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RE: =EC 2022= Forge Arena

 
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8/3/2022 22:08:21   
Synthe_
Member
 

A younger Ambriel might have felt such an extreme degree of anger as a result of disgrace, some sort of reaction to having his capabilities pushed to the point of failure. It’s only natural to push back against what could be perceived as failure, nothing more than a human response to such a distinct possibility of failure. However, Ambriel had long since overcome such self-centered thoughts. He did not feel anger at the prospect of losing to an enemy; he knew well enough by now that he would never be allowed to fail as long as His will was wholeheartedly upheld. No, the mere idea that this sinful creature was able to defy His will for any period of time was beginning to disperse the infection of doubt within his mind.

How could this be possible? Is she perhaps far more capable than I originally guessed? The only other explanation could be...

...

Could I have made a mistake?


Memories of violence flooded his mind, of a thousand bodies broken upon a mountain of corpses. Oceans worth of blood freed from their vessels, countless unique beings banished from the realm of the living. And only one regret among them.
Somehow the thoughts fighting behind his helmet only furthered his rage, as Ambriel allowed the flames from within to burn each and every one away.

He needed to focus. The enemy had said something in response, though her words had barely even touched his rather... preoccupied mind. However, one thing was certainly clear. Her response was definitely not one of surrender, corroborated by her slow approach. Mostly involuntarily, born of hatred, one last taunt escaped his mouth.

“Then your life is forfeit.”

How unfortunate that he had been disarmed, and in order to reclaim his weapon he would need to run directly through his enemy. Though, the prospect of unarmed fighting was not entirely unappealing, as he was reminded of the deep pool of liquid light currently surrounding his feet. The faint mist wafting upwards pushed away the ash filling the air, its touch banishing the pain from his head just as quickly. He raised his fists in front of his mask, allowing the prospect of combat to still his mind once more.

Father, if my hands are tainted by sin, I beg you to free me from my duties.

Ambriel stood with his right boot slightly further forward, with the intention of making a quick step forwards to put some momentum behind his first strike. The light was invigorating him, and he was certain the advantage was on his side. The both of them were starting to slow down due to injury, and the boost would hopefully catch the enemy off guard.
Alceia took one final step towards him, just barely crossing into striking distance. Immediately, Ambriel made one small advance with his left foot, raising his corresponding arm to block a possible attack. As soon as he saw she had no intention of making one, a longer step followed, this time with his right. He turned his entire body as he moved forward, changing his leading arm to correspond with his right foot. The weight of his plate armor, while more difficult to get moving than leather, really liked to keep moving once it started. The step forward combined with the slight turn put a surprising amount of force behind his already faster-than-expected attack, curving downwards directly at his opponent’s head.

Unfortunately, luck seemed to be on his adversary’s side once more as she took a step to the right just as he threw his punch. His attack was met not with a satisfying crunch, but the wanting emptiness of a near miss. Now, the momentum of his armor worked against him, the unexpected speed of his strike catching himself slightly off guard. His heavy follow-through nearly pulled him to the ground, unable to defend himself from a possible counter.

And counterattack she did, wrapping her luminous strand around his wrist that had been thrust out of position. The light taunted him, threatening to match that of the residue coating the stone beneath. However, though the strand left his right arm grappled, it certainly helped him slow it to a controllable speed. In an instant his balance had returned, and though she had begun twisting her hold on him in an attempt to pull him to the ground, it seemed he had overlooked an important detail. The force of her strand on his right happened to be the same force that turned Ambriel’s body clockwise- a movement that would bring his free hand within striking distance.

I hope you’re one of the ones that cower when you realize you’re about to perish.

A sudden wave of adrenaline filled Ambriel’s veins, reigniting the embers of his earlier rage. With the pressure of newfound hatred behind his actions, he fought against the twine binding his arm even as it began to grow uncomfortably warm. Though it wouldn’t even come close to pulling himself free, it did manage to cause his enemy to firmly stand her ground, focusing all her efforts on keeping him in place. In this small window of distraction, he thrust his left gauntlet forward- but not with the intent to attack. There was no space to wind up, no force behind his hand besides the small turn he was able to make. While it would certainly hurt, it was in no way the decisive strike he needed right now. Instead, his gauntlet made contact with her wrist, clamping down on it like the bars of a prison cell. An expression bordering on terror overcame her face, drawing a twisted grin from Ambriel’s otherwise expressionless face as the binding on his arm loosened ever so slightly.

