Round One starts at 12:00 AM EST on Sunday, April 30th and will last two weeks. Good luck!
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Round One starts at 12:00 AM EST on Sunday, April 30th and will last two weeks. Good luck!
"Is Seth Dahlios in the tournament anywhere?" He asked. His voice sounded strained almost irate as he looked at the tournament official.
As the man looked through the stack of papers he was carrying he nodded as he said, "Team Dark Phoenix, Seth Dahlios and Sivienna Mizami..."
"Where are they in terms of the brackets?"
"Opposite side, you got a long ways to go if you expect to fight Seth Dahlios. In the meantime you are up against, Sore from Sodomy. Good Luck I hear they are one of the teams to beat..." The man said as he gave a dismissing gesture.
"Of for the love of..." Taviri muttered. The rather asinine name and the dismissing gesture had him on a short fuse, even shorter was the fact he was to look for perhaps the one man he despised. Liliana had forced him to promise on delivering the message to meet her in Radasanth, while he had to brave Lornius with an unknown opponent, putting his name into a drawing that allowed him a week to search for the bastard.
"I swear if I get my hands on Dahlios, he's going to regret enticing my sister," Taviri muttered as he repositioned his wide brimmed leather hat. Moving through the crowds he moved about looking at the map the coordinator had given him. It showed his first battle to be somewhere in the town square. Sighing at the originality of the rather bland arena he made his way until he saw that there had been guards opening up the arena. People were gathered around to see the fight and as Taviri stepped up a few murmurs broke through the crowd.
Walking up to a guard he handed over the map, causing the guard to nod as he let Taviri through into the area. He saw only a single statue, the solitary figure for terrain in their battle as he sighed and waited. His opponents hadn't shown up quite yet, and neither had his ally, he didn't even know who this guy was supposed to be, but he had better show up, or Taviri's stay in Lornius would be cut short.
Zephyriah. Of all the people I could draw as a partner in this whole God-forsaken world, I draw that hemorrhoid faced freakshow. Beautiful. F*cking beautiful.
Storm Veritas had received word from an associate that he was to be paired with one of the very best for the Lornius Corporate Challenge. At the time, such information was enough for him. There was nothing else that really mattered to him as much as the core success; he simply wanted to win. The same type of success he enjoyed at Serenti would carry over quite famously, or so he thought. If he were to be combined with someone of similar talent, then certainly he’d be assured a nice, smooth path deep into the tournament.
It wasn’t as if Zephyriah was not talented. On the contrary, the massive crimson-faced demon-thing was actually incredibly powerful, creative, and stripped of morality in a fashion that would probably not be too dissimilar from Storm’s own skewed philosophical musings. It was the other little rift between them that made a difference.
The little rift that had caused his alleged accomplice to drop a six ton display screen on to him was a bit troublesome.
Screw it. At least I know he’s strong, if a little crazy. I suppose if he can side with me, he’ll be powerful. I’ll just wind him up and point him at the others with the swords.
He was smoking again, burning through cigarettes like a child playing with matches. It was a comfortable spot against the lantern-post, and he leaned casually on his left foot, his healed right leg tenderly balanced against the iron base. There was a clearing about him, as the townfolk had gathered. For the first time in his life, however, the lithe swindler was special.
It was different since he had returned from Serenti. Their eyes never left him now, and there was an air of something between hatred and admiration in their ignorant gazes. The common folk, the brainless plebeians of this place kept their eyes upon him while they whispered, and kept their distance from him. He was amused; compared to most of the people on Althanas he was still weak as a soft summer fart and damned near unarmed. At the same time, he welled with a false confidence, the feeling that perhaps he really could compete with some of the better people here. Turning to a spectator, he could no longer restrain his frustration with the glares. A boy stood there, fixated and dumbstruck.
“Want a drag, kid? Ask your pop to take a picture. It’ll last longer than the fight.” His words were stilted and sarcastic, the young lad peering at him not sure what to make of the villainous Veritas. With a serpentine smile, Storm puffed away, flicking the finished butt ahead onto the empty cobbles.
There was the matter of the missing competitors. He still had yet to hear from Zephyriah, and there was no word of the nearly anonymous opponents he had drawn. Just as well; he supposed in the presence of a legend such as himself they had possibly decided to stay home. The same had happened to the poor fool that drew him in the first round of Serenti. That couldn’t be the case; for all the hoop-lah that surrounded the launch from Piston’s Pleasure Palace, nothing stacked up to the buzz around the Lornius Corporate Challenge. This was another day, another tournament, another war. This was on another level.
So where the hell is everyone? Let’s get this goddamned party started!
CRASH!!!
That was the alarming sound of the elegant, aesthetically appealing oaken doors of the Piston’s Pleasure Palace breaking open due to the fierce impact of one of their black suited henchmen flying through it. The cringing noise of snapped bones and jagged broken wood having sliced through flesh, was horrifying to the squeamish, especially when treated to the visual pleasure of the suited guard hanging through a portion of the door, impaled grotesquely by the door’s new “opening”. The fool’s blood clashed with the doors’ dark green paint color, looking like an artist’s symbolic rendition of the Earth holiday of Christmas having gone nightmarishly wrong. But the situation was right; my revenge was right. These idiots had the nerve to forcibly thrust me into a third place Serenti confrontation that I sought not to take part in and expected me to just submissively take their orders! Well the battle was over and I wanted everyone to know for certain that they were going to free my mother from whatever abominable cell they were holding her in, even if that meant making an example out of everyone else, like I’d done to this guard.
