Round One starts at 12:00 AM EST on Sunday, April 30th and will last two weeks. Good luck!
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Round One starts at 12:00 AM EST on Sunday, April 30th and will last two weeks. Good luck!
This is where legends are made.
That one sentence continued to repeat, over and over again from the moment that his cane first touched Lornius soil. Ever since he had signed found a partner and entered the competition, Raelyse had seldom enjoyed time to himself. Every waking moment was devoted to the Corporation Challenge. He could not stop researching the island, or thinking about whether he had made the right choice with his partner... every little thing was starting to filter into his mind. Even in the mornings when it came to do the things that he loved the most, like making sure his hair was perfectly aligned or trying to find the outfit that would make his subordinates look most poverty stricken, he could not get everything quite right. As such, he often had one or two hairs out of sync with the rest, a crime as disgusting as sodomy.
When it did come to the occasion though, Raelyse came his closest to not caring for his appearance for once. The excitement flowed through his body like a drug, his body quivering at the very thought of a victory. Already, he could see himself thrusting his way through countless big names like nothing before striding onto Lornius’ largest stage and lifting the trophy high above his head, screaming in adulation as millions cheering him on. Then, he would have it made. Everyone in Althanas would have his name on their lips, everyone in Althanas would finally know of him and show him the respect that he so solely deserved. Although he supposed, Falcon Darkflight would get some as well, seeing as he was his partner. Still, Raelyse saw himself as the more important of the two. Though that meant nothing, because Raelyse felt he was even more important than the sun itself.
His dream, however was quickly rocked back to reality when his carriage suddenly jerked to a halt. His seat thrust upwards, nearly throwing the prince off it. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted at the top of his lungs. He quickly dashed out, kicking the door open before jumping onto the sandy ground below. A few trees decorated this area, but all their leaves were gone and this large expanse was about as close to a desert as Raelyse had ever seen.
"Sorry, sir, it's just that this Lornius ground is kinda sandy and well, also the rocks are a lot bigger than what I'm used to and als-"
Raelyse cut him off, an annoying habit, but one that quickly became threatening to his inferiors. "Enough of your stupid excuses! Just tell me, is this the place? Is this..." the prince turned his head and looked at the relatively small and quite run down building to his right. "Tuliran Chapel? Tell me now!"
"Uhh, yes sir..." the driver, replied meekly.
"Good, then fuck off. No tip for your reckless driving," the prince said, his smirk forming back on his lips before he turned around and made for the entrance of the chapel. His eyes examined the old building. The first thing that he noticed was the rather large crucifix that hung from the roof of the what was now a decrepit building. The wood that made up the chapel now looked as if it would break at any moment, while the equally aged door swung on its hinges, ajar. To the prince of Myrusia though, this place was perfect. He had researched Lornius extensively and when he heard news of the first round pairings, he searched for the place that would give him the biggest advantages over his opponents. And Tuliran Chapel… it stuck out like a sore thumb.
When Raelyse walked in, he began to walk down the five foot wide aisle. The first thing that he noticed was the decrepit pews which looked even older than the wood that housed them. Each looked big enough to house about five people and there were about five rows of two columns in this rather small church. As a matter of fact, it was almost glaringly obvious that they were very neatly arranged and perfectly aligned in a rectangular shape. From the edge of the pews to the wall of the building, there was about ten feet on the sides and approximately the same length between the last pew and the entrance of the church. From the front pew, there was about another ten feet before a small staircase which led to a five foot tall podium, with a three foot tall crucifix in the centre. Raelyse made his way there, his cane tapping gently on the wooden planks below, testing to see whether they were stable. Some were and some were not.
When he reached the top, the prince stood behind the podium, wiping the sweat from his forehead that this hot weather had caused. He eyed the walls of the church, where a glass painting of a maiden cradling a child was hung at either end. Behind the podium, there was a larger version of the ones on the walls and in front of that painting, there was a six foot tall crucifix decorated by the remnants of flowers. To the right and left of the raised platform, there were entrances to small rooms which Raelyse assumed were confessionals.
"Where the fuck is Falcon?" the prince shouted again, beginning to grow impatient a few seconds after he had nothing to do, when he had explored the small surroundings. This place was strangely eerie, with everything from the podium to the crucifix to the pews, all perfectly aligned despite nature and time's wear and tear effect on the wood which made them up.
This agitation was only compounded when the sun rose to a perfectly annoying position, just at the right place so that the sunlight shone in an angle directly aimed at the prince's face, causing him to flinch instinctively. "Fucking priests," Raelyse swore, beginning to show his medley of emotions in the only way he knew how, by taking it out on whoever or whatever was most convenient.
"Why didn't they patch up the damn roof?"
Raelyse moved towards the right, just outside the entrance to one of the confessionals in the shade.
"And where the fuck is Falcon?" the prince screamed again, this time louder and much angrier than before.
The journey from Lyridia Port had been a long and tiring affair, even for Canen. From the second he had stepped from the gangplank of the galleon that had brought him to the infamous island of Lornius he had been hounded by masses of spectators and would-be fans of the Lornius Corporate Challenge tournament, eager to get even just a slight glimpse of this years competitors. The media circus would line up at the port edge for hours on end to witness the strongest of all of Althanas step from their vessels and raise their weapons to the sky, promising their legions of devotees ultimate victory. However, on this day, Canen's contribution to the hype was to quietly depart the port as an unknown, somebody who would not be recognised by a true fan of the tournament as somebody with the kind of talent to return the victor. He did not want the hassle of wasting his time answering endless streams of questions or speculating on the result of his upcoming fight with Nathaniel Sierra and Tarry "Grim" Whealer. However, it seemed some reporters were more tenacious in their devotion to grabbing an interview with an LCC contender.
"Excuse me!..." Yelled a slender, middle aged reporter clutching a clipboard and a pencil. Canen, knowing that this fight was not one he was going to win, stopped dead in his tracks. He had walked through the port and out of Lyridia itself with this one man in full chase from start to finish, attempting to lose him in the dirt tracks neighboring the town with no success. Sighing heavily and shaking his head, he waited for the interrogation to start. "Ralf Wantanabe, Lornius Bulliten. You are Canen Darkflight representing one half of the Grander's Order, correct?" He asked politely yet loudly, perhaps to emphasise the importance of knowing who it was you were interviewing before actually doing so. The Nocturn simply nodded his head, and let out another sigh. He could tell by the position of the sun in the sky that he had only just enough time to reach the chapel Raelyse had instructed him to be at, and keeping the 'Prince' waiting would no doubt result in a dummy spitting competition. "Look, I don't have time for this..." Canen retorted before the journalist could get in another word. "Save your 'reports' for after the fight..."
Canen would have been the first to admit that he was not used to the style of battle he was entering. His counterpart, Prince Raelyse, was an arrogant, self-centred, self-glorifying man-whore with no apparant sense of dignity or honour at all. The aura he gave off could repel men from a distance of five hundred yards, but attract women from a distance of one thousand. Although gone were the days where the Nocturn could depend on his brother Gideon for participating in such tournaments, Raelyse still showed one feature of his character which did interest Canen. His battle prowess. He remembered as he witnessed the arrogant one destroy one of his Ghost Hand Partisans with a simple cane strike to the chest, leaving the chest plate armour in fragments and the Nocturn's interest peaked. For all of his bad qualities the Prince could make up a thousand times over for this one trait, and this left a good feeling in the back of his mind about the upcoming encounter.
