skills in flamboyant displays of skill and imagination, the stuffy little community usually preferred to spend their days studying. Simply learning from books and tomes was enough for them. Atzar Kellon had felt the same.

Until a few months ago.

In those short months, Atzar’s life had changed. He had gone from the stereotype of his village to an adventurous, risk-taking boy who liked nothing better than a good challenge. He thought it had a lot to do with his recent journey into the caves underneath Tel’Han. He had gone down there to find Ceran Tumultos, a notorious traveler who had an inability to sit in the same place for more than a minute. He found the old man dead, trapped in a cave-in. Zirkan, however, wasn’t dead. The little blue dragon had become fast friends with Atzar, despite the little beast’s acidic tongue. He had decided to leave the caves with the mage and had lived with him ever since.

As he reminisced, the mage meandered up the steep, snowy mountain to the Great Hall, a large building that was home to one of Tel’Han’s only sources of entertainment: Charms. It was a game remarkably similar to the Citadel in the sense that the combatants could fight to the death with no fear of actually dying. The major difference was that no weapons were allowed; fighters had to possess magic for the game to even admit them into the arenas.

Atzar glanced down to the dragon that waddled by his side, tail swaying rhythmically behind him. A tinge of worry furrowed his brow. He was unsure of whether the game would admit Zirkan. Extraordinary though he was, the pygmy dragon had yet to display any magic.

“Stop worrying about it,” the dragon said, as if reading his thoughts. “I told you, I’ll be fine.”

Atzar didn’t respond; instead, he stopped in front of the big wooden door. They were there. He pulled the door open and stepped inside, relieved to feel the warmth of the indoors immediately caress his face. There were few people there, only one game in the corner with few spectators. Atzar ignored them, moving to another table instead.

Now that he was there, he could feel his hands begin to tremble. His heart raced in anticipation, and a chill flew down his spine. A grin sprang unbidden to his lips.

“You really enjoy this, don’t you?” Zirkan asked him with a reptilian smile of his own, obviously amused by Atzar’s sudden change in demeanor.

The mage’s grin widened. “Just wait,” he said. “You’ll see.”

He knew not who he was to battle that day. He knew not the outcome. All he knew was that, on that day, Tel’Han would not be so stuffy and boring. On that day, he would feed the craving for excitement that he had found within himself.

[Zook Murnig]

Who knew barbarism could be so much fun to watch?

Caduceus had spent the past hour staring at the table before him, where a tiny battle was taking place between a demon summoner and an enchanter. The latter hadn't stood a chance, as everyone had well known.

The magician's eyes were wide as they gazed upon the black-skinned beast charging, claws raised for a mighty blow, at the rather timid and fearful mage, taloned feet scratching into the earth beneath with every step.

Did Chic ever take part in this? he wondered. The Qaballist's studious old master never seemed the brawling type, but, then again, neither did many of the spellslingers who frequented the Great Hall.

Knowing the match was over before the final blow had been struck, Caduceus glanced up and around. His blue-grey eyes searching for a familiar face, someone to talk to about this game, or even to test himself against.

Then his gaze fell upon an old friend, of whom he hadn't seen much lately. The long dark hair and lanky form was immediately recognizable among the short-cropped heads and chubby bodies that filled the room. He made his way over to the long-time friend, a smile on his face, and his robes flowing behind him in an almost dramatic manner. His boots thumped hollowly against the wooden floor as he walked, and his pony-tail swung back and forth against his neck and shoulders.

"Atzar Kellon!" he exclaimed as he closed on his old chum, throwing his arms about the man in a friendly hug. He then held him at arm's length by the shoulders, asking, "Where have you been, you rascal?" Before the mage could answer, however, Cade caught sight of his companion, a miniature dragon of sorts, with scales that seemed like sapphires on his lithe but muscled form. "And who is this fellow?" he added.

[Atzar]

The wizard was a bit taken aback by Caduceus’s jubilant greeting. He did think of the pious man as a friend, but Atzar had never really made an effort to get to know him in the past. Nevertheless, the mage returned the hug with a smile. Unfortunately, Caduceus then felt it necessary to mention Zirkan.

Uh-oh.

Predictably, the feisty little beast erupted. “‘Who is this fellow?’ Listen here, buddy, ‘this fellow’ could easily kick your ass whenever you-”

“Shut it,” Atzar ordered the dragon, cutting his tirade short before it gained any momentum. “He was only saying ‘hi.’” With an apologetic smile, the mage looked back to Caduceus. “Sorry. His name is Zirkan, and he’s a little… energetic.”

