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cmgaugler -> RE: =Elemental Championships= Sky Arena (8/29/2007 18:03:40)
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The next few moments were unusual.
He saw himself approach, his hands filled to the brim with terrible agony, and then he saw himself slip upon the ice, the orb in his right hand discharging to spiral toward his opponent, while the rest of him smashed into the ice and slid over the uneven, rought terrain to a grinding halt. The light of the orb in his left hand flickered slightly, darkened, and then was lost in the light fog. James saw himself simply lie there, blood dripping from several cuts on his cheek and forehead, and a dark stain beginning to ripple and taint his right leg, where the wound from before had torn open.
And then it was over. The pain and torment washed over James, and he was literally torn from the sky into his mortal frame. He found himself cursing profanly as touch and smell and sound came back to him, a ginger hand reached to touch his leg where the bone had obviously been broken. He tried to rise, slowly, but tumbled to the ground after a moment as a fresh wave of pain stunned his mind.
Damn it, the bone's broken. I....I can't move my leg. And God damn it, the pain! It's like a thousand tiny needles are poking themselves into my being. Poking and prodding and tearing, with obvious malice. And..., he grit his teeth, and swallowed slightly to rid himself of the taste of blood, And...to heal it, would take up much of my energy. To create simply spells are easy; to heal and knit and connect all the peices of my leg together correctly (for to be incorrect, would be worse than not doing it all), would be torturous at best. I could not continue the fight, not without time to do it correctly. I could restitch the bone quickly, to continue the fight, but, he growled, and could not continue.
"I have no choice then. I must draw upon some of her power, and use some of my own power to contain it, lest it spread too quickly within my being. I MUST NOT LOSE CONTROL. Not here, not now." James closed his eyes, sighed softly and took a deep breath, and then began to feel within himself. Deep within. Past the writhings of his pain-wracked mind; past the slow, melodic coursings of his body; past the mythical floods of his soul.
Deep within. To a place of nothing-ness. An emptyness only beings such as himself, had within them. A hole, if you will; a hole through which, he knew not what dwelt upon the other side. Except for power. He knew that an almost unlimited power dwelt beyond that hole within him. And he knew that he could draw upon that power, but, equally, it could draw upon him. As with all great powers, there was a downside.
To begin with, there was a set limit, at this moment in time, of the power his physical being could contain. Once beyond that limit, it would overwhelm him and drive him into unconsiousness, and, in that way, send itself back to the abyss. With time, the power could be contained and controlled, but not enough time had elapsed for that to happen.
And second, as much as he could use the power, the power, in turn, could feed upon him. There were safe levels; levels of might he could control, but, past that, the power would begin to feed. First, upon his mind. He would lost all sanity, and be reduced to an animal, with no thought, plan...and....
...And...no self control.
After feeding upon the mind (leaving nothing save for the basic animal instincts), the power would then feed upon his soul, killing all joy and anger and greed and all feeling within him. And then, it would feel upon his physical body, converting his muscle and bone and organ into energy.
And then James would cease to exist. But he would not allow that to happen. James would allow the match to continue, and allow the power to give him incredible strength, but if it went on too long; if the power began to feed....he would cede the match to his opponent, and launch himself over the side of the arena. There was no other alternative.
And, to be truthful....he had lost his will to fight. As he felt the power flow forth, he found himself thinking again.
What do I fight for? What is there here which I would be willing to die for? The fans? The Elemental Lords? T….The children? He felt his muscles tighten. He felt the energy, the…magic…, begin to ripple down his legs and flow into them.
What is my life worth, that I would throw it away so easily? And why would I be so wishing to kill another? Are we all so far gone, that we would have individuals fight and die for our amusement? If we are so dead as a people, then why do I fight for them? What is the point?
“They don’t care. They never cared about us. I would like to see one individual in the audience, who wishes that I live. …” He sighed again. “There is no one. So…why am I fighting here? I am not defending my loved ones. I am not fighting someone who deserves death. We are all innocent, scared men, bleeding and killing for the sadistic amusement of those damned people. Or do we tussle for such hollow ideals as honor and pride? Or is it because of those high-and-mighty Elemental Lords, who care nothing for the pain and sufferings of men, and solely for their own greed.”
He could feel the magic support his legs, and then radiate outward to form another pair of enormous trunks of legs, constructed of white magic, which poked out of his hips. He could feel himself rise, and, at the same time, could feel the tendrils of energy poke out his rib cage, at the end of each tentacle a large sword, much like his own. He saw himself, a multi-tentacled monstrosity, each tentacle waving a dangerous light sword, and the whole self supported by two trunks of legs, stout and thick. He saw himself in the middle, his arms outstretched and holding two large balls of mana, as the rest of his body was covered with golden fire.
He saw himself whispering. “If he survives this, then I will be forced to drift into higher levels of energy in order to continue. I will not let that happen. If this match continues for a few more moments, then I will cede him the battle.”
“I….I do not wish to fight any longer. I want to rest.”
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