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Round three begins Thursday at 12 AM EST. Good Luck!
Congratulations, rather than having a bye this round, you will have to fight a special challenger. Sons of Terrinore will post their introductions first and then Infinity will follow. This is to be judged like a regular tournament battle. Inactivity could lead to disqualification. Have fun!
The afternoon sun had set behind the Lotho Mountains, casting a red shadow upon the Monolith Clearing. The Monolith Clearing was a spectacle of nature: a large patch of grass that was nestled in the center of Lornius’ thickest forest. It was said to be the birthplace of the Lornian gods – the holiest of holy places. The clearing’s location relative to the highest peaks of the Lotho Mountain range gave the area a prolonged sunset. Religion aside, it truly was one of the most breathtaking places on the island. Soldiers had avoided the clearing during the civil war because of its religious ties, leaving it virtually untouched by conflict. Only one battle had taken place there in the past ten years…
Max Dirks treaded carefully through the tall grass in route to the clearing’s large amphitheater. It was here, just over a year ago, where his current predicament had begun. Thoracis was just a puppet then: an over-confident general who only sought recognition for his achievements. The legendary assassin, Mazrith al' Dor Hashid, twisted Thoracis’ desires and lured him into a plot that would have left both Dirks and the ice mage dead – if Dirks hadn’t intervened. Physical evidence of the battle – the blood, the lost weapons, the shattered bones – had faded away by the passage of time, but its memory lived on as both hatred and fear in Thoracis’ heart.
“It’s funny,” Dirks finally said to Thoracis, “nothing seems to care about what happened but us.” But even Dirks’ interest in the ordeal was beginning to wane. The idea of returning to Starlynn as a champion struck a cord in the former criminal’s soul. His battles were becoming less about his past with Thoracis and more about his future in the Lornius Corporate Challenge. The Sons of Terrinore had literally waltzed to the third round of the tournament, leaving Dirks with little to mend his battered spirit. He wanted to win – not only for Starlynn, but for himself as well, but he did not want to win freely.
Dirks proceeded down into the amphitheater. The stones that once provided theater seating for the stage had worn. Many were cracked and others were just plain missing. Long ago, Lornians prayed for direction at the amphitheater. It was said that ‘obelisk’ at the center of the stage – for which the clearing was named – carried the prayers to the heavens. Dirks continued down into the pit until he arrived at the stage. He climbed up and then turned back to Thoracis, his trench coat fluttered in the light wind. “You know,” he said, “I never really told you the reason why I shot you...”
The rumblings were growing louder and louder. All across Althanas the rumors spread that the Sons of Terrinore had manipulated the tournament officials, putting themselves in a position in which they wouldn’t face a battle until the end. Speculation began with the conclusion of the first round, after which it became known Thoracis and Max Dirks would compete together. At Piston’s Pleasure Palace, on Dirks’ friend's island of all places, they said the partnership was a plot by Dirks from the beginning. From the Bottomless Pit in Ettermire they gasped at Thoracis’ audacity in using the Prince of Kachuk as a pawn in their silly game. In Lyridia gold by the thousands was being taken off of bets on the Sons of Terrinore as the gamblers became convinced they would soon be disqualified. After the second round they whispered to each other how “convenient” it was that their opponents did not arrive to fight. Now the entire tournament was shrouded by a cloud of controversy. All the while nobody thought to realize that Thoracis was simply using Dirks to finally get into the finals where he knew he could win it on his own.
It wasn’t likely to get any better following this round. The third round of the Lornius Corporate Challenge was traditionally a round in which two of the favored teams fought against surprise teams that the tournament directors formed for the sole purpose of testing those who were supposed to make the finals. The fact that the Sons of Terrinore drew one of these matches would not go unnoticed, especially since this was the second consecutive year Thoracis had drawn the match. It was this very round one year ago that lead to the current hostility between Thoracis and Dirks. It hadn’t even been Dirks and Mazrith that Thoracis and Azrael were supposed to fight. Mazrith had killed the real Untouchables. Their true intentions were unknown, even to this day, but regardless of the reasons, the fact remained that Dirks had shot Thoracis.
All this made it no surprise to the former general that the Monolith Clearing was where this battle was to take place. He had known where they were going the instant they left the Lotho Gorge. The fact that they would battle at the very spot they had fought just a year earlier made even Thoracis wonder if Dirks had pulled some strings to make it happen.
Everything looked exactly how it had save for the grass surrounding the amphitheatre being a tad longer. The forest surrounding the area was pristine as ever and the oncoming dusk illuminated the worn down stone seats with a red tinge that gave a magical quality to this holiest of Lornian grounds. Of course, none of that mattered to Thoracis. He was here only to win and move one step closer to his long overdue title.
As they neared the ancient place of worship Dirks finally broke the silence that had accompanied most of their journey. He was right, nothing about this place even gave a hint of what had happened here. If only the same could be said about the rest of Althanas. But like Dirks, that incident was not what troubled Thoracis the most. It was the speculators and the naysayers, the fervent storm of word of mouth that was trying to pin Dirks, and by association Thoracis, as the cheat and the criminal that he was. Thoracis had come to peace with Dirks over the gunshot. He knew he had caused the criminal as much, if not more, pain then he had suffered. Starlynn was safe and they would be reacquainted. Thoracis ultimately lived trough the shot and would soon have his tournament victory. Now his immediate mission was to prove everyone wrong. He was going to pummel everyone in his path now, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that him and Dirks deserved what they were fighting for.
“I don’t really care why you shot me,” Thoracis lied. He may have come to terms with the incident itself, but not with Dirks, and the question of why it had happened lingered with Thoracis and tore at the back of his mind and he hated Dirks because of it. He was sure that in his own mind Dirks thought he was entirely justified in having squeezed the trigger, but he was also sure that those reasons were based on misconception. “What’s done is done. We’ve both performed deeds we probably shouldn’t have. We can right those wrongs over the next three rounds.” He was honest in that assessment but he still desperately wanted to know why. Or at least he thought he did. The truth was likely worse then his imagination in this case and aside from that he would not give Dirks the satisfaction of asking.
Thoracis pulled the hood of his robe back, stretching his arms and flexing his back muscles. His icy grip tightened around his liviol staff as he mentally prepared himself for battle against opponents yet unknown. “All I care about now is winning this tournament and shutting everyone up.”
As the sun rose over the Lornian grounds, one creature greeted it most graciously. As the rays warmed his pale skin, small wisps of white smoke rose to the air, quickly dispersed by what little wind there was. His chest was covered by a leather vest while his forearms and legs were likewise braced with leather garb. This individual was kneeling in the tall grass, hands over thighs in a meditative salutation to the new day. In the grass before him, shimmering in the pristine daylight, was his single most valued possession, a black diamond sword. The smoke rising from his form was something he had become accustomed to, a byproduct of nights spent in depravation of luminescence. He breathed in the dawn’s beams and felt his body energized to new heights. This day, he knew, would not be uneventful.
Finishing his custom, the dark elf slowly got to his feet, grasping his coveted falchion with a firm grip. At his touch, the dark blade of the weapon was instantly aglow, radiating an incandescent aura. With the assertion that came of several years’ practice, he ran his free left hand’s index finger along the Jinkourai’s sharp edge. Small balls of solid white began to jump from the falchion, as if trying to catch the rogue finger in its trajectory. When it reached the sword’s tip, the white warrior pulled it away, allowing a single orb to remain on his finger. Flicking it, the glowing orb was shot away from the dark elf. He saw it pause in midair some feet away and return to float inches from his face. Willing it to do further, the orb grew until it was the size of a fist. Then, after another slight pause, he began to mold the orb into different shapes with his mind, practicing for the upcoming encounter.
“A special challenger…” Hikari no Ashigaru thought to himself as he formed first a white cylinder and then a cone.
He had been engaged to participate in the Lornius Corporate Challenge as a surprise obstacle for one of the tournament’s teams that had, as it appeared to the rest of Althanas, reaped an easier path than most to the final battle. The white warrior was offered monetary compensation, which he had declined. He would not do battle for wealth. Truth be told, he was not joining for recognition either, or he would have joined the contest with the teammate of his choice at its beginnings. Before, he had been known to do combat in such prearranged conditions to test himself against other renowned beings. Still, this was not true of the day’s events. His pursuit was purer and of a much more self-seeking variety than was common for the light mage. Someone had offered him what he most wanted at the moment, information.
It had been as the note said. Only a few hours after its receipt, the white warrior was contracted for the celebrated team tournament. The white shape before him shifted into a dagger as his thoughts turned to whoever had contacted him. He was not fond of being manipulated for others’ ends. Yet, his choices were just as the letter had stated them. He could go along with this monogram’s machinations or choose to go on with his life, which of late had been naught but a fruitless search for a better understanding of what was happening to him. The invasion of vampiric taint was taking a unique turn in the light mage’s body, forcing splits in personalities and abrupt shifts in moods. His own powers already a mystery to him, Hikari was unsure of what to make of these developments. With his face set in a grimace, the dark elf finally vanished the formless energy he had been sculpting, which had lost discernable shape when his concentration ebbed, and lowered his imposing weapon.Quote:
To Hikari no Ashigaru,
I trust this letter finds you in control of yourself with, let’s call him your dark little secret, at bay? I would imagine you are curious as to how I know of him and why I chose to contact you in such a fashion. It suffices to say that I am one who is interested in your continued dominance over your more savage side. I know more of the workings within you than perhaps you are even savvy to. I’m willing to part with some of this knowledge, but you must first do something for me.
You are, I believe, familiar with the scoundrel Max Dirks. It is not a secret to anyone that he has several enemies in high places. I suppose I might be counted among them. I have learned that you will be recruited to fight his team in the LCC. I want you to embarrass the man in combat. Should I deem his humiliation befitting of your reputation, I will contact you further. If not, then you can go on about your existence, if you can call your present circumstances such.
Cheers,
~ R.
“Enough practice,” he spoke to the crisp morning air in frustration.
~*~*~*~*~
As Hikari no Ashigaru caught sight of the amphitheater that would be the match’s battleground, only one thing differed from his form earlier that day. He now sported a black cloak with dark runes upon it. If Jinkourai Ittou was his most precious possession, his vlince cloak was a close second. Of his powers, he knew only that they had some connection with this garment. It was the only keepsake left to the drow of his former home. It belonged to the one who had fashioned the curse now upon him. True, he could use light to great effect in turning the tide of confrontations in his favor, but he also hungered for it incessantly. The need to understand it before was not pressing, but his undead taint had managed to change that rather drastically. He was given renewed incentive to find out what he could of the curse. This was why he began searching the libraries of Althanas for word of similar antecedents. This was why he did not burn the letter bribing him with unsubstantiated promises. This was why he slowly made his way to the Monolith Clearing.
The Lornius Corporation Challenge... it was a name Elrundir thought he would never hear again.
For the past year or two, Elrundir Galadhrim's very soul had been in conflict. He had all but removed himself entirely from the world, sinking into its shadowy nooks and cutting off all contact with those he once knew. It was a safety measure, he convinced himself at first. A darkness had rooted itself deeply within his heart, and he was unsure if he was capable of effectively controlling it. By relinquishing himself to the shadows, he knew that the darkness would not be able to spread, and he could give himself the time to conquer that darkness. Succumbing to it was not a path he was prepared to follow - not willingly. If nothing else, he swore that the poison would have to drag him down its hole with all its might in order to emerge triumphant.
So far, it had succeeded.
Elrundir knew not what this darkness was, but he remembered well the day it entered his life. A tree in one of the forests of Raiaera became tainted with a strange darkness, and Findelfin enlisted Elrundir's help to purify it. Of course Elrundir decided to help - Raiaera had been his home for centuries and he would not allow anything like this to darken its doors, especially not on the heels of the fight with the Forgotten Ones. It could have been a sign of their return, or a lingering pulse of their power. Either could result in terrible omens for the well-being of Raiaera.
So, Elrundir and Findelfin worked together to purify the taint. Elrundir unleashed the very essence of his soul to drive it away and banish it, but he made a grave miscalculation: he had not counted on the taint being sentient, and capable of working its way into the hole left behind. It lodged itself deep within him and festered, exerting its pull on what was left of his essence. Gradually, he became less and less himself, and more and more something... else. Something darker. Something he didn't understand, but that understood him very well.