Amusingly enough, as I entered the grand establishment, the people scattered like worms into a hole in order to seek asylum from a predator bird. Normally, I wouldn’t have allowed these pawns to escape, but I grew tired of slaying weaklings for they were making my blade’s edges dull. My sole purpose was to snatch the attention of the black suited henchmen “Boss” for he was the one that’d foolishly involved my family into this grand ordeal. I knew though by making the scene that I did, it wouldn’t take long for him to descend from the upper, more restricted levels of this facility. Only when ‘worker ants’ were causing too much of an uprising would the ‘Queen’ go down to the lower levels to restore order.
And just as expected, the older fellow, still donning his eccentric attire of a white mink with a blue jumpsuit underneath had exited the descended elevator. On his right and left were two rather large men dressing in the same, boring and bleak dress attire. Shaded as usual, they closely stayed by their superior as he moved ever so calmly through the chaotic and anarchic milieu. His crystal blue eyes scanned his surroundings like a farmer having returned to his field, displeased by the condition that his crops were in. The look in the elderly man’s eyes was scorn, for the spectators that he and other higher ups of the Serenti Commission had become much too involved with the actual competition. Types like him never found problems with harming expendable beings for the greater increase of wealth. But if that same involvement of those beings jeopardized the further growth of their lucrative enterprises then something had to be done about it. Yes, these fools were all too similar to one another; mass drones shoddily manufactured and placed in positions of power.
“So, the big boss has come down to play with his subjects has he?” I yelled, taunting the man whom I was rapidly coming to hate. The massive men that stood on both sides of him rested their soulless eyes on me and attempted to take me down immediately. Yet in a manner that didn’t fit his character, the Boss raised his voice, ordering them to halt their progress.
By the look on their faces, it was all too apparent that the stout elderly man very seldom elevated his voice passed his normal nonchalant tone. Without questioning him, the two returned to their leader’s side, yet this time standing slightly behind him; I’d definitely struck an uncomfortable chord.
“You could’ve made this much easier on yourself, Zephyriah,” He replied, coming within seven feet of me, speaking those words through a tightened jaw and crooked teeth. “All you had to do was follow my orders, earn me additional money, and go about your merry way. You’re mother would’ve been released. But since you wanted to act recklessly, I will uphold my end of the bargain. Hopefully you told your mother that you loved her during the last time you visited her, because you will see her no more.”
Turning his back on me, he began to walk away as if this conversation had reached its conclusion. But I was not done with him! In no way would I allow him, let alone anyone else to speak to me in a manner that suggested that I was some pubescent youth receiving the just reprimanding of an authority figure! Therefore, I grabbed the Boss by his left shoulder and yanked him around. “Who do you think you are!? I’m not done t…..” Yet before I could finish speaking, in a show of unexpected rage, the old man, grabbed my hand and tossed me into the same door that I’d rammed one of his subordinates through. I was slow to my feet, utterly baffled at how effortlessly, yet fiercely this older individual had thrown me. Unfortunately, he was not done with me, for he then showed uncanny speed, dashing at me, gripping my neck with a spotted, yet strong hand.
“You arrogant Einylin dog! You have no idea who you’re dealing with do you,” He hollered, pausing afterward to allow me time to answer. But he soon came to the realization that I had no idea what an Einylin was, yet only having heard the term once before from an enemy I’d faced some time ago during the Clan Wars in the mountain regions of Shanleh. “Heh! I see your marks Einylin. You have potential, but you are no match for me. However, since I have enjoyed your showing of brashness throughout this entire ordeal, I will offer you one more chance to redeem yourself. The famed Lornius Corporate Challenge is beginning within the next few days and you will be competing in it along with Storm Veritas, winner of this year’s Serenti Invitational. I have strong connections with some of the men who run the tournament, and everything has already been arranged. All you have to do is show up in Lornius.”
“Why….why….argh! You mind!?” I managed to say to the older fellow, referring to his long fingers still being tightly squeezed around my neck, denying my lungs the ample air that they needed to keep my body functioning. The Boss chuckled just before loosening his grip. “Like I was saying…..*cough*…why do you want me to do this? Can’t you just find somebody else to bother? Why did you have to get involved in my affairs? In my life!?”
Like one having heard and seen many things in his life, whereas nothing surprised him anymore, the elderly man simply sighed. “You need not know the answer to that at this moment, Zephyriah. Simply do as you’re told and you will be fine. After all, your top priority should be to do whatever possible to not provoke me to end your mother’s life. So if I were you, I’d shut my mouth, get out of my sight, and head to Lornius. My personal airship pilot should be outside waiting for you now, so make haste.”
Turning his back once again, his coattails flipped up, kicking up dusty that’d been abundant on the constantly trampled floors of the lobby area. There was nothing more I wanted right now than to bisect that power hungry cretin, but tempers had to be restrained. The clear fact of the matter was that this enigmatic elderly gentlemen much more than what met the eye, or mind, which left me with no choice but to comply. However, I would resort back to my old ways in the sense that I would follow orders of those stronger than me temporarily, but the instant he dropped his guard, the instant he believed his environment to be safe, that would be the instant he’d fall to the blade of Zephyriah Ablione.