Tuliran Chapel was a small, cosy but decrepit church about six miles inland from Lyridia Port. After an hour of travel from the outskirts of the city, Canen arrived to the sounds of screaming and cursing that eminated from within the crumbling building. Recognising the voice instantly, and with a slight grimace, he proceeded past the buckled fence of the outer premises and entered the rickety house of worship. The first thing he noticed was that his feet were pressing into the creaking wooden floorboards as he paced across the length of the inner sanctum, lined with perfectly carved wooden benches at symmetrical intervals. The supporting pillars that lined the main aisle at the same sort of intervals were fine examples of the masonic work a fellow craftsman had undertaken here, with detailed stone carvings of biblical creatures and mysterious Althanian caligraphy twisting and turning up the white marble strats in an almost awe-inspiring fashion. Canen's emerald eyes then locked onto the form of Prince Raelyse Saildan who looked frustrated and impatient as always, tapping the end of his cane on the floorboards in anxiety of his partner's arrival. He eyed the three foot crucifix to Raelyse's side, and latched on to what his battle partner had planned.
"I see what you're doing here..." Canen stated with a hint of understanding in his tone. "Very, very clever...and, oh, the sun is shining too..."
He was still awaiting a "Fuck off, Canen" to erupt from Raelyse's mouth, and patiently awaited the first insult. "Well, I am here now. Any sign of our opponents?"
“Why the fuck do I keep coming to these things, I’m already great enough as it is, why should I give a rat’s ass if a bunch of moronic primitives know it? I could have avoided all this and just given my new apprentice another task,” thought the blind livelike vampire bitterly as he exited the boat that had delivered him to Lornius and the site of the legendary tournament, the great Lornius Corporation Challenge.
As Tarry headed bitterly into the unpleasant combination of stinking, moron fans, hot sun, and humid sea air he knew the answer to his question. It was because deep down in side, in a place that pride would never allow him to admit even existed, he did care if the rest of Althanas knew how great he was. Three times he had entered a tournament and three times he had failed to claim the victory that the arrogant vampire felt should have been his. The first time was the Magus in which he was forced to leave due to reasons that seemed to evade his memory, the second was in the Adventurer's Crown and his lost was likely a result of his continually pissing off those damned monks, and the third and most embarrassing lost thus far was in the recent Serenti Invitational, a tournament in which he had actually beaten his opponent, a kid named Tobias Battalion, but the judges had decided to eliminate him anyways.
As the blind and slightly infamous vampire pushed his way through the busy and increasingly stupid and annoying crowd of fans he made sure to keep his fangs revealed and in plain sight. Gone were the days when Tarry would hide the things out of shame for what he had become. Now it was almost the opposite, he felt he was actually superior, more so than he already was, to the rest of Althanas for being a vampire. Besides in this particular case having a pair of large fangs seemed to work as a sort of bug repellent against the crowd and served to keep the fans and the even more moronic press away from him (much to the vampire’s pleasure).
The arrogant vampire hadn’t even bothered to research his opponents, because quite frankly he felt it didn’t matter. There were very few people who could match him in battle and Tarry was fairly sure he already knew who all of them were. Even if by some by some miracle, the gods decided to have a sense of humor and pair him with one such person in the first round (Tarry felt the likeliness of a whole team of two people each being stronger than him individually was impossible even for the gods to make happen) it was unlikely that they could possibly beat him, especially after the embarrassment he had suffered in past tournaments, such a thing as losing in the first round twice in a row couldn’t possibly happen.
After what felt like hours of walking thanks to the crowd and heat combination (though it reality it was only minutes) the blood sucking assassin came to his designated area for battle that had been hand picked by one of his two, soon to be deceased, opponents. The site of it made Tarry even more confident because it showed and cemented in his mind just how stupid and ignorant his opponents were.
“I wonder if these morons believe every goddamned fairy tale they hear about vampires? Guess they’ll be in for a surprised when I don’t explode or burst into flames as soon as I set foot upon the ground here. This match was over before it even began,” thought the livelike vampire with a sinister smile on his face.
Slowly and deliberately he began to make his way towards the area, ignoring all the various spirits that infested the place. Thanks to his spirit sense he could sense the ghosts as well as he could the living though most of them were your standard poltergeists that usually in habited sacred places of major importance to somebody. Even though he could see that the spirits, who must have formally been priests or choir boys or something, clearly didn’t want corrupted individual such as him self anywhere near the holy grounds of the great church, he put little thought into their presence. Most spirits were harmless and useless by nature, much like their living counter parts on Althanas.
Slowly the vampire made his way through the open doors, keeping his mind firmly on his spirit sense, which already detected his two living opponents. With a smile he slammed the door shut, sending letting the loud bang, which echoed through the holy building and sent all sorts of pigeons and bats fluttering wieldy about the rafters in high arching ceiling, announce his presence.
The sun beat down upon my body as I crossed the desert, dunes of sand making each step more unsure. My scarf, wrapped tightly around my head, felt more like an embalmment than any sort of protection from the daylight. With obscured vision, I winched and squinted my way through each step, intent on reaching the arena in time. My partner, the vampire Tarry Whealer, was awaiting me there, as we agreed. The thick smell of salt wafted into my nostrils, sickening me to the bone. Memories of just how I had come to smell like that flowed into my mind freely, unwanted as they were.
'Bastard of a captain. His disgusting, filthy hands clawing at my body, eyes aflame with lust. Scratching at his eyes had been my only choice, and for my actions, I was damned. Cast asunder from the vessel, thrown into the sea, I was lucky I was only a few hundred yards off shore. My body floated like a bloated corpse, until it finally heaved against the beach. The last time I play the cabin boy. I had made the right choice...' I said it more to convince myself, I doubted my actions, and still do. That arduous journey could have been avoided entirely had I allowed the captain to have his way. Still, I laid down the terms, I was in control, and I enjoyed it that way.
But now, I had a larger task at hand. The Lornius Corporation Challenge, a new era in my life. An exciting tournament, where people from all over known althanas gathered to compete for fame and riches. Which lead me to wonder why I was there, in the midst of the desolate landscape. Greed, vanity, two sins I never openly sought. So why then, was I there.
'Tarry' My new master, sired only recently by him. He was an arrogant prick if ever there was, but his vile mannerisms were nothing when compared to his beauty. I felt like a schoolboy, giddy and gleeful at the very sight of him. His slightest interest in me gave a world of pleasure, filled the brim with fantasies. I was doing it for him, and him alone. It felt good to be watched over, and an ally would be greatly appreciated in my search for my brother. Whatever hypocrisies the 'vampire overlords' could think of were overshadowed by a fleeting few memories of him in the town where we had met. 'His shirtless torso, drenched in the midday sun and sweat. Like a dre...'
Sharp pain hit my ankle, a powerful prick penetrating deep within the flesh. I looked down, glaring as best I could through the light of day. Hissing, loud and growing distant as it moved away, an evanescence of snake-like form. That is when the pain began. White hot fire burned within my calf and foot in seconds, my vision blurred even more. I felt woozy, distorted, ill. But, just as I thought I would collapse, I saw my salvation. Straight ahead was the place I was looking for. '[/I]Tuliran Chapel..'[/I]
Like a drunkard I staggered, my leg feeling more awkward by the second. Each unsteady footing brought me closer to a fall, the sun above only adding to my torment. It felt like hours, but at least, I reached the demented revenant of a church. Gaudy crosses, dried cracked wood, it disgusted me with it's half-hearted attempts to show glory. Slowly, with anguished steps, I walked up and into the chapel, where my partner already stood, gloating like the ass he was.
