The Rumored Return

[Logan]

I feel so out of practice and I figured this would be a good way to ease myself back into Althanas. I don't care who takes this battle, heck, I'd be amused if it was someone who I knew, but I'll settle for anything right now. This will not be my best work, nor will it be anything close to it. Don't expect a high caliber performance here, this is just a chance to remove the rust, really.

Oh, and whomever does take this, I am letting you choose the arena. Enjoy =)

Splash, splash, splash. The echoing sound of Logan's pursuer splashing through the sewer was deafening in his mind. Nevertheless, Logan pushed forward through the pain and exhaustion. He had to if he wanted to survive. Splash, splash, splash. The harder Logan ran, the closer the sound became. Every paced step was echoed by his pursuer. How was it possible? He'd been running for hours and he felt it in every part of his extremities and deep in the depths of his lungs. Yet, somehow, he kept pushing forward, and so did his pursuer. The very scene was an ironic twist of fate for Logan. If only he'd turned his back when the whole event took place he wouldn't be in this predicament. Truly his devotion to his friends had brought this fate upon him.

Logan's eyes darted ahead trying to find any method of escape, and at last he found it. He slowed his run and slid to a stop before darting directly into a small crevace in the side of the wall. With all his might he slid into the tiny gap and slowed his breath to almost non-existance. Focusing intently on his breath, he managed to control himself to the point of nearly being comatose. It was remarkable, had anyone else been there to see it. Splash, splash, SPLASH, SPLASH. The sound grew, but Logan was already too focused to notice. His pursuer grew closer and closer and then once he'd passed by further and further. Splash, splash, splash. His focus dwindled as the sound of splashing footsteps grew fainter until it was a mere distant memory.

The veteran of wars and battles quietly removed himself from his temporary hiding place. He silently thanked the Lord that he'd managed to escape his predicament, as death had it's firm grip upon him. Reaching down he felt over the hilts of his blades as breathed a deep sigh of relief. After a few seconds of gathering himself he headed back down the way he came, and before long came across an exit to the place above. Pushing his way up through the hole, Logan found himself squarely in the center of the Citadel -- a place he frequented much in his days.

A few monks gave Logan quite the stare, but he shrugged them off with a quick apology and a smirk. They laughed and pointed at a hallway down the way. He followed the hallway until he came upon a rather indescript door. Entering, Logan could never imagine what would await him on the other side...or who for that matter.

[Koran]

"I came here for one reason monk," the large man growled under his breath, leaning in close to the short, balding mans face. "And one reason alone. I will not be given the run around by you, or him, or anyone." The mans head inclined toward another balding man standing only a few feet away, who was still silently nursing a rather bruised looking eye from an earlier scuffle with the larger of the three men. The big man smiled suddenly and straightened himself, crossing his thick arms across his chest and staring business like down at the smaller man in front of him. "Now then, shall we try this from the top?"

"Y-yes, sir!" The smaller man stuttered, shaking quite visibly in his soft leather boots and loose brown wool robes. "You want that room over there," the small man pointed to a nondescript door, surrounded by dozens of other nondescript doors, situated at the center of a rather long and boring hallway just to the left of them. "You want it to contain the following three items, a piece of parchment, a fountain pen filled with ink, and a large oak table approximately eight feet by twenty-seven feet by five feet in proportion. Width, length and height respectively."

The big mans smile grew even larger and he gave one loud bursting laugh, reaching over to slap the small man hard on the right shoulder. The man half squeaked, half grunted as he recoiled from the slapping hand as though it were a venom spitting viper instead of just a hand. This caused the big man to laugh even harder, his entire body shaking with mirth and he slapped his thigh with his other hand.

"Oh come now man, it wasn't that hard. No hard feelings eh?" The question was directed to the man nursing the bruised eye, who only glared hard with his still unscathed one back at the big man. The large man just shrugged and then nodded respectfully to the second man. "I thank you kindly," he smiled as he spoke, suggesting otherwise and straightened himself. "But if you will excuse me, I have a job to do."

