The Outlaw Torn [Shinsou vs Redford]

Shinsou Vaan Osiris moved like a shadowy wraith through the streets of Radasanth and towards the Citadel, dressed in standard black attire underneath his trademark white greatcoat. Once again he had found himself with free time and busied himself, as he always did, with sifting through a number of potential challenges for duels – Shinsou considered a regular bout at the Citadel necessary training for a man whose job it was to constantly enforce the will of a political body onto those around it – but today had thrown a proverbial cat amongst the pigeons. The Brotherhood’s Council had selected something more to Shinsou’s taste after he had disposed of his last opponents with relative ease and this time they had not disappointed the powerful Telgradian.

This time the subject was Sir John Cromwell.

The morning rain drummed in sheets and beat down on the Telgradian's scalp , but he enjoyed the refreshing coolness of it and the way it cleared the road of people who weren’t out on necessary business. As he strode towards the looming modern day gladiatorial arena, the Telgradian flicked through the moist pages of the Brotherhood’s report and offered the text a cursory glance, although he didn’t really need to read the intelligence on his subject. After all, he had seen first hand what Cromwell was capable of from the shadows of his own little game; the Osiris Open.

Seven foot eight and over five hundred pounds. Living armour that can mould to his every whim. Despite his weight and his size he moves like a bullet and damages just as badly. Some might say he’s the complete package.

He smiled but it wasn’t unreasonable for him to do so, even in the face of adversity. People were, usually, naturally nervous of those who wielded power, but not Shinsou. He craved a challenge. He loved to push himself to the limit and then find the strength to smash that limitation to pieces to reach new heights. He was determined to get fitter and stronger with every battle until there was no-one who could truly oppose him.

The big bastard’s never met anyone like me before. His reputation precedes him; he likes a fight, so by the gods I’ll give him one he’ll not soon forget.

The Citadel soared over Shinsou’s wet head as he approached its looming entrance. This famous cathedral of war sent spires and towers arching high into the dull sky above, rainwater cascading down the face of the legendary structure and out of the mouths of the gargoyles protruding from its stone. It was far too imposing a structure to see in its entirety and too tall to see where the towers jutting from atop it ended. Shinsou knew it also extended deep into the ground, connecting to a labyrinth of passages that ran under the city. There were hallways and entire wings inside the building that there simply wasn't room for within the walls.

As Shinsou entered the vast, legendary Citadel, the sonorous tune of magic, which could not be heard in the ear, reverberated throughout his gut. He could feel the power of the Ai’Bron monks flowing through him; a power he could not fully understand nor measure. As he twisted left and down a corridor, one of the Citadel’s monks intercepted him.

"Osiris? Good, the council forewarned us about your arrival," the monk piped, "Everything is prepared."

"Good," Shinsou said, turning to the shaved bald, almost adolescent monk beside him. "Lead the way." The monk, peering up at Shinsou through the darkness, nodded his head.

***

The swirling blue mass in front of him hummed and whirled as the plasmatic substance it was comprised of from bent and curved to fit Shinsou’s slender form. Strange tentacles of white and marine blue converged on his body and snatched him into the gravity well, pulling him through sheets of reality before finally depositing him into the artificial, magically created arena.

Everything spun into focus slowly.

Unlike the last time, there wasn’t a two foot gap to negotiate between the lip of the gateway and the floor. The Telgradian realised the portal had placed him perfectly on his two feet and recognised the feeling underfoot to be appear to be that of some sort of wet moss covering a hard stone floor. As Shinsou placed one foot forward, the heel of his boot slicked over the lichen and nearly made him unceremoniously lose his balance. Righting himself, he pushed a hand through hair that was now long, brown and rain-soaked. Shinsou’s white greatcoat hung open from the near fall, revealing underneath a black shirt tied with a red sash at the waist.

He allowed himself a moment to compose himself. In this time, Shinsou’s soft, golden eyes wandered about the skyline to survey the arena sprawled out ahead of him. The first thing he noticed was that the Telgradian was surrounded by curling wisps of cloud that accented an ocean blue sky.

Whoa. How far up are we?

Shinsou began to pace carefully forward, minding the slippery surfaces. The sodden crust of a mossy limestone path carved a puddle-ridden garden in two and stretched out in a thick, long line ahead of him.

The Telgradian noted that the stone slabs that made up the floor were covered with ancient runes that themselves were smeared with grime and watermarks, so much so that Shinsou couldn’t make out any distinguishing patterns as he walked. Fresh leaves billowed in the breeze about the walkway, fallen from healthy oak trees that formed a corridor at the sides of this levitating sanctuary. As his footsteps squelched over more sodden moss, the refreshing scents of fresh summer air and cool rainwater revitalized the Telgradian's senses.

It's a good place for a fight like this; it sharpens the mind.

Just ahead, an ancient, dilapidated fountain stood in the centre of a huge, glass surfaced circle that served as some sort of intersection between the two opposing pieces of the huge walkway. The algae stained and ivy shrouded statue of the goddess that formed its structure stood at least twice the height of Shinsou and there was a wall that encircled the inner pool.

The Telgradian noticed that the wall seemed to be topped with some sort of natural crystal material that jutted out and formed two tracks that ran down the sides of the fountain and ran spuriously off in opposite directions down the walkway, embedded into the rock floor itself at surface level.

It was then, as his eyes followed the tracks, that Shinsou paid more attention to the floating temples.

There seemed to be seven of them, all floating in a stationary orbit above and around the fountain area. The two story buildings seemed to be made from the same sort of ancient grimy limestone that the rest of the sanctuary was, and finely carved statues of angels adorned the edges of these temples and their massive, broken wooden front doors. Their more prominent features seemed to be their metallic halos, each uniquely coloured and breathtaking in their beauty and refinement. Unlike the rest of the arena, these seven spinning rings didn’t seem to be worn through age.

Impressive. It seems almost a shame to be testing my powers here, to be honest. I quite like this place.

As if the thought had reminded Shinsou of the purpose of his visit, his wandering mind snapped back to the matter at hand. Other than the whistling of a cool breeze and the rows of trees flickering and rustling their branches in the wind, the walkway was as silent as a crypt. The Telgradian had sensed no presence from the minute that the portal had torn its grasp away from him and deposited him on the platform on which he now stood waiting. Intriguingly, though he was quite clearly alone, Shinsou had started to feel something tickling the pit of his stomach. Powerful threats, or those with a large magical potential, often registered as a throbbing pulse within his body with the intensity and timing of the pulses increasing with the opponent’s power. But this was an odd feeling indeed, something new to him.