Ignoring Zirkan’s new stream of protests and insults, Atzar looked around the Great Hall. There was a comforting familiarity about his surroundings. The room was large and dimly-lit, the light from the high-hanging chandeliers playing merrily about the wooden walls. Six large Charms boards were spaced at intervals around the room, showing miniature versions of the environments that each offered. One depicted an erupting volcano, glowing lava spewing down the sides. Another displayed two cliffs that faced each other over a ravine of endless depths.

The table by which Atzar and Caduceus stood was much more idyllic. At one end, towering peaks of snow and ice rose into the air. The mountains gradually mellowed out into hills toward the middle of the board, swelling and undulating with a grace only nature itself could mimic. At the far end of the table, the elevations were gone, replaced by flat, peaceful plains. Through it all, a river flowed. It crashed down the mountains in misty falls, wound through the hills in swift, twisting rapids, and drifted across the plains in wide, elegant curves. Occasionally, a great chunk of ice would break free from the top, riding the tumbling waters down to be deposited on the banks of the river far below.

As Atzar took in the details of the scene, the excitement bubbled in his mind once again. He envisioned himself in those rolling hills, ducking and weaving through the valleys in search of his opponent, every muscle poised in readiness for the battle that would soon come…

The mage looked back up to Caduceus, a light in his blue eyes. “Care to play a round?” he asked, the energy in his voice causing him to sound like an exuberant child.

The dragon noticed the tone in his voice as well. With an exaggerated sigh, the little beast covered his eyes with one hand in mock resignation. “Humans,” he muttered.

[Zook Murnig]

Request approval by Atzar Kellon to use the following ability gained in The Journey to God's Name (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=4134).

Icy Grip- Caduceus can call upon the elemental energy of Water to freeze inanimate objects and small portions of living bodies. If used on living flesh, the spell causes frostbite on the affected area, and a small portion of the flesh may become brittle enough to break off.

Caduceus, taking his friend's advice, ignored Zirkan's outburst, and noted the battles going on around the room. His eyes, too, fell upon the table nearest them. The sharp, frozen peaks. The rolling hills flowing out from the mountainous terrain, and into a slowly flattening plain. The cliffs, over which a river tumbled as a waterfall.

He grinned, noting the realism of that particular table. He fully appreciated the tactical possibilities it offered, as well. The hills and crags gave plenty of cover, with the varying heights providing good vantage points for ambush and assault. And that was without taking magic into consideration. The only strategicly boring area was the flatland. All that could be done there was simple blasting, back and forth.

He could see himself blasting fireballs around those rocky corners, and pushing stones over ledges, onto his opponents.

Chic would most certainly not approve, he heard a nagging voice in the back of his head.

When the suggestion came for a bout with his old chum, the magician's grin turned to a true, and wide, smile. Whether my old master would approve or not, he thought, this is my choice. "I'd love to see your magic at work, my friend," he said. He stepped over to one of the table sides, and reached for the cold metal handles.

"Shall we?"

[Atzar]

By all means, use it.

Caduceus gripped the metal rods on his side of the table, and Atzar responded in kind. Goosebumps shot up his arms at the feel of the smooth, chilly metal. All else was pushed from his mind in preparation for the upcoming battle. Well, all but one thing.

The mage couldn’t help but look on in amusement as Zirkan solved the puzzle of the out-of-reach rods. After a fruitless hop, the dragon finally back away from the table. Getting a running start, the dragon flapped his wings a few times, bringing himself up to a sufficient height. Unfortunately, this made his forward momentum too great. He managed to grasp and hold onto the bars, but not before his nose collided painfully with the side of the table. Zirkan hung there, swaying back and forth, glaring indignantly at Atzar.

“What? You could have helped me, asshole!”

A resounding laugh burst from the wizard’s throat before the world faded and the game sucked him into its depths. The fun was about to begin.


##~~##~~##


Before the arena even came into view, Atzar could feel it. The harsh, biting wind. The chilly air. He was in the mountains.

Good.

The mage had experience in the mountains. His Charms battle with Brugo and his Citadel battle with Witchblade had both taken place among wintry peaks. There was much more strategy fighting in such rugged terrain, and that made the battle that much more interesting. Atzar loved the mind games, the constant need to guess and react to whatever the opponent might be thinking. He had guessed right in his battle with Brugo. He had guessed wrong in his battle with Witchblade.

Finally, the world around him appeared, bright as day. He stood on a wide, sturdy ledge that wrapped around one of the peaks. To his left, the shelf sloped up to the top of the mountain. To the right, it gradually approached the base. A sheer face of rock and ice was at his back, and he could see most of the arena spread out in a breathtaking display in front of him. He could see the short hills, and the plains that peeked out from beyond their shade. The river rushed down from somewhere off to his right, ducking in and out of view as it dove between hills.