"Have I arrived late for the party?" I showed no attempt to hide my limp, my pain. 'My handicap'
If there was anything, anything at all that made the prince of Myrusia happy, it was the respect of others that he felt that he so strongly, so richly deserved. And now that, Falcon Darkflight, his second in command in their clan had arrived, it would only be a short amount of time, before that said amount of respect would be promptly received. Now that his subordinate was here though, Raelyse knew that he would have to maintain a certain aura of respect around this man. He had to make sure that every movement he made was worthy of the man who made them, for even the tiniest mistake would knock him off his pedestal, where he had been sitting pretty for some time. At least, he assumed that such a pedestal existed.
Raelyse quickly thought up an action that would be appropriate for this time, an action that would demonstrate his superiority. Having made so many of these actions in the past, it came as natural as a click of the fingers. Or, rather a clap of the hands. The prince started to bring his hands together loudly, by bringing his higher left hand to his right which held onto his majestic cane.
"Well done, Falcon, well done," the prince said, a smirk forming on his face as he spoke. Sarcasm tainted his voice, but by now, it would be strange if Canen had not gotten used to it by now. "Nice and early, just like we agreed."
His tone slowly turned from mocking to one of annoyance, though just like he always did, his composure was maintained throughout while his message was firmly communicated. "What did I say about timing? It's important. You want to be second in command? You want to succeed? Well you're not going to..." The prince then begun to raise his voice slightly and start to stand taller, his eyes focused on the man before him. "..If you're five fucking minutes too late everyday, are you?"
In reality, this did not really mean that much to Raelyse and to be honest, he did not really care that he was just a little bit too late. He was just bored to be honest. And as he glanced around his surroundings, remembering what his opponents were, he had the strong feeling that he was going to be bored for a long time yet.
It was to be about another five minutes of awkward silence during which the prince then decided to move off, walking towards the large crucifix in the back and admire the glass painting just a few feet above it. It was beautiful, but before the prince had a chance to gawk and see whether priestesses were really chaste, he heard the loud slamming of the aged church door. His body instantly turned around, his right hand lifting his cane straight off the ground and slamming it on the ground below. The wood was weak like the rest of the church and buckled meekly underneath the pressure. Even though the whole plank did not snap, the bottom of the cane still thrust through the soft wood.
"Are you kidding me?" Raelyse said, mockingly. He began to laugh, softly at first then louder and louder. He brought his head up, lifted his left hand upwards and pointed at the man who stood just in front of the door. "This... You... This... Are..." he said in between laughs. "I can't believe you're our opponents!" At that, he cocked his head back and let out a loud, hearty five second long laugh. When he recovered, he could not wipe the smirk from his face.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I've only seen such a blindfold on children playing not undead mummy cum vampires!" The prince was unable to control himself at his own wit, laughing loudly again. He found the bandage that his opponent wrapped around his eyes to be quite humorous. "Are you sure you're a vampire? I thought you're all supposed to wear cloaks and have big fangs and actually look like you have at least..." The prince looked down at his sophisticated clothing, then back up at the man who had just entered. "... a bit of class! You've been alive for centuries! No wonder you won’t die, they won't let you into the Antifirmament with clothes like that!"
All this time, while the prince had been indulging himself, he had been carefully planning behind his back. His right hand, which held his cane was slowly shifted slightly behind him. His palm opened up slowly and during the moments when he laughed, he focused, invoking his magical powers. Raelyse felt the water vapor in the air behind his back, he consolidated it, then twisted it into the shape that he desired. Behind him, two small spears made completely out of ice began to form. Each was about three inches wide and two feet long. They were completely hidden by the prince's frame and the angle and position at which the prince was standing ensured that Falcon could easily see what Raelyse was plotting. The heat of the day and the climate would have melted any ice today, but not the prince's. With his motivation at its peak, his powers were at their best and even on a bad day, his ice would not melt, unless struck by a fire magic. And since no such magic was present today, those spears remained, one above the other behind the prince's torso, levitating off the ground through another one of his talents.
Before the prince had a chance to make another chide remark, he saw the other half of his opponent's team arrive. "Oh, looks like you copied me then," the prince mocked, his words now in between laughs again. "... and brought your BITCH BOY!"
He then started to relax a bit, widening his legs a bit. "The problem is... yours looks like he just had his first wet dream while mine," Raelyse said, smiling. "...is much," the prince quickly glanced at his partner before returning his gaze to his opponent, hoping that Falcon had similarly planned a surprise attack for their opponents. "more..."
The icicles began to move under the prince's command, the higher one now behind his left shoulder while the lower one was just behind his groin. "... talented." At that, Raelyse thrust his left hand forward suddenly, opening his palm as if he held a goblet in it. "But I agree with you, having subordinates is so useful. You can make them do everything. It makes living life as easy as..."
"One." The icicle spears revealed themselves to the vampires, the higher one appearing above his left shoulder while the lower one shifted to the right, revealing itself just next to the prince's right knee.
"Two." Raelyse turned his hand clockwise and following that movement, the spears began to spin fast and violently, even emitting a soft sound as they did so.
"Three." The prince, in one fluid motion, brought his left elbow back, clenching his fist before thrusting it forward with strength, instantly sending the two icicles careening forward at pace.
Each one had the target of each of the vampires. Raelyse smirked. Even if he could not kill them with holy magic, there was no way they could be immune to his special brand of impaling magic.
Canen had known Raelyse far too long to take a rise to his sarcasm and glorification techniques. Instead, he smirked, knowing full well that this would serve as an excellent mask over the real ability the two of them could muster together as a coherent fighting force to be reckoned with. Although it seemed from first glance that he was simply nothing more than a gap filler for his superior officer, someone who was there to "fill in" the empty space for which Raelyse was probably planning to upstage in order to claim a larger portion of the glory, there was an underlying mutual respect and bond which gave them an edge. A powerful, hidden edge. The facade would serve them well in a tournament such as the fabled Lornius Corporate Challenge.
He had quickly latched on to what Raelyse was doing, and chose to follow the same example. Whilst the arrogant Prince of Myrusia had been jaunting and insulting in order to cover his surpise attack, Canen had stood silently beside him with a sly grin, preparing his own plan. He held his right palm behind his back and clawed the fingers inwards towards his palm. A quiet humming sound pulsated through the air as a small orb of dark matter formed beneath the fingers and thumb of the Nocturn's pale hand, a jet black geletine like material latticed with loops and bolts of lilac electrical sparks, and softened as the sphere of negative energy's growth halted at the size of a baseball. Through the stained glass effegies of the various saints and spiritual figureheads of the chapel, a hundred small pillars of sunlight crashed through and flooded the pedestal on which Raelyse and Canen were atop, and it felt like a message from god himself. Perhaps an omen.
"I'd say the both of them look equally like a bitch..." the ever confident Nocturn said, his lips curling up at the sides to indicate the torment he was attempting to bathe his somewhat gruesome opponents in. He shot a sideways glance at his counterpart to observe how far on he was with his own plan, and noticed the levitating spears of ice behind the Prince's body. "The only question is, Raelyse, which one of them likes to give it and which one likes to take it? I think the fairy over there likes to give it to the bandage-bondage boy..."
In reality, Canen would have refrained from indulging in insulting his opponents in such a manner, but today he felt so focused and so sharp that it just added to the tense and exciting atmosphere of the encounter. Whilst he knew Raelyse was probably just bored and in his own little world somewhere in his head, watching himself eternally loop past his bedroom mirror naked to admire his beautifully crafted body that even the gods themselves couldn't mould upon, he still enjoyed the level of offense that the Prince could cause a person. He was also partially taken aback by the Prince's acknoweldgement of his supposed 'talent', but knew that any glorification he would recieve from him today would be later eradicated post-first round when Raelyse's brain kicked into 'arrogant mode' and flicked the flea like form of the Nocturn back into the void of obscurity.