When he realized that this taint was not something he could fight off easily, he went into seclusion. Elrundir thought - hoped - that he would not be found... but fate intervened. Her name was Talia, a powerful shadow mage who had been asked by the Lornius Corporation to find him and enlist him as one of the guest competitors for the competition. Never, Elrundir thought to himself. Now is not the time for fighting! He had problems far larger than the entertainment of the masses. Neither money nor glory could possibly compare to the purification of his soul!
But the taint had other ideas.
Driven by a thirst for destruction, Elrundir found his body agreeing to the proposition, and before he could stop it, it was shifting out of the shadow realm with Talia and following her to the battle ground. What little purity remained in his soul sat in the backseat while the very evil he had worked so hard to contain was let out in a single blaze of darkness.
* * * *
A cardinal with feathers a darker red than blood flew over the Monolith Clearing in a wide circle, casting her dark eyes down over the scenery. People had gathered, she noted; the other competitors. If birds could grin, she would right then, for indeed she recognized them and knew that her master would as well. Sweeping around the clearing once more, the cardinal descended towards the forest's edge.
"Rouge, my darling," a voice uttered quietly as she approached. The figure from which it came extended a hand, and Rouge alighted upon it with a flutter of her blood-red wings. "They are here... I see." Mostly shrouded in darkness, a grin came to the man's face, as dark as his voice.
Suddenly, his body was engulfed in shadows and began to melt into the tree. It became a nearly formless mass, looking more like a great, flat, black snake than anything else as it slithered in a wide spiral down the tree's trunk. Rouge fluttered along obediently, keeping the shadow in her line of sight and following it as a pet follows its master - and yet she was much more than a pet. Much more indeed.
Once on the ground, the shadow assumed its original form once more, revealing a man who could now be more clearly seen in the red shadows of the Monolith Clearing. "Ah... the land of Althanas." Rouge swooped down from above and landed on the sapphire head of Elrundir's mythril staff. He looked over to her and stroked her stomach with a single gloved finger from his other hand. "It has been entirely too long, my dearest, has it not?" Rouge chirped her agreement in a sound that seemed entirely too sweet for a creature of darkness such as she.
"It is good to be... home." Unable to resist, Elrundir let out a dark laugh of amusement.
“So be it,” Dirks mumbled in response to Thoracis’ lies. The ice mage’s grudge was just as thick as Dirks’. If Thoracis truly believed that justice was issued then he would have left Dirks to Starlynn after the first round. The struggle had now carried onto the third round, leaving heavy doubts in Dirks’ mind. It was not an epiphany that kept their grudges at bay; it was their growing mutual interest in winning the tournament. However, Dirks knew that only teams – not individuals – win the Lornius Corporate Challenge and the Sons of Terrinore were anything but that.
Dirks pushed his thoughts away and then looked to the sky. A few night clouds had rolled onto the horizon, but they had not yet threatened the clearing’s prolonged sunset. Dirks stared at the spectacle until a red block appeared when he blinked. He closed his eyes until the block went away. When he reopened them, the clearing had changed. The light breeze had stopped blowing and the sounds of the forest ceased. No leaves swayed, no animals romped, and no birds sang. A small chill ran down Dirks’ spine as he looked around for anything peculiar that might have caused the abrupt change.
Then he saw it: high above the clearing a single blood-red bird circled the area and then disappeared into the forest. It was once common for warriors of old to own familiars – pets with remarkable ability and loyalty to their owners. Consistent with the theme of this ‘special’ round, Dirks considered the bird a good sign that their opponents had arrived and the battle had commenced. In response, Dirks removed his trench coat revealing his full arsenal. Both signaturized Beretta 950s were safely nestled in their chest holsters and the hilts of his twin prevalida katanas were visible from behind his shoulders. His white tunic was ruffled, and his khaki pants were slightly wrinkled from the trip, but otherwise he looked the part of the tournament favorite.
Dirks set his down coat on the stage and spoke to Thoracis, “Come on. They’re here…”
“Come on. They’re here.” Dirks sounded so calm.
Thoracis couldn’t move. His eyes had followed along with Dirks as the out of place cardinal circled above the stage. But where Dirks lost sight of the bird Thoracis had continued to track the familiar as it came to rest atop a sapphire tipped, mythril staff. Out of the shadows the figure appeared from nowhere.
It couldn’t be. Of all the people…
“Elrundir Galadhrim.” He was shocked and the words just sort of fell from his mouth. His focus shifted briefly to Dirks, whom he knew had to be responsible for this. There was maybe one true mage in all of Althanas who commanded more fear and respect then Thoracis Rakarth and that was Elrundir Galadhrim. Elrundir, who had been missing since shortly after the Battle of Valinatal and the showdown with the Forgotten Ones in Eluriand, conveniently resurfacing now? In the LCC? Against Thoracis? Given the current predicament between the partners this had Dirks written all over it. And to think he had just been starting to believe that perhaps they could do this thing together.
Thoracis walked down to the stage and up onto it. “I hope you don’t really think it will be this easy to get rid of me,” he snarled as he passed the criminal. The ice mage stalked across the stage towards Elrundir who was laughing amongst the shadows. The dimming light cast its red glow on Thoracis as well, his icy left arm appeared almost on fire and his eyes were red orbs of anger beneath his black porcelain mask. “I never thought this day would come,” Thoracis spit to the opposing mage. The closer he moved towards Elrundir the more he became aware of the immense magical power in the area. The anti-magic amulet he wore around his neck began to chill and his liviol staff took a slightly brighter glow. All across his torso he could feel the tinge of power as it radiated through his highly enchanted dehlar chainmail. This was going to be unlike any challenge Thoracis had ever faced.
He finally came upon the opposite edge of the stage, closest to his opponent. “I’d hope you did not come here alone to face me Elrundir Galadhrim; 'less you’re in a hurry to be forced back into hiding.” Thoracis turned to his side to keep both Elrundir and Dirks in view. He could not make his move yet. He could sense magic beyond that of his and Elrundir’s, he just couldn’t tell where it was yet. If he engaged too soon there was no telling what other surprises might pop out of the woods.
So he stood, waiting for the first move to happen, stuck between old nemesis and new, with yet another lurking somewhere unseen. One more battle to win on my own…
The white warrior shadowy eyes surveyed the amphitheater from a distance with falchion in pale grip. There was an abrupt silencing of the grounds’ surroundings, the calm before a great storm. Hikari’s eyes were first drawn to Thoracis Rakarth. This, surely, was to be the dark elf’s other adversary. He had never been personally acquainted with the famed mage, but the dark mask and frozen limb made him unmistakable from any sort of lineup. Hikari knew they had both once been leaders of the Black Hand, a conglomerate of Althanas’ greatest warriors, but both had passed the torch to others after short-lived captaincies. It was Thoracis who had passed the torch to the pale drow by way of a letter so long ago. Other than that, they had no prior interaction. Hikari knew the humanoid to be a potent individual with great deeds to his name, but their relationship was akin to that of a casual fanatic and his icon. His presence would not make the dark elf’s task any simpler.
The second creature Hikari observed was Max Dirks, his principle quarry in the orange-tinged arena. They had a somewhat more direct history. The infamous criminal had been the one who recruited the light mage for Malice’s ranks in its dealings with the Grey Braves at the Magi Tower. Hikari had not brought himself to speak with the man since, being more than somewhat bitter for the events that took place on that fateful battleground. It was then and there that Hikari’s very being had ruptured. Overwhelmed by the ubiquitous violence around him, his vampiric half had torn free of Hikari’s dominance and proceeded to lay waist to the enemy, which fell like so much nameless fodder before his bloodlust. Since then struggling with his very soul, the white warrior placed blame, at least partially, on the one who had summoned him to that site. This was perhaps unjustified, but there was nevertheless no love loss between them. This was just as well, in light of the circumstances.
“And that must be my partner now.”
The third to arrive at the scene was completely unknown to Hikari, but he correctly assumed it to be his ally for the mêlée. His influx was quite unexpected to the dark elf, the well-built form emerging from a shapeless shadow. This was at least a good omen of the elf’s capabilities, but one could never be sure. As Thoracis addressed his opponent, the fourth combatant thought it high time for him to make his entrance.
With Jinkourai Ittou brightly aglow and satiating its master’s thirst, the dark elf manifested a thin, wide disk of light less than a foot above the ground before him. With a sure step, he mounted the provisional platform and felt it move quickly beneath his feet, carrying him toward the amphitheater over the tall grass. Reaching the back rows, the hovering dais swiftly descended the steps toward the stage now accommodating Hikari’s enemies and sole ally. He soon came to float mere inches over it and disembarked, his means of transportation vanishing as he did so. The very air felt tense to Hikari now that he was so near the others, no longer an idle spectator examining them from a remote vantage point. His pulse quickened as droplets of sweat began to form within his grasp. A small nod to his comrade was all he spared the elf in apprehensive expectance of the butterfly whose batting wings would usher forth the impending hurricane.
Elrundir's grin didn't leave his face as he watched Dirks and Thoracis finally notice his presence. In fact, if anything, the grin widened. Oh, how sweet it would be, to destroy them... or to be destroyed by them. The taint within him - now dominant - didn't care. It was the sort of evil that wished for everything to come to nothing, and it was not so naive as to believe that it would not be destroyed as well in the process. Besides, what would it lose? A fragment of its true self, and the pitiable host in which it was implanted.
All of the elf's memories remained within him, even with this new being taking control. As Thoracis approached, Elrundir curled his upper lip in an amused sneer, and bowed low. I doubt you could imagine a more disgustingly-proper bow bordering on mockery.
"Lord General Thoracis," the dark voice spoke, dripping with venom that the Elrundir known to Thoracis never possessed. He was always arrogant, but... he was different than this. When Thoracis revealed that he did indeed remember Elrundir's name, he laughed again darkly. "Elrundir... a name with which I am all too familiar." The elf's eyes trailed upwards, looking just above and to the right of Thoracis and the others, as if directing his attention to the thin air itself. "Isn't that right, Elrundir?" Within him, although the others would never sense it, Elrundir's original self struggled at the provocation, but in vain. The taint could feel it, though. It was the futile effort of a fly to escape the web of a masterful spider.
Elrundir ushered another laugh and shook his head at Thoracis' words. "You think too highly of yourself," the elf said with dark amusement. "What makes you think I'll be retreating again? I rather like this body... I think I'd very much enjoy keeping it." However, an amusing thought entered his mind, which caused Elrundir to grin widely. "Or will you destroy me?" The taint didn't seem to care what happened to this body. Perhaps it would not be so easily destroyed - after all, not even the strongest songs of Turlin could eradicate it. This body was nothing more than a convenient vessel with a reputation its new tenant could truly build upon.
Elrundir's eyes flickered as Hikari entered the scene, riding a disk of energy. If not for the fact that he was briefed slightly on the situation beforehand, he might have thought that the newcomer was his opponent - after all, Thoracis and Max were in no way acting like comrades. However, he liked their present situation all the more now that he was immersed in it. Dissention just made things all the more interesting. Elrundir inclined his head to the newcomer, a motion that was slow and difficult to read. He could see something there, though... something that piqued his interest. What a fortunate partner had been chosen for him.
The elf remained in silence for a long moment, though. At length, he looked up towards the sky, and smiled as he took in a deep breath. "Beautiful, isn't it?" He gestured with his left hand towards their surroundings, bathed in the red glow of the sunset. "A sea of blood on the border of total darkness..."
The dark grin surfaced once again.
((Just a quick edit to the end of the second-last paragraph, when he notices Hikari, because I felt like adding it. <.<))
Dirks glared at Thoracis when he passed. Did the ice mage really believe Dirks was responsible for this pairing when he hadn’t left the general's sight since he joined the tournament? Petty animosity like this had cost Thoracis the past two tournaments and it certainly seemed likely for history to repeat itself. Dirks shook his head then turned his attention to the elf that had 'manifested' opposite of the stage.
