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=EC 2023= Twilight Arena

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7/22/2023 23:00:05   
  Starflame13
Moderator


 Curls of dawn parted to waves of brilliant blue; the sun bursting free from the horizon to illuminate the city of Bren. Its golden rays slid across steel armor and threw sparkling motes of light along silvered weapons. Light caught and danced along a myriad of glass fragments, crystals now interwoven through the stone to leave curtains of minute rainbows dancing in every corner of the city. From strangers to old friends, visiting nobles to lowly cutpurses, lone travelers and full caravans - all were painted by the Arena’s glow.

Power hummed under the excited babble, a siren song that resonated throughout the entire city. Its notes dragged the crowd onward. Through the gleaming city gates and across twisted streets of shops and inns. Past grimy alleyways and grand courtyards and all the houses that stood between. Up and over the final bridge to follow in the footsteps of Champions past, treading along the well-worn cobblestones of Supplicant’s Way. Onward, until the Complex itself stood before them; a looming gateway that swelled to meet the rising tide that surged towards it.

Here, the horde parted. Hundreds of spectators streamed towards the stands, shoving and jostling against each other in the hopes of achieving better seating. The handfuls of hopefuls instead found themselves alone. Whether by hired officials, their own finely-honed instincts, or by unseen magic itself, the Arena tugged them forward to their fate. A destiny written in bloodshed and carnage. A chance for one to stand victorious. A hope of earning a boon.

All that stood in their path now was the Arena itself - and the greatest fighters this world had to offer.

Shadows gathered at the edges of the hallway, creeping nearer to embrace the competitors as the torches guttered out one by one. The cheerful chatter faded behind them as they pressed forward into the cool darkness, footsteps thudding dully against the floor’s wooden panels. Only the faintest illumination guided the way forward: a glowing rune engraved on the solid teak door barring the path forward. A sun in gold, a moon in silver, their tendrils intertwined about each other - the light more ominous than comforting.

Unease. Exposure. Illusion. Emptiness. Neither light nor darkness provide solace from the Twilight.

The sigil winked out as the door swung open, allowing entrance to the nearly pitch-black room beyond. Light came only from a duplicate symbol, this one set into the floor and spanning the length of the arena, glowing just enough to reveal alternating wooden panels of black and white. Then it too vanished, leaving the fighters fully encased in silence and shadow.

An orb of stark white light burst into being over the northmost entrance, hanging suspended above the shadowed doorway. Then a second, a third, a fourth... beacon after beacon snapping to life until their radiance encircled the entire arena. A final lantern flared at the center, and the harsh lights melded together to illuminate the barren room.

With neither signal nor warning, the entrance orbs burst as though struck by an unseen force. Their glow vanished, leaving no trace of debris to mark its destruction. The center luminance held steady - but now only the very center of the arena remained bathed in glaring light. Moving outwards, the luster faded in a gradient to gloom, the very edges of the arena now cloaked in deepest shadow.

Then came a murmur, twisting and repeating over itself until its source could not be found, perimeter lights reforming one by one as it whispered by each entrance. “And so begins the Trial of the Veil. Fight or Die, adventurers, but let the Elemental Championships begin!”
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 1
7/26/2023 22:32:19   
ChaosRipjaw
How We Roll Winner
Jun15


 Amidst the embers' glow, a figure stands,
A bride of agony, with pale, ghostly hands,
Long white hair cascades, a shimmering veil,
A haunting presence, a sorrowful tale.



Sunrise. The sign of a new day to come. Golden rays stretched across the sky, their warm hues painting a tapestry of vibrant colors over the awakening city of Bren. The city embraced the dawn with open arms, coming alive with an energetic buzz as people from all walks of life streamed through the congested thoroughfares. The clatter of armor and the glimmer of weapons caught the sunlight, creating a dazzling display. Laughter and excited chatter filled the air, growing in intensity as the crowds swelled.