As the Telgradian waited, the feeling thickened from a tickle to a sweeping motion within his gut.

He's coming. Don't waste any time exchanging pleasantries, Shinsou, just go for the bastard's throat the second he steps foot here.

There comes a time in all things done where the action is done less out of interest, but more out of obligation. Times come where a skill is no longer interesting, but habit, and John was no different to these feelings.

He walked around the side wall of the massive structure of the Citadel, periodically extending a metal-covered finger to try and feel a crack or imperfection in the massive obsidian-colored stones that made up the wall. Try as he might, there was no crack, no space between the blocks. He grunted a little, looking up at the spires as if to begrudgingly commend the makers of such a thing. The drizzling rain slicked the walls of the Citadel and gave them a sheen, mirroring the world in a dark, shimmering, ghostly manner. The droplets ticked upon the half-giant’s armor as he resumed his walk around the Citadel toward its entrance. Since he approached from the backside of the thing, he usually used the time spent walking around the building to collect his thoughts. John seemed silent, dense even, but his mind was seldom idle.

He’d never heard of this ‘Shinsou Vaan Osiris’, save once before in a tournament that bore his name. Though, that hardly meant anything. One thing he knew, he had a challenger and had to answer or forfeit. He thought of what he knew of the man, which was painfully little, considering that most of his personal challengers knew him in some way. The word ‘Telgradia’ came to mind, but what that meant he could not recall.

I’ll just have to be ready for anything, he thought as his steps brought him around the courtyard’s wall and through the now-wet stalls, now spread with awnings to block the rain and not the heat. The calling for bets and drink was muted by the rain, but still continued. His entrance drew a few stares, but far less than any other place he went. John was beginning to feel like this was a home of sorts. Here, he never had to duck under a ceiling or avoid the prying eyes of those who lacked the age or sense to avert their gaze from his monstrous form and almost as large shield. He would have used it to cover his head, but the rain would have gotten him wet anyways, and the shield was a heavy sort.

Even in an arena of fighters, though, John stood out, and attracted the attention of one of the younger Ai’Bron monks. The edge of the half-giant’s mouth upturned slightly as he thought that it always happened that the younger lads were sent out in the rain. He did his duty though, and directed John to a swirling portal. A step later, and he was in another realm.

A flagstone path, covered with patchy moss betraying its age, lay before him, leading towards a dais with a fountain at the center of it. He stepped forward, and a cracking noise sounded off of a flagstone, echoing off of the oak trees flanking the path. The half-giant looked down, lifting a massive boot to uncover a broken flagstone, covered with runes carved long ago, the grooves worn shallow by time and filled with moss and water. He raised an eyebrow as he stepped forward.

Seems not meant for men like me, he thought as he stepped out into the clearing where the stone fountain was. Though the fountain was beautiful, and carved well despite its age, it was lost on John as he looked out across the open landscape of floating temples and spinning rings above them. He whistled, setting his shield down beside him, finally noticing his opponent.

He stood, perhaps slightly taller than average, lithe with a little muscle, at least what muscle he could discern through the white coat the man wore. All in all, he was not as impressive as others he had fought, but at the same time, there was a look in the eyes of the man he’d be battling. He was not nervous, as most were when faced with John. He couldn’t quite place it as the confident air of a man expecting to win either. No, John thought, mentally commanding his shield to part into two large dehlar warhammers, and willing his armor to cover his body, he’s excited. He smiled a little, hoping that this ‘Osiris’ fellow would match him well. He let the hammers fall by his side, and strolled around the side of the fountain, placing it between them. He spoke across to him, holding up a hammer to his chest, tapping it with a soft ringing sound. The greeting was perhaps unnecessary, but it came of habit to John.

“I am John.”

The pulsing within the Telgradian’s stomach grew in tempo and ferocity as a figure approached on the horizon of the walkway. For a brief moment, intense light from the midday sun turned the gyrating dot into a silhouette which made it difficult to make out any of his opponent’s distinguishing features. But, as a passing cloud smothered and choked the sun and allowed the ambient light to settle, Shinsou was finally able to make out his opponent.

Fuck me! Forget going for his throat; for that I’d actually have to be able to see it! Look at that armour!

Reading about Cromwell on paper and then actually being in the giant’s presence were, ostensibly, two different matters entirely. Shinsou had prepared himself to be without fear for John. He was confident in his own abilities, but the unimaginable size of the man, not to mention the two great warhammers he had just fashioned from a great shield, sent a shiver down his spine and momentarily sucked from him the will to move.

Compose yourself, Shinsou. He’s all brawn, so just be smart and stay out of his way. You’ve got to punch through that tin can’s armour before anything else can happen, though, so focus on that first.

It seemed to him some form a breach of normal Citadel custom to not introduce oneself in a duel, and although it was hard to argue that Shinsou himself knew there would be another day at the end of this and, therefore, it would have made no odds to return the courtesy, the Telgradian was all about delivering results and not idle chatter.

A wry smile crept over Shinsou’s boyish face. The Telgradian felt validated by the way he had planned for this fight, and knew John’s strength and unpredictability would be spectacularly difficult to work around. It would be foolish to engage the giant in any sort of melee combat, mostly due to the tough armour he wore and the titanic chassis of his form. Shinsou allowed his eyes to steal a glance at the higher ground of the orbiting temples above, which appeared appetizing, but leaping there required time.

He would, for now, put his plan into motion.

Enpera Kurohitsugi!

With a wave of his hand, a thick wall of colourless energy boomed into existence behind Shinsou. It began to shimmer and vibrate intensely and shone in the sun like a reflection of summer on a lake. Then, snapping electrical forks of black and purple began to snatch at the cool sanctuary air, growing in length and power before converging and interlacing around each other to form a fifteen foot wide circular portal of black and purple energy. Within seconds there were fifteen thin, dangerous spears of dark matter waiting to be unleashed.

With the fifteen spears hanging in the void overhead, Shinsou waved his right arm across his chest.

“Enpera Kurohitsugi: Seraph Form!”