He began to laugh as he brought his right palm up in synchronisation with his superior, pointing the now levitating black orb firstly at Tarry Whealer, the gruesome man who had entered in such 'dramatic' fashion. "I'm going to send you and your pitiful fairy boy into the depths of oblivion" he said, locking his eyes on the disgusting form of his enemy. "...and after I have cast your broken body into the void of death beyond death, I will use your demise as a tasliman. Others who dare to turn up to attempt to destroy us will suffer a similar fate..." At that, Canen realised how much he was starting to sound like his superior. Was he becoming as brash, as arrogant as his partner? If he was, he couldn't deny he was enjoying his escape from everyday affairs, his release from his usuallly dark and silent persona. Perhaps this was indeed a new era for the Nocturn.
The two small spears crafted from Raelyse's magically augmentated ice hovered to his left, and using it as a metronome for his own attack, the Nocturn waited patiently for the opportune moment. The orb was still aimed at the unfazed Tarry and his nancy boy teammate Nathanial, and the ice lances began to move to the Prince's command.
"Why waste such a beautiful day. Let's get a little sunshine in here, shall we?" Canen said with a hint of sarcastic delight in his voice, slamming his palm forward. The orb screamed with a high pitched pulse and Tarry looked prepared to tackle it, but before it struck him it suddenly veered off course and struck the fragile ceiling above the two vampires, crashing through the rotten timber and slate with an almighty bang. As the dark orb dissolved into thin air, a large amount of dust and debris collapsed from the roof and the gaping hole that entailed allowed a thick pillar of sunlight to pour through and flood a large portion of the chapel floor. The flooding light spread over the two vampires as Raelyse's magically crafted ice projectiles hurtled towards them at a terrifying speed...
((Ki shield was a pre approved ability I got after hitting level 4, because of the crash I lost the link, if you would like full description of what it does PM me.))
The blind vampire ignored the words of his injured apprentice in favor of listening to the words of his opponents, which brought upon his face a smile of arrogance that seemed to be ever increasing in size. Though nobody would likely realize it the words of The Grander’s Order were actually helping a lot more than one would think though not in the expected way. Instead of demoralizing the blind vampire the harsh words that questioned his skills and sexuality actually did the opposite; they built up his confidence and his arrogance. Every harsh word and every biting insult cemented in Tarry’s mind the complete and utter idiocy his opponents showed. After just one or two sentences, if that, the vampire felt as if the he could kill both of them with out breaking a sweat.
The resulting attacks that quickly followed did very little to remove much of Tarry’s massive cockiness from his mind. As the powerful blast of energy surged at him the blind vampire instinctively brought his right hand up to defend himself. Soon the archaic tattoos on the back of his hands, arms and shoulders began to glow as he started to channel deadly ki (spirit) energy through them. In a split second a small circular shield of blue ki, about a foot in diameter, erupted to life upon the back of his hand, but it turned out the shield would not be used to block the blast. Instead at the command of its master the Nocturnian’s blast swerved and smashed the ceiling behind The Blood Brothers as it fulfilled its creator's so called “ingenious” plan.
Of course thanks to the other, and particularly stupid, half of The Grander’s Order, the shield would not go to waste. The speeding spike of ice stopped and shattered dead in its tracks as it collided with Tarry’s magical shield. The shield in response to completing its job of protecting its creator quickly sizzled out and was gone from existence.
By now Tarry noticed the bright sunlight across the back of his unprotected head and neck and when he did he realized what the Nocturnian’s plan had been and very audible laughter from the blind vampire soon followed.
“Apprentice,” said the blind vampire as he turned his attention briefly to Nathaniel “do your best not to get killed, I’ll be done with these morons in a few seconds,” proclaimed the increasingly arrogant and cocksure livelike vampire.
“Now lets see, you seem to be the guy who wears the pants in your little relationship, I think you’ll die first,” said Tarry as he turned his attention back to his opponents.
With a cocky smile that gave both his opponents a great view of his fangs the blind vampire kicked off the ground and rushed forward towards the ice-throwing leader of The Grander’s Order. Both of Tarry's hands quickly moved to the hilt of the sword at his side making it look almost painfully obvious that the vampire was going to draw his blade. In just a few seconds at the most the vampire closed the distance between him and his sharp-tongued target to about a foot between them. Yet the vampire didn’t draw his blade like he hoped would be expected, instead he took both hand off the blade aimed both palms at Raelyse.
Once again spirit energy began to course through the livelike vampire’s powerful body as his sinister plan came to light. Soon a large, destructive beam of ki energy exploded from the vampire’s hands like a shot from a cannon and went relentlessly towards the body of its unfortunate target.
The message Tarry was trying to send by using his most powerful attack was clear to all but the dumbest of people and that message was “Don’t give me worthless opponents”.
'What inane jackassery...' I was laid speechless, unable to think of any other words that could describe the completely tactless actions of my opponents. It seemed like centuries, their gloating and boasting went on and on. After every insult, every jest at my questionable tastes, I wanted more and more to jam something down the silver haired man's throat, not doubting it would be the first time. He overcompensated, it was easy enough for me to see. But even with that in mind, I still wanted to end his life, or even my own, just to escape the verbal torment. However, a quick look at Tarry was all I needed to bite my tongue, as literal as I had to take it. It seemed he had found a match for his ego, perhaps someone who even surpassed it. And yet during the entire ordeal, he kept a smile on his face. I took it as a sign, that everything would turn out alright in the end.
Even as the narcissist went on, his partner jumped in now and again to throw his quips in. His jet black hair amiss reminded me of my own crop, and his pale skin could even be mistaken for vampiric. However, that is where our similarities ended. 'Never in my life would I be such an ass. Who the hell talks in the midst of battle? Who do these two think they are? I am glad they are both dressed well, prefect suits to bury them in.' I could help my malice towards the two. And as I imagined their filth ridden corpse being consumed by vermin, a sudden attack caught me off guard. A black ball of oblivion flew towards Tarry, and I was tempted to jump in front, if nothing else than to impress him. Luckily, my mental debating ended there as the spell flew up towards the rafters, smashing the roof and raining debris upon my body. A large beam, at least a foot long, hit me hard on the shoulder. The sheer force was tremendous as I collapsed to the ground, my tainted leg pulsing with the same white hot fire as it had earlier.
A sleek, whoosh should flew over my head as I heard a sharp stab into the wooden wall behind. There, sticking straight out of the plank, was a frozen chuck of ice, shaped like a small spear. 'I will give one thing to my opponents, that is original.' My attentions turned back to my leg, which now throbbed and pulsed with the poison held within. Suddenly, even as my ally began rushed forth in an arrogant charge, I realized that perhaps my handicap was not all it appeared. 'Perhaps..just maybe..' I tried to rise, but to no avail. I could feel the venom swelling the area of the wound, pulsating with every heartbeat. I would have to remedy this, and I knew just how. Nearby my foot lay a sharpened, jagged piece of pine that had fallen from the rafters. It was rotting, covered in splinters, but it would have to do for my plans. Quickly, I lifted my pant leg and jabbed the spike harshly in my flesh. A muffled scream escaped my lips, the pain almost too much to beat. And as I slowly removed the crude weapon, a stream of fresh blood. I cupped my hands, collecting as much of the liquid as I could, and rose with all the strength I could muster. It was shakey, and many droplets of my salty, red water leaked out, but enough remained. A grin grew across my face, malicious thoughts bursting in my mind. I limped with everything I had, even as my partner began his arrogant charge forth. Slowly my pace quickened and I soon began a full trot in my injured state. The pain was nearly blinding, the added sunlight only adding to the aguish. But, there was on thing I could see. The dark haired man's piercing green eyes, starring right at me.