(In the interest of getting this underway since Cadori seems to be MIA I'm just going to start posting between you guys from now on. Double the work, but I'm up to it...)
Taviri sighed as he waited by the statue for his opponents. He had to be patient for now as he pushed the bridge of his glasses bringing them further up his brow in an effort to prevent his true sight from revealing the horrible ugliness of the people about him. As he gently tapped the staff against his boots, cleansing the dust from the bottom of him, his robes ruffled in the wind. The crowd milled about expectantly as he waited for the first opponent to walk forward.
Finally he spoke out, "Is anyone here for the fight? I'd rather get the barbarity done so I can continue with my business here!" He then sighed as he waited for someone to speak up. He knew his words were brash and loud, but his business like tone should have upset the balance. Someone should have bitten now, the tension thickening rapidly now that someone had admitted to being part of the cruelty of Lornius.
Sighing he looked at his staff before he focused on the first rune upon it. With a soft pop the staff shrunk to no larger than a pencil. Quickly tucking it away he sighed hoping that someone would come soon, as he was getting irritated at the time wasted already. Moving slowly around the statue he could feel the impatience within him growing.
He just wanted to get it over with. His sister's excommunication not withstanding he had many important things to do. Rather than chase down a man that he hated so he could do his sister the favor of not having to test her faith towards the gods. He grumbled softly as he waited for them to approach, unsure of the repercussions of his brash actions, but wishing their fruits to produce all the same.
Hrm, a mage type. Another short one, like the rest of the goddamned midgets here. I guess I’ll just get moving then, no sense waiting around for Big Red if I can handle him myself.
Storm smiled at the appearance of the lone warrior, a short and peculiar little man in robes that was impatient and carried an air of diplomacy about him. Neither of the potential facades was worth a damn to the veteran scoundrel, because in his time he’d seen almost everything. Luc Krauss and Gild, the midgets mighty. Lord Leopold Stevens, the most dangerous diplomat on this side of democracy. Althanas was full of people who looked harmless right until they bit your head off. Sighing, the slick-haired warrior supposed he was really no different, and neither was his adversary today.
“Well, Huckleberry, looks like you’ve done wandered into a hell of a party.” Storm’s facetious droll was solely produced for his own amusement, the wry grin one of supreme confidence. He was invincible now, having eluded death ten times too many. Living on borrowed time has a tremendous effect on confidence.
“But if you are looking for some f*cking barbarity… well… I suppose that I’ll be your pusher. Come and take a hit… first one’s free…”
His voice had tailed into a sinister hiss, adrenaline beginning to course its way through his veins. It was a tremendous feeling, the anxiety that overwhelmed him. He was threatened, he was endangered… He was alive.
With long, skeletal fingers, he quickly drew out a knife, a fresh new dagger awarded from his short-time companion at cons, Yari Rafanas. Brandishing the bulbous head of the “Bandit Brotherhood”, the very mediocre blade already looked a bit worn, a bit weak. It was sharp enough, and certainly metal, so Storm figured he could in the very least give the merchandise a spin. The heavy handle sat smooth in his hand, and the short, flat blade of the stiletto seemed reasonably well balanced. With a dexterous flip of the wrist, the blade spun simply in the air, landing safely in the outstretched palm of his right hand.
Yeah, this will do real nice. Gonna get me some rookie blood today.
He began to approach the bold opponent, one more brief phrase. He was always longwinded, but found that getting under someone’s skin had a way of making them act irrationally, using their emotion and balls instead of brain.
“Well, good afternoon, stranger. I’m Storm Veritas, and this pretty mug is the last one you’ll ever see.”
Taviri flexed the leather gauntlets on his hand as he pulled down his hat, revealing more of himself than he usually did. The robes and the coat over them kept in place as he studied the man before him. Loud, obnoxious, self-righteous, these all described the man before him as he twirled a dagger around in his hands. His eyes closed as he thought to the reason he was here, Just like Seth Dahlios. Is the world ever for want of that trash?
He then smirked slightly as he heard the final taunt, meant to throw him over the edge as Taviri pulled the bridge of his glasses down and took a glimpse at Storm Veritas. He immediately shut them not wanting to have seen the disfigurement of the soul within the man. The one gauntlet not pushing his glasses back up flexed as he saw the man's soul before him. He was a horribly disfigured person. Though he refused to refer to him as human, no one who had put themselves through so much could ever be called human, for that self sacrifice of the very things that made one human was beyond tolerable.
The soul looked like a crumpled and torn piece of paper, the type that you give to a small child and know will never be cleaned. Even when stretched out the holes and the wrinkles would never fade, and that was what had happened to Storm Veritas, like a little child he had torn and shred his very essence to get his desires. Opening his eyes he looked at the man as he spoke, "I must admit I don't find only getting to see you face when I die very consoling. I guess the solution is simple, don't die, that way I won't have to look at a face not even your mother could love..."
He was a hunter and as he pulled Fury from its place of hiding he knew that he still ahd some time to go. The runes on the staff were only beginning their journey, much like Taviri was only beginning his journey. The result was that when expended the runes took a little while to charge up, and so he would have to wait for the charge to restore as he held the staff loosely in his hand.