The pulsating forms of the spears that hung ominously in the air now started to shake violently. The protruding implements collapsed in on themselves, their dark matter membranes slowly crumpling like paper into shapes that more resembled the blunt forms of funnels. As the process completed, each strange dark matter piece finally solidified into tubular, smooth dark matter pipes, each one of the three levitating around the Telgradian in free circulation, moving to his whim.

Each of these three funnels could unleash magic that could pierce titanium, and with that in mind the Telgradian wasted no more time, commanding two of the three to fire their salvos as he began working on a plan to reach the temples above. The first shot cannoned straight and horizontally towards where the giant stood, a pressurised beam of compact ice tearing through the thin air of the skies. The next came not a second later in the form of a diagonally sweeping beam of molten fire that ripped a hole in the ozone around them, an attack that would attempt to cut off any evasive manoeuvres forward that John could muster.

John grunted a little, wishing his opponent had introduced himself before the start of their match. Though, he had to admit to himself that he already knew the man’s name anyways.

Shinsou waved his hand, calling into existence what John described to himself as a portal. It shimmered like a mirage and expanded, with a blackened core filling it soon after, the ebony sparks around its edge snapping at the air around it. John took a half-step back, bending his knees a little. He growled low in his throat, his brow furrowing.

Magical bastard, what’s beyond that portal?

Immediately, John tried to think of a way to close the distance between them. He could defend against magic, and even reflect a little of it, but that tactic wouldn't last very long, especially if magic was his main tactic.

And it’s surely going to be his tactic, if he knows anything at all about me.

John admitted to himself, as an idea came, that it would be a gamble, but such was the nature of the Citadel. It was a place where risky tactics were common. His opponent shouted, making another of his grand gestures.

Enpera what? No matter, if he wants to be intimidating, we can be intimidating.

He smirked a little as the massive portal’s protrusions coalesced into pipes, one loosing a beam of ice directly at him. The half-giant dropped the hammer in his right hand as the beam struck his chest, and he felt the strange magic of his armor absorb the cold blast as he stepped back, the force of it nearly driving him to a knee as the blast tore the shirt he wore to ribbons.

John’s smile broadened as he felt the cold magic surge through his armor, frosting his metal chest, dulling its reflective sheen. Now, he had only to decide what to do with the energy. He looked up, just in time to see the fire his opponent had cast across the arena.

Well, that answers that, he thought as he willed his stolen energy into his hand, blocking any of the liquid flame that may have struck him with the wizard’s own power. Granted, it was stolen and weaker, but he only needed to block a little of it, and it worked, boiling the proffered ice and billowing steam across the arena, creating a cloud between them, vaguely lit by the lingering fire that missed the half-giant. The wizard was now little more than a vague white form amidst his void magic. John thought again, and snatched his warhammer from the ground, loosing it in a mighty throw at his opponent. It flew forwards, a heavy chunk of dehlar that would likely break whatever it hit.

I still need to close the distance, he thought, and rounded the fountain quickly, attempting to get close enough to Shinsou to force a brawl.

Shinsou’s expression morphed from stoic nonchalance to a burning frown as the giant Cromwell effortlessly absorbed one of his most powerful magical strikes and used it to cleverly nullify the devastating beam of fire threatening to cut through him. As the resultant cloud of steam hissed away into the atmosphere, a realization hit Osiris. Someone from the Brotherhood had deliberately omitted John’s absorption ability from the file, pulling the Telgradian into conflict with one of the most powerful men in the country under a false sense of security. Doubtless this was another ‘test’ of Shinsou’s character put into motion by his employers; the hallmarks of master manipulators keeping their asset on his toes.

Stood there, confronted by this goliath, Shinsou wondered what else had they left out of the file.

I can’t rely on that useless information now, Osiris determined to himself internally, …let’s do this the old fashioned way.

The Dehlar hammer was next. Normally such a heavy weapon would have taken time to lift and swing, let alone throw, but John’s titanic strength made a mockery of this and sent it thundering through the air at the Telgradian with such a blistering pace that Osiris was almost caught off guard, stumbling as its metal head sailed past his face and grazed a chestnut strand of his hair. The giant clearly intended on giving no quarter and such was the strength of John’s throw that the hammer kept going and flew off the edge of the sanctuary platform before plunging through the thick cloud to an uncertain fate.

If John was expecting Shinsou Vaan Osiris to be intimidated, he was going to be sorely disappointed. The strength of his adversary was pumping the Telgradian up. This would be a real challenge, for once.

“Good…” Shinsou finally broke his silence as he righted himself, droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. “Very good, John. But a predictable attack like that won’t be enough. If you want to kill me, come at me with everything you have!”

The adrenaline coursing through his veins felt like magma and buoyed Osiris. How long had it been since he had faced an opponent whose brawn equaled their brains? Two years? More? Shinsou kept his eyes on the giant form of Cromwell, sizing up his next move. He had a choice between putting himself at risk in close combat or to get creative with his magic. Common sense dictated the latter, but there was no guarantee his final remaining shot of Telgradian magic wouldn’t be absorbed by that armor again. It was proving a tactical nightmare and time was running short to make a decision.

Wait a minute, Shinsou realized, …that’s it!

Darkness coalesced around Shinsou as the three funnels of the Seraph form of Enpera Kurohitsugi suddenly melted away and oozed back into existence again as fifteen hard scales of dark matter; the Phalanx form of his sword’s magic. Controlled by Shinsou’s will alone, the fifteen plate-sized scales interlocked to form an unbroken chain which wrapped itself around the Telgradian’s body as it waited for a command. The situation wasn’t as cut and dry as he’d first imagined and now he had a choice to make. Osiris could err on the side of caution, protecting himself by taking the high-ground in one of those temples, or simply risk attacking John in close combat.

Osiris’s golden eyes flickered to the giant Cromwell for a heartbeat to confirm the man hadn’t started another attack and then made his decision.

The lip of one of the orbiting temple staircases was a three second sprint and leap away from the Telgradian, although a mistake on the timing of the jump would have meant falling into the bottomless sky below the floating platform of moss and granite. Kicking his heels off of the sharp edge of the main walkway, Shinsou took off and landed neatly on the first temple’s staircase, his heels digging in to the white marble to stop his momentum from taking him too far. The odd shrine whose grounds he had landed on looked a replica of the Temple of Ea – a tomb dedicated to the god-king Eiyuu Oi, previously buried beneath the Blight in Fallien. The entrance pylon of the temple had a story carved; the story of Eiyuu Ou and Enum Elish’s great battle in the Twilight Mountains against the Trinoxx, the same battle which would eventually anger the gods and send Eiyuu Ou into exile. Six statues of the mighty Eiyuu Ou constructed in front of the pylon seemed to mark the way to the temple’s gate, along with two great obelisks - one of which was damaged badly.