With that the big man turned away from the two men, ignoring them completely, and entered in through the nondescript door that had been pointed toward. Inside he found everything to his exact specifications. A long, blank walled room with only three things inside. A long oak table, five feet high, eight feet wide and twenty-seven feet long, with two items resting on its surface on the far side. The parchment and fountain pen, filled with ink.

The big man smiled and moved himself to stand at the far end of the table, near to the parchment and pen, intent on waiting for his scheduled opponent to appear. It didn't take long, as he had expected it not too, for the opponent to appear and when they did, the big man had already prepared a small speech for them. The door opened without so much as a creak and the big man began to speak.

"My name is Koran Vincent Seether and I am here on behalf of the great power that is massing itself in Corone. The name of this power will, for now, go undisclosed and should you require, it can be revealed to you at a later time and date." The man paused for a moment, letting the nature of what he just said sink in, before continuing. "By entering into this place you have unwittingly placed a bet on your life. You do not know the nature of that bet, and you will not know until the events that are to take place here have been drawn to conclusion. As is the nature of a bet, you still have the option to back down now and go about your normal life as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. However, should you accept this bet, of which you had no say in making, you will be held fast to it and will be expected to adhere to the rules of the bet to the fullest of your abilities." Again the man paused, granting the other person some time to catch up with what he was saying. He continued after a few seconds.

"So the question you must now answer is this; Will you, under the pretense of having no previous or advantageous knowledge of the aforementioned bet, be willing to place your life on the line for no other reason other than you were told to by a power you have never heard of or paid mention to?"

The man waited in silence then, and a deep silence it was, as there was nothing else in the room save for the two of them, the table, pen and white piece of parchment.

[Logan]

"Power? What in the bloody HELL is this psycho talking about," the battle-ready warrior internally wondered. Logan's mind raced as he thought of the thousands who would consider him in a bet, and for that matter, the kind of bet he'd be considered in or for. He thought of his old friend, Ryan Kale, whom he hadn't seen in ages. He flashed to a thought of Seth Dahlios with whom he'd ventured with many a time, only to part ways in the midst of the most heated adventure he'd ever experienced. His mind raced to thoughts of Thoracis Rakarth, the masked magician, whom Logan had at one time rivaled with so intensely that neither hell nor any reincarnation of it could contain them. It was with that thought that the strange figure whom Logan scarcely could make out in the dimly lit room began to continue his speech billowing more verbal smoke and mirrors to cloud Logan's comprehension and understanding of what was truly being requested.

The psion raised his hand judiciously to request the unabated silence of the figure before him. "Hold on, hold on. Let me see if I'm following you. You said your name is Koran, correct," the psion intoned as he shifted his weight and took a step to the side of the table and began to approach the shadowed figure on the other end of the table. "Well, then I must ascertain that based upon your previous statements that you know who I am. This, I would venture, would have been foretold to you by this supposed 'power' that has sent you and inexplicably placed you along with myself into this rather unfortunate," he paused only for a split second to stifle the chuckle that had arisen, "or fortunate -- depending on your stance I suppose -- predicament?" Logan moved a couple of paces forward, toying mentally with this still unknown figure before him.

"I would also suppose that this power is not some great mythical beast or creature nor is it some controlling person. In fact, "the psion halted his progress and rested both hands upon the hilts of his blades, "I would go so far as to say this great 'power' you speak of is nothing more than a few ignobles desiring to find their place in this world we inhabit. Well, I've got news for you --," with one smooth and fluid motion, the veteran unsheathed both swords and sprinted towards the figure at full speed as he sent out a Mind Push in the direction of the figure. "I don't HAVE to do anything --," the master psion sent the telepathic shout outward at a volume which echoed the very core of the room, "but kick your ass."

With that last statement and attack Logan awaited the counter. He knew it would come; it always did.