Now with the control of the situation decisively in his favor, Ambriel’s full range of motion had returned. A rush of excitement poured over his senses, blurring his vision with a burning red as he reared his right arm as far back as it could go. With a full half-circle of windup, the Arbiter brought his fist down directly on Alceia’s face, still slightly paralyzed with fear.

A dazzling red cascade of blood erupted as his fist connected, his gauntlet and forearm gaining a color to match his boot from earlier. No sound of pain reached his ears, no matter how much he wished it had. His hearing had left some time ago, the body apparently deciding that his energy was better spent elsewhere. The sensation of shattering bone, however, did reach his senses, causing his grin to grow to a full smile. Were his face exposed, an onlooker could easily mistake conviction for complete insanity. The crimson edge to his vision only intensified as his enemy nearly collapsed from the force of his attack. A distinctly warm, comforting thought seemed to banish his pain entirely, only intensified by the flame still raging in his chest.

Now, surely you must see the truth.

The weight of his gauntlet kept him moving, spinning another quarter turn before his momentum began to vanish.

With this, my conviction may be proven once more. I pray... please let this be worthy of recognition...

Unbeknownst to Ambriel, his enemy had not fallen to the ground, her audible movements falling on deaf ears.

Without warning, her luminous strand appeared around the Arbiter’s neck, pulling taut instantly.
Every emotion that had begun to fade from his addled mind suddenly reappeared tenfold, mind screaming out in pain and the fiery red outline nearly blinding him with tunnel vision. Her strand pulled itself between his chestplate and helmet, leaving only a thin layer of cloth between it and his skin. An impossibly strong stab of pain shot through his neck, only to vanish a moment later as the nerves were incinerated. He screamed out in pain, though he only felt a futile rumble in his chest.

Thankfully, just as panic was beginning to override any sense of conviction, a brilliant light revealed itself to him at the end of the blood-red tunnel. He was still standing in a deep pool of liquid, the brilliance of which granted a single moment of clarity. His burning veins extinguished by divinity itself, even if only for a moment, granted a chance to act. A moment to carry out his duty.

To prove himself.

With one final roar of exertion, Ambriel took both his gauntleted hands and grasped as tight as he could to the section of strand connecting Alceia to his neck. Added pressure only furthered the blinding pain in his neck, but brilliant light outshined it for the moment. With the last remaining vestiges of energy inhabiting his exhausted body, he pulled at the strand, pushing his body forward and pulling his adversary with him.

The moment of reprieve ended as the light beneath him vanished, its energy depleted as it no longer bolstered his strength. However, the pressure on his neck had subsided ever so slightly, as the pull of Alceia’s arms no longer held it taut. Rather, she had been pulled off her feet, flung forward over his shoulders by her own weapon. As time seemed to halt for a moment, she held still in midair directly over him, barely keeping her grip on the now-loosened strand connecting the two of them together.
Post #: 26
8/4/2022 18:12:26   
Dragonknight315
Member

As Sonder towered on her living shadow, she looked down to the Suntouched. In the face of death, she seemed. . . pleased. She ran headfirst to meet the Dullahan.

“That’s a neat trick you have there–”

Two sparks formed in the Suntouched's hands.

More flames!

Sonder felt her whole body shudder as her will extended past her frame; into her ivory, into her shadow. She could feel her mind stretch as she whirled around, forcing her new set of legs to move. She rushed behind the pillar, barely taking cover as the Suntouched shouted:

“I think I’ll have to start taking you seriously now!”

A loud explosion filled her ears as the fire ignited against the pillar. Try as she did, Sonder could not completely hide from the Suntouched’s wrath. Her shadow was too large. The flames filled the air, wrapping around the pillar, brushing against her shadow’s leg. Sonder held back a scream as she felt the searing heat crawl across her own flesh. But she focused her will, her desires, chanting what must have seemed like a magic spell in her head.

I can’t let her win. I can’t be alone anymore. . .

Clutching her skull, Sonder threw her head onto her scared neck, sighing as she felt the blue thread fastening them together. Then, she took her whip with both hands, bundling it like rope. As she pulled from both ends, she felt her mind fracture.