Time’s ticking, let’s entertain our guest with a little game of catch!

Shinsou knew what to do, springing into motion before John could get to him and the threat of close-quarter combat was made irreversible. He let his Phalanx chain slip off and commanded it to wrap around the weakened base of the giant obelisk. With a wave of his hand, the Telgradian used the strong, Dehlar-resistant chain to effortlessly snap the monument from its base and hold it within its grasp before launching it with all of its power at the hulking giant back on the platform.

There was a moment of indecision for John as he watched his opponent disengage, choosing to fight from one of the floating temples above them. He considered following, but chose to hesitate. The bottomless void between the platforms would end their fight far too easily, and given Shinsou's command of the tendrils behind him, John chose not to risk it. It gave him a modicum of satisfaction, even if they might be doing this dance for the majority of their fight, that he forced the retreat from his opponent. As Shinsou shaped his magic anew, though, he was glad he hesitated. A tendril of the Telgradian's void magic curled around the base of an obelisk, and snapped it free from the base like a child would break a stick.

Gods, what insane magic is that?

The half-giant had no time to ponder the query though, as the wizard hurled the tower of stone at him. It filled his vision, he could practically hear it whistle through the air. He had but a moment to react; he disliked relying on the ring he wore, but it had proven useful in situations like these. He acted on instinct, calling to action the powers of his ring by remembering his battle with the behemoth, Moxxilus. For a moment, he felt a crawling sensation as a jade-like green crystal grew over his body, anchoring him to the earth and rendering him practically indestructible for a moment.

But a moment was all he needed.

It grew up over his face as the obelisk was about to hit, and his vision was rendered into blurred shades of green. A muffled noise like a rockslide sounded on his ears, and his vision went black. A few seconds later, and he felt the crystal dissolving, sloughing off his skin in chunks as he reached upward, lifting a hand above the rubble, pulling himself up above the pile of rock that was an obelisk moments ago. He spoke as he emerged, yelling at the other platform.

"That all you got, Telgradian?" He said the word, knowing not quite what it meant, but he said it anyway. Mages were usually annoying to fight, it had almost become formula at times. Dodge, dodge, reflect, close distance, win.

But this one was stronger and smarter, and John found himself smiling as he emerged from the wreckage.

This was going to be fun.

He stepped forward, the last bits of the green stone slipping off his skin, his shirt now completely destroyed. Lucky that his boots and pants were a little more sturdy. A deep chuckle came to him unbidden as emotion rose within him. A friend had once called it the 'song of battle'; the roiling depth of the many feelings before battle bubbled up within him as he spoke.

"You can dish it out, friend, but can you take it?"

He launched himself at the platform, landing on a white marble floor flanked by stairways, statues, and what were once obelisks. He flipped the hammer in his hand, smirking at Shinsou.

Then he rushed the man. If there was to be a fight, he'd have to be able to take as good as he gave.

In that moment, The competing, fighting emotions within him stopped. The world was left in slow-motion as he raised his hammer. There was nothing around them; no great statues of champions long-dead. There was only John and Shinsou, the pounding of his feet on stone and rushing air in his ears.

Shinsou bounced back and forth from foot to foot, a nervous flutter grasping him as his gaze followed the giant Cromwell. The goliath had called upon some mysterious arcane powers to encase himself in what looked like jade. The obelisk, thrown with such force, stood no chance and exploded into chunks of beige shrapnel, but within moments John was out of the debris and unscathed.

A few drops of sweat ran down The Telgradian’s fingers and moistened the hilt of the blade he was holding.

Relentless…he’s absolutely relentless! But…

As the sun rose high over this battleground, heating up the platforms and the stone of the temples, John’s titanium shone brightly, soaking in the heat of this sanctuary before becoming a silver blur. The man appeared to glow as he raced towards the edge of the platform and vaulted to the temple steps at a speed which was almost unfathomable, an impossible bleached white closing in on Osiris like a jaguar upon its prey. There would be no time to dodge, but even if he had underestimated the sheer agility Cromwell wielded Shinsou was more than prepared. The dark matter chain of Enpera’s Phalanx form uncurled from Shinsou’s body like withering ivy, reaching its darkest, most active level and broke apart into individual segments before reforming into a hexagonal shield to the Telgradian’s right, which repelled John’s Dehlar hammer with an almighty metallic clang.

…Relentless is not enough. Courageous is not enough. When you come against me, even if you make the sky fall or the earth shake, it’s not enough!

As the hammer bounced off, the world around Osiris blurred to slow motion. Shinsou had made plans that would move him up in the world, hoisting him from his simple status as an enforcer for a shady organization and propelling him into the dizzying heights of leadership of that same conglomerate. John Cromwell was the job to be executed as a test of those credentials. After today Osiris would be many things, but insignificant would not be one of them.

Gazing across the few feet between them, he met eyes with his opponent. They were strong. They were full of fire. They were eyes of a man in the heat of the moment. His exposed skin shone underneath the frayed edges of his torn shirt. Shinsou felt his heart beat like a bass drum in his chest

Perfect.

His brow held back a few drips of sweat as he quickly clenched with his free hand Stygian’s hilt, pulling it from its long sheath tucked under his coat. Coolly, he hid it as long as possible before pulling the sword tautly to his left.

”Nightfall!”

Cromwell was a foot beyond him when Shinsou made his move. He acted as quickly as anyone could have been prepared to, aiming a clean, precise strike to John’s exposed left side. Twisting violently, the thin blade was not designed to saw through skin and flesh but instead to install Stygian’s influence into the target. If John hesitated – a natural reaction in a moment of shock and fear – Shinsou knew the battle would be over.

John , for years, had prided himself on the ability to take a hit and keep coming. Even as a boy he was able to shake off blows that would fell his elders. He was sure to defend himself, but if there was one thing he'd never done, it was shy away from a blow.