Zirkan was nowhere in sight.

Atzar merely stood there. His teeth chattered , and he folded his arms together in an attempt to keep warm. The wind seemed to cut right through him, whipping his clothes and his hair this way and that. Even though it wasn’t a comfortable position, however, it was a good one. He could practically see the entire arena spread out in front of him.

Besides, Atzar lived in Tel’Han. What was a stiff, chilly breeze to somebody that had spent his entire life in the mountains?

[Zook Murnig]

As his hands closed on the cold metal rods, a slight electric tingle went up the magician's arms. He felt his consciousness being ripped out of his body and thrust into the Charms table.

Not knowing whether these tables were subjectable to the user's will, he focused on the image of the waterfall, high in the mountains. The roar of the water. The ice floes floating on the surface of the water. The frothy white mist of water hitting water at the bottom of the falls.

Suddenly, he could no longer see the falls. Rather, he couldn't see anything. However, he still heard the roar of the rushing river, and he felt cool mist and chilly breezes. His eyes opened, and he was nearly blinded once again by the bright sunlight reflecting and refracting off the snow, ice, and water.

When his eyes had finally adjusted again, he looked around. And then he realized how foolish he had been. He stood there, perched on a large rock in the middle of the river, stranded almost twenty feet from the falls.

"Wonderful," he said, the word laced with sarcasm.

[Atzar]

The mage’s teeth chattered. His arms and legs began to twitch and spasm, moving involuntarily in an effort to keep themselves warm. Atzar finally ditched his mountain-dweller’s pride. It was one thing to be proud of being hardy in cold weather, but it was another thing entirely to freeze to death because of that unshakable arrogance. He finally moved from his perch, seeking shelter from the biting wind. Caduceus was still a mouse, and Atzar could still be an eagle, but he would have to hunt from somewhere else.

The roar of the rapids grew louder as approached them. Atzar’s toes jammed into the tips of his shoes as he descended along the steep trail. It was cold up here, but thankfully there was no ice on which to slip. The winds were strong enough to blow the snow away before it had a chance to freeze and become dangerous.

Step, step, step… Finally, an amazing scene slid into view as the mage rounded the mountain. Water rushed with frightening force from the frigid glaciers at the top of the mountain, pouring over the nearby precipice in a huge waterfall. Walking as close to the edge of the path as he dared, Atzar looked down. A cloud of mist, pummeled into the air by the violent cascade, rose up from the pool at the bottom. It was an awesome sight, made more awesome by the fact that such a fall would be instant death.

The most beautiful things in nature always seemed to be the most dangerous.

But there was business at hand. He could sight-see anytime, but for now he had a game to win. Eyes searching warily down the river, Atzar resumed searching for his quarry. No… he didn’t seem to be in sight… wait, what was that? Trying to penetrate the mist, the mage stared at the spot. There had been… something that didn’t belong. All around him was water, rock, and ice. It had been none of those.

Finally, the mist parted once again, just long enough to show him what he wanted to see. Down below, huddled on a stone in the middle of the river, was a human figure. Atzar’s eyes narrowed as he began scouring his surroundings for a way down.

The eagle had found the mouse.

[Zook Murnig]

I can barely see through this mist, he thought.

Caduceus peered through every break in the fog, trying to catch a glimpse of how far he was from the riverside. The magician was fully soaked and freezing, cold spray hitting him from every direction, and the roar of the falls so close prevented him from hearing anything else. He needed to get off his tiny personal island.

Finally, giving up mundane means, he closed his eyes and focused on channeling the Fire energies of the Tejas from around him, and into the bridge of his nose, just between his eyes. He imagined the six-pointed star of the hexagram shining just before his eyes, and he felt the warmth of the astral flames entering them.

His lids opened again, and he could see. Through the mist, he discerned the shore some fifteen feet away. He looked around, and in the distance above spotted a humanoid figure examining the cliff face at the top of the falls, glowing with an aura of magic. Ah, yes. I have found my opponent, he thought. That didn't take long...

Cade finally looked back down, around him, examining his immediate surroundings. The ice floes seemed large enough for him to step across on, if he were quick of feet and didn't follow one over the cliff.

He tentatively stepped on one as it passed. It slowed to maintain contact with the traction of his boot, and tilted towards him, almost invitingly. He put a little more pressure on the sheet...and his foot became soaked with chilly water as the floe completely flipped over from his weight. That won't work. I'm too heavy.

[Atzar]

The mage stood atop his perch, looking down on the scene below. Even though the distance was great, the mist had inexplicably dissipated and Atzar could still see the Qaballist struggling to find some way off of his island. The floe flipped, and Atzar felt a twang of pity. Poor guy… he had certainly deserved a better hand than the one he had been dealt.