The ivory in her hands. The shadow beneath her frame. Her bloody side and burning leg. The boundary between her and everything seemed so thin, like she would disappear at a moment’s notice. And yet, she held strong.

I have given up so much. I won’t let you take any more from me.

The ivory melted in her hands, turning into shadows once more as she ripped it apart. The black mass oozed from her hands, dripping down into two long solid frames. With a flick of her wrists, the ivory manifested again into two sharp blades.

No more hiding. I will not be forgotten.

With blades in hand, Sonder charged around the pillar and towards the light in the center. She felt it rush across her shadow’s skin, rubbing against her will like sandpaper. The Dullahan needed to make some room, but she would not have long.

From the corner of her eyes, the Suntouched was standing there on the other side of the pillar, knives drawn and ready to kill. The Dullahan mirrored her intent as she held a blade out at either side.

Sonder spun around and charged straight for her. With the light at her back, she hoped to make a decisive moment. If the Suntouched dodged to her right, there was the pillar and its electric hum. If she went left, the ivory blade would catch her. And if she stood her ground?

Sonder would trample her.
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 27
8/5/2022 13:53:46   
roseleaf320
Creative!


Hands met her body, and Alceia was pulled roughly from behind her obsidian foe. He lifted her with surprising ease; in a moment, too quickly for Alceia to react, she was swung over his head and onto the ground with a resounding crash. Like she was a toy he’d gotten bored of.

“Hey, you’re here for the Championships, right?” Bei planted her feet abruptly into the concrete and swung around,
her golden hair flowing around her like a lion’s mane. Bright eyes of sunlight met Alceia’s own.
For a moment, Alceia thought she saw a flash of lightning within them.
She felt a shiver run down her spine as she realized she hadn’t seen Bei truly look at anything before; she’d assumed the girl was blind.

She glanced towards a stall selling an assortment of themed children’s toys, some in sparkling glass, others of painted wood or stuffed cloth.
She should leave soon. It was almost time to go. Would Bei be watching? She hoped the girl wouldn’t end up finding Alceia’s arena.

“Did my armor give it away?” She tried to convey an almost joking tone through her voice, though she felt no humor towards the matter.

It was always harder when the victim was someone you knew.

“No,” the girl shrugged, her tone oddly casual. “you’re running pretty hot. And you’ve got that air about you. Of a man who thinks he has to die.”


Panic slammed into Alceia like a wave as the air left her lungs. Her chest shook as she tried desperately to move it, to remember how to breathe. The obsidian one swayed above her, regaining his balance after the sudden shift of weight. Alciea barely gasped her first breath in before he attacked once more. She stared at his gauntlet, once again pointed towards her face. It was already slick with her blood. She should get up— or at least roll to the side— but perhaps it was easier to just… rest.

A young boy’s laughter; a swirling trail of red and violet as he waves the tassel gift around like a flag.


Aeon-- Her death might protect him from the diviner’s warning, if it was possible for her to die here. But with a wish, she could ensure his protection from every danger. She could know for sure that he was safe.

I won’t let you take him from me!

As bloodied fist bared down upon her form, Alceia hooked her thumb around her Fate and pulled with all her strength. It bent backwards until it could go no further, and Alceia dropped her thumb to release it. The Strand shot forward like a bowstring, sending a wave of energy towards her opponent. Alceia felt as if she was being wrenched backwards; even her breathing reversed for a moment, a horrible pressure forcing itself from her lungs like bile. Her chest heaved, her vision blackened, more than it already had. For a moment, her entire body grew numb, and an ugly, alien pulse enveloped her ears as her heart began to beat in reverse.

A clock ticks; a godlike hand reaches out to snip.


The feelings all released at once, a malicious hand that had decided to drop her. Consciousness returned, and she blinked her eyes roughly to clear the tears that had begun to well within them. With a gruff exhale, Alceia forced herself to her knees. Her opponent towered above her, but he leaned slightly backwards, his footing uneven. Alceia relaxed one fist and yanked with the other. Her Strand responded instantly, its end uncoiling and flicking like a tail into the air. Alceia growled and lurched forwards, arms outstretched. Her world heaved and swirled around her, and the clang of metal echoed harshly in her skull, as her torso slammed onto unforgiving stone. Her Fate Strand followed her outstretched arms, and with a rough heave of Alceia’s left hand, it curved around the back of her foe’s obsidian boot. Alceia caught its loose end with her right hand and twisted it quickly back around her palm to strengthen her grip. She barely noticed its heat anymore, overshadowed by the pounding pressure that threatened to burst from her skull. Her fingernails dug into leather as she wrenched her hands inwards towards her shoulders. She felt the heavy weight of her opponent resist her pull, then felt it give abruptly. Armor clanged as he slammed against the stone, and Alceia arms darted up to her head as if to shield her from its sharpness as it thundered through her head.