Looking under his gauntlet he saw the dart launcher and inspiration hit him as he place the smaller Fury inside the small crossbow. Pulling back the draw he could only hope what he had in mind would work. Looking at Storm he spoke, "One free shot eh? You sure you want to act that cocky? After all, you're no Seth Dahlios..."
The worst thing in this corrupted, vile, and squalid planet was being in a stationary position, steaming with fiery indignation that would’ve been hot enough to melt reinforced steel if manifested physically. The gods certainly saw it necessary to fill my head with thoughts of that arrogant elderly man whom had humiliated me with great ease. Too many times were there thoughts that I entertained where I slit the throat of the airship pilot, took control of the aerial vessel, and flew it straight into the Piston’s Pleasure Palace. However, for the sake of mother, I was glad that I didn’t act upon them.
Mother.
Pondering over her current condition, it perplexed me that there was such a great care residing in me to rescue her. In fact, I shouldn’t in the least bit be plagued with feelings of nervousness or anxiousness considering she’d left me out high and dry in Haidia, turning her back on me in disgust after brother and I saved her from the clutches of the ruthless vampires in the Great Cave Town. “How dare she treat me in such a manner after my heroic act!!” I took a deep breath, realizing that I was becoming much too agitated over issues that were long since dead in the past. It was foolish for me to dwell on something like that when her safety was what was of the utmost most important at this point in time.
“Hey pilot, when are we going to be in Lornius?” I asked impatiently in a way that almost indirectly demanded that he tell me that we weren’t a long distance away. Surprisingly, he told me that we were already in Lornius, and that he was taking me to my exact battle location. “A good and prompt pilot. Perhaps I should give him a tip for the ride….”
The thick clouds and vast blue that we blazed through had lured me to relinquish my attention to it. Only have I been on an airship one other time in me twenty-one year old hectic life, so it was necessary for me to visually take in the beauty that was this azure heaven, and that which could be seen down below.
After an hour or so, we came over a rather busy town, with much bustling activity going on. We were still too high up for me to see individual attire or recognize faces, but we were descending fast, as made obvious by the ‘larger’ things became. “Alright, you’re stop is coming up so get ready?” The pilot screamed, looking quiet distressed, spinning steering wheel of the airship. His frantic actions place concern in my heart. “Uh…are you alright?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine! It’s just that I’m there’s been something wrong with rear propellers, preventing me from landing as smoothly as I’m capable of doing. It’s an easy fix, really….but I just haven’t time to work on the error yet. And if I tried to stop abruptly as normal functionality permits, this entire vessel would spiral out of control,” Pausing, the drow inhaled the fire, smoke, and toxins from his cigarette. “Therefore, if you want to save yourself a world of trouble, you’re going to have to jump off.”
“What!? Surely, you aren’t serious!!!” But the dark elf’s facial expression showed that nothing about his statement was comical or false; he was dead serious. “Uh….what’s the closest you can get to the ground before having to drop me off…..”
“I can get about 150 feet from the ground, but that’s it,” Using his right arm to reach into a nearby chest, he pulled out a giant bed sheet. “Here, take this. Open it up like parachute when you’re ready to jump. You should be able to land safety with this.”
“Hmph. Have you ever had to use this……parachute?” I uttered, still in shock that the pilot was really serious about this extreme maneuver.
“Well no….not me, but I’ve heard that it’s worked for others. Anyway, get going, we’re almost at your drop off point!”
Closing in on an open section of the town, I saw below that there were many people gathering around what looked to be like two men and a statue. At first glance, I thought that perhaps these gentlemen were street performers doing some trick to earn enough money to keep their heat on for another month. But by the way that they were facing each other, I knew that it was far from what I imagined.
“Lornius…..it must be…”
Upon receiving my cue, I leaped off of the ship as it sailed dangerously close to the roofs of several buildings. The massive transportation unit had snatched the gaze of everyone present, since this was something that surely the average person didn’t see on a regular basis. The sheet was spread, and it caught enough wind to slow my fall. However, what the idiot pilot neglected to inform me off was that there was a hole in the side of the sheet that was throwing me off balance! Soon I began twirling out of control, quite certain that if I proceeded descending in this way, I’d splatter my head on either one of the roofs, or the ground. So, to prevent chance from deciding my fate, the blood of the “Dragon Drinker” boiled within me, as my eyes changed from lavender to an icy blue. Next, the dull white hair sprouting from my skull shifted to an inky black which complimented my scaly white skin that’d replaced the infamous crimson hue.
“Come on….COME ON!!” I thought, desperately trying to sprout out my wings. Luckily, just before I smashed into one of the residential roofs, my flight appendages pushed the air under it, changing my deathly course. The spectators flooding the town square area, looked up at me in amazement, clapping their hands at the spectacular show that I’d unintentionally put on. Honestly, a part of me did want to take a bow for the performance, but seeing Veritas and our opponent drained out any bit of desire in me to accept praise and replaced it with irritation.
“Huh? Is this really the enemy?” I said to Veritas, standing atop a corner of a roof, reverting back to my original form. “How is this fool not dead already!? That old geezer didn’t give us commands to spare this guy’s life! End it now, or step aside and let me deal with him!!”