'The last thing you will see, whelp..' With my might, backed by hatred and a petty need for vengeance against his small grievances, I hurled my cupped blood towards his face, towards his eyes. Even if the poison was no longer there, at least it would provide a new distraction, a chance to change tactics.
Somewhere beyond our plane of existence, V'dralla the Fair of the Elder Thayne turned her head, if only briefly, and focused her attention on a small, decrepit building. Like all of her stature, her interest is fleeting and within a few moments, it was gone again. But the fact that a mortal had grabbed her awareness, regardless of how long it was held, was impressive. For a goddess that was known for her narcissism, the fact that she had sensed such a strong sense of overconfidence had to mean something significant. Whether it was combined from up to four individuals or whether it was focused on one silver haired Myrusian prince did not really matter, the fact was that this battle reeked of self-belief.
The prince of Myrusia was in perfect view to watch his icicle weapons careen into the shield of his opponent, shattering into a million pieces, thousands of shards of ice scattering across the floor. Without his attention on them, they would surely melt in a few seconds in this heat. And they did not deserve that attention anymore than Raelyse deserved that of a goddess, as both of them had more important things to attend to than their discarded creations. For the prince, he watched as his opponent charged forward towards him, his fingers reaching for his sword. Raelyse threw his silver hair into the air, shifted his stance slightly backwards and strangely, began to sing. His opponent took a few seconds to close the distance. More than enough time for the prince to remember his days in Istien University and invoke the Symphony of Selu'Beria, especially after he had been taunted, giving him ample warning.
The song was short, though by no means did Raelyse skip any parts. The melody was of middle pitch and quite harmonious and while all the elven lyrics were foreign to the prince, they created an effect that was all too familiar. A split second after the prince had sung the triggering note, a blue translucent spherical barrier materialized, surrounding the prince and the area within a three foot radius of him. It was quite a beauty to behold and as the prince spent the few free moments that he had within it, he understood why it was nicknamed "An Ode to the Hermit." It was almost claustrophobic to be enclosed within this force field.
Perhaps if the bandaged vampire had continued his attack instead of halting, he would have been able to strike before the prince's barrier formed. But instead, he decided to use a magical attack which slowed him down just a little bit. The element of surprise was still there though, but the time it took for the vampire to charge his attack ensured that Raelyse was ready to anticipate the coming attack and even find the time to widen his smirk, making it much bigger than that of his enemy's. The attack streamed forward, the beam cutting through the air, aimed straight at the prince's torso. He had complete confidence in his ability and that of the powers of Istien University and perhaps, that worked to his disadvantage.
The ki beam clashed directly head on with the prince's barrier, the two magical powers contending for a few moments with none seeming to gain the upper hand. The difference was that while the vampire was trying, the Myrusian was standing there, adjusting his cane on the ground below while his left hand was brought up to cover his yawn. This rest period only lasted a few seconds though, because the ki beam broke through the force field, though most of the energy had been absorbed by it. The attack struck Raelyse chest on, catching him more by surprise than anything else. His shield now vaporized, the prince brought his arms to protect his ribs, ironically after he had been hit. His whole body slid half a foot backwards, though he managed to avoid falling down.
"Oh, now you've really pissed me off," the prince said, his stance still angled towards the ground. He brought his body upwards, revealing that the same smirk still populated the same part of his face that it always did. "I was planning to maybe cut you up a bit, maybe do the same to your boyfriend's pants so you wouldn't have to later, and then throw you in the confessional. But unfortunately, you decided to play things the hard way..."
What the prince did during that little speech was quite despicable. It was underhanded, it was dirty but the prince did not care. He wanted to win and he would do anything for that. From the time that the Symphony of Selu'Beria began to the moment that he ended his speech; the prince focused his energy on the melted water from the failed icicle spear attack that was now melted on the church floor. Raelyse had levitated the water off the ground, then frozen it and shaped it to its original icicle spear form. He had done this after the other vampire had moved as fast as he could towards Falcon. Then, as the prince spoke to his enemy, he gathered more water vapor from the air surrounding his newly formed weapon.
Thanks to his enemy's weakened attack, Raelyse had gained more magical strength by absorbing what remained of the assault through the power of the magical stones imbued on his back. This would amplify his powers for a short time, but also briefly remove the curse that afflicted his right leg and restricted its use. However, the prince wasn't ready just yet to reveal this fact to his opponent, just like he had feigned injury from the ki beam to temporarily gain a few precious seconds.
With his briefly improved magical prowess, the prince of Myrusia made his icicle weapon twice as big as it was before, half a foot wide and four feet long. The massive weapon levitated four and a half feet above the ground, ready five words before the prince had finished his speech.
"Well, I can play hard too," he finished, with the word ‘hard’ heralding the prince's second attempt to impale his opponent. This time, he did not border spinning it, unless it struck its target. The hulk of a weapon traversed the two feet towards its target in between one and one and a half seconds, moving in between the pews at pace, aiming to impale the vampire in the chest.
Raelyse could not help glancing over at Falcon, who had probably engaged in fighting with his opponent. The prince moved about half a foot to his right in one step, just as he commanded the icicle to move. In case his opponent tried managed to avoid it, he had to make sure that he was not struck by his own weapon. Just to be safe, he moved another one and a half feet as it reached the area where his opponent was likely to be.
Falcon had known his commander for long enough to know that the prince loved to fight dirty even if he was capable of the clean variation. In fact, the prince hoped that his subordinate had the intelligence and the guile to ensure that Raelyse still held the upper hand.
There was no explicit rule stating that stabbing someone in the back was not allowed. And even if there was, Raelyse was sure there was some exception for the undead.
Canen was, to say the least, unimpressed by his opponent's lack of dignity. The Nocturn had watched with a careful eye as the sunlight had forced Nathanial to begin his movements, and Canen had looked on with a small satisfaction. After this pleasurable experience, his opponent had then spent his time cutting open his wound containing the snake venom and, in a sickening display, had cupped his own blood, his own lifeforce inbetween his palms in an attempt to use it as a weapon. By the time Nathanial was up to his feet and staggering across the floor, even to the point where it was more like a limping trot, Canen had already planned his counterattack.
I don't know what he thinks he is doing...what kind of a strategy is that?
His pale, smooth hand quickly drew The Valiance from its ivory sheath by his side, the metal sliding out accompanied by a shrill, ethereal metallic scraping that sounded almost calming to listen to, and he raised the flat, polished blade to a high angle. Using the bluntside of the sword he covered his eyes as the shower of potentially toxic blood spattered over his face, lips and scarlet robes. It felt digusting, like lukewarm, stagnant rainwater pattering against his face, only that the blood was carrying the lifeforce of the undead as well as the puss of the venom wound. He could feel the thick crimson liquid form larger streams as the droplets connected and they forked down his face in tiny rivers, before he used the back of his sleeve to wipe his profile clean. He was disgusted. He was insulted. He couldn't think of anything more humiliating. But more than anything, he was now far more determined to break this vamparic nancy boy in two, along with his feeble partner.