Alceia and Adamenta both glanced up, startled, as a metallic crash rang from the kitchen.
Tobias’ head, covered in messy blond hair, peeked out at them, a sheepish grin painted on his face.
His tenor voice piped up when the noise faded. “Dropped something, that’s all! Sorry!”

“Come here, silly.” Adamenta giggled. She gently gathered up the navy blue garment in her hands and placed it gently on the olive table beside her.
Alceia leaned over from her seat to glance at Adamenta’s progress. The garment was an old pair of Alceia’s trousers;
when Alceia had expressed displeasure with them, Adamenta had proposed using the fabric to make a skirt.
She could make out the start of a ruffled end, and beamed. Adamenta was always so wonderful to her.

Tobias made his way over to Adamenta, and she stood to meet him, though her head only came up to his shoulders.
She cupped his cheek in her hands and gave him a gentle kiss. His hand slid gently around her waist,
and Alceia smiled softly as they stared into each other's eyes for a moment before Adamenta began to giggle once more.

A sudden awkwardness rose to Alceia’s cheeks, and she stood and turned away from the pair.
She’d let them be alone for a moment. She scratched her neck and let out an awkward giggle herself.
“I’ll go get scissors for you-- I forgot to bring them down earlier.”


The memory nudged unbidden at her mind. That hadn’t been-- was that really how that had gone? Or maybe that was the future? Alceia couldn’t tell. She had to stay here in the present, in… where was she again? It didn’t matter. She had to kill this man; that was all she needed to remember. Her scissors-- Alceia had scissors. Shaking fingers fumbled through her belt pouch, finding the familiar shape of its long twin blades. She gripped it tight and drew it hastily from its home. An extra movement flashed out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to see a small green-and-blue knit square splash into the pool of liquid beside her. She knelt, frozen, as thick scarlet soaked into the square, until nothing remained but the dark, irremovable stain of blood.

A flash of a dark cloak; an aspiring competitor.
Their voice is full of desperation as they speak, and when Alceia rejects them, there is a crash, and a boy’s cry.


STOP! Venom flared in Alceia’s eyes as she jumped with strength she didn’t know she had left. She let her weight fall onto the obsidian one’s prone body and pushed her palm roughly against his collarbone. His neck was exposed between his armor and helmet-- good. Her Fate thrummed with energy, bright enough almost to blind. He had harmed Aeon. She’d kill everyone that threatened him; that’s what she’d always been trying to do.

She let her weight pin the man--
                                    She pinned the Strand with two rocks-
--against the arena’s ground.
                               --so it hung taut in the air.
Scissors raised above her head--
                         Scissors open wide, a blade on either end of her Fate--
--she gritted her teeth--
                  --she squinted her eyes shut--
--and stabbed downwards.
           --and snipped.




Post #: 28
8/6/2022 18:52:24   
  San Robin
Modzerella


The creature got clipped by the blaze and for a short while it seemed to be in agony. Only. a. very. short. while. it seemed to pull itself together rather quickly for a creature that just got hit by a medium sized fireball, Vu’ur was surprised but also a bit impressed by its tenacity.

She watched as the creature put its horrifying head back on its shoulder and braced herself, careful not to look directly at its ghastly visage. The creature had split its whip in half, had it given up? Not very likely… Now it had 2 blades made of a similar material as it used before!

At last the creature had stepped out of the shadow of the pillar and charged directly at her. Vu’ur looked around. To her right was a strange pillar that seemed to be imbued with a strange energy, to her left the creature was charging at her. She was quite literally stuck between a rock and hard place!

No time to think! DODGE! Vu’ur jumped out of the way, she saw the creature’s blade go towards her and raised her arm, blocking most of the blow with her gauntlet. However it was a blow with so much power, so much… determination behind it , Vu’ur stumbled and fell. One more of those blows would go straight through the gauntlet.