Elrundir Galadhrim. Dirks did not know the grand mage personally, but was not ignorant to his legendary tale. Elrundir freed Raiaera from the taint only to vanish shortly thereafter. There were numerous rumors about the nature of Elrundir’s disappearance, but Dirks had never taken the time to hear them. But this ‘reincarnated’ Elrundir Galadhrim could not the hero of light Dirks had learned about. There was something—dark—about the elf’s demeanor. His speech was unnatural and his actions irregular. Had the elf fallen victim to the plague he fought to destroy?
Dirks did not have much time to ponder. Moments later, the second challenger entered the fray by riding down into the amphitheater on a disk of light. Dirks recognized this opponent immediately. Hikari no Ashigaru. He was another elf that Dirks knew to have a dark side. Dirks had witnessed Hikari slaughter the remainder of the Gray Braves after the Magi Tower had fallen in the most recent clan war. He’d seen the elf murder innocents when the duo attempted to escape the wrath of the Archon in Radasanth. The tournament officials certainly did not fail to achieve a strange irony in their selection of these ‘special’ opponents this season. All four warriors were connected in some way.
Dirks watched as Hikari set down on the stage, but unlike Thoracis to Elrundir, Dirks said nothing. He had no need for an introduction—or a reason. It was a battle, they were expected to fight.
Typically Dirks would attack first to set the pace and direction of the battle, but the combined magical aptitude of Thoracis, Elrundir and Hikari could turn Althanas off its axis. Dirks decided it was in his best interest to stay as close as possible to Thoracis with hope that the range of the ice mage’s anti-magic amulet was large enough to encompass both warriors. As Dirks inched towards Thoracis, he whispered a small warning. “You won’t win on your own.” But the warning came too late: the ice mage was already on the move. Dirks swore.
(Slight bunny of Thoracis at the end was approved)
Things were not as they should have been in the Monolith Clearing.
Was Elrundir talking to himself? “I rather enjoy this body…”? It was all very strange. Elrundir had always been arrogant, Thoracis had never crossed a mage who hadn’t been, but this was different. This was arrogance and… contempt? Hatred? Regardless, his eyes never left the shadowy mage as he spoke. There was no telling what other surprises this Elrundir had in store. Thoracis was not going to be caught off guard. Or so he thought. For a brief instant Elrundir’s eyes flickered behind Thoracis. There was a slight nod of his head and Thoracis whirled around. Hikari no Ashigaru. Out of nowhere - again - the dark elf had appeared behind him. He was much more powerful now then when Thoracis had left him the Black Hand. He could sense his new magical power. Great.
All at once the plot unfolded in Thoracis’ head. Last year Dirks and Mazrith had had no way to neutralize his magic; enter Elrundir Galadhrim. Last year Dirks and Mazrith came as agents of Malice; enter Hikari no Ashigaru. Thoracis was not sure that Hikari had actually been a member of Malice, but he knew with absolute certainty that he had fought with Dirks against the Grey Braves. An elementary school student could work this equation. Son of a bitch, Thoracis thought, what do I do?
Instinct drew his attention to Dirks, who was probably the most dangerous of them still. How did he expect to get Starlynn back after a stunt like this? Thoracis was sure he must have had some kind of plan, he was making his way towards the ice mage now. “Son of a bitch!” Thoracis cursed aloud this time as Dirks drew nearer. Adrenaline took over. Elrundir first. Two huge strides sent Thoracis leaping off the end of the stage. Though he had but a few feet to work with dark elven training and the rune of speed in his armor allowed Thoracis an inhuman leap. Midair he heard the trail end of Dirks’ comment, “…on your own.” God damnit! I knew it! Thoracis was coming down within staff range of Elrundir. As he did an eighteen-inch blade of ice extended from his staff. He swung it like an axe, aiming to cleave straight through Elrundir’s left shoulder.
It was a sloppy move. Too hasty. He had come from too far away and was going to leave himself open after the attack. But if it hit… he knew he had to end this as soon as possible. It’s going to miss… Thoracis realized to himself. Momentum would leave him as a sitting duck on the ground. I’m going to end this quick alright. I’ll be dead in moments… The odds were stacked too high. Thoracis was not acting clearly. Oh shit, was all he could think as he hit the ground.
The dark elf’s breath caught in his throat.
Something within Hikari stirred when his eyes had met Elrundir’s. The beast subjugated within the white warrior’s body was suddenly pulling at the chains restraining him, struggling to be freed. He shook his head slightly to clear it, uneasily turning away from the shadow mage. With somber resolution, Hikari’s blade began to shine still brighter, hastening to restore the intangible binds that kept the beast born of the Magi Tower massacre in check. All day, the drow had seemed in undisputed command of himself. This unexpected upheaval was unnerving, readily silenced though it was. His darker half mustn’t take hold; not now. The only basis for his attendance in the tournament was to establish an improved sway over it. He raised his falchion before him and held it with both hands, determinedly observing his opponents.
“It was naught but a insignificant slip,” he attempted to convince himself ineffectually.
In the end, it was the masked mage’s reckless lunge that proved the battle’s herald, driving vampirism momentarily from his mind. Like a feline whose been startled by an unknown noise, Hikari’s reaction was little more than a reflex. A flash of blinding light pulsed outward from his shape, casting the soaring monolith, the stage and its sweeping rows of seats in radiant incandescence for a moment. The next second, he noted his assumption to be misguided. Thoracis’ offensive was not meant for the drow at all, but took him off the stage to assault his elven associate. As such, Hikari’s aide was more likely to find himself encumbered by his imprudent maneuver than the one who had incited it. Without time to feel contrite concerning his actions, he set his sights on the human it was his charge to disgrace in the clash.
Unsure whether his first feat had managed to upset Max Dirk’s poise, Hikari quickly followed it with another. A loud crackling emitted from all about him as static began to leap at random with his amassed energy. The light mage’s hair began to stand on end with the charge, making him look almost comical if not for the circumstances. His surroundings seemed darker by comparison of the luminous aura. The diminutive electric storm became suddenly more concentrated at the tip of Jinkourai Ittou, an effervescent mass of bouncing radiance atop an already lustrous weapon. The force was then released toward the sole individual who seemed without any supernatural faculties in the arena. It took the form of white electric bolt raking through the air between the two combatants, making it crack in its wake.
“No withdrawing now,” the reluctant dark elf spat under his breath.
Elrundir was truly amused by the allies and enemies laid out for him by the tournament organizers. To think that his opponents, two men feared and respected in their own rights, were here squabbling like paranoid children! If he didn't know better, the elf would say that Thoracis was a nudge away from attacking Max Dirks outright. Ah, and that is a thought that brought great pleasure to Elrundir's mind. If he could just unlock that darkness, it would be so... beautiful to watch as it unfolded. There is nothing else quite as beautiful as planting the seed of dissention and watching it blossom into a black rose of hatred.
And what of Hikari? Elrundir was greatly interested in him, too. His taint could sense the darkness lingering within Hikari - a darkness that also struggled to get free, just as Elrundir's original soul did. That beautiful power threatened to break its bonds when Elrundir looked into Hikari's eyes... and then, he noted, it was suppressed again when that accursed blade began to glow. So that is the secret, he thought to himself, all the while keeping his eyes on Thoracis, his present priority. There are many pieces to observe in this game. The elf's eyes flickered briefly from Thoracis to observe Dirks, and then Hikari once again, and he grinned.
But in that brief moment, Thoracis saw fit to strike. The elf's eyes were back on his opponent, who was lunging at him with his newly ice-tipped staff. The smirk didn't leave Elrundir's face, although it was there for a different reason now.
"So predictable, so hasty!" Elrundir laughed vibrantly at the moment Thoracis lunged. Rouge immediately fluttered away from her sapphire perch as her master ducked under and around the mighty cleave. "That's a typical human for you." Elrundir began to murmur under his breath, intending fully to take advantage of this moment and eliminate one of his foes.
Before the spell could be completed, a bright flash of light ripped through the amphitheater, causing Elrundir to hiss in disgust. If his normal self had been in control, such a simple flash would not have disturbed his concentration enough to break the spell. However, the taint was a creature of darkness, and furthermore, it had been bound to the shadow realm for an entire year since it infected this host. Light was its greatest and most hated weakness. Accursed blade! I'll tear it apart!
But Elrundir realized that now was not the time. He had a foolish and hasty opponent right in front of him, and there would be no way he could concentrate enough to destroy Jinkourai Ittou and release the darkness festering within Hikari. Right now he needed to focus on Thoracis, and he would savour every minute of it - every minute of destroying him from without and from within.
Recovering from the flash, Elrundir stood quickly again and faced Thoracis. His advantage had been lost thanks to that accursed weapon, but no matter. He was certain the human would act rashly again. "Do you really intend to defeat me that way, Lord General?" He used the title with such disdain that it was more of an insult than such a title could ever possibly be. "There is so much rage in your movements! And yet... that fire in your eyes..." Elrundir laughed again, loudly and coldly. "That fire does not burn for me!" The elf's free left hand pointed up onto the stage, towards Dirks. "Your soul burns for him! Your hatred is not strong enough to defeat me. You must direct it towards the one for whom it is meant!" He thrusted his finger in Dirks' direction again. "Or else..."
Suddenly, Elrundir lifted his mythril staff and slammed its foot against the hard, stone floor of the amphitheater. A peal of lightning ripped forth from the head of the staff, arced through the air, and then lanced downward towards Thoracis. "Or else let your darkness grow and destroy me!"
“Idiot,” Dirks mumbled as he watched Thoracis rush Elrundir. The parallels between the two battles were difficult to overlook, but Dirks still could not fathom the entire logic behind the ice mage’s reckless behavior. Dirks was in love—Thoracis knew this. Why would Dirks do anything to jeopardize his eventual reunion with that love? He had even allowed himself to be used in the ice mage’s desperate quest to become a champion simply because he’d found out that Starlynn was still alive. Did the general not see this? This tournament—Dirks’ tournament—had a strange way of toying with emotions.
Just as the ice mage jumped off the stage, a large burst of light emanated from behind Dirks, instantly reminding the former criminal that they were still there to fight. Hikari. Dirks squinted and turned around to find the light elf summoning an electric storm. Common sense suggested running away from the forthcoming salvo, but Dirks did not yet know the size, direction or concentration of the attack. Instead, he decided to run directly toward it, pulling his twin prevalida katanas from their sheaths as he did so. The light elf was skilled, but Dirks knew from their previous adventures that all of Hikari’s abilities were not innate. Without Thoracis, close quarters combat was the only protection from magic that Dirks had.
One. Two. Three. Dirks counted. It took three seconds for the projectile lightning to manifest onto the tip of Hikari’s blade and release at Dirks, giving him just enough time to lift his left hand into the air. The lightning shot forth and was immediately drawn to the metal of Dirks’ blade. Dirks could feel his arm sizzle as he slammed the katana into the stage, grounding a good portion of the bolt. The rest grounded itself through Dirks’ body. Small shocks struck his chest and legs with his iron chain-mail armor acting as an additional conductor for the electricity. But none of this stopped the inertia of the former criminal. He arrived at Hikari’s position within moments.
Dirks slowed and took his second katana into both hands. He wound up as Hikari mumbled, giving the former criminal a glimpse at how badly burned his left arm was. Infection was already starting to seep from some of the more serious burns. Ignoring the sting, Dirks swung hard at Hikari’s left shoulder blade. The attack, based on the curvature of the sword, would slice the elf from his shoulder to his waist if successful. “No more tricks, Hikari,” Dirks hissed.
Out of Character:
Hikari no Ashigaru had probably just saved Thoracis’ life. The flash of light produced by Jinkourai Ittou was just enough of a diversion to stop an immediate counterattack from Elrundir. While outwardly the ice mage showed no emotion there was a massive sigh of relief in his own mind. He could already feel the beads of sweat forming beneath his black porcelain mask. He felt like he had suffered through more anxiety in the last ten minutes then he had the last ten years. He couldn’t help but feel that the battle had already spiraled out of his control and was progressing down a route that could only end badly.
Off to the side Thoracis bore witness to the lightning that was careening between Hikari and Dirks’ swords. Dirks stormed through the attack though, almost too easily Thoracis thought, Elrundir’s psychological games providing a sort of twisted commentary to the event. “There is so much rage in your movements! And yet... that fire in your eyes..." Elrundir laughed; mocking him. "That fire does not burn for me!" The shadowy mage pointed to Dirks. "Your soul burns for him! Your hatred is not strong enough to defeat me. You must direct it towards the one for whom it is meant! Or else..."