"You sicken me..." Canen accused, pointing a bloodstained finger at the offending undead. Nathanial's eyes and expression showed no remorse for his insulting attack and the manner in which he had undertaken it. The Nocturn, blade in hand, pressed forward slowly. His footsteps were slow, intimidating and pressurising down the red carpeted altar towards his foe, the boots pressing large prints into the silky texture of the carpet as he descended like the night on this walking joke that had dared to mock him with such a technique. "...the facade is over. No more games. No more toying around..." His rough, deep throated voice raised a notch as he twirled the polished braodsword from one hand to the other repeatedly, looping the blade through his hands like an act at the circus. His eyes narrowed and intensified in ambience as the looping became quicker and more precise. Nathanial was unarmed and although Canen usually had his reservations about attacking unarmed men he quickly overrid this with the desire for revenge for smothering his face in the foul blood.
It was said that Canen was the last of a dying faith. He had been one of the few Nocturnian warriors to follow the code of the sword. It identified him. It defined him. This silver broadsword was not just a piece of metal that had been forged by a blacksmith. It was not just a tool of war, or something as simple as a weapon to kill with. Or even, for that matter, a sword of justice either. No. It was much more than any of these combined. This sword was an extension of Canen's body and mind. For that, it was one of many things: a monument to his past, to remind him of his birthrights and the people he fought for every single day of his life, perhaps even subconciously. It was evidence of his present, that despite the best efforts of most of those he had encountered during his time who had tried to take his life, he was still surviving. It was a means to a purpose, a representation of the future he was carving for himself. All of these small things combined made Canen's affiliation with his weapon not just a combat-related affair, but a deeply rooted piece of religion that had been the entire cause of his upbringing. At the very least, the Nocturn had earned a reputation with his skills.
"You dare to have thrown the poisoned blood of the devil at me?" He roared, his eyes flaring with rage..."The devil is not welcome here!!"
A second's worth of a side-shot glance back at his partner allowed Canen to monitor Raelyse's progress. At first, it seemed like the ki beam had made a direct hit on the Prince, and a momentary second or two of fear and panic coursed through his veins at the thought of losing him. However, it wasn't long before reason and logic took over and the two magical powers emerged unscathed, clashing and locked in a stalemate. He uttered a slight chuckle as he watched the expression of Raelyse's face turn to one of near absolute boredom, yawning as Whealer tried everything he could to break the barrier. Suddenly, the Ki attack shattered the barrier and struck Raelyse chest on.
There was no more time to watch. Canen had to make his move at Nathanial.
He dashed at his opponent, his pale white Nocturnian flesh spattered in the blood of his enemy, and brought his sword with a mighty swing from left to right in a vicious spin. The edge of The Valiance was not blunt, it was very, very sharp, and was often compared to a katana in style despite its somewhat lumbering and heavy posture. To make things more gloomy for his undead rival, Canen was very effecient at using it.
“What the hell?”
Tarry couldn’t see the shield rise, didn’t recognize the spell his opponent had cast, and (despite being a former lieutenant in the Tel Aglarim) was almost completely ignorant toward Raieren song magic. This meant that for his ki beam to score a direct hit yet do so little damage (as Tarry could tell by sensing how his opponents spirit was effected) made little sense. The only logical conclusion that the blind and ever so arrogant vampire could come up with to explain such an event was that his opponent had some sort of special item or something that made his spirit magic do much less damage than it should have.
However for better or for worse Raelyse had absolutely no intention what so ever of letting the psychotic vampire dwell on such thoughts and proceeded to launch a counter attack almost immediately. The deadly vampire quickly spun around on the hill of his boot as he heard the loud, familiar whistling of a projectile moving at high speeds through the air. The deadly icy spear caught the vampire where his heart was and had it not been for the black, unrelenting delyn plate that covered his chest and back, the attack might have been fatal.
Instead of death all the attack managed to deliver to the livelike vampire was humiliation with a small side of pain. As the attack hit Tarry in mid turn, he was knocked off his balance and sent tumbling to dusty carpet floor. Now if there was one thing Tarry was a bit known for, it was his dramatic and sometimes seemingly unprovoked mood swings that seemed to be the most dominant of all his mental instabilities. It didn’t take much to turn a cocky vampire into a deadly, relentless blood thirsty one and that was exactly what Raelyse had just managed to successfully do.
With a snort that both served to get dust and a bit of frustration out of him the vampire once again began to call upon the spirit energy that flowed through him so freely, this time it was to his mouth. Of course, since the last energy attack proved so useless against his deceptively powerful opponent the target of the attack was the church itself or more specifically, the floor below him. The resulting explosion from the blast hitting the floor sent a thick shower of dust and debris into the air making it (for the time being anyways) hard to breath and even harder to see.
With a sinister smile that reflected the bloodlust that filled his mind, Tarry quickly drew both of his double edged, yew-handled, delyn daggers from the inside of his coat. This time there was no smart assed taunt to announce the attack, or any sharp-tongued insult to give his plan away because Tarry was no longer interested in toying with his opponents. Now he just wanted the ice-wielding member of The Grander’s Order to bleed and suffer for the humiliation the last attack had caused the vampire.
Before the dust could settle from the blast, Tarry lunged foward and his right hand shot forward with the dagger extended outwards towards the Raelyse’s unprotected neck like a snake trying to strike its prey. The left hand moved the dagger into a reverse position and was held near the vampire’s chest for defense. The attack may not have been glamorous, showy or complicated like the attacks that most fighters and adventurers preferred, but then again a simple dagger to the neck could be just as effective any sort of flamboyant looking spell.
My plan had worked. My blood had hit its mark, splattering on his face. Had it not been for his sword, the taint would have entered his eyes as well. For a moment, I could only manage a grim smile at his disgust, but that soon changed. His tone grew darker, more filled with rage. My opponent began a walk towards me, slow but steady footsteps continuing down the aisle. He soon twirled his sword, like some sort of street performer as he looped it about in a manner. 'Is he trying to intimidate me?' Finally, his raspy voice roared like a fearsome fire and brimstone preacher, screaming at me like a zealot.
I grew afraid, his eyes that I so had wanted to blind now piercing my very being into submission. I backed away slowly, forgetting about the venoms pain in my body. All I could do was watch him in anticipation, hoping he would quell his madness before his attack became too rash. My wide eyed expression had to give him a hint as to what I was feeling.
With a sudden rush forward had caught me off guard, my feet unsteady as I stumbled back. I could not help letting a yelp slip as I saw his gruesome face, covered with my own blood. He lifted his sword, the very symbol of his aggression, and swung it with fearful might. There was no way I could move in time as the blade met my left hand. I felt the cold steel slash through the flesh and finally meet the bone where it stopped. I stumbled back, unable to feel the full pain until after the sword was removed. My eyes, terrified at what had happened, desperately looked for signs of damage. My wrist had been cut deeply, the first bone completely separated. The pain was incredible as I could only stare in awe at my wound, how close I had been to losing the hand. I let out a scream, my aguish was known to the entire arena. The scream was of pain, terror, and rage over the grievance down to me. But soon, but the fear and hurt left me, over powered by a more primal emotion. Hatred overtook me then as I starred straight at my opponent.
I could not control my actions as I lunged forward, teeth bared. My right hand extended to grasp his throat, my left hand kept back having lost control over it. I wanted his blood, I wanted his very being to be destroyed. But most of all, I want to scratch out those bastard eyes of his, those eyes so smug and fearsome. 'I will blind him.'