It had passed away quickly as he became a man, and learned that an arrow placed just right had been the end of many a champion. It seemed, he thought for a time, that all men were more equal than he thought.

But lately he had been doing it again anyways. Maybe he was becoming more powerful. Maybe it was the armor. Maybe it was just the fighting in the citadel, where one could do these things with relative safety. Either way, he didn't have any intention of letting his intimidating demeanor be marred by dodging.

His hammer bounced off the plate of void energy Shinsou called into existence, just as he unsheathed a sword. The strike came sooner than anticipated, the point of the sharpened blade catching on his metal chest and marring his armor with a deep scratch as it passed to his side. John spoke, confused, as he brought his arm down, pinning the sword between his side and arm, holding it there with all his strength.

"Night-what?"

No matter, he thought as he brought the crown of his head down savagely at his opponent. Hopefully he would be able to force the Telgradian to retreat, without his sword.

Shinsou had barely finished his attack before the giant Cromwell cleverly trapped his sword between arm and chest and threw an almighty headbutt towards the Telgradian. There was simply no time at all to react. Behind his wincing eyelids, Osris’s vision distorted with whorls of white, dizzying pain as John’s gigantic forehead collided sickeningly with his skull. The force was so tremendous that a section of the Telgradian’s eye socket fractured with a sickening crack and sent tiny fragments of bone spreading out underneath his skin, tearing through nerve endings and flesh like shrapnel. Shinsou staggered back three steps, the sheer momentum from the attack enough to uproot him, loosing Stygian from his grip.

Overlaid with a pulsating, blinding pain, Shinsou’s vision blurred as he planted his back foot down on the marble step to right his balance. The Telgradian could feel the aura of the giant Cromwell flaring in his gut, a determination brighter and more focused with every second, whilst the sudden blow had sown the first seed of doubt in Osiris’s mind and ‘checked’ him into a moment’s hesitance.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The agony of his broken face fuelled something within Shinsou. The plate of dark matter shattered as arcane energies surged like adrenaline, melding the magic to his every whim as the giant prepared a follow up to his brutal assault. The plates interlocked once more to form a chain again while the taste of electricity hung on the air and thoughts pinged about Shinsou’s pain-addled mind. Did that armored monstrosity have a weakness? Could Osiris overcome Cromwell in close combat? What on earth had he involved himself in this time?

This was the meaning of the Citadel. He’d fought here before and he knew that within the confines of these mystical walls, the monks of Ai’Brone could resurrect the dead and heal the wounded. What could they do for pride, though?

Only I can restore that kind of parity.

“You have convinced me,” he addressed John at last. “that I can’t afford to let you win. To seek death here is futile; for the Ai’Brone can undo that, but they cannot heal pride. They cannot restore a person’s faith in themselves. They cannot repair the realization that we are inherently weak.”

Shinsou peered at John again over the rim of his swollen eye.

“I will never be weak. Not here, not ever!””

Osiris stepped forth, blood pouring from his nose and splattering onto his boots as two echoing footfalls disguised his commands. The dark matter chain flashed to his side, tip downwards, clumsily tearing a chunk out of the gleaming marble staircase. A chaotic clatter of debris cascaded down the steps and off the edge into oblivion.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris ground out a single word through gritted, bloodstained teeth.

“Bind.”

The chain snapped through the air, sparks of dazzling and disorienting electricity violently manifesting before disappearing almost as soon as he had commanded. The wave of hazy dark matter wrapped about the firmly planted, tree trunk sized legs of the Telgradian’s adversary, wreaking havoc on the surface of the stairs. The chain pulled taut and lashed at the luxurious masonry, casting a purple flash on collision that lit up the recessed alcoves of the temple entrance. Stygian’s undying light added to the effects, making the side of John’s armor illuminate as he trapped it firmly between bicep and chest.

Shinsou hoped that this could topple the behemoth in front of him or, at the very least, restrict him. Then, maybe, he could get his sword back.

John's head cracked against his opponent's with a crunch, and he felt something break within Shinsou as they separated, the Telgradian leaving his sword in John's armpit. He stepped forward, intending to press the assault on the injured sorcerer, when a flash of his void magic rooted the half-giant in place, the dark chains binding his feet to the ground.

John's brow furrowed as he wondered how long his opponent could keep him there. It would doubtlessly be the critical factor in this fight. If he couldn't close the distance between them, he couldn't win, no matter how rough the Telgradian's face looked. As he spoke, John shot tendrils into the cracked marble beneath him, cracking the marble and earth beneath, rooting him in place even further. It would be especially bad if he managed to toss him as he had that obelisk. After all, no matter how strong he was, John would still lose if he went over that edge. The tendrils stole armor from his chest and arms, and soon his entire torso was devoid of the silvery metal, exposing a chest and pair of arms criss-crossed with burn scars, almost like fire flowed through his veins once.

He dropped his hammer, reaching to grasp the sword that Osiris had lost in their exchange. It was a fine blade, and the Telgradian would get it back eventually.

But not here, he thought, as he tossed it to the side, where it sailed into oblivion. He turned his attention back to Shinsou, forming an answer in his head. Though his words might ring true, he was still just stalling for time now. After all, there was only so much he could do beyond arm's length. The look in his opponent's eyes struck true with him somehow, though. He saw for a moment a younger, more wild Cromwell, who went to the Citadel without really knowing why. Who broke others to prove his own strength. He saw someone who wanted to be strong, but didn't quite know how.

"Then you are a fool, Telgradian," he said, reaching down to retrieve his hammer. "You wish for strength without knowing what it means. What is it you think? That because I am strong here, that you are weak there?" he continued, curling a heavily muscled arm.

"Strength isn't a numbers game, Shinsou. Learn this, and you will be strong."

He settled into a crouch, as much as he could with the chains on his legs, and centered himself. Hopefully the Telgradian wouldn't be able to tip him over before he got another few strikes in.

Drenched in blood and halfway through contemplating his next move, Shinsou listened as the anchored John Cromwell explained his philosophy on the true meaning of strength. The words the giant spoke could have been an excerpt from any generic adventurer’s guide, the type of statement that dripped with a thick naivety only a novice could have mustered. The whole rambling disappointed the Telgradian greatly. He had expected so much more from the man, a person renown for his strength.