It was almost as if they were playing by the same script as before…
“No Thoracis, you’re not seeing a ghost. The Assassins of Alerar are reunited at last.” Dirks had begun the games that time. Thoracis had demanded an explanation of his and Mazrith’s intrusion.
“That is for him to answer.” Dirks motioned to Mazrith with the barrel of his gun. “I’m just here to protect my investments” The words meant nothing to Thoracis. What were they really doing?
Reaching beneath his robe, he pulled out a patch and tossed it at Thoracis’ feet. It landed with a thump, right side up. It was a patch with the Assassins of Alerar symbol on it. In a soft voice that only Thoracis was close enough to hear, “It is time, my friend,” Mazrith suggested. Mazrith had tried to turn Thoracis against his partner. Just as Elrundir was doing right now…
“You don’t even know why I wasn’t there, Thoracis. I did not abandon you. I was temporarily detained by agents under the command of Dirks. I need your help, friend. Its not you I am after. Its him.” Had that been true? Was it Dirks who had sabotaged Thoracis in the inaugural LCC as well? Was this Dirks’ third go-round at stopping Thoracis?
“Join me,” Mazrith said, weary and ready for anything, yet still sounding confident and in control. “And together we shall destroy the Steel Duo and take our rightful places as champions.” To his credit, Mazrith never strayed from his role. He continued to plead with Thoracis to the bitter end.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Dirks had responded to Mazrith first. Then came the coup de grâce. A single bullet through Thoracis’ head. Despite their stated intentions Thoracis knew that both Dirks and Mazrith had walked from that battle alive. He had been had. Was this confrontation heading down the same path?
All of the memories flooded Thoracis’ mind and were gone in the same instant. He had no intention of falling for Elrundir’s taunts, he was too smart for that, but he simply couldn’t help it. His rage grew to the point that he could hardly control his breathing, let alone think clearly. It just made too much sense to Thoracis. Sure, Dirks needed Thoracis to get Starlynn, but Dirks had never failed to be an enterprising individual when it came to devising and scheming some plot or another. Surely that was what this was.
Elrundir’s own bolt of lightning caught Thoracis unaware in his anger. At the last second Thoracis held his liviol staff across his body, the full force of the effect blowing him to his backside and onto the ground. An ungodly scream emanated from beneath the black porcelain mask. It was not a scream of pain, but of rage. The magical protection of the liviol wood and the defensive capabilities of his dwarven dehlar chainmail would leave the ice mage with nothing more then some minor burns on his arms and chest. What hurt more was that he had been caught unaware, his judgment clouded by his anger, his situation creating more frustration and confusion by the second.
“Enough!” Thoracis screamed, leaping to his feet. He flailed his arms towards Elrundir, five ice shards instantly on course for Elrundir’s torso. In the distance Dirks was midstroke of an attack that would surely cleave Hikari from shoulder to waste if it hit. Good showmanship you mother… Just then he remembered one other thing Dirks had said to him on that fateful day one year ago.
“But…my old friend…appearances can be deceiving.”
The smell of burning skin suddenly reached the drow’s nostrils, permeating his sinus cavity. A sliver of numbing pleasure crawled up his back from his spinal tip to the base of his skull, making his head arch back slightly in rapture. Goosebumps erupted throughout his upper body, snaking outward from this blissful path. Another dangerous pang of sedition resounded from inside him. This ecstasy in presence of the scent of flesh was not his own; it belonged to the predator festering within. Still, for that instant, Hikari did not wish to fight it. His eyes glazed over as he pondered the moment. Why would one combat such gratification? Perhaps it was best to let himself accept these alien instincts and immerse himself in the decadence of self-indulging violence. It had been so easy before, so simple. Hikari need only opt for what was pleasing…
This train of thought was tersely shattered by the sting of a thousand needles coming from his left shoulder. He was harshly brought back to the Lornius match from his dreams in seventh heaven. The light mage was returned to the here and now, Dirk’s excruciating attack a most ruinous reality. The agony was almost redoubled in stark disparity of the previous second’s contentment. The rogue’s blade had ripped through Hikari’s cloak and leather vest, entering at least three inches into the drow’s skin before he had given thought to react. He did not remember beginning to shout in pain, echoing Thoracis’ yell an instant ago, but he was already doing so when his shape and apparel were once more engulfed in white. This time, however, it was not in an outward burst of light, but a conversion of his entire form into photo-particles, his newly ethereal form allowing the katana to complete its trajectory without physical resistance.
He continued to pass straight through his opponent to the edge of the stage beyond, a strange experience no matter how often he underwent it. Once there, Hikari turned and reassumed his solid form. His falchion was now held in his right hand alone, blood seeping freely down the incapacitated left arm. A slight twitching of his fingers proved it was not made completely inert, but it would be of little use to him for the remainder of the confrontation. Cold air on the open wound was sending a continuous throbbing reminder of his own idiocy in losing sight of the moment. The temptation of acquiescence with his inner demon had been far more distracting than was usual, even in the presence of an alluring meal. The dangers of the dormant vampire were all too clear, renewing Hikari’s desire to embarrass the human opponent to the fullest of his capacity for the prospect of his sought after deliverance.
“You’ll regret that, you repellent human filth,” the dark elf shouted, focusing his self-resentment onto his assailant. “Your out of your league in a battle of gods.”
His breathing was coming hard and his left shoulder ached continually as he stood, left arm limp and soaked in crimson at his side. At first, it seemed the wind had shifted around him, his cloak suddenly catching and pulling at his body. Then, it could be seen sticking to his skin, crawling around it. It enveloped his injured arm, not healing the gash but covering it in protective vlince. Even where it had been cut, the fabric appeared to melt into itself as it encased the dark elf in a shimmering black cocoon. It came to his face last, working inward from the pale visage. His mouth was open as it was sealed shut behind the living garment, his black eyes wide as they were simultaneously hidden in kind. He was turning to the recourse of his cloak’s gift, something he did only during inimitable conditions.
~*~*~*~*~
Only a few feet from where the light mage had stood observing the Monolith Clearing before the battle, a new creature was overlooking the match’s events. His grey, muscular form was adorned with a regal cowl laced with rich silver. He bore no weapons of any kind, for he had no intention to intervene. He grinned when he saw Hikari phase through Max Dirks’ attack, an ability common to both of them. He had been foolish to allow the strike, the spectator thought, but perhaps such mishaps were to be expected of one in his condition. Both the dark elf and the human had now been wounded, the latter being a fabricated prerequisite for the light mage in the onlooker’s faux letter. Max Dirks was of little consequence to the grey-skinned bystander. He had come for a far more baleful motive than to watch the defeat of a great ego.
“Ah, so at last we have it,” Raiba said to the wind with a self-satisfied sigh as he saw Hikari completely enveloped in the mystic cloak and burst into light for the second time in mere moments. For this alteration, however, he knew the drow would retain solidity.
“Now let’s see what he makes of it.”
It became quickly evident to Elrundir that Thoracis would not be an easy man to break. He had hoped that he could turn the mage against his partner, simply by feeding the animosity that could already be seen festering between them. It worked, to a degree, but not to the degree he had been hoping for. No matter; that would simply have been an easier route to victory, and even though he and Hikari were not capable of advancing to the next round, Elrundir hoped to shatter any chances of Dirk and Thoracis’ victory in the finals by breaking their already-feeble partnership like a twig. He who laughs last laughs the very best.
Perhaps that partnership would break on its own, without any influence from the elf… and yet he was not satisfied with just leaving it at that. He was resolved to continue to prick the skin, slowly gnawing away at Thoracis’ consciousness. Even if he couldn’t turn his opponent against Dirks, then he could turn his own rage against himself. Elrundir was no fool; he realized that Thoracis was a more powerful mage than he was, thanks in no small part to Elrundir having banished himself to the shadow realm in order to contain the taint and thus letting his body remain in stasis. The only way he would win this battle of strength would be to force his opponent to make mistakes. That would be done through fear, deception, taunting… the taint’s specialties.
It was succeeding so far. Elrundir had nearly roasted Thoracis when the mage was left in a momentary daze. If he hadn’t guarded himself at the last minute, that might have been the end of it. Even as Thoracis attacked again, Elrundir could see the anger coursing through him like fire. It brought a grin to the elf mage’s face, even as the ice shards materialized before him. They raced forward, aimed for his torso, ready to turn him into a pin cushion – and yet, before they could strike, each and every shard took a nose-dive towards the ground and shattered against the stony amphitheater’s floor. Elrundir had not even moved when he deflected the attack; he had in fact used his telekinesis to do so, but by not visibly doing anything, he created the illusion of power – thus nurturing the fear within Thoracis.
“Don’t you understand yet?” the elf mused. His voice was softer now, as if pleading with Thoracis, trying to bring the human over to his point of view. “Fate will not bless your battle against an undeserving foe.” Elrundir shook his head slowly, looking disappointed. “Will you waste your life in battle with me, and leave that which you truly desire incomplete?”
As he said that, Elrundir glanced briefly toward the battle between Dirks and Hikari, which was lighting up similarly. It was not their battle that interested him, though; the taint within him had sensed that darkness again. It was welling up and screaming for release from the prison that was the white warrior. Isn’t it marvelous, Elrundir? the taint pondered inwardly, once again taunting its own prisoner. The real Elrundir could feel that the taint was almost giddy at the sensation of another darkness present. It laughed horrifically, and he knew that the wheels of its mind were spinning ever faster with each passing moment.
But by now, Hikari had wrapped himself in his strange cloak, and he began to glow. Elrundir almost hissed at the pure, complete aura of brilliance. It was as though Hikari had once again transformed into light, for indeed his entire body was engulfed by it – not dull, hazy light, but pure, brilliant light. Elrundir could not understand how a creature of such magnificent darkness could exist within a host of such pure light. The juxtaposition was too cruel to comprehend! How dare the white warrior enslave that beautiful creature? But Elrundir knew the secret, and he was prepared to strike. He needed only to wait for the proper moment to open the doorway to darkness.
For now, Elrundir still had his immediate foe to deal with. Thoracis had just attacked, and Elrundir had deflected that attack; the difference this time was that there was no blinding flash of light to deter the counterattack. The elf mage would make this next attack decisive – and it would come from two sides. Rouge! Now is the time to strike!
The blood-red cardinal had been fluttering above the amphitheater since the battle began, likely unnoticed by the distracted competitors. But now, at her master’s command, she began to dive towards the ground at an angle, directly behind the human. Elrundir, of course, was still focused on Thoracis’ front. “If you will not listen to reason, then your death shall come swiftly.” The next time Elrundir’s lips parted, his voice broke out in song: cold and dark was his voice, but typical of the song-schools of Raiaera. The ground began to swell around Thoracis, and four spears of ice jutted forth from the earth: two in front of him at slightly different angles, and one on either side of him.
The plan was to force Thoracis backwards, because he would then be caught by Rouge’s own attack. With a screech at the last minute, the little cardinal erupted with a flare of soul energy, quite different from any conventional magic. This was a piece of her own soul, tearing towards Thoracis in the form of a bright, silvery flame, while the cardinal herself swooped back up into the sky to resume her circling out of harm’s reach. The trap was sprung.
Dirks nearly toppled over when the elf ‘dissipated’ due to the force of his attack. But before he could catch his balance, Hikari swept through him. A sheering pain immediately erupted in Dirks’ head and then every nerve exploded, forcing him to drop to a knee. The odd sensation ended once the elf’s ghost had passed through him, but the headache still remained. “What is going on?” Dirks mumbled, grabbing his head with his burnt hand. They were both warm to the touch. Dirks looked up at Hikari and watched as the elf floated to the back of the stage. A normal man would have stayed there defeated, but Dirks forced himself to stand. He shook his head, fighting away the pain. “You’re not going anywhere.”
With a cry, Dirks squinted and charged at Hikari. He bent down to pick up his twin katana as he dashed across the stage. The migraine grew in intensity as Dirks neared the ethereal incantation of his former Ally. It acted like a field of gravity, slowing down everything around him. But when Hikari rematerialized, blade in hand, the pain disappeared as just quickly as it had appeared leaving Dirks temporarily disoriented. What the hell? Hikari said something, but Dirks could not hear him. He could only liken the movement of the elf’s lips to an insult.