Another failed attack. Another carefully executed move doing nothing more than showing off Raelyse's prowess, albeit quite spectacularly. Every time the prince had launched one of his icicle spears, his opponent had found some way to dodge them. He did not need to think for even a moment, he knew that Falcon would need to lend his assistance to help them vanquish this foe. The younger vampire had never looked like threatening the Nocturnian, so why was he taking so long? It did not matter anyway. It would only be a matter of time before the blind one exhausted all of his attacks and became predictable, and then the prince would be able to wipe him out. Raelyse just wanted this battle to be finished quickly; he was beginning to feel that the church was starting to reek.
As his icicle spear smashed into the vampire, the prince had thought for a second that he had won. Impaling means defeat, whether you're dead, alive or whatever exists in between. So it was with much glee that his eyes widened when he saw that there was no chance of his attack missing. Unfortunately, it did not succeed either. A loud clang ringed through the entire church as the icicle smashed into the vampire's hidden metal armor. The prince clenched his fist and swore out loud. Endlessly creating ice weapons was growing exasperating and now that frustration was beginning to seep in to his form, Raelyse realized that he was growing tired. He watched as his weapon came off weaker than his opponent, shattering into a million pieces, tiny icicle shards raining all over the church. While his opponent regained his balance, the prince quickly tried his best to calm himself down before focusing.
With many tiny sharp icicles in the air, Raelyse knew that this would be a perfect time to help out his partner. "Darkflight, finish that one off!" His left hand instantly thrust into the air during his speech, before plunging diagonally down to his right. As if obeying that motion, about one hundred tiny icicle shards, instantly veered off course, raining down on the area surrounding Canen's opponent. The rest of them, unaided by Raelyse's magical propulsion, fell on the ground around the entire arena almost simultaneously a split second afterwards, imitating the sound of rain as they landed on the ground. The area in which the icicle spear had shattered meant that most of the shards landed in the area between the podium and the entrance, meaning the prince only had to slowly raise his right hand to protect his face from the few that flew in his direction.
"Well done, old boy, you just fucked yourself over. Maybe next time, just take off the armor and die. Don’t you grow tir -”
This was not the first time that the prince had started receiting a monologue during a fight and got punished for it. He did not even see the attack coming; he was too focused on himself. He felt the shockwaves from the blast as it connected with the wooden church floor, sending his body backwards. Then, before he knew it, the prince of Myrusia felt his footing fall from beneath him. Raelyse opened his eyes to see what had happened, even though it was all too obvious. The vampire's attack had broken the already fragile ground, causing the prince to fall into whatever lay beneath the church. What was strange though and what should have been predicted was that there was something underneath the church.
The drop was not very deep, probably only about two feet. The prince fell to the ground with a thud, causing dust from all around him to rise. The wooden plank that he had been standing on above was broken into two pieces and now lay beside him. The prince tried to rise to his feet, instinctively grabbing for his cane as he did so. When he noticed that it was gone, he instantly panicked. Looking around, he saw it about three feet to his right. Within two seconds, he had rolled to it, picked it up and risen to his feet. He positioned himself away from the hole, so as to not leave himself vulnerable to attack. Raelyse was now concerned that his clothing was now covered in dust, especially his precious cane. Worse, his hair. He did not even need to think about it, he knew it was beyond help now.
A quick glance revealed to the prince his new surroundings. This new place was small, about the size of the raised platform in the church. What truly surprised was its contents. Inside it, there was nothing but enormous wooden barrels. As his eyes ran over them, all stacked up neatly, it suddenly added up. This was not a church. A logo on each and every single one of the barrel revealed its contents. Rum, whiskey, tequila... this was an alcohol storage facility masquerading as a church. No wonder everything was so perfectly aligned. It had never been used for worship of any kind. Now that he knew the contents of this area, Raelyse swore that he could smell a disgusting cocktail of all the beverages mixed together. He hated alcohol, he hated vampires... the two would burn together.
The prince knew that the vampire's attack would have caused a lot of dust or splinters to rise from the church floor, so whatever follow up attack he was planning would have missed. It would also have obscured everyone's vision, so they would not be able to see that the prince was uninjured or even how deep the drop was.
Carefully and slowly unsheathing his sword from his cane to make sure no sound was emitted; the prince then raised his weapon slightly. He prepared to swing his blade, and cleave the vampire if he dared to come down to try and finish him off. But he would not waste time; he knew that the vampires might decide to gang up on Canen now.
He began to use his ice powers again, this time focusing on the area above him. He would not be idle and as long as he fought along side Raelyse Salidan, Canen Darkflight would not lose.
Canen stumbled as the injured Nathanial, with a free flowing stream of blood pouring from his left hand, smashed a clenched right fist into the bridge of his nose. Accompanied by a sickly cracking sound, the nosebone shattered and a rush of blood streamed from the Nocturn's nostrels in a flush of thick black, drizzling over his lips like a bittersweet treacle. The initial blow was enough to send the form of Canen crashing into one of the front row pews, causing his body to trip over the rest of the wooden bench and lie in a crumpled heap over its breadth. The vamparic Nathanial bore his filthy fangs in sheer rage for the insults he had recieved during the fight and it seemed he was now ready, despite suffering a horrible injury at the hands of Canen's blade, to take the fight back to his aggressor.
For Canen, everything was a blur. The sounds surrounding him came through his hazy ears like white noise, the images recieved by his eyes appearing almost in double and shaking violently. As he struggled to his feet he suddenly felt the sharp and sudden pain of the wound to his nose hit him like the punch had, reeling his senses and causing him great bouts of frustration. He got to his feet and leaned his back against the pew he had fallen into, marked by smears of his Icarus blood along the wooden base.
"That fucking hurt..."He remarked, fiddling with the shattered bridge of his pale, bloodstained nose like a child would fiddle with a sore tooth. It made an awful clicking sound as it jaunted back into place. "...but you are still lucky to be standing, boy. How many more times do you think I will fall for the suckerpunches...?"
His rhetorical question was interrupted by a sudden hail of icicle shards raining down on the vicinity, the last remenants of Raelyse's failed attempt on Tarry's life. Like the sound of a thousand snare drums, hundreds of magically propulsed fragments of frozen liquid smashed into the pews and scattered along the warm sunlit floor like marbles, some of them melting upon impact. As Canen attained his senses once again and regained the use of his eyes and ears, he had noticed that Raelyse had given him the perfect yet small window of opportunity to help take out the obvious power plant of the operation. Tarry Whealer. Canen sheathed his blade and cast his eyes down at the spatters of Icarus blood that had spilt over the dusty wooden floorboards for a moment, before continuing his approach on the blind, bandaged vampire.
"You need to get your fucking act together, Canen..." The Nocturn mumbled to himself. He was now aware of Raelyse's own position, having noticed that Tarry was standing over an open hole in the floor.
With a quick mock kiss blown at the weakened vampire he had left in the wake of the hailstorm of ice shards, Canen turned his attention to Tarry Whealer. Raelyse had been matching him blow for blow in this exciting matchup, yet here the blind vampire stood unaware of the ever moving, ever resourceful Prince's new and perhaps chance-inflicted plan. Canen could see what his leader was scheming, and he fully intended to ensure it paid off.
This new hole was small, and inside it, there was nothing but alcoholic drinks stacked in neatly lined wooden casks. Raelyse's well known hatred of alcohol was enough for Canen to know he wouldn't want to be sat inside that hole for too long, and it was time to make his move. The Nocturn quietly paced over the dusty wooden floorboards and stood about two metres from the other, far stronger vampire. He slowly raised a palm to chest height, and lined it up with Whealer's back.