She looked up as she saw the creature loop around, brandishing its blade as it made another charge at her. There was no place to dodge, no gauntlet to block. This would certainly mean her demise. As she heard the sound of the beast's footsteps nearing, she closed her eyes…


The sound of galloping hooves, screams from both sides as spells, arrows and other objects flew over her head, sometimes missing by a hair. She had lost, the creatures of this plane were foolhardy and had managed to beat Lord Wargoth. Her way home was gone. With the defeat of Lord Wargoth, the creatures had gotten new courage, a bravado that made them able to battle on once more.

She looked up at the sky as she heard the enemy drawing closer. This damnable sky in some crummy plane would be the last thing she saw in her life. For the first time since she had reached adulthood, Vu’ur cried. All she wanted was to see her own plane one more time and feel its warmth.

She saw a shadow pass her. Had she been hit? Was this the end? She looked in front of her, but rather than an enemy looking at her, it was Kaen. They stood with their back towards her. “It’s too early to give up, Lady Vu’ur.” they said, “Wargoth may have lost. But there are other ways to get back to our plane, you just need to find them!”. Vu’ur tilted her head “What do you mean with that? can’t we find the way out together?”.

She heard Kaen laugh, an unfamiliar sound from her otherwise stern teacher and yet… It sounded bitter. “I am not leaving. After all, I have a student to protect.” They turned around and smiled, “You know you can use your wildfire form anywhere, right? You just need to know how.” she said as she flicked her daggers together.

*Clang Clang*

They created a spark with their daggers that ignited them into a wildfire form. “Take these daggers and go. Find your way out of this plane, I will hold them off.” They threw their daggers in front of Vu’ur and ran toward the enemy troops. It would be the last time Vu’ur had seen her teacher…


She opened her eyes. This was NOT where she was going to die! The grip around her daggers tightened as she stood up. It would drain all her energy, but it’s better than dying right here! She spread her arms as if she wanted to embrace the monstrosity that was storming right at her and in a swift motion brought them together, flicking her daggers together like she saw her teacher do that fateful day.

*Clang Clang*
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 29
8/7/2022 6:18:31   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


Preference for punctual performance persuaded MJF not to linger leaning on pointed tip, and his zardlike self shifted gears into chasing his azcona's shadow. While the distance made flight far faster than footfall, it was only right. And he so relished the idea of a skewered snack after a remarkable show. In that, the Weaver did not disappoint! No matter how malignant their muscles, their sword scribed magnificent motion into the forceful parry of his azcona. MJF's pupils widened to drink in the cloud of scintillating shards of ivory that resulted, pleased as punch at the additional contrast as they peppered the Weaver's coat. Better still would have been some bloody scores, but…

That thought was usurped by the rebounded arc of the Weaver's arm, his macabre motif mutating into some new nonsense. The frogman wasn't fond of feeling a sense of foreboding, and he picked up the pace in a vain attempt to forgo any firsthand finding. Not nearly fast enough, a proper set of bounding leaps would have served him better than the attempt of fleet feet. Echoed incantation only added to his urgency, though the voices blended into incoherency.

Too little. Too late.

A bolt of black shot forth from skull maw gauntlet, and compared to his azcona throw, had a significantly smaller gap to close. With the speed of a quarrel loosed it was far too quick to react to once shot, and the Weaver's steady arm was steady aim indeed. For a man it would have been a shot at the heart even at full sprint - and in this MJF was glad. His gait was bandy and bouncy at any speed; making the difference between instant fatality and something debatably more survivable.

Subzero scales crumbled kinetic, bleeding the barest edge of the metaphysical magic; but physics fared poor against the mystic mass. The bolt had no edge to roll, no point to ablate. Simply leaden darkness that pierced deep, scraping against low-hanging rib and stabbing stomach and intestine. Bile burned as the bolt buried; the impact checked his charge for half a pace. Actinic agony jangled his nerves with adrenal surge, knowing well the mortal truth of slow death assured in the arctic. Whether by gangrene, or frostbite, or gut-rot food from failed digestion.

Footfall fell. This was not the arctic, and MJF was not the type of ponder paralytic over painful problems. Treatment could be found later, after the knees buckled and his form dipped. He lacked the glorious rotund of the more alpha ascendant of his kind, but the battlezard was still all about muscle. Squeeze. Short breath clench - ah, how the tazing earlier could've been so useful now - and the sundered charge turned into a sideways stagger. Left shoulder clipped by another shot and again the icemail failed. A puncture so pure it pierced clean through, but the second serving of pain quelled the urges of vile vomit. Brought clarity crystal while purple blood oozed and his arm went slack.

