The answer for defiance was given quickly, the warriors met with a horror Storm could not possibly have imagined. The raw power of thundering hooves, the abject fear of the previously bloodthirsty fans, and the haunting explosion of fiery energy from the portal of death was altogether unnerving. Upon the great pale horse rode a skeletal knight, one nothing like the bumbling, bobbing oaf that the wizard Storm Veritas had managed to slay in the woods outside of Concordia. A shiver danced down the spine of the magician, who felt an omnipresent sense of inevitable doom. The horrible orange eyes of the wraith stared down upon Storm, no doubt sensing the old wizard’s sickening conclusions.

At least Moonwing upon Jormungstadt had flesh to carve. The great demonic beast within the hallows had a body to cleave. This thing… could it even be harmed?!

The mage scanned the arena quickly, looking to see if egress was possible. The raised walls and stone architecture may have once seemed unyielding, but now appeared altogether gone, replaced with only smoke and dust and the grand infinite. A barren terrascape as far as his eyes could peer had emerged. The great horror of red was dominated by looming towers now, as the rider had taken them (mentally, or otherwise) to his own realm.

Running was impossible; the speed of the rider was unknown but likely unreasonable; the great abomination had burst forth from the beyond with a tremendous warning but instant presence. Even with his mighty Attila, Veritas found it tremendously unlikely he could outrun this fate. Besides, where was there to run?

Is this hell? Am I in Hades? There is no escape from this place.

Dread consumed the silver haired wizard, who breathed in the rancid stench of rotten eggs without a sense of hope. His aspirations, his dreams, his loves… were they gone? Had they been taken from him now for his boldness? Why had he been chosen, after this incredible journey, only to be so summarily dispatched?

His eyes began to well up briefly amidst the sandy red dust, the sinewy adventurer wavering on the edge of complete breakdown. His knees were weak, his blood running too hot to his forehead, emotions and relationships flooding his brain too quickly to process. There were so many, and there were none.

It was here, in this frozen moment in time, that Storm Veritas stumbled across a great, freeing epiphany. He composed himself, wiping a rivulet of snot which had begun to form beneath his nostril in the dour air. He would not meet his end a coward.

If I’ve been taken by the devils already, then this dance is just a formality, no? Sort of strips this cocksucker of his leverage if he’s just here to run us through the motions and send us on to the great beyond.

Eyes widened at the sight of the massive, looming scythe. The war rapier of the horseman was a terrible thing, looking large and sharp enough to cleave pairs of men at the hip with a single awful pull. To the electromancer, metal meant something else; metal was opportunity. If the weapon was in fact metal, and if the laws of magic that governed Althanas’s astral plane existed in this dimension, then Death had rode in with a terrific present for the scoundrel.

F*ck it. If I’m dying here, let’s make a legend out of me on my way.

A sharp whistle cut through the howling, swirling winds, as Storm Veritas planted both of his feet firmly upon what now felt like red stone dust and called to the demon in white robes. He twisted his right toe inward, improving his posture, and fired an invisible, electromagnetic pulse with all of his might at the blade of the rider.

A lunatic’s gamble from a man with nothing to lose.