Slowly, the matter of the Black Widow magic started to form. The dark substance swirled in an oily pattern, merging and intertwining with an almost liquid appearance, before flinging itself in a two metre wide sheet with a hiss remeniscant of a viper, reared up and ready to strike. The Black Widow was named so for its numbing effect on the skin, causing slow paralysis that would not kill but eventually immobilise or stun its opponent enough to prevent them from moving quickly. Essentially, this was just what Canen needed to ensure his side of the partnership was kept aloft.
(As agreed, edits completed.)
“What a shame. It seems that instead of relatively quick and bloody death from a dagger to the face, the prick will die a slow and painful death of starvation and loneliness. What a shame in deed,” thought the sadistic vampire with a sardonic sort of glee as the smoke cleared and dust began to settle. He knew that his opponent, the ice wielding prick, had fallen into a hole and was still alive but that was all. As far as the blind vampire knew (or cared), the unfortunate Raelyse was in a pit completely devoid of anything that could be used as food or drink (Tarry assumed the smells of alcohol were coming from the city outside).
“Now that one dip-shit is down and out of the way, I guess I ought to get rid of his little butt-buddy and help my weakling apprentice.”
It was now, for the first time since the battle had begun that the blind vampire truly began to notice his partner Nathaniel, and needless to say, Tarry was not at all happy with the way his recently acquired apprentice was handling the battle. Ignoring Canen for a moment, the arrogant livelike vampire turned his attention towards his apprentice.
“I swear to God, it amazes me how somebody as weak as you managed to survive for over 100 years before you met me. I mean, hell, you didn’t even have enough sense to get yourself a fucking weapon before coming here,” said the livelike vampire scornfully. Yet despite his scorn Tarry did something that was almost completely against his character, he flicked the dagger in his hand across the floor of the church, to the feet of Nathaniel. “There take the dagger and learn to defend yourself. I’ll help you get rid of this son-of-a-whore since you seem to be completely unable to do it for yourself.”
With that Tarry once again turned around only to get hit head on by Canen’s ‘Black Window’ spell. The effects of the spell became apparent to the blind vampire almost immediately as his muscles began to tense up all over his body and he seemed to be slowly going numb in every bodypart he ever new he had and a few he hadn’t realized even existed before now. Tarry could feel a sort of lethargic feeling wash over him as his nervous system was becoming weaker and less effective and their ever-important signals started taking longer to reach the rest of his body, all thanks to the deteriorating effects of Canen’s spell.
Slowly, as the initial surprise wore off and his body began to adjust itself to get used to the nerve-damaging effects of the spell the vampire raised his right hand with his palm aimed squarely at Canen. A second later two more ki blasts burst from Tarry’s palm in quick succession like gunshots, speeding forward with every intention of blowing the nocturnian’s head clear off his shoulders.
“Lets see if this bastard is as resistant to my magic as that infernal partner of his.”
Would have liked to have seen this finish. That being said, I’m not sure finishing it would have effected the outcome at all. This battle ended up being rather one-sided with one side infusing much more confusion into the battle then the other.
(11) Grander’s Order vs. (14) Blood Brothers
Grander’s Order
Raelyse:
Introduction: 6 - I thought your intro was the best of the bunch. You exhibited a good amount of character, established why you were there, and gave me a much better sense of the surrounding then anyone else.
Setting: 6 - Again, you did much better with the setting then anyone else. You utilized and observed it much more then anyone else. This is one area where not finishing hurt though. Having it be an alcohol cache so to speak was kind of weird to begin with, but having made no use of it it’s even stranger.
Strategy: 5 - While I give you props for making an arena that you’d think your opponents wouldn’t even be able to fight in I would have preferred something more. As far as the rest of the thread everything was fairly average. You overused the same ice spells too.
Writing Style: 6 - You have a good style. Not much to say there. You know what you’re doing. Only thing I have a gripe with is your comma (or sometimes lack thereof) usage. There are about as many spots that you have an extra one as there are spots you miss them.
Rising Action: 5 - If there was any substantial Rising Action in this battle it came from you. Mostly it came on part of your Dialogue, as that’s what really set the pace for the entire battle. But of course, as is the reason I hate this category, it’s hard to establish much in a hack-and-slash setting like battles.
Dialogue: 6 - While sometimes it came off a little underhanded, it was your character to a tee and was really what kept the battle going.
Character: 7 - You play the Prince well. You barely strayed much during this battle.
Climax: 0
Conclusion: 0
Wild Card: 5
Total: 46
Falcon Darkflight
Introduction: 5 - Pretty average. I like the reporter bit, but for the most part there was nothing overly original or deserving of an above-average score.
Setting: 4 - More attention could have been given to the setting. It’s one of the more important parts of a battle.
Strategy: 5 - Again, rather average. You were mostly hack-and-slash at first. I liked you taking Nathaniel’s shots though.
Writing Style: 5 - You’ve improved a lot. I mean a lot. Thinking back to past judgments I made inbattles of yours I’m impressed with how far you’ve come. As is the case in almost every thread though, it was the small mistakes that brought your score down.
Rising Action: 4 - There really wasn’t any, at least in the traditional sense. But again, I liked how you took your hits and the development it brought as far as your attitude during the battle. It was mostly your reactions to those attacks that brought you points here.
Dialogue: 5 - Good. But not as good as your partner. I think you need to find your niche between your character and how much you want to make him sound like Raelyse.
Character: 5 - Basically the same as with Dialogue. There wasn’t much as far as development or anything really new with your character, but the paragraph about your sword brought you up.
Climax: 0
Conclusion: 0
Wild Card: 5
Total: 38
Team Average: 42
Blood Brothers
grim137
Introduction: 5 - You at least provided a reason for being in the tournament. Other then that it was pretty straight-forward.
Setting: 4 - You blew up the floor. Other then that I don’t think you made much use of the setting at all. I would have liked to have seen more focus on the fact that it was a church (or supposed to be).
Strategy: 5 - Your attacks were mostly good and well used. But, there was nothing above average, again.
Writing Style: 5 - Starting to sound repetitive, but it was average. Certainly not flawed too greatly, but also nothing that stood out above anyone else.
Dialogue: 4 - Yours seemed just a bit more contrived then your opponents. I also thought the scolding of Nathaniel towards the end was entirely out of place. It just didn’t fit.
Character: 6 - You know your character well, as you should, and played him well.
Climax: 0
Conclusion: 0
Wild Card: 4
Total: 36
Redeemer
Introduction: 4 - This was confusing for me. It seemed like you literally came wandering out of the desert for no real reason. I didn’t get a sense of Nathaniel having any drive except to please Grim. The bit with the snake also made NO sense and I still don’t know the purpose of it or how it was supposed to play a part in this battle.
Setting: 4 - The beams fell on you. Off the top of my head I can’t think of you really referencing the arena any place else.
Strategy: 4 - The snake bite through this off for me. It made for odd moments like you stabbing yourself and a constant pain in your leg. (As a vampire you can go in sunlight and churches but AREN’T immune to venom/poison?)
Writing Style: 5 - It’s not easy to write 1st person in a setting like Althanas. I think you do about as good as you can without being absolutely spectacular.
Rising Action: 3 - See my comments for Setting and Strategy.
Dialogue: 3 - Compared to everyone else in this battle I felt you could have tried a little harder, even if it was with inward thoughts and the like.
Character: 6 - You do play your character well. You never lost sight of the infatuation with Tarry, which was the highlight of your battle as far as the rubric is concerned.
Climax: 0
Conclusion: 0
Wild Card: 4
Total: 33
Team Average: 34.5
Grander’s Order advance to second round!
Rewards:
Blood Brothers will receive 50 EXP consolation.
Raelyse gains 736 EXP.
Falcon Darkflight gains 608 EXP.
EXP added!