All the same, he kept his grin toothy, grit against pulsing pain. MJF let the stagger turn into a squat, ducking beneath the third dread shot, and clinging quite clearly to life despite. So close may have seemed so far to any other. Not to MJF. Toes curled against stone beneath with soft scrabble, legs undamaged. One arm? One hand. One weapon. He didn't need fanciful tricks or deep magicks when a simple beatstick would do.

Pushing past pain, MJF leapt in to lunge at the Weaver. Frogman fencer using full extension to bring beatstick to bear. Wicked tip flashing quicksilver slick not for the Weaver's torso but rather their weapon arm; to disarm by dismemberment, as one could always disembowel after. Besides, wasn't there a very human saying about a hand for a hand? It only seemed fitting to return the favor first; and then prove he could filet a target in motion as easily as butcher them post-mortem.
AQ  Post #: 30
8/7/2022 22:09:28   
Synthe_
Member
 

Alceia crumpled as she hit the rough stone of the cavern floor, collapsing into a pile of twisted limbs as she slowly came to a stop. With a gasp, Ambriel managed to steady himself without falling over as well, carefully running his unstained gauntlet over the burns covering his neck. Thank the Father that the nerves had burned away as quickly as they did, else he would likely be completely incapacitated. Nonetheless, touching the injured area did bring an intense feeling of unease, bordering on nausea at the thought of nearly losing to this sinner.

The Arbiter lifted himself to his feet, beginning to walk over to the broken pile that remained of his adversary. Without the light beneath his feet, walking had suddenly become a rather difficult task. His earlier rage had subsided, doused in the rising waters of fatigue as his body became unable to keep up with the stress he was putting on it. Though, with a good few seconds of painful exertion, Ambriel found himself standing over his enemy.

Mmm... While I could never be impressed by one such as you, I can certainly say my opinion of you has settled on the second highest level of respect.

Without a doubt, I despise your existence.


With his right fist raised, there remained only one step to complete his task. The enemy lay, still unmoving, among the stone that had broken beneath her crash. The fight was over, an inability to resist signaling his right to grant her freedom from this world. After all, she seemed rather helpless since being tossed to the ground.

...

Right?

A brief flash of doubt crossed Ambriel’s mind just as he began to deliver the finishing blow, his thoughts just slow enough to miss Alceia’s movement from below. Without warning, an alien force struck his body, instantly stopping his fist and pulling in the opposite direction entirely. The flash of doubt blossomed into a burning storm of panic, the inexplicable sight throwing Ambriel’s mind into disarray. Yet another unforeseen circumstance, come to tear his victory away? It was honestly getting rather annoying. However, he didn’t have the time to be annoyed, panic still working its way throughout his body as it moved in the opposite direction physics itself dictated.

His vision faded to a hazy red smudge as Ambriel’s body suddenly seemed much more interested in devoting energy to keeping his thoughts straight, leaving him completely unprepared to crash into the ground moments later. The unseen force left just as quickly as it came, throwing him backwards with no hope of staying upright.

A racing mind quickly drained the little energy it had left, rapid panic giving way to a calm, accepting nothingness. Time passing seemed to lose its meaning, blots of black fading in and out of what little vision remained. Rather than a normal body, it felt to Ambriel as if he were frozen in a stone coffin, unable and uninterested in interacting with whatever lay beyond his crippled senses. Vague sensations of weight and discomfort tried their best to reach him, but were given no thought.

...

I pray I’ve managed to make you proud...

...

Maybe then I could feel content with passing on.


Even as his vision swam and thoughts failed to coalesce, for a moment it seemed as though a presence appeared. Just barely within reach, it exuded a calculating, determined aura hanging in the air just above him...

Without warning, everything shattered. A blade of flaming brimstone cut through the false reality, tearing away comfort with a single stroke. An impossibly sharp pain appeared in the sea of unclarity, blossoming out from Ambriel’s burned neck. He tried to scream in pain, but nothing came from his throat. The only indication that he had moved at all was the frighteningly new sensation of liquid entering his lungs. In that same moment, the hazy red fog keeping him blind was dispelled, bringing his present situation right to the forefront. The sudden return of his senses was quite disorienting, but the blazing sensation radiating from his neck was impossible to overcome.