Oh, well. The wizard had had his own share of misfortunes. Sometimes that was just the way Charms played out. Sometimes you’re the eagle, and sometimes you’re the mouse. In this case, Caduceus certainly looked like the mouse.

Atzar was growing fond of that particular metaphor. It suited the situation quite nicely.

There was a subtle change in the roar of the waterfall, and the mage looked away from the zealot. My prey, he couldn’t help but imagine. His eyes turned instead up to the mouth of the cascade, deluging violently from a nearby ledge. There was a strange snapping noise, barely audible over the rushing water. The mage wondered briefly what it was, when a number of small chunks of ice began to fall outwards from the waterfall.

The ice, he realized. It’s breaking off.

The ice continued to fall, and finally the mage noticed his opportunity. The chunks were small, maybe slightly bigger than a man’s head. It didn’t matter, though. If one of them struck his target squarely from that height, it was all over. Atzar’s eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. It wouldn’t take much. Only a tap in the right direction, and the icy debris would rain upon Cade’s head.

Had anybody been watching their battle at that moment, they probably wouldn’t have noticed the difference. An extremely sharp-eyed, observant man may have noticed the trajectories of the projectiles grow slightly wider, falling slightly farther from the cliff face. That minute difference, however, was enough.

The Qaballist had better find sanctuary soon. One of the several jagged pieces was bound to find its mark if he didn’t move.

[Zook Murnig]

There's no other way, Caduceus concluded. I'll have to jump in.

With only a moment's hesitation, the magician took a deep breath and plunged into the icy waters, displacing the water about him in a very loud splash. Ice floes rocked on the surface near where he had gone in, and chilly water quickly saturated his robes and the tunic and pants underneath.

He kicked and pulled himself to the surface, and as his soaked head broke into the air, he heard the shatter of ice behind. Resisting the very strong urge to see what it was, he powered towards the shore. His skin had tightened in the cold, causing goosebumps to rise and a shudder to go down his spine for a moment. I can't stay in too long, or I'll freeze.

In an almost instinctive attempt to stay warm in the water, he invisioned huge flames all about him, burning hotter than the hottest day he had ever experienced. He heard the cracks and roars of the fire, imagining that the flames were licking the inside of his body, sparking smaller embers within him. He began to feel slightly warmer, but only slightly, as the Tejas filled him.

Slightly invigorated by the fires burning within, he swam with all his strength for the banks, and pulled himself, dripping, from the river. His clothes clung to him, and his robes felt unnaturally heavy about him as he stood, their usual light brown turned to darker tones from the water saturating them. His drenched hair had come loose when the tie had come out during his swim. Locks fell about his cheeks and jawline, cold and tickling his skin.

Turning his mind back to the matters at hand, he looked back up to the cliff using his still-active Etheric Sight, where his opponent stood, shivering from the cold. The young Qaballist smiled and stretched out his left palm towards him, saying "Yod-Heh-Vav-Heh Tzabaoth!" The fiery energies within him shuddered and flowed out through his palm in a burst of flame that would, if it struck home, cling to its target and continually burn.

That ought to warm him up, he thought, laughing quietly to himself.

[Ther]

Atzar Kellon

Story
Continuity – 7 (Good move describing your character’s childhood and his town. Nice introduction.)
Setting – 7 (The Charms boards showing the environment are a nice touch.)
Pacing – 7 (The pacing of the individual posts is stellar…the overall battle took a little long to begin, though.)
Writing Style
Mechanics - 8
Technique – 8
Clarity - 8
Character
Dialogue – 5 (Straightfoward – saying “Kick your ass” is always a downer, though.)
Action - 2 (Can't really judge this since the battle was incomplete.)
Persona - 5
Misc.
Wild Card - 2 (Timeliness)

Total – 59

Zook Murning

Story
Continuity – 6 (The introduction was well-written but I had no idea what your character was doing before the thread started.)
Setting – 7 (Starting stranded on the rock is an unusual way to start the battle, but I liked it.)
Pacing – 7 (Again, the same as Atzar…the posts go quickly, the overall battle though took to long to actually begin.)
Writing Style
Mechanics - 8
Technique – 8
Clarity - 8
Character
Dialogue - 5 (Straightfoward and direct. You didn't try to force yourself into saying something cool.)
Action - 2 (Can't really judge this since the battle was incomplete.)
Persona - 5
Misc.
Wild Card - 4

Total – 60

[Ther]

Zook earns 1,288 EXP and 100 GP and raises to Level 1.
Atzar earns 725 EXP and 50 GP.