Then it happened: Hikari changed. A strange darkness wrapped itself around the light elf’s being, completely swallowing the wound Dirks had left on his arm. The former criminal considered a strange idea. Could a dark manifestation be living beneath the light elf’s visage? Could it be the sin of which the Archon spoke? Evil begets evil. If Dirks was right, was it possible that this strange darkness within their opponents was also adding to the animosity the Sons of Terrinore felt for one another? Impossible... The emotions of their team were not being twisted by a deeper power or by some half-hearted scheme. They were twisting them on their own. Dirks took a breath in mid-stride. He was thinking too much—this was only a battle.
Just after Hikari's transformation ended, Dirks came to a stop directly in front of the ‘darker’ elf. He placed his katanas together and sealed them with both hands. “Surprise…” he called out just before slamming the hilts of both weapons towards Hikari’s forehead. He followed the attack by turning his body to the left, swinging his good (right) elbow around to meet the elf’s left temple. As Dirks turned, he caught a glimpse of the battle raging behind Hikari. Thoracis wasn’t really winning either…
Thoracis’ eyes went wide as Dirks’ katana gouged deep into Hikari’s shoulder and light enveloped the dark elf once more. All resistance to the blow vanished and Dirks’ momentum nearly toppled him over when suddenly Hikari passed straight though him! Dirks fell to a knee and the ethereal Hikari traveled the length of the stage. The ice mage suddenly found himself seriously doubting that Dirks had conspired against him in setting this match up. It appeared that the situation was much more dire then that. His doubts were expounded as his ice shards shattered on the ground before Elrundir Galadhrim. Cute, Thoracis thought, Elrundir hadn’t even moved an inch.
Elrundir’s words were lost on Thoracis has he suddenly found himself as a worried spectator of Dirks and Hikari’s duel. He had been so sure of Dirks’ plot! But as his partner - the first time Thoracis had thought of Dirks as his partner throughout the entire tournament - charged across the stage at Hikari, he could see that Max was now fighting for nothing more then his survival. He had only meant to use Dirks’ love of Starlynn to win the tournament. No harm was supposed to come to either of them. Now Dirks was stuck battling for his life, pitted against two of the most powerful mages on Althanas, with nothing to protect him but his mundane weapons and skills, not even a partner of his own to fight alongside him as of yet. As something changed about the dark elf and his cloak surrounded him in a shroud of darkness Thoracis thought to shout a cry of warning to Dirks, but Elrundir would not leave him the chance.
…you’re death shall come swiftly.” Thoracis recognized the Raiaeran, bardic magic that followed all to well. He watched Elrundir with a new resolve. “Your song magic parlor tricks won’t save you here,” Thoracis spoke in a soft, leveled tone. If Elrundir had thought to intimidate Thoracis with his previous defensive display then he had greatly underestimated the ice mage. He was resolute now, if it was a display of power Elrundir wanted Thoracis would make one great enough for him and Dirks both. He could feel the shift in the ground just before it happened, not that it would matter for what he had in store. All at once four spears of ice shot forth from the ground, two in front of him and one on each side. Using ice against me? Thoracis thought incredulously. Elrundir would learn a swift lesson. All four pieces of ice struck the barrier created by Thoracis’ anti-magic amulet at once, shattering just as his spell had done before Elrundir. In the wake of the debris Thoracis teleported behind and to the right of Elrundir, just on the edge of the stage. A jet of silvery flame came from behind where Thoracis had been, lighting up the now empty space in the growing darkness of twilight. He watched as Rouge flew back into the sky as unsuccessful as his master had been.
“Is that the best you can do?” It was Thoracis' turn to laugh.
Hikari’s shape was now a solid shimmering white all over. Among the warring souls within the dark elf, the spirit of light felt oddly at home in this transformation. There was something undeniably familiar about it, which strengthened his control and diluted the vampire within. From his distant spot on the grass, Raiba felt his suspicions confirmed. He, like the drow, had been cursed by a scroll crafted by the same elementalist, known only as Tashronde to both of them. Granted, Raiba saw the scroll’s endowments as more of a gift than anything else. This human’s particular skills were centered on the element of air. It had been Raiba who had kept Hikari no Ashigaru prisoner in his dungeon some years ago, no more than a husk of a drow tortured for information over several arduous months. Upon the white warrior’s escape, his grey-skinned jailor had kept a close eye on him, hoping the dark elf might reveal valued information regarding Tashronde’s scrolls his nemesis. And here it was.
Raiba had long conjectured that the cloak unleashed their true forms. Truth be told, ‘Hikari no Ashigaru’ was not the white warrior’s original name, nor was ‘Raiba Honroy’ that of the grey-skinned human. Before the scrolls, they had been quite different individuals, beyond the mere dyeing of their skin to reflect their mystic alignments. Hikari had been a mild-mannered creature by the name of Legol Darkweaver before his forced possession by the light scroll’s spirit. For anyone counting, he actually had three essences within him, though the third be only a weak whisper. Raiba, in his search for greater understanding of his powers, had discovered that they were born from realms distinctly separate from theirs, dimensions that mirrored the one they now inhabited. It was his belief the cloak somehow served as a conduit for the release of these realms’ energies, permitting those empowered by the scrolls to assume their natural shapes. He believed the glowing creature upon the stage was the real Hikari no Ashigaru.
With his eyes set on this coveted garment, Raiba continued to watch the match.
~*~*~*~*~
The hilts of Max Dirk’s twin katanas came fast upon the white warrior’s forehead. When they connected, an unexpected gong of resounding metal echoed throughout the stage, the drow’s head snapping back with the force. The same noise came when the criminal smashed his elbow against Hikari’s temple, forcing the white warrior to stumble some steps to his right, though most likely injuring his attacker more. He felt the blunt force of the blows, but smiled with the knowledge of a hidden secret. The dark runes upon the cloak had many gifts, one having already been triggered. The vlince material had changed into a thin metallic coating, encasing the drow in his very own armored skin equivalent to damascus. He was aggravated by Dirks’ strikes, but not nearly as much as a common mortal would have been.
“This isn’t just some light show, you fool,” Hikari’s voice came contemptuously.
At that instant, a second of the runes’ boons was activated. Shooting up from the ground, the drow’s already impressive height was quickly doubled. He grew in mere moments, suddenly towering high over his foe at a height of nearly fourteen feet. Now less a combatant in a tournament match and more a juggernaut with a single objective, the titan thrust the arm bearing his falchion downward, actually driving it almost a foot into the stage floor before releasing it, still letting it glow and feed its master.
Dirks was mustering for a third attack against the mage’s metal body when Hikari took his sole mobile hand and wrapped it around the human’s neck, his glowing digits illuminating the man’s sweating face as the katanas fell to the floor. Lifting him up from the ground with unnatural strength granted by a third runic reward, the glowing giant began to laugh maniacally. It was ludicrously empowering to have his opponent in such a helpless position, his darker half subdued and forgotten. Adrenaline flooded his mammoth body once again. With a single tightening of his grasp, his assignment would be done and the contest over with. His aim was so tangibly close to fruition, he could not cease his own laughter.
Out of Character:
Elrundir, like Thoracis, was eagerly watching the fight between Dirks and Hikari, but the elf's interest was born from amusement and anticipation while his opponent's was born from concern. Dirks was not in a good position - Hikari had unleashed several of his powerful runes on him, and was now growing to twice his original size. What raw power, the elf thought in a strange mixture of amusement and disgust. If a creature of light can be so impressive, then I shiver to think of the darkness within him. Elrundir was counting down the moments, watching his own fight just as much as he was watching Hikari's, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. This wasn't a battle aimed for victory anymore - it was a battle aimed for awakening such a beautiful darkness!
Just as Elrundir's pincer attack was about to go through, he witnessed Hikari thrust his falchion into the hard stone of the amphitheater, cutting through it like a warm knife through a cube of ice. That, Elrundir immediately realized, was the moment he was waiting for. The weapon was no longer in its master's grasp - that hideous artifact of light that served as a warden for the creature imprisoned within Hikari's very soul. He simply needed a chance, the one moment when Hikari was distracted, and this was it!
In his moment of excitement, Elrundir was hardly even watching when Thoracis shattered his ice shards and avoided Rouge's soul flare. He noted the action, of course, out of the corner of his eye, and grinned slightly. At Thoracis' words, Elrundir merely shook his head. "Not at all, old friend." The elf turned his head towards the debris still floating in the air - rocks and shards of ice from his song-spell that had been broken upon Throacis' anti-magic amulet - and extended his hand. "Not at all."
As soon as his hand was extended, the debris halted in mid-air as though time itself had stopped its ceaseless march. Elrundir lifted his hand upward, and the cloud followed suit, flowing into the air helplessly as his mind gripped and controlled it. The elf extended another hand, this one gripping his mythril staff, and pointed it towards the debris as well. He then twirled his body, separating his arms from each other and causing the cloud to split neatly into two halves, one directed by each arm like inanimate musicians following their graceful conductor.
Elrundir continued to spin, putting himself a respectable distance away from the newly-located Thoracis in a single motion. And his hands did not remain idle in that fluid motion; they continued to conduct the graceful dance of rock-and-ice, separating the clouds and directing them in different directions. A flourish of the elf mage's staff sent one cloud hurtling down upon Thoracis, aimed to distract him if not destroy him. Elrundir realized that his anti-magic amulet would not be able to protect him fully - the rocks, at least, were not conjured by magic, but merely broken up as a result of the spell that he did cast. And even if the amulet prevented Elrundir's telekinesis, that would simply cause the rocks to continue to fall, only this time out of his control.
But it was quickly evident that this was not Elrundir's focus. His eyes were not locked on Thoracis, but on the amphitheater's stage, where Hikari's blade remained entrenched in the hard stone. That hideous weapon continued to shimmer and glow, feeding its master with power. Elrundir would not allow a creature of light to win this battle. Even if he and Hikari lost, he was going to unleash that darkness! The second cloud, which was larger than the first one and guided by his free hand, raced toward the ground and surrounded the blade. Another burst of energy from Elrundir's mind lifted the sword up from the ground, causing it to float right in the center of the orbiting debris. Only then did Elrundir glance for a moment in Thoracis' direction, with his hand still outstretched towards the stage.
"You humans and your desire for glory." A grin came to his face. "No paltry victory can compare to my satisfaction of awakening another soul of shadow."
Turning his head back toward the stage, Elrundir quickly closed his outstretched fingers into a fist, and the rocks and ice rushed in to greet the falchion that hovered between them. All at once they collided with it, crushing it under their bone-shattering force. Almost immediately, Elrundir's ears rang with the beautiful, melodic sound of the black diamond weapon cracking and shattering under the weight of the rocks, the ice, and his own crushing mind. He knew that its light would be extinguished from this world, and that horrible white warrior would be no more, leaving only the hideous, gorgeous darkness lurking deeper within.
"It is time for the Darkness to shine." Elrundir knew that he would not last much longer in this fight, but this was not a battle for victory anymore. In his own way, he had already won.
Out of Character:
There would be no more glory for Max Dirks. When Hikari lifted the former criminal into the air, there was little Dirks could do to struggle. The elf’s Damascus irritated his burnt arm every time he brushed again it and he could not feel his right hand because of the recoil from his previous attack. There would be no way to pry out of Hikari’s grip. The white light emanating from the stage was blinding. Dirks couldn’t even look his foe in the eyes. With his oxygen quickly depleting, his reactions became slower and his options became fewer. He even forgot to kick. It soon became clear—Max Dirks was going to die.
No, that’s not right…
For some reason Dirks was content, but he couldn’t remember why. The oxygen was too thin. He just knew that he would not die now. Dirks would return to Starlynn as a champion. But how? Out of the corner of his eye Dirks caught a blurred glimpse of someone. He squinted for a better look. It took a moment before Dirks recognized the man, but then he remembered—he was not alone. He had something that Hikari did not: a partner. He could never lose as long as Thoracis lived. The former criminal, no longer filled with hate or animosity, finally humbled himself.
“Thoracis…” Dirks yelled, but it came out as a muffled whisper under his crushed vocal cords. “Please…”
The ice mage answered his call immediately. There was a loud explosion, and Hikari’s grip slipped off of Dirks’ neck. Dirks fell to the ground and gasped as the fresh Lornian air entered his lungs. It was like a drug had worn off. Dirks’ mind started spinning and he could feel the small stones and pieces of synthesized diamonds as they pelted his back.
On his hands and knees, Dirks turned just in time to see Hikari slump unconsciously onto the stage. The bright light was gone, the elf was normal sized again and his black protective covering had faded away. Dirks could once again see the cut he’d caused. But the fallen mage was not the only spectacle. Above the fallen warrior, Hikari’s cloak was violently jerking in the air. It appeared as though the cloak, like Dirks moments before, was struggling for air. It whipped downwards, nearly smashing into Dirks’ eye. Then it rose into the air, jerked again from side to side, and then took its last breath. The cloak went limp and floated harmlessly on top of the light elf’s unconscious body. What the hell just happened? What did Thoracis do?
In the aftermath, Dirks rose to his feet, picking up his katanas from the ground as he got up. His mind quickly stopped spinning and his vision became clear. He quickly took in his surroundings. It appeared Thoracis was already on the move. Elrundir Galadhrim was caught in a pincer between Dirks and Thoracis. But Elrundir did not seem at all disturbed by his situation—he had a menacing look on his face. Dirks gritted his teeth. Hikari was lying lifelessly near a massive hole that had been blown into the ground.
“Sometimes you just have to fight.” Dirks mumbled softly across the stage to Thoracis. But the warrior would not fight like this. The former criminal tossed his katanas to the side and reached towards his chest. He grabbed his twin Beretta 950’s from their exposed holstered and brought them to bear. With flicks of his thumbs, Dirks locked the hammers at the back of the guns, causing them to ‘click’ in unison. Now the Sons of Terrinore would fight—not as individuals, but as a team—and they would win. Thank you, Thoracis.
(Bunny of Arawn was approved)
With one struggling gasp for breath Max Dirks put to rest any remaining doubt that Thoracis might have had. I have to help him, Thoracis knew, but things were happening too fast. Hikari’s unexpected transformation had once again left the ice mage stunned. The whirling pile of debris that Elrundir was controlling was noticed just a moment too late… He made a vain attempt to leap out of the way but the conglomerate of earth and ice smashed into Thoracis’ legs and sent him sprawling to the ground. “Ahhhhhhh!” Another scream of pain erupted from the mage as he felt the ligaments in his right knee stretch and pop. Writhing and rolling on the ground Thoracis grabbed uselessly at his exploded - at least that’s what it felt like - knee.
Just as easily as his knee was torn asunder Thoracis watched as Jinkourai Ittou was ripped from the ground and decimated by the other pile of debris. A semi-explosion followed which sent Dirks tumbling back to the stage and left Hikari looking like his former self, save for now he too was an unconscious heap on the stage. The scene with the cloak was lost to the mage who continued to clutch at his knee, trying to force himself up on his one good leg.
“Sometimes you just have to fight.” The words gave Thoracis the strength to push forward through the pain. He wanted to say something but feared the pain that would surely be in his voice. Instead he simply nodded to his partner, knowing that they were closing in on their first real victory. Nobody would doubt them after today.
Having to hold half of his weight on his staff Thoracis watched as Dirks leveled and cocked his Beretta’s in Elrundir’s direction. Max Dirks, The Mage Killer, Thoracis thought ironically to himself. Come on, squeeze the trigger! Thoracis began to hobble faster towards Elrundir. Shoot bastard! He looked at the criminal. Dirks was glaring at him. Was he waiting for Thoracis to act first? Shit, shit, shit… Thoracis realized. Dirks wasn’t likely to hurt Elrundir without magic, bullets or no. For a brief instant he felt dumb for not having realized it as soon as Dirks. “Damnit!” Thoracis exclaimed. “Now, now! Fire now!” Before he was even done speaking Thoracis cast his ice spike spell. Alone it would have been easy for Elrundir to avoid, but Thoracis knew that. Instead he cast the spell just in front of Elrundir. Unlike the bardic spikes cast previously Thoracis’ gave no warning of its coming, simply appearing from nowhere, just as two blasts echoed through the amphitheatre, one from each of Dirks’ guns. The bullets hit near the top of the spike, shattering it and sending multiple shards directly towards Elrundir’s face and throat. The casting was leaving Thoracis weary and his knee startled to buckle beneath him. With the last of his momentum Thoracis drew up his still-bladed staff and hurled it at Elrundir like a javelin as he fell to the ground.
“I’m sorry Dirks,” Thoracis gasped, exhausted, “I don’t know how much more I have left.”
In the midst of his euphoria, even as his grip began to tighten around Max Dirk’s neck, a terrifying sense of foreboding came upon Hikari no Ashigaru. From the corner of his eye, he saw Elrundir’s attention drawn to the stage, though not precisely to the contest of man versus drow. What was he playing at? The light mage’s insides sunk as he saw Jinkourai lifted to the air by a sightless hand, surrounded by floating debris. The falchion glowed brightly to the very last. Unable to stop his traitorous comrade, could only look on in terror as the black diamond was fractured and burst into countless pieces throughout the stage. There was a final flash of light before his cherished relic was made naught, known forevermore only in memory. In that instant, the glowing elf’s eyes widened in shock. The next moment, there was nothing. No thought in the creature’s complex mind. No form of resistance as his form slumped limply to the ground, releasing his quarry. He bore no witness to the sentient cloak’s protest at its source of power being extinguished.
Nothing…
The white warrior’s brain was left blank. There was only a sea of blackness behind his closed eyelids. Someone mumbled something nearby and there was a flicker in the darkness. It was no more than minute spark in a vast ocean of nothing, but it was there. Then explosions, gunshots unseen by the fallen drow, upset the ocean once again. It began to muster a wave in the receding tide of what felt like thoughtless eons, sparks gathering at its base. As the upsurges of consciousness grew, coherent thoughts almost began to form, failed fledglings that nevertheless aided the rising surf as other waves had their turn. One such swell increased with now-incessant sparks of self-awareness, quickly reaching critical mass. It climbed high with the drive of its abortive peers and then crashed on the shores of the white warrior’s mind with a climactic explosion of realization.
The fallen being’s eyes suddenly flew open beneath the vlince covering, not a moment spared to trepid blinking. The beast was now in control. Its memories of Hikari’s reign were blurred. There had been something about a battle by an obelisk and shards of ice in flight. He had held a human in his gargantuan hand. Had the human been killed? No. Something had stopped Hikari; but what? Jinkourai… where had the accursed blade been? It was set in stone, an Excaliburesque sheath protecting it. But it had been removed, had it not? Yes, by the one who had drawn his attention before; the elf who had caught Hikari’s eye before and stirred the darkness within. That exquisite being had released him from the light mage’s control. Hikari was silent in their shared mind now, impotent. Elrundir had shattered his strongest tool against the vampire, one the undead creature was always unable to destroy on his own. Their mutual enemies were likely now assailing the elf.
“I must endeavor to thank him,” Arawn said to himself with a fanged grin as he began to rise beneath the cloak, unnoticed by the battle’s other participants.
Elrundir could only watch in glorious triumph as Jinkourai Itto shattered. To the taint still in control, the sound of that hideous weapon shattering like glass was absolutely unmatched by even the finest songs of Raiaera's bards. Their ballads and sonnets were like the screeching of harpies compared to the almost tangible melody of black diamond crumbling and falling to the floor, and with it, the very existence of that white warrior. Elrundir could almost feel the darkness rising like a typhoon within Hikari - but no... this was not Hikari anymore. This was someone - something - entirely different. More beautiful. More gruesome. More powerful.
"Isn't it beautiful?!" he asked to no one but himself. The elf's voice was much more enthusiastic than it had been so far in the fight, and the grin on his face was almost crazed. In a single, unexpected moment, though, that grin was replaced with a pained expression of shock.
"No!" The response came from the elf's mouth, but it was not his voice - or more accurately, it was his voice. His real voice. Still cold and arrogant, but much more pure than the voice that had been speaking before.
"Damn it!" The taint was speaking again, and Elrundir clutched his head as he waged his own internal war. "Let me out!" his true voice demanded. Elrundir's body seemed unaware of Thoracis and Dirks closing in on his position. He merely shook his head vehemently. "Never! Never again, you wretched elf!" It was strange to hear an elf not only speaking to himself, but demeaning his own race in such a tone. It was unnatural, just like the taint within him, and this served as a reminder of that.
For a while it seemed that both sides were equally matched, and that neither Elrundir nor the taint would come out on top. Thoracis' initialization of the attack turned the tables. As soon as the spike of ice pierced through the ground, the taint took advantage of a moment of weakness and regained control. It commanded Elrundir's body to hop back out of the range of the spike, only to find that, for some reason, it was not aimed to pierce him. Peculiar, he thought, eyes glancing from side to side.
He saw Dirks' Berettas too late. The shots fired and the ice exploded right in front of him, barely giving him enough time to react. Elrundir hissed in pain as the first wave of shards scarred his face and neck, causing blood to trickle down from several deep wounds and soak into his robes. He had only narrowly managed to avoid permanent or fatal damage with a last-minute burst of telekinesis, drawing close to his last reserves of power. With nowhere near enough time to actually turn the ice shards against his opponents, all Elrundir could do was let out a burst of telekinesis in all directions, forcing away the few shards that hadn't already hit him, as well as throwing Thoracis' staff off-course.
The taint was clearly in control now, as Elrundir's voice displayed when it hissed, "Guns... what pitiful weapons." That same voice rang out in a quick song, eyes still locked on Dirks. Elrundir knew that another attack would just about dissolve the last of his power. He might be able to squeeze out enough for one more after that if he really tried, and that would bring him dangerously close to unconsciousness or even death. The only reason he was still in this battle, being weaker than his ally and opponents, was that he was on the offensive for most of the fight and had not wasted much energy on defense. Even so, if Arawn did not come to his aid, he would not last much longer.
But an 'attack' never came, at least not in the traditional sense. Instead, the elf had wisely used a minor incantation to ice up the chambers of Dirks' guns, from tip to barrel. Elrundir knew that it was a grasping ploy; just because he didn't attack didn't mean that he would last much longer. All this would accomplish was taking Dirks' guns out of the equation, and saving a minor amount of energy compared to a full-on attack spell. It would give him one more minor advantage: Thoracis was currently unarmed, and now Dirks was as well. It would take each opponent a moment to rearm themselves, which would give Elrundir the chance to launch one more - his final - counteroffensive.
But win or lose, Elrundir had already achieved his objective. The grin returned to his face, tired and bedraggled though he was, as he looked back towards Arawn. Such a beautiful creature... "Show them our superiority. Show them why I released you. Bathe them in glorious darkness..."
The darkness that plagued the battle finally revealed itself when the real Elrundir broke through the bonds that held him. Evident from the multiple voices, it seemed that two entities were battling for control over the elfish vessel. When the voices subsided it was unclear which entity won, but that was of little concern to the former criminal. Following their combination attack, Dirks found his eyes locked on his partner rather than his opponent. Something was dreadfully wrong. The ice mage appeared crippled. He was lying on the ground in an awkward position, grabbing at his knee. What had the elf done to Thoracis? Events were happening too fast for the weakened Dirks to comprehend. Instead, he focused on Thoracis’ words. The ice mage would not have to carry on—Dirks would do it for him. It was not over yet.
Dirks slowly turned his attention to Elrundir, aiming both guns at the elf’s head. Ignoring the elf’s comments about firearms and mistaking his song for a taunt, Dirks began to inch forward. He cut the distance between the combatants and likewise improved his accuracy. Dirks did not see the ice form on the tips of his Berettas, but he did feel a cool wave of ice creep through his body—particularly on his burnt left arm. When Dirks realized what had happened and that his guns would not fire, he felt his heart drop. His intensity immediately faded and the evidence of the battle again nagged at his body. He could feel the infection on his arm freezing under the ice. His head throbbed and his Adam’s apple was still lodged deep in his throat. It was not supposed to happen this way.