Kneeling overtop his limp body was Alceia, eyes wild with the flame of battle. Though she wore this expression before, this time it seemed... different. Deep within the fire rested a crimson red, a subdued bloodlust permeating every aspect of her glare. Only now did Ambriel become acutely aware of the small blade she had punctured his neck with.

That’s certainly inconvenient.

Though his mouth opened, no sound could be heard. Rather, something moved underneath the wound that definitely should not be moving

Wait.

No no no no no NO NO


Mortality flashed before his eyes as distinctly unnatural feelings overtook his mind. With all his remaining might, he struggled against his adversary, trying desperately to push her away and free himself. Unfortunately, his body could not muster anything beyond a futile shove, his arms barely able to lift the metal coating his body. What his struggle did manage was a slight ripple along the rocky ground. A new layer of liquid light lay beneath him, his movements causing slight distortions along its surface. It must have been dispersed with his earlier impact along the ground.

His mind racing, desperately trying to complete his goal before time ran out, this revelation arrived as the missing piece that could save his doomed situation. Ambriel inhaled, bringing the light beneath into his body. Though it quickly dispersed and brought some level of control to his aching limbs, he was quickly reminded of his approaching death by the liquid that flooded his windpipe in place of air. With the tiniest level of strength returning to him, Ambriel pushed upwards with his legs as hard as he could. Were he able to breathe, a fierce cry would have escaped him.

They both tumbled, head over heel along the rocky ground. A thick black haze had begun to creep in at the edges of Ambriel’s vision, making sure he could not forget how little time he had. After what felt like an eternity they finally slowed, their positions reversed. Not expecting the sudden burst of movement, it seemed Alceia was unable to resist him and now found herself laying on the ground instead. Without thinking, Ambriel raised his left gauntlet and tore the scissors from his neck.

You absolute wretched scum never deserved to exist here.

I bet you thought I was done for, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?

I CANNOT BE BEAT BY THE UNFAITHFUL!


In an instant, the entire left side of Ambriel’s chestpiece was coated with a brilliant crimson. Dripping down on the stone below, his now open wound began to release his lifeblood across the arena. Even as his body was further invigorated by the light below, it would never be able to keep him alive in this state. Deep down, he recognized that he had crossed the point of no return. The event horizon of death, only standing on borrowed time that would expire without warning.

And strangely enough, he found his mind completely clear of distractions. No doubt or fear to stand in his way as he brought the blood-stained blade over his head.

As the black fog rapidly began to seal away his vision and consciousness entirely, Ambriel lost track of how many times he had stabbed downwards with the stolen weapon. There was no way of knowing how much of the crimson sprayed across the rocks belonged to his enemy, and how much belonged to him. Feeling in his limbs completely left him, followed rapidly by his torso, and finally his sight gave up. As he felt himself falling into the abyss, the last thought to blink out into the darkness was that of contentment.
Post #: 31
8/9/2022 0:05:50   
  Starflame13
Moderator


Amidst crackling static and crunching stone, lightning flickered. The air clogged with sulfur and soot, flakes of ash falling thickly from the smog above. Smoke curled down along with it, choking the last traces of breath and light from the final moments of the melee.

A thunderous crack reverberated throughout the room, echoed almost instantly with crash upon crash of clashing stone. Lighting blazed through the cinders, hot and brilliant and incinerating each mote of dust that it collided against. It scoured the earth itself, slammed into the competitors a wave of heat and sent them reeling to their knees, brilliance pounding into their senses until naught could be felt, could be sensed, could be heard but the inexorable, inevitable pulse of heavenlight.

Wind fractured the brilliance, leaving those within blinking in its sudden absence. They were left - not in gloom, but bathed in a warm glow, the smooth black stone beneath their feet now split by rivers of molten gold. Glimmers of dancing light cascaded across the walls, the glint of volcanic glass hidden in each crevice of black. Their flickering cadence illuminated the existing arches, now clear of smog. But such an escape was not for everyone, as several competitors had vanished from the Forge while within its hearth.

The Paragons were chosen; the fight for Champion was at hand.

Silence fell upon the Trial of the Cursed Forge.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 32
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