Shaking his head wistfully, Osiris brushed a sleeve across his nose to clear the blood and clenched his fist. The dark matter chain tightened around a crouching John’s tree-trunk ankles on command and, without toppling him, managed to further root him in place.

“How many people have you beaten here, may I ask?” Shinsou queried, out of reach of the giant by a good few arm’s lengths, “You claim strength isn’t a numbers game? You forget your considerable reputation was built here, forged in the fires of victory. If you hadn’t beat those warriors, your name would have been gouged out of the Citadel’s records like a tumor and would now only be an obscure footnote in Althanan history. You were stronger than them. You play the numbers game every time you step into the arena, and every time you get out of bed. The weak die, John Cromwell; only the strong get to be remembered.”

The cold air cut across his bloodstained clothes as Shinsou began walking, unchallenged, to the temple’s edge.

“A moment ago I was beginning to think you’d have a chance to win this bout, that you’d even damaged my pride, but now I am satisfied this was an error of judgment. How can you expect to defeat me with such a small-time mentality? The very idea I could lose to you makes me feel sick.”

Scanning the periphery of the large stone platform below, Shinsou eyed for an ideal landing spot. His keen vision picked up a perfect place and with panther-like reflexes the Telgradian pounced onto the floating sanctuary, the cool wind flushing the pain from his fractured eye. Once on his feet, he kept his gaze fixed above sanctuary at the replica of the temple of Ea, which was populated only by a firmly planted John. The temple seemed to be constructed from ancient stone, a brittle material, and Shinsou estimated that the depth between John on the staircase and the bottomless sky amounted only to a dozen or so feet. The giant was still firmly locked in clutch by the magic, a spell which obeyed the Telgradian’s every whim. It sounded crazy, but Osiris had executed more absurd plans before. This time, the laws of physics would do the hard work.

Another smile crossed his bloodstained, swollen face. Shinsou was so sure of himself.

“Give my regards to the other defeated philosophers.”

As the wind beat down about Shinsou’s matted chestnut hair, the Telgradian pulled his hand down and commanded the dark matter chain to plunge. Dust erupted into the air as the force of the pull, assisted by John’s weight, metallic roots weakening the stone below and gravity, conspired to crack the masonry underfoot and force the orbiting temple's grounds to give way.

The boy's words stung John's mind as he spoke, and the half-giant called to mind unbidden thoughts. He called to mind not the great men he had defeated in the citadel, not the great battles he had led charges in. He remembered but one fateful hour with crystal clarity. Every drop of blood, every man, woman, and child; all of their faces perfectly as they contorted in agony. Agony from his hands.

Shinsou's chains were weak compared to the manacles in his brain that held him, bound by his past actions.

No, no, John thought, grinding the thought from his mind as Shinsou walked away. It was not the action that made a man strong. The nature of his actions were the determinant of his strength, he thought as his opponent leaped down onto the platform from their first exchange, landing gracefully despite his broken face.

I will not be a man who is strong for only himself. He had been that man for one night.

And he never forgot the eighty-five lives that ended then.

"Give my regards to the other philosophers," Shinsou called, and as the stone underneath him cracked further, John realized what was happening. He would be cast into the infinity below if he didn't do something, and fast.

He sank, and there was but one course of action he could take. His head disappeared as he plunged both hands into the earth below the thick floor stones, pulling armor from his legs to his arms and into the dirt, flowing upward between the cracks in the stone, anchoring him back to the ground above him. The armor pulled from his legs and feet though, and the chains squeezed, trying to pull him down through the perilously thin layer of earth between him and the sky. He pulled against it mightily, and felt the chains dig into exposed flesh, tearing his pants first, then his skin as they slowly raked downwards, a hundred links of chain tearing at his flesh. He groaned, trying to focus on pulling upwards. He felt a bicep being to tear itself as the chains pulled.

He heard the snap from his leg before he felt the break, but when the pain came he yelled anyways as the chains fell from his feet, through the remaining soil, and into the air below.

A ragged breath later, John tried to pull up, sweat soaking his brow as he pulled his armor from his right hand, using his left to pull himself upwards and slowly out of the bottomless hole. As he stood, legs slowly bleeding from his wounds, he braced himself for more pain, this time self inflicted. Armor flowed downwards to his broken shin, and he grunted, squinting and clenching his fist as he grew a pair of spikes into his leg, through the bone, and out the other side, covering the entire calf in thick metal that braced him.

When he opened his eyes, he spoke, taking a slow step forward, His armor moving to cover his chest. He looked for a moment for his missing hammer, but it was nowhere to be found. Likely fallen through the hole, leaving him with but one weapon.

"Victory is not strength, Shinsou, your words betray you. What do you know of the kinds of strength, hm? What do you know of the strength of a father who protects his children? What do you know of a woman who sells her body to feed her son? They have strength you cannot conceive, friend, because you call victory by a false name."

He strode forward, adrenaline dulling his pain as he stepped off the platform. He landed heavily, cracking the stone beneath him and grunting in pain as his makeshift splint held, but stressed his punctured and broken bone. He righted himself, standing a little taller as he spoke again, armor flowing from his tattered legs to his chest, a tendril leading to his arms to cover his fists as well. He tried to cover his wounds with the metal, but he still bled.

"And I have the strength to protect and destroy. So come, Shinsou. Prove your strength in victory, or learn that they are not the same."

He settled into a crouch, waiting on a move from the sorcerer.

For a handful of heartbeats, Shinsou doubted himself.

Cromwell rose from the shrivelled depths of defeat, battered and torn but, most importantly, alive. This person, this colossus, had suffered quite terrible injuries to his legs thanks to the dark matter chain and had somehow used his armor to splint the wounds, returning to the mossy, sun-stroked platform on which the Telgradian now stood. As Shinsou felt his control over his dark matter chain wane and finally dissipate, the black energy breaking apart owing to the short half-life his magic suffered, Osiris gazed at the hulking form of the giant and finally understood why John Cromwell was spoken about in hushed tones.

He just takes it and takes it. What extraordinary resilience.

“You take a rather dogmatic view of strength,” The words slipped through Shinsou’s cracked lips as the Telgradian eyed his bulky opponent over the crest of his swollen eye, “To understand such a concept fully, one must have contrast. What good is the strength to protect if you don’t have the strength to survive?"