In his storied existence, Storm had never found combat time to simulate real time in any way shape or form. To this extent, he found some relief in the bizarre chain of events that had so recently followed his own trivial actions. The adversary, some diminutive and laughable thing, merely adjusted his glasses and loaded a crossbow. The fatigued yet lethal Veritas had given him a golden window to attack from, and this preposterous stranger had squandered it. His fingertips buzzed a powdery blue, his blade beginning to tingle as he charged it. If this rook felt that Storm was giving him a “free shot” as he had said, he was in for a terrible surprise.
And to think, I was beginning to feel bad about the prospect of making a necktie of your tongue. Pesky compassion; the stuff of fools and ovaries.
It should have been simple enough. With a quick flip of his wrist, he could have lifted the dagger and fired a lethal dose of his white hot electric hate. Yet before he could move, the attention of the crowd had been drawn away, looking up and back to the skies behind him. It was Zephyriah; the demonic partner falling like a stone from the sky. He was spinning wildly, a madman, a fool, fast sprouting wings to pop a bit more slowly, then touching down on a rooftop with the errant grace of a two legged racehorse. He hit the ceiling hard, a thump that Storm attempted to ignore as he watched the massive f*cking crossbow pointed at his chest. Behind him, an undaunted Zephyriah popped up unfazed, spouting vitriolically as though unharmed.
Of course he’s ok. He’s got retard strength.
His former Serenti enemy and current teammate struck Storm as long on power but short on brain. It struck him as logical enough; demons were as liable for their stupidity as they were for their red skin. It didn’t make him feel any better, but it did give him a brief chuckle before returning to the matter at hand. In his periphery, the powerful rogue yelled something, but it carried as much importance to him as the price of plynt on Raeria.
A steady stare at the mage with the crossbow, and Storm was focusing on the “not dying” part of the Lornius Challenge. His attention had been diverted for only a few fleeting instants, but he had never fired a crossbow and the thing looked menacing and terrible. Perhaps it was best to keep his eyes on the prize. Any flinch from the little man would send him scrambling, and it was unlikely that the swift mage was faster than that peculiar bolt loaded. A single sentence was all he offered, trying to distract the enemy without launching into some foolish diatribe.
”Pardon him; freshly housetrained and all, he’s quite proud.”
Without further delay, the salesman’s grin turned to ire, and Veritas whipped up his right hand in an attempt to fire his massive bolt of energy at the waiting “archer”. It was time to find out how fast he really was.
((Bunny whatever you like outside of a fatal strike to Storm. Figured I’d leave some flexibility since you’re outnumbered))
As the rather comical entrance of the Drow happened, and the questions focused on his partner queried. Taviri could feel the Run reaching its peak again. The diminutive staff was not quite ready yet, and he had to stall out a bit longer as his gauntlet fitted crossbow went. It didn't have much punch to it, but he would only need so much force with what he planned on. Still it was a fool hardy plan to be admitted, but with the second entrant there was not much left to be desired.
As Storm Veritas launched the arc of lightning the staff was fired forward, Taviri concentrating on it as it sped from the crossbow. The result was a small bolt, with no more force than that of which to cause a rather painful bruise began to grow and expand, adding far more weight to the velocity as a soft pop hit the air. With the arcing electricity sending out at the Priest he was doomed anyways, even as he watched his Staff pass by the arc, it continued onto him, with no metal to hold the charge.
Looking it on straight on he brought his hands up in front of his face as the bolt hit his leather gauntlets. The result was likened to throwing gasoline on a fire as he felt a burning sensation on his arms, and realized that the gauntlets were now on fire. Knowing better than to try and run he immediately dropped to the ground, and rolled trying to head behind the pillar. It was his hope that the stop drop and roll would put out the fires on his arms, while allowing him to avoid any follow the jester of a Drow would surely add.
Rolling finally behind the safety of the statue he checked out his gauntlets, quickly swatting the flames to put them out before he sighed seeing the singed leather. Flakes of burnt hide peeled off them, as he groaned realizing new ones would be required, he thought bitterly, Sister, I sacrifice entirely too much for you...
Slowly rising up behind the statue and trying to stay out of sight he sighed hoping his rather bold tactic would work, though now he was caught in the folly of having himself too far from his staff. He could only hope he had shut up the loudmouth and bought himself some time to deal with both him and the Drow. Sighing as he checked his gauntlets again, he knew he was toast. Two against one were not odds that favored the cleric, not at all.
If only his partner had come, or could come now, he'd find some respite in the swirling melee. However with each passing second, he knew his hopes were dimmer and dimmer. This was supposed to be a team tournament, and now he was the solo act in a swirling brawl, of which two people seemed all too eager to hurt him in.
(Appreciated Storm, but I figure you’d know best how well that attack would hurt him. Normal quarterstaff launched with the light draw. Read my profile for information on how powerful it isn’t…)
Was this the extent of our opponent’s power? A mere weapons’ user who could do nothing more than cower behind a statue after being the victim of storm’s electrical retaliation? Indeed a shame it was that the collective whole of Althanian fighters were dropping off in quality by the year. A plethora of ‘wanna-be’ warriors gracing the green glades, snow plains, high mountaintops, and vast deserts of this planet could be likened to a mephitic gas ripping the life away from anatomical and biological life forms all around the globe. Yet the masses cheered on, uncaring as to the lack of adeptness from these staff, sword, or stick swinging fools. In their obvious intoxication, they yelled, roared, screamed, pissed, crapped, and vomited all in enjoyment of the moment. But if I wasn’t enjoying myself, then in no wise did anybody else have the privilege to enjoy themselves.
Still atop the corner of the roof, several minutes had passed by with our opponent still taking advantage of his refuge behind that statue. The attention of the crowd had turned toward Storm urging him to finish the job and take out the cowardly man. My eyes could’ve shifted to see what Veritas’ reaction to all of this would be, but I was much too infuriated by the fact that attention had swung so quickly from me. Strange was this feeling, especially since I hadn’t suffered an attack from this emotion since I was but a young teenager. Was I gradually reverting back to some of my old ways? Or had I inadvertently succumbed to being the 'show-puppet' of the elderly executive at Serenti? I did not know for sure, nor did I really care to know at this time. Mother was still the ultimate priority, even over finding and killing Thoracis as fulfillment of a mission I’d accepted from a member of my old Alerarian squadron ‘Kyorl’ before Serenti had begun.
“I don’t know what Storm is doing but he’s irritating me,” Thinking of a way to swing the attention of the crowd back in my favor, I let out a great roar, rivaled only by stout lions. “Blood shall be spilt! And his corpse shall be burnt!!!” The men of the audience heard my statement loud and clear and roared with me, empowered by the violent imagery that my words provided them.
Raising my arms up into the air, I underwent my transformation again, sprouting leathery black wings. Some of the people nearby grew fearful, seeing this side of me up close. Their terror led them to flee the battle scene and find asylum for the thought of death was all too real for them. Their departure could’ve bothered me but I did not allow it to, since there were only but an insignificant few that left; numbers which didn’t really affect the massive audience.
Moving my hands in a circular fashion, a ring of fire that was four feet in diameter formed. The men and women looking upon it “oohed” and “ahhed”, attracted by the burning halo, probably thinking it to resemble a torched hoop that circus clowns on a unicycle would often juggle. If that were the case, then they would soon realize just how wrong they were for my ring was a tool of destruction with the sole purpose of incinerating lives and snapping family ties.
“This shall be your end!!” I yelled toward my opponent, guiding the ring of fire over the statue and commanding it to descend, hoping that it would cook the frightened man who truly had the odds stacked against him.
Just as he had cast forth his bolt of energy, Storm heard the whip-snap of the crossbow opposite him. He had no chance to avoid it – the bolt came at him with a terrific speed and was all but invisible with the wild collection of colors behind the little mage. It was a blow-dart like ballistic, and hit him square in the chest. It was a fly against the indshield of his chest, and this time the fly won.
Knocked back and to the ground, Veritas felt for his chest, searching for that crimson flow. He checked his fingers as he sat up, and checked again when he found no blood there. The impact had floored him, and yet somehow the tiny bolt had not punctured the wily wizard’s flesh. Storm was a long way from a rhino-hided musclehead like his teammate, but the multiple layers of suit clothes likely saved him from serious injury or death. Lucky though he may be, he was disoriented, confused at the hissing and chirping of the fast gathering crowd, one that approached and scattered away with ballistic fire, a pulse to the action like a massive collective, communal heartbeat.
Son of a bitch… where is… what the…
No sooner did he search for the spectacled archer than did Storm hear the warcry of Zephyriah. His partner was an interesting one; bloodthirsty and powerful yet painfully awkward. The scream he uttered was sickeningly foolish to the streetwise Veritas, who would never call out to the heavens like this headstrong demon was doing. It was bizarre, confusing, surreal.
Jesus, you dumb shit. What the hell do you think you’re doing with all that yapping?
Before his thoughts could finish mocking his considerable ally, the scarlet skinned warrior cast a mesmerizing ring of fire about the statue in the town circle. The oohs and aahs that set out from the spectators told that the position of the enemy would have to be in that general vicinity. Perhaps Zephyriah was actually employing strategy.
Standing in an awkward, stumbling scramble, Storm heard something completely foreign to him; encouragement from behind him. The crowds were cheering him, something he was far from used to. The one time villain of Serenti had some backing now, no doubt those that had heard of his power and decided that his disposition was less important than his capabilities. Whispering, he called to the one who had wounded him.
”That’s it, little man. Come on out and play, or taste the heat. I’ve got a lot more right here for you.”
While Taviri was indeed outnumbered and outgunned, he was never frightened. The hide behind the statue meant nothing as he sighed as saw his staff roll off towards the edge of the group. He was defenseless his leather bracers badly burnt, and upon looking up saw a halo of fire above him. Forced to move he made the only logical move, he sprinted for his staff.
Moving towards the staff he dove reaching a leather clad hand for the staff and as he clasped it. Hitting the ground hard he groaned as he felt already sore and tired. He had nothing up his sleeve, and was drastically outmatched. Still he rose up from his prone position and grunted brushing some more ashes from his gauntlets. After the match he woudl more than likely need new ones, perhaps plated so as to be able to withstand more punishment than the simple leather.
As he drew himself up he looked at the Drow from beyond his glasses. What he saw boggled his mind. The man was not all there. He looked like a large puzzle only about halfway completed. Pushing his glasses up he gave a basic twirl of his staff as he heaved his chest rapidly to try and regain his breath before he spoke, "So you come at me together. Now that I know how this is playing out, lets not disappoint the crowd..."
His eyes shone with determination as he looked squarely at Storm and then again at Zephyriah. He was fighting a man who wasn't all there, and Storm Veritas the crumpled soul. As he sighed he realized they were both far more powerful than him. The fully expanded staff in his hands gripped tightly as he made a decision. He had to take out one of them, and form the way the Drow was acting, he had to take Storm.
So rushing at the man he could only hope as he swung the staff at the man much like a man would swing an axe right into the trunk of a large tree.
The stench of fear was potent in the air, as the man wearing hunter garbs scurried about like a terrified mouse, knowing that his predator lurked nearby. Somehow he narrowly avoided the fatal judgment that the blazing halo had in store for him, for it had not singed any part of him, but instead left a wide black twelve inch deep circle around the statue. Those in the audience jumped back as the flaming ring scorched the ground, fearful to accidentally be the victim of my attack. In a way I was disappointed by the sudden turn of events, wishing that the initial part of my attack had at least touched somebody. However, it wasn’t over quite yet so I wasn’t angered by it too much. I was aware of the mindset of the opponent though. He was running out of options and it would only be a matter of time before his weary little legs grew exhausted and yielded to the inevitable death grip of Storm and I. Yet for now, he was exhibiting the stage in which an endangered animal displayed when death crept close behind. Hasty, irrational moves were the symptoms of such a frantic condition and it was quite pitiful.
“A shame. If he really thinks that blindly charging at Veritas with a stick is going to do anything, then he’s a greater fool than I’d imagined.”
With the advantage I had over my opponent due to my vantage point, it would’ve been all too easy to fly downward and quickly cut the hunter’s staff in two with my blade. However, past confrontations have taught me that brazen attitudes mixed unskillfully with rash actions only produced unpleasant surprises. For all I knew, this pathetic charge could’ve been the opponent’s attempt to get Storm and I in a close area, which would then allow for a more sinister, devastating attack. The thought was not too far-fetched, for this was Althanas, the place where men and unpredictability went hand in hand. So, in order to curtail any ploy that the hunter might’ve been planning, I flew down like an eagle, scooping up and elderly lady by her underarms. As expected, she shrieked, calling for aid and demanding that I unhand her. Tuning her out was my method of dealing with her incessancy for she was only a mere diversion, a simple tool to be utilized to my own devices. The fact that I hadn’t killed her yet should’ve been a clear sign as to the way in which she would coercively contribute in this altercation. After all, she would only be in my clutches but for a short moment………
“Let’s see what kind of man our good friend here is……” I grinned, as I soared over both Storm and our opponent, dropping the senior citizen in between the two, as a means to attempt to stop the hunter from landing an attack on my partner. It was unknown to me how our opponent would respond, but if there was a trick up his sleeve, surely the old woman would be the first to experience it, rather than Storm or I.
((I’ve got to do a little bunnying here. I’ll edit if it’s not ok.))
The little fellow opposite Storm had perhaps more courage than brains, and the sadistic mage could do little to stifle a laugh as he saw the impish young man charge at him with a staff, preparing to swing. The young were usually brazen, but this one seemed downright foolish.
Come and get it, slick. F*ck with the bull, though, and you catch the horns.
Once again, his own teammate served as two parts distraction to his aid in assaulting, a bone-chilling scream coming from just behind the two in the town square. Instants later an old woman was dropped between the two, just as the dangerous young mage began his swing. She popped up in terror, eyes wide and afraid, her white hair a suitable target for the incoming oak. The thick knot at the end of the staff struck her squarely in the cheek, a harrowing cracking sound unmistakably foretelling a fractured skull, perhaps broken jaw. Her face caved instantly as she swung hard to her right, instantly rendered unconscious and fast falling with a sickening, terrible murmur.
What the hell is that idiot doing? Why...?
The actions of his partner seemed random, but there was no time to reconsider the merit of the scarlet faced rogue's choices. The woman could not fall, or the window would surely close on a golden opportunity. He moved with a guile which seemed a bit too fast, a shade too clever given the bizarre circumstances. This, however, was a chance, and Storm refused to let such an opportunity pass by as the now wide-eyed adversary glared on at his felled victim. He swooped hard, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and catching her again between his arms, lifting her slightly with the same lack of tact ushered forth by Zephyriah. Her body was limp and lifeless, and he carelessly propped her up on a stilted bone structure as the crowd cooed in horror. Grabbing a handful of her mostly salted hair, he pulled back hard with his left hand, dragging his iron blade across her chest.
One single slice was all it would take, and he felt the dagger tear through the soft, stretched flesh like a tender roast. With a jagged, rough pull, he felt the carotid yield, bursting like a balloon and spraying a fountain of blood that looked terribly brownish and sickeningly real. The jet of blood arced in the air directly at the stunned young man as Storm released the woman, spinning hard about his left foot as he positioned to strike again. His hands and blade coated with the scarlet nectar, he was swinging his knife at the young man’s abdomen before the elder’s limp corpse could thump lifeless on the cobbles.
(Storm, I'm okay with it, it actually helped...)
He was so sure, so ready to let his strike connect, to beat in the skull of his opponent. However things seemed to move even slower as he moved. He barely registered the scream of the woman before she was unceremoniously dumped into the battlefield, right in the path of his staff. Son of a...get out of my way!
It was too late, and as hindsight is always 20/20 there was no way he would be able to recover. The staff hit the geriatric, and she was soon to fall. While he felt guilt he knew that if he could only get close to her, he could save her from harm. He could heal her wounds and continue the fight. He might expose himself, but to help a victim of the cruelest of games, he would endure. All he had to do was get his hands on her.
He would never get the chance.
Before his very eyes as he backpedaled to get out of reach of his opponents, he realized his folly. Storm Veritas, the crumbled shell of a man, grasped the woman tightly in his arms, almost to save her, but didn't. The glint of the knife that would end her life was only brief, but its repercussions forever. The blade cut through the skin, tore muscle and easily caused wounds even healing hands could not heal. As the woman let out a wet gasp she fell, dead.
Then the blade cut across his stomach, mixing his own blood with hers as he felt the slash go deeply inside him. The crowd all gasped as Taviri didn't move, some even questioning if the brutal slash would even connect, until the trickle of blood could be seen. His body opened up, its contents out for all to see. He looked at Storm Vertias the only opponent he could see before he closed his eyes. He felt the call of the gods within him. They beckoned him home, yet he persisted to remain, as a hunter, he was trained to have an iron will, to push through deadly wounds.
Yet he didn't want to.
This wound would never heal. He looked Storm in the eyes as he sank to a knee and spoke, his words deathly grave, "Hope you're satisfied murderer, Lornius will surely be a colder place to one so pathetic as you..."
He dropped the staff as he fell forward his hand trying to keep his innards inside him as he coughed. The sound was horrible and racking as he closed his eyes, feeling fatigue creep up on him. Varias' voice seemed strongest among the chorus as he sought to pull him into his fold, yet Taviri declined, he knew to accept his death would be to dishonor his pledge to protect the seal. Yet even that seemed wrong now.
What good is a seal, when there is no one left to enjoy it?
The body fell, and the hand twitched once, before the sleep of eternity took him over.
(Good fight, unless something miraculous happens, best of luck in round 2 guys...)
THE RINGERS
Taviri Ambria
Introduction: 4 - I did not understand why your character had to enter a tournament to face Seth. I also didn't understand if your character actually wanted to kill Seth or just rough him up a little bit. The ambiguous motivations presented here made your character hard to follow.
Setting: 5 - Hiding behind the statue was a good move.
Strategy: 6 - For someone who was stuck fighting two pretty powerful people at once, you did a good job of having your character behave realistically.
Writing Style: 5 - Nothing out of the ordinary here.
Rising Action: 4 - See my comment in your introduction.
Dialogue: 4 - Your dialogue didn't help me get a clear sense of your character. It was very average and sometimes too vague to help me understand what you were trying to convey.
Character: 4 - At first I almost felt like this character was just an advertisement for your other character. You mentioned Seth's name a lot, but instead of getting the feeling that Taviri was utterly consumed with hatred for Seth, I got the idea that you (as the writer) were just mentioning his name. I'd work on fleshing out his emotions to make that more believable.
Climax: 5 - Pretty usual stuff.
Conclusion: 5 - Again, pretty usual, but it was believable.
Wild Card: 4 - I feel like you don't have good of a grasp on this character as you do your others.
Total: 46
Cadori
You didn't post!
Total: 0
Team Average: 23
SORE FROM SODOMY
Storm Veritas
Introduction: 7 - Very fitting to your character.
Setting: 6 - While I was aware of the setting in your posts, I didn't feel like it had too much of an affect on what you were doing. Your major use of the setting was the old woman, and while it was creative, it would have been hard not to do something there, since Zeph dropped her at your feet.
Strategy: 6 - You would have gotten a seven or an eight here had it not been for one part. A few layers of clothing saved Storm from a crossbow bolt? I didn't buy that at all!
Writing Style: 7 - For a first round tournament battle, very impressive.
Rising Action: 6 - You kept things moving pretty well.
Dialogue: 7 - As usual, accurate and appropriate to your character.
Character: 7 - I've pretty much stated it all above--you did an admirable job refelcting your character through your dialogue, thoughts, and actions.
Climax: 7 - Although I did say in your setting score that you basically had to use the old woman because of the way Zeph dropped her in front of you, the way that you did was both a showing of character and a nice strategy.
Conclusion: 0.
Wild Card: 5.
Total: 59
Zephyriah
Introduction: 7 - A seamless continuation from the end of the Serenti. This was very well done. You basically took the motivations you were developing late in the Serenti and transferred them to the LCC believably. Good job!
Setting: 8 - The airship, the parachute, the old woman... You always conveyed the setting well and made use of it in your posts. I was impressed.
Strategy: 7 - Inventive and appropriate to your character.
Writing Style: 6 - You sometimes phrase things awkwardly, but for the most part you wrote this battle well.
Dialogue: 6 - This is good and generally reflects your character, but it sometimes suffers from the awkward phrasing I mentioned in Writing Style.
Character: 6 - Basically, I think you have a really good grasp on Zeph and how he operates, but the way you phrase things sometimes makes it a little hard to follow.
Climax: 7 - Pretty much what I said for Storm. A good strategic decision that was appropriate to your character.
Conclusion: 0.
Wild Card: 6.
Total: 53
Team Average: 56
Sore from Sodomy advances to Round 2!
REWARDS:
Storm Veritas receives 436 EXP and 150 GP.
Zephyriah receives 412 EXP and 150 GP.
Taviri Ambria receives 46 EXP and 100 GP.
Rewards Added!