The hapless warrior kept his guns leveled at the mage, pretending to be ignorant of his situation. Hopefully this would amuse Elrundir long enough to keep the elf from attacking before Dirks pulled the trigger and ‘revealed’ that his guns were frozen shut. He looked about for anything that could reverse the cards in his favor. Then he saw it: Thoracis’ staff. The staff had landed near Elrundir after it was deflected as a response of their previous attack. It was his only hope. He would have only one chance to eliminate the elf. Dirks did not know that Elrundir's internal struggle had taken so much energy. He only knew that this dark incarnate could eradicate him with a single song. If he failed, it was only a matter of time before the Sons of Terrinore would fall. Dirks stopped moving forward when he was right above the staff.
When Elrundir momentarily turned his attention away from Dirks to the fallen Hikari, the former criminal pulled the triggers. The hammers jammed into the barrel, but the frozen bullets refused. The guns clicked, and Dirks mumbled. “No!” Dirks paused for a moment, pretending to be bewildered by this twist of events. But then he struck. Dirks dropped to his knees and let the guns fall to the ground. Then he picked up the ice bladed staff from the stage and thrust it upwards towards Elrundir’s exposed stomach. “Bathe in this…” Dirks cracked before pushing up his entire bodyweight into the thrust. He put everything he had into this final attack—completely oblivious to the meaning of the elf’s words and to the second dark entity that was rising up behind him.
The pain was agonizing; far worse then anything Thoracis had ever experienced before. Probably because pain like this is usually accompanied by death. He unsuccessfully tried to stand once more, but his leg would not again bear the weight. Dumbass! Thoracis scolded himself for having uselessly threw his staff across the arena. The attack had partially worked, but Elrundir was still standing, so it was little better then a complete failure. Now Dirks was stuck alone with nothing but his guns against the powerful magic of Elrundir. “Not like this…” Thoracis stammered through clenched teeth. He hadn’t gone through all this to see it unraveled by the likes of Elrundir Galadhrim.
He had to force himself up somehow. He had to help Dirks. Looking back to the center of the stage he found his saving grace. The obelisk! Immediately Thoracis began clawing his way towards it. He knew it was dangerous, he couldn’t see what was going on behind him now, but it was a risk he had to take. He was no good to anyone just laying there in distress. Every little crack or stone he passed over sent sharp, stinging twinges through his leg. For an instant the pain was dizzying and Thoracis thought he might pass out. No! Thoracis demanded of himself. Almost there.
He could only make out bits and pieces of the conversations behind him. “Let me out!” he heard a new voice shout. “…you wretched elf!” That sounded like Elrundir? "Show them our superiority. Show them why I released you. Bathe them in glorious darkness..." Who was he talking to? So close… Thoracis was just feet from his destination now. He could feel some kind of magic being used. He labored with the obelisk, desperately grasping at the stone to pull himself up. Finally! Thoracis turned back, keeping all of weight on his good leg. He saw it instantly; the ice that was jamming Dirks’ guns. “No!” He yelled after Dirks, just realizing his partners true intentions. Dirks dropped and grabbed Thoracis’ staff. You won’t get away so easily Elrundir… Thoracis managed a smirk. As Dirks thrust Thoracis used almost all of his remaining energy to coat the ground below and around Elrundir in slippery ice. The elf was in for a surprise if he tried to move.
The spell exhausted Thoracis and he slumped over the obelisk, having to use the full strength of his upper-body to keep from falling back to the stage. Behind Dirks a dark form had arose in Hikari’s place. There was something different, something Thoracis recognized, but could not place. He strained his eyes to see in the growing darkness. Fangs? But… how could… it makes no sense… a vampire? “Dirks!” Thoracis could barely manage even the single word. “Behind you!” It was all the more support he could muster.
Arawn groaned silently in pain as he began to get to his feet and shrugged the cloak behind him, the sun setting at that moment under the distant Lornian horizon.
“Something’s not quite right,” Arawn pondered, more in self-reflection than frustrated grief.
As he rose, he began to feel a tremendously distracting stinging sensation in his left shoulder. Turning to it, he saw a mass of blood and torn flesh where his pale clavicle was usually situated. He could not recall when Hikari had sustained such a wound, his memories still greatly fragmented. The pain was stimulating for the vampire, however. It served as a reminder that he could indeed feel, that it was he who was in control. The shoulder would regenerate in time, though it was of quite little use until then. Lifting his right hand to the open wound, he dipped his index finger into the injury, his eyes rolling back into his head with masochist ecstasy. Pulling back the red-dipped digit, he licked at his own crimson blood like a child working at an alluring treat.
Looking back to the amphitheater’s other patrons as he lowered his right hand reticently, he saw the one who had freed him covered in blood that could only be his own, ice shards ripping at the fellow dark creature’s skin. What was going on? Taking a second to observe the situation, Arawn noticed a masked being was allied with a human nearby the vampiric drow. At least, that was what seemed familiar to him from the sparse remnants of Hikari no Ashigaru’s thoughts. It was likely either of them were responsible for his bleeding shoulder. He was being ignored for the moment, the humans bent on destroying his elven savior in flawed belief that he was fallen.
“Well we can’t have that, now can we?” he said under his breath.
He began to walk toward Max Dirks’ back, his fangs elongating like a feline’s retractable claws. He thought of the copious amounts of blood that could spill from a human’s neck. The scoundrel could so easily be taken unaware. Then, another pang of anguish came from the vampire’s shoulder. He stopped after only a few steps, his teeth set in a grimace. With an injury such as his, he had no assurances that the human could not overpower him. He cursed the unforeseen handicap. It had been so long since he had last slaked his thirst, he almost convinced himself to go further and sink his teeth into the criminal. However, the oblivious creature pulled away as he grabbed at an ice-tipped staff, leaving the nosferatu with limited options. Making eye contact with his liberator and bowing slightly, he sent a hidden hypnotic suggestion; a silent message to the kindred spirit within the elven shell transmitted at the speed of thought.
“I would like to thank you most genially for my newfound autonomy and wish to recompense your act accordingly. In light of the circumstances, I advise a retreat to be in order. Permit me to hasten our withdrawal.”
With that, the undead beast raised his free hand high in the air, pointing his middle and index fingers to the tip of the soaring obelisk. At its base, the masked Thoracis Rakarth slumped shouting a futile warning to his comrade. A cloud of darkness began to unfurl from the lofty monolith’s peak, falling downward like an oversized black satin cloth. It made the surface of the stone construct seem completely sheer. When the spreading shadow reached the ground, it exploded outward in every direction. The ice mage was the first to be enveloped, quickly swallowed up by the insubstantial, all-encompassing darkness. The cloud spread further and soon reached Elrundir and his accompanying assailant, immersing the pair in a light-less fog. At length, the vampire too was enclosed by the shadow, welcoming it with hungry eyes. It went on to encase the amphitheater in its entirety. His task complete, Arawn obfuscated his form and departed from his present location with calm, unseen movements off the stage and toward where he best believed stone steps to begin, breathing calmly in his element.
Out of Character:
Elrundir was dividing his attention neatly between the three figures surrounding him. Thoracis, he figured, would be little danger to him now - the human was already weak and wounded, and would probably not be able to muster up enough strength to attack again. Dirks would, but with only one assailant to worry about, Elrundir would have an easier time avoiding whatever attack came his way. Arawn was the wild card, but Elrundir was simply glad that the darkness had been released; whatever the vampire did next was of little consequence.
And so, that neat divide began to quickly tilt in favour of Dirks. It seemed that the human had not yet realized his guns were iced up, because he was still advancing and keeping them leveled on Elrundir's head. The elf couldn't help but smirk - obviously he underestimated just how clever Dirks really was. Elrundir never had been one for giving humans much credit at all, be he normal or tainted or otherwise. And when his opponent actually pulled the triggers of those guns to absolutely no result, Elrundir's grin simply widened in amusement.
He didn't get the chance to speak, though, as Dirks was already on the move in a clever maneuver, and Thoracis was surprisingly not out of the loop. Even nearing death, the two humans worked together so hard to defeat him. It almost touched his heart; except that the taint did not consider itself to have a heart. Elrundir's face turned into a mask of shock and pain as the staff crushed his chest. Unfortunately, between his fatigue and his surprise, Elrundir did not have the ability to completely dodge the attack. It had been too much of a wild card.
But he didn't need to. The ice-tipped staff rammed into him like a cannonball, but even that magical ice was mostly held back by the links of his mythril chainmail, leaving Elrundir winded and bruised, but not mortally wounded. Furthermore, since Thoracis had iced up the ground around him, the elf simply began to slide backwards when Max attacked him - this lack of counter-friction just about removed any chance the staff had of truly damaging his body, since it would clang against the mythril chain and push him back instead of pushing right into him. The best part, in Elrundir's mind, was that he hadn't even had to do anything in order to avoid a fatal wound. He had just stood there; his armor and Thoracis' ice had done the rest.
Strangely, though, Elrundir did not let himself slide backwards too much after the hit. As soon as he saw Arawn approaching Dirks from behind, he grinned another twisted grin, and his free hand lashed out to grab the staff that had been threatening to impale him. This stopped his reverse movement cold, and although his stance was nowhere near stable or confident, the expression on his face was as he gazed into Max's eyes.
All Elrundir did in response to Arawn's mental suggestion was nod his head with an unusually-appreciative smile. When he finally spoke, it was not to the vampire, but to the staff-wielding man before him. "Do thank the Lord General for me, for saving me from a nasty bruise." The shadow that had been emanating from the obelisk was reaching Dirks and Elrundir now. It covered Elrundir before it did Dirks, and just before he was swallowed by darkness, the elf's grip tightened on the staff and his grin twisted. "That is, if you survive long enough to do so."
A burst of electricity coursed through Elrundir, jumped along the staff's surface (not through it, per se) using the last of the elf's remaining magic, and flowed into Dirks' body. The mage had used just about everything he had left for this assault. Whether or not it would finish his opponent off was irrelevant. Elrundir was simply determined to have the last laugh.
As the darkness engulfed the entire arena, Elrundir saw his chance to escape. He was running dangerously low on energy now, and would be an easy kill for the one opponent still standing. Rouge could hold her own for a little while, but he was not about to trust this to her, not when the battle was already won as far as he was concerned. Dirks and Thoracis could continue on to the next round for all he cared; that was the purpose of this battle in the first place. But at least they would have something to remember him by. And he would already have something to remember this battle by: Arawn.
"Better luck next time, humans," the tainted voice hissed through the darkness as Elrundir's body began to turn into its shadow form and seep into the ground like water through the cracks of a wooden floor. Before long, the elf was completely noncorporeal, and he had vanished into the shadow realm to nurse his wounds. Once there, the elf knew he would be absolutely powerless - there would not be a drop of energy left in his body. But he would be safe. No one would be able to find him there. He would certainly seek Arawn out later, but now was the time for rest. Rouge had also vanished, taking advantage of the darkness to flutter away from the amphitheater with great speed; she would join her master in the shadow realm soon enough. With Elrundir and Arawn vanishing in their own separate ways, Thoracis and Dirks were left to their own ways. They were certainly victorious, there was no doubt about that; but to the taint within Elrundir, neither money nor fame could compare to the glorious creature he had freed from its bondage.
Today had been a good day.
The ice staff went blunt as it crashed into ‘dark’ Elrundir’s body. Something, probably armor, prevented it from cutting through the mage. With all of his weight pushing forward and Elrundir sliding backwards, Dirks slipped on Thoracis’ ice slick. A look of horror fell on his face as he dropped the staff and came crashing into the stage. Wave after wave of dizziness struck Dirks as he struggled to remain conscious for the final blow.
Soon a strange darkness covered the Monolith clearing. The sun quickly set on the Sons of Terrinore—and on the battle.
Dirks tried to move, but he was too weak to do so. Sweat poured down his face. Then it came: a final, powerful bolt of lightning struck the liviol staff and traveled down it to the ground near the former criminal. Dirks escaped the full brunt of the attack, but the shock still caused all of his neurons to flare. All the hairs on his body stood on end and he shook violently. Thankfully his heart did not stop. The flash temporarily broke through the shroud of darkness, giving Dirks a blurred glimpse of his surroundings. Elrundir was gone, but there was another. It looked like Hikari—but that was impossible. Just as the flash faded away, the creature stopped and turned back to look at Dirks. It grinned, revealing sharp fangs, before running away. Dirks shut his eyes and lowered his head, assuming there would be another killing strike.