A moment's pause followed. "...After all, power comes in response to a need and needs vary. Me and the mother in your little anecdote are separated only by circumstance; the need to survive is the same. It is how we obtain and use that strength that is different. Her power is used and exhausted to ensure that her child has a life. My power will be used to ensure that millions of mothers never have to worry about feeding their children ever again."

John was crouched, listening. The man had patience in abundance, something Shinsou respected. "To get to that position, I have to be stronger than the tyrant who starves, who corrupts and who kills, or else how do I change the world? That, John Cromwell, is the difference between us – whilst your physical strength does you credit, your vision is only a microcosm of the bigger picture. I am here to change the world.”

He exhaled his frustration in a short, sharp breath. The Telgradian supposed that he was now chained to fate as Cromwell once again settled into a stoic crouch. He would now have to deliver to John a fatal blow directly. Clearing his mind of doubt and replacing it with focus on the singular purpose of defeating the metal monstrosity, Shinsou once again weaved his hands to create a dark matter cocoon. The incredible man that was his opponent had a limitation now; his wounds would surely impede the giant’s ability to move. It was time to make good use of John’s situation before the goliath ravaged any more of Osiris’s comparatively fragile body.

Smouldering scents of oil and electricity warred in his nostrils as cozened indigo and murky black shadows shuddered beneath Shinsou’s palms to create an orb. Though a maelstrom of thunderous crackling resonated through his ears, Shinsou’s mind settled into calm. At the fulcrum of his thoughts, the dark matter orb woven about his hands stabilized and took perfect shape with a snap.

“Let’s end this, John. It’s proven entertaining, but I’m quite tired.”

With a large heave, Shinsou Vaan Osiris blasted the magical orb straight at John’s position. Forks of sullied dark lightning took life among the shadows cast by the temples floating all around as the head-sized projectile tore through the cold air. The hues of the beige limestone below mingled with the spellblade’s searing dark matter, a riot of churning color that cracked the stone beneath. The orb exploded somewhere near the hulking giant, sending splintered shards of ancient mossy masonry fizzing through the air. Somehow the fountain made it through unscathed, dumping its water over the lips of its edges as the resulting shockwave pounded over the floating island.

Smoke and flame rose, obscuring John Cromwell’s massive form. One final thought rested in the Telgradian’s mind.

What an intriguing man…

There was a pause between the end of the wizard's statement and the beginning of his magic that left John wondering what he could have been had he retained his noble status. Could he have been a man like Shinsou? Could he, if his life had not changed, been the one to end the evil he saw in the world? He shook his head of the thought. No, he had spent years in the pit of what could have been, spent his days in drunken stupor, wishing he could change the past. No, he thought, the past had stolen enough years of his life.

Yet somehow it always invaded his mind anyways.

He steeled his mind. There would be no salvation from Shinsou's magic to be found in his past; and as the Telgradian formed an orb of that same dark energy as everything else he'd done, John stepped forward, realizing that the battle was drawing to its conclusion.

He realized a second too late what Shinsou's magic was designed for.

His eyes widened, and he did the only thing he could think of in that moment.

He drew what armor he could to his left hand, forming a plate at the front of his fist, and stepped forward, planting a foot and punching the orb of magic hurled at him with all his strength.

The explosion blinded and deafened him for a half-second, driving his knee into the stone beneath him. The pain faded into numbness in his arm, and he opened his eyes, lifting himself slowly, clutching a pair of broken ribs. His breath hitched in surprise as he realized one of his fractured ribs had punctured a lung. He could feel the fluid beginning to accumulate. The half-giant looked down from Shinsou, gazing at his arm, realizing that it was blown into a mangled hunk of red flesh, ending halfway through his forearm. He registered mild surprise that he was in shock, which dumped adrenaline into his system, staving off his pain for a moment. The smoke before him cleared, and he imagined yet another look of surprise from his opponent.

He smirked. Neither of them would be letting the battle draw out any longer, but he wanted one more word at the boy who pretended himself the savior of the world. Armor seeped down from his shoulder, drawn from his left leg, and coated his arm in a thick layer of the magical alloy, stopping the bleeding, at least for the moment. He coughed, his one remaining hand still clutching his left side. His gaze found Shinsou.

"You will be the savior of the world, Osiris? You would banish all evil from Althanas?" He stepped forward, coughing. "That microcosm is full of lives."

The armor at the stump of his left arm sharpened into a point as he took another step, breaking into a full sprint.

And until you make good on your vows, the weak will need my strength.

Adrenaline pushed his threshold, and John collided with Shinsou at a dead sprint, sinking his stump of an arm into the wizard's midsection, wrapping his other arm around him, tackling them both over the edge of the platform, and into oblivion. For a moment they fell, a tangle of limbs and blood, spinning away from the floating islands.

The world tumbled and swayed violently before Shinsou’s eyes. There wasn’t time to think, react or even speak as the giant Cromwell crashed into him and cannoned them both off of the frontier of the floating sanctuary; the tangle of battered bodies plummeting into the infinite void below. There could now only be one outcome.

There was a rush of air, then absolute darkness. A few minutes passed before Shinsou Vaan Osiris’s golden eyes opened, peeling the oblivion of death away to reveal the frigid, cold greys of the ceiling of the Citadel’s medical wing. His limbs felt heavy and cumbersome, and as he rolled over, a monk hung over him for what seemed like an eternity.

“Welcome back. Please, do not move too much. We are still healing your wounds.”

The voice was muffled, as if spoken underwater. It was always the same with the Citadel after a fight. The Telgradian hated this part of the process the most, where the Citadel’s unique magic messed with the brain and forced it to struggle to make sense of anything. He’d always look down upon himself, stunned to see there were no wounds. Checking himself twice, thrice, and once again after, it would take a few hazy minutes before Shinsou realised he was completely clean of any cuts or blood because of the Ai’Bron.

"This is most unusual," The monk said, a concerned expression suddenly plastered across his face as his outstretched palms hovered inches from Shinsou’s body. "Something is preventing me from healing you fully.”

Osiris’s face contorted with confusion. “But I’m fine? My wounds are healed. No aches or pains, nothing.”

"Your physical wounds, yes," the priest continued, in a substantially hushed tone. "But I’m referring to the laceration in your soul. I can’t heal it." Shinsou turned his head entirely, staring the monk square in the eyes. Osiris’s mouth tightened into a straight, white line.

“What? What laceration? What are you talking about?” He muttered, his heart pounding. The monk shook his head and sighed. “Your soul has a tear in it, one that is leaking dark magic. This magic bleed is clotting and forming an adema that is preventing my healing powers from sealing it. It’s an old wound, one you have carried for a long time by the looks of it, so it isn’t affecting your physical health for now, but that’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

"A problem the Ai’Bron can’t handle, huh?" Shinsou responded, rising to his feet. "Interesting. Well, if it won’t kill me…"

The Telgradian straightened his neck, drawing back his head before brushing down his white coat. The monk hung precariously over him, a very deep expression of worry spread over his visage. “It won’t yet. That said, there’s no telling what might come of leaving it unattended. That’s if anyone can attend to it.”

"Not today’s problem." The Telgradian continued as they exited the room together and continued down a sloping, torch-lit hallway. "I’m more concerned with finding John Cromwell. I’d like to speak to him."

The monk sighed. “He already left. Please excuse me.” He nodded, giving up on trying to convince his patient, before waddling off to other duties. Shinsou walked a few paces around the corner, diving into a vaulted archway which ensured he was out of sight, before swallowing an enormous quantity of air. His knees, already weakened from the healing process, wobbled under him.

A tear in my soul? One that is actively preserving itself?

Silence once again descended over the one of many labyrinthine Citadel corridors as Shinsou pondered the monk’s words and the day’s events. The Citadel, the proving ground of Althanas, had revealed much to him. John Cromwell, the idealistic man he had faced, had given the Telgradian cause for further thought. The warriors had left the arena with their own moralities and philosophies preserved, but it was the way Cromwell fought that intrigued him.

What had started as a training session had left Osris with the machinations of destiny to contend with.

Thread Title: The Outlaw Torn
Judgment Type: Full Rubric
Participants: Shinou Vaan Osiris and Redford.

Plot:
Shinsou Vaan Osiris: 24/30
Redford: 23/30


Shinsou: As far as opening the piece, you did this fantastically, with a mesmerising entrance to the arena and a great description of it. Continuing well from this you used the arena in later posts, allowing it to merge to your character’s needs within the plot itself (post 5, “lip of one of the orbiting temple staircases was a three second sprint”). The fact that the Brotherhood had selected Redford as an opponent for Shinsou added a sense of plot depth to it also that was intriguing. Pacing was more or less well kept, though there was a small trick missed with rising it nearing the climax of the battle. Also you had little pause before the fight, which might have been good after such a lengthy opening post as yours. This can be made clearer with shorter sentences and shorter paragraphs, and I would encourage you to use this in future to improve.

Redford: You had your character react well to the fact he had received a challenge and would answer it, had to almost on a purpose of honour. You carried the plot well, using a good amount of actions and reactions to take hits and give them, even going to the extent of dropping a hammer, and thus losing a portion of defence. Pacing was kept more or less to a good continuum, and you emphasised the point that Redford is more of a close-combat fighter well. This saying, however, you could have done more with describing the setting and letting it guide your actions a little more. In future allow your character to adapt a little more to the setting and the pacing and this will strengthen your piece.


Character:
Shinsou Vaan Osiris: 22/30
Redford: 22/30


Shinou: Overall you had a brilliant use of out spoken and internal words/thought, a genuine conversation that carried the story well with it. Right from the outset you had the direct thoughts of your character written and these help to identify persona. You used emotions well, rising with the anger and allowing it to shape your character’s words and reactions. Actions were a little difficult to understand at times, but were reasoned well. The strongest thing you had as far as character goes was your words used at the end. What to concentrate on, however, for further improvement is sharpening up some actions to make them edgier and more proactive, but mostly this was extremely well done.

Redford: To start with commentary, you had a good basis for your communication, both interally and externally. The simple introduction of, “I am John,” in post 2 exemplifies your character, not in the way that means he is simple-minded, but rather that he is straight to the point and simply just there to fight. The way he goes into condenscened philosophies at the end is intriguing, and he reacts well to Shinsou’s words. One area where you could improve here is being clearer in your actions, and keeping your post sizes more equal. This makes for a more visually pleasing piece, but does not detract at least from you overall power of writing.

Prose:
Shinsou Vaan Osiris: 22/30
Redford: 22/30


Shinsou: As usual, your use of technique was impressive. There is not much complaint to say in terms of clarity, for everything was sharp and obvious of what was going to happen – excepting for a couple of moments, for the reader who has not read your profile, what some terms mean (e.g. “Stygian’s influence” in post 7). There was little to no mechanical fault in here, apart from the odd neating that could be done – but that is mostly down to personal pereference. Really this was a splendid thread, that though still can be stronger, is definitely a great and favourite read.

Redford: Your technique only gets stronger over the threads you write, as witnessed by this judge. Some phrases are particularly powerful, such as post 14 with, “Adrenaline pushed his threshold” and other simpler ones are short sentences that help to point out the simplicity of the situation and action – “he smirked,” post 14. In future, though there could be more development with things such as metaphor and imagery. A decent theasaurus will give you assist. Aside from this clarity was not much of an issue for you, and you wrote well a powerful story that was without no obvious mechanical fault.

Wildcard:
All: 7/10


Wildcard: Overall for both of you this was a fast-paced, excellent fight. All the interesting points – Redford being rooted to the ground, the loss of Shinsou’s sword etc – simply added to its magnificence. The ending was beautiful – one of the most profound things I have ever read, with the expected demise of Redford at the chain pulling him down, then the tumbling of them both. I will honestly say that I thought it was an incredible fight, and whether it was planned beforehand or just a post by post reaction, I was impressed by both of you writing together so well.

(sorry for the two posts but this is the only way the system would allow me to post them up)

Final Score:
Shinsou Vaan Osiris: 75/100
Redford: 74/100

SHINSOU WINS!!!


Shinsou Vaan Osiris receives:

• 2400EXP!
• 120 GP!

Redford receives:

• 600 EXP!
• 60 GP!

This was such a close thread, and I am so glad to see the arena found use that was originally the play for a match between my character and Shinsou’s. It was really powerful and an honour to read.

“A battle lost or won is easily described, understood, and appreciated, but the moral growth of a great nation requires reflection, as well as observation, to appreciate it.”
Frederick Douglass

This thread will also be nominated for JC.

All rewards added pending the outcome of the JC nomination!