This was Bren, the pulsing heart where the boundaries blurred and all realms intersected. A crossroads of cultures, where diverse peoples from far-flung lands mingled in harmonious chaos. Here, the grandeur of architecture whispered tales of ancient civilizations, while the vibrant tapestry of flags fluttering in the breeze proclaimed the unity of nations. A nexus of the lands between.

Amidst the symphony of voices, today was an extraordinary day. For today was the day of the Elemental Championships, a spectacle that gripped the city's collective imagination. The streets, usually bustling with their daily routines, now thrived with an electric energy, as competitors and spectators alike flooded the labyrinthine alleys and squares. The air crackled with excitement, charged with whispers of rivalries, legends, and untamed power. Warriors, mages, and everything in between had arrived from distant corners of the realm, bearing their unique talents and unwavering determination. The promise of glory, the pursuit of triumph (and perhaps something far beyond any of these) filled every nook and cranny, drawing in warriors of all backgrounds.

As the sun ascended, its gentle touch illuminated the labyrinthine streets, casting long shadows that danced alongside the bustling figures below. Within one of these shadows, In the midst of the chaos, amidst the swirling currents of excitement and anticipation, emerged a white-haired woman in a blood-red cloak.

Meng Chiyi silently wove her way through the labyrinthine alleys, like a specter navigating the realm of the living. The city's cheerfulness seemed to wilt in her presence, replaced by an eerie aura that trailed behind her. Passersby didn’t exactly avoid her, but her presence was heralded by a wide berth as she strode past them.

This is the only way, right? Is there another way?

Also like a ghost, Meng Chiyi did not seem to be taking notice of any of the scenery, save to pass silently from shadow to shadow cast by the intricate buildings. Curiously, the sun's radiant presence overhead seemed to evoke an unusual nervousness within her, even though time had long ceased to be a pressing concern for one at her age. Each passing moment felt like an ever subtle pull of something long buried in her memories, an intangible weight that tugged at her consciousness. It was as if she were caught in the inexorable flow of an invisible river, unable to escape its grasp. As she weaved through the shadows, the sun's unforgiving gaze bore down on her like a silent witness, intensifying the unease that stirred in her soul.

Unease … or something else.

Anticipation.

Without even needing to think about it, she reached into the little pouch on her hip and popped a wrathberry into her mouth. These fruits were not for the faint of heart; despite possessing hearty, savory flesh, they released searingly spicy juices akin to having an out of control forest fire go off in one’s mouth. But Meng Chiyi had long since grown accustomed to its flavor, no small thanks to years of snacking on them. The fire on her taste buds barely elicited any reaction. If anything, its sensation was actually quite comforting.

Absently chewing on a wrathberry, she followed the winding path, occasionally spitting out the hard seeds as she moved.

Her unease ebbed. It was actually quite good to be back in civilization again, surrounded by the commotion of life. The bustling streets and vibrant energy of Bren had a comforting familiarity, almost like coming home. (Even if she was as far away from home as possible at this point.)

As she navigated through the crowded thoroughfares, the scenes around her brought flashes of memories from a long-lost past. The laughter and shouts of people, the colorful stalls lining the streets, and the aroma of various delicacies being cooked over open fires. The villagers would come together, sharing laughter and stories, reveling in the simple joys of life. But as much as she wanted to join in, she was hurrying, because right around the corner was—

Meng Chiyi rounded a corner and almost plowed right into another man who happened to be stepping out one of the myriad shops lining the streets. He stumbled, a moment of surprise etched across his features. Instinctively, Chiyi reached out and grabbed his arm, steadying him. Just in time too, as the large pack on his back had yanked him off his center of gravity.

At this moment, their eyes met.

Fujun–?

A brief breeze ruffled her cloak.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” he asked.

Chiyi blinked, breaking out of her brief reverie. She realized he’d been saying something multiple times. The words were foreign, but Chiyi had heard this language before and understood it. Even though it had been a while. For a brief moment, she fumbled, searching for the words.

“I … am fine,” Chiyi said haltingly, her words laced with accent. She shