Well, shit.

Storm had had a great number of successes over his long career as one of Althanas’s featured villains. He’d been crowned champion of Serenti, won the Lornius Corporate Challenge, seized the Adventurer’s Cup, and just missed winning the Cell. He’d also been fortunate enough to win Gisela, or at least he told himself in these days of confusion. One of his proudest memories was winning the original Vaan Osiris invitational – a title that eluded him since – and one he wished to reclaim. Of course, his favorite path to victory had just evaporated; as “default” was no longer an option. His opponent had bothered to show up.

The bizarre figure at the mouth of the church was clearly different form anyone or anything the traveled wizard had encountered in his decades upon this bizarre plane. He (?) was dark, and shadowy, with a spring of red hair, or feathers, or something that sprung from the center of his head. Wrappings about him appeared to be leathery, and he was covered with spikes like some sort of lump of field-prey. Despite his dark garments, his skin was a ghastly pallid; he almost looked green-complected, a sort of undead vibe that reminded Storm in parts of various old friends.

The lifelike tan of the Vampire Lorenor, with all the masochistic kinky gear of Seth Dahlios. Lovely.

Storm walked a bit closer towards the church, taking mental note of the looming bell above the clocktower. Its metallic nature could prove useful. Similarly, in this open space, a quick glance at the porcupinic fellow apart from him intimated a strong suggestion to stay at arm’s length. Perhaps, the wizard surmised, a simple blast of lightning could bring the house down upon today’s opponent. It would cost the electromancer the luxury of surprise, but given his slight build and handsome attire, none would suspect anything but magic or bribery from an entrant such as him to this tournament. Besides, he wasn’t getting any younger, and he had no desire to find himself on the business end of those barbs, chains, or whateverthefuck weaponry this terrible entity was bringing to the table.

When the opponent spoke, he had a bizarre drawl to him, but also a surprising charm. He wasn’t the boring, bloodthirsty, apocalypse-bringer that looked so out of place here in the sunshine. Standing in the frame of the church, his welcome-to-dance was almost poetic. Conversely, one could posit that there wasn’t so much as a hint of humanity in the whole charade.

“A giggle, huh? Maybe for one of us.” His smile was positively pristine; the sparkling ivory of his teeth even and surrounded by symmetric dimples.

Maybe the element of surprise is overrated. I don’t think I want to learn much more about this… thing.

Storm’s nostrils flared as his right hand opened at his hip. The all-too-familiar and unmistakable whiff of the cleanest airs, of ozone leapt into his lungs as his fingertips glowed white-hot and buzzed a sort of whitish blue. The crackle-hiss of electricity had emerged; he had no need to look down to know the presence of his fearsome friend. Stepping forward with his right, he pulsed the hand forward, his body square behind a mighty blast.

BOOOM!!!

The roar of thunder was undeniable, even here in mid-day with skies clear and sea-blue. A rocket of torrent white lightning rocked the center-beam of the church’s roof, the spine collapsing as a cloud of splinters of wood and tar-stained thatch billowed out in a ferocious circle.