It never came. A few more minutes passed. Nothing came. “What?” Dirks managed to mumble. He heard a mumbled response off in the distance. “Thoracis?” the former criminal called out. His partner was alive, and there were no opponents. Had the elfish pair retreated? If so, a sharp realization broke through Dirks mind: they’d won. Did that creature have something to do with it? Somewhat excited, Dirks began to crawl through the darkness toward the source of the noise. It took a good amount of time because Dirks didn’t want to cut his hand on a piece of synthesized crystal that had been scattered about the stage.
Eventually the criminal reached his destination. He could hear Thoracis’ breathing, though he could not yet see him. Dirks stopped and used the nearby Monolith to pull his body up. He flipped his body and set with his back against the monument. It took awhile, but Dirks eventually broke the silence. “You look like shit.” Dirks pushed out. He started laughing. Of course he still couldn’t see the ice mage. The criminal continued to laugh as Thoracis got up and the REAL sun set behind the veil of Darkness.
Dirks and Thoracis would advance. After ‘defeating’ the two most powerful mages on Althanas, the former criminal knew that nothing could stop the duo. It was only a matter of time before they took their crowns. They were the Sons of Terrinore, and they were finally the team to beat…
(Bunny of Arawn approved)
As the darkness enveloped Thoracis he was sure that he had fallen unconscious. Slumped over the obelisk he thought he could still hear the sounds of battle, but the world around him was black. But then, again, Thoracis heard the sounds of the battle, distinctly recognizing Elrundir refer to him, though he couldn’t make out in what capacity. It made no sense. Thoracis turned his head towards where he thought the battle to be. It felt as if he had moved, but there was no visual evidence to prove it. What the hell? His energy gone Thoracis couldn’t even hold himself up anymore and he crumbled back down to the stage. “Owwww! Shit!” The pain in his knee was still excruciating. As he clutched at his leg once again it was also a sure sign that he was indeed still conscious.
Near the edge of the stage a sudden burst of electricity momentarily lit up the form of Elrundir and Dirks. The lightning coursed from the mage and across Thoracis’ staff, almost striking Dirks directly. Apparently they had failed yet again in felling the shadow mage. He was too weak for any response though; all he could do was hope Dirks was alright. As suddenly as it happened everything was dark again and he had no idea of knowing the outcome of the final attack. His head fell back to the stage, more exhausted then he would normally have been, the injury to his leg having drained more energy then he would have thought. I can’t wait for this to be over and to get healed… Thoracis thought to himself, managing a strained chuckle. He wished he knew what was going on…
“You look like shit.” Dirks voice was right near him. Somehow he mustered the strength to laugh along with his friend - he felt he could call him that again.
“As if you could tell,” Thoracis joked back, “I can smell your burns though!” He wished they could see each other. Thoracis managed to pull himself up into a sitting position on the obelisk perpendicular to his teammate. “You’ll have to help me out of here, my leg is tore up.”
Dirks laughed, but before long their his hand grasped the ice mages, pulling him up and carrying half of Thoracis’ weight on his shoulders as best he could. The two of them hobbled from the stage, eventually breaking through the enchanted darkness and into the natural night around the Monolith Clearing. “I have to tell you though… Just so there’s no confusion… I ummm… I didn’t stop Hikari from choking you. Elrundir destroyed his sword before I had a chance. “
“Don’t worry about it.” Dirks replied. “I know you would have tried. What’s important is we are leaving here as champions.” That much was true. Nobody was going to question them now.
Thoracis smiled beneath his mask. “As if there was any doubt.”
(Bunnying of Dirks approved.)
Unlike the other combatants, the vampire felt no need to escape the encompassing darkness. He was at home in it, relaxed. As his superior hearing perceived his peers making their way out of the arena, with the exception of the mysterious Elrundir whose heartbeat abruptly vanished from perception as though plucked from this realm, he lied down on the lowest step of the amphitheater. He did not fear for the elf. Something told Arawn he had been transported from their shared battleground elsewhere by force of magic, though he could not be sure why he knew this. Flashes of the elf appearing out of incorporeal shadow onto the arena some time ago passed before his mind’s eye. Was that a memory of Hikari’s or a creation of the vampyr’s imagination to justify the hushed heartbeat? He couldn’t be sure.
He allowed himself a small chuckle in the pressing blackness, disembodied echoes carrying throughout the cloud.
It was a wearisome game he had played thus far with his other half. The vampire had had to struggle for control, only managing to dethrone Hikari at odd times when he was overcome with bloodlust or deprived of his precious light. Then, all he would have to recall what had transpired in the light mage’s command were fractured remembrances of blurred events. The vampire could never tell if it had been days or months since he last overthrew the dark elf. However, the scales were now inexorably tipped in the undead being’s favor. The light mage’s icon was destroyed. He would have a much harder time keeping his darker half at bay. The thought was mirthful to the vampire, that after keeping the blade hidden from him all this time, it was a false ally that had finally destroyed Hikari’s prized falchion. Now he would be made to struggle feverishly like a captive in purgatory for sparse, unrewarding moments of cogency.
“I’m free…”
Arawn was content to pass several minutes reflecting on such thoughts, a dutiful grin on his pale face as he lay in the dark. His injured shoulder took the time to begin the process of healing, making great strides where mere mortals would have had to wait far longer. The undead being was infamous for his patience. One with eternity to spare needn’t feel rushed for any matter. The lapse of several hours still found Arawn lying on the stone steps of the arena amidst his sustained shade, the others likely now far from the Monolith Clearing. He had seen fit to give such an auspicious experience profound contemplation. He was still not clear on what had driven his other half to the arena in the first place, knowing that conflict only strengthened the vampyr, but he blessed the event every time his mind came to the image of Jinkourai Ittou breaking into a thousand irreconcilable pieces.
Arawn’s shoulder was completely regenerated as he finally rose from his firm bed and took a deep breath. As he did so, the black cloud around him shifted for the first time in hours, twitching slightly at its edges. Another deep breath suddenly found the cloud shrinking inward, being sucked toward an unseen vacuum as water down a drain. The obelisk was first to be freed of the darkness’ grasp, standing tall above the clearing. Then the shade began to recede from the back rows of the amphitheater as the stage was revealed. Soon, the black fog was absorbed in its entirety by the pale, cloaked figure at the base of the arena. Arawn finished with a soft exhale, the sky revealed to him at last. There was no trace of the sun’s rays in the blanket of bright stars above.
He began to make his way up the steps when a strong wind pulled at his form, flowing unnaturally downward into the abandoned battlefield. Then, Arawn heard something he could never have expected. Loud, intermittent applause was coming from behind him. Turning with wild eyes, the vampire caught sight of a grey-skinned figure adorned with majestic silver-lined garments clapping on the stage, his attire shimmering under the starlight. Arawn was unsure of what to make of him. He knew there had been no one there a moment ago. Had he been carried there by the wind? The vampire searched zealously through Hikari’s disjointed memoirs for some explanation of this creature’s sudden appearance. There was something familiar about him, though the light mage’s thoughts failed to produce any solid remembrance of him. The vampire’s body was suddenly tense in light of this unexpected and unwelcome development.
“I was wondering how much longer you’d wait here,” the human spoke with an amiable smile, finally ceasing his one-man ovation.
Arawn did nothing but glare back aggressively.
“Where are my manners?” the man went on with mock astonishment at his own impudence. “My name is Raiba Honroy. I’ve actually been waiting to meet you for quite some time.” This introduction was accompanied by a low bow.
The cloaked vampire’s body relaxed only slightly.
“You see, your alter ego has been most disinclined to allow us to convene. We have a common enemy in him.” The human’s smile widened at these words. “However, I am glad to see his key to your jail cell has been most effectively sent to oblivion. It was an unforeseen incident in my drawing him here, but a pleasant one nonetheless. Now, with that arrogant bastard rightfully in your shoes for once, I would be delighted to disclose to you some of the intrigues he was so opposed to your hearing.” He paused. “That is, of course, if you are interested.”
With a sinister smirk playing at the side of Arawn’s lips from the man’s words, he finally broke the silence on his part of the conversation.
“I’m listening.”
Max Dirks –
Introduction: 8. Great way to start off the thread – the only real concern I have is that you really didn’t introduce who or what “Starlynn” is (until the 14th post), and since I haven’t followed most of what you’ve written I had no idea what you were talking about.
Setting: 7. Great idea to use a setting from your character’s past.
Strategy: 6. Your justification for not striking first as you normally would was pretty weak – I don’t think your opponents’ magic was as powerful as your character described it.
Writing Style: 7. Try not to overuse the ellipsis – after awhile it loses its freshness and looks like lazy writing.
Rising Action: 6.
Dialogue: 5.
Climax: 6.
Character: 6. Your character got infected that soon after being burnt? Why?
Conclusion: 5
Wild Card: 5.
Total: 61/100
Thoracis -
Introduction: 7. I like the fact that your incorporated the OOC controversy into your first post. It was also a good idea to keep your response to Dirks towards the end of the post – normally I like to hear dialogue replied to as soon as possible, but since there was some tension in this case it was good to hold off until later.
Setting: 6.
Strategy: 5.
Writing Style: 5. Please don’t repeat what Dirks said in the post before you, since I just read that.
Rising Action: 3. That flashback really, really killed the momentum of the thread. We had some great action going and then it just hit a wall – I liked your intentions, I just wish the flashback would’ve gone by much quicker. I like your character’s reactions to seeing Elrundir back, though.
Dialogue: 4. I didn’t like how your character said so much in the 7th post without giving Elrundir much of a chance to respond immediately – it hurts the pacing of the entire thread. “Is that the best you can do?” Ugh.
Climax: 5.
Character: 5. I didn’t get how your character saw Elrundir all the way through the forest. I didn’t get the sense that he had actually moved to the stage at that point. Also, your character’s epiphany (my term) about Dirks in post 19 seemed rushed - like it happened just so so that it could happen plotwise rather than having an organic feel to it.
Conclusion: 5.
Wild Card: 5.
Total: 50/100
Team Score: 55.5
-----------------------------
Arawn -
Introduction: 7. I like how you introduce your character’s sword and your cloak to the reader – it helps someone who is reading your posts for the first time in awhile. I wanted to hear your character’s name earlier, though. There were too many uses of “his” and “he” in the first couple of paragraphs.
Setting: 6.
Strategy: 7. Good strategy to attack who your character saw as the weaker link.
Writing Style: 6. Your syntax is a little bit choppy at times, and I get the feeling that there isn’t enough variation in your sentence structure.
Rising Action: 5. I liked the introduction of Raiba in post 16, but I just wish that post could’ve
been a bit shorter since I felt like it was time to move on from your character by the time he appeared. Starting off with him in the next post was much better, though, and made for a nicer read.
Dialogue: 5.
Climax: 5.
Character: 6. Why does your dark elf call everyone a “creature?” I like how you directly explained your character’s history with each of his opponents.
Conclusion: 5.
Wild Card: 6.
Total: 58/100
Elrundir -
Introduction: 9. Great way to reintroduce us to your character – superb.
Setting: 6.
Strategy: 6. Your character speaks way too much while in the midst of combat, almost to the
point of where it sounds campy. I do like the fact that your character wanted to try to create more tension between Dirks and Thoracis – that was really necessary for the battle to make sense.
Writing Style: 6. Like Max Dirks you abuse the ellipsis – I count it 4 times in the first post alone. Let up on it already, please – it really hurts your writing.
Rising Action: 5. Post length really hurt the pacing of the entire thread – I just wanted to move on and get some more action and you were busy spending whole paragraphs describing your character’s reaction to Hikari, for example, when one sentence could’ve accomplished the same task.
Dialogue: 4. Some of it was just really, really cheesy, especially in battle.
Climax: 5.
Character: 6.
Conclusion: 5.
Wild Card: 5.
Total: 57/100
Team Score: 57.5
I’ll post rewards tomorrow.
Elrundir and Arawn receieve 1,838 EXP and 300 GP each.
Max Dirks and Thoracis receieve 525 EXP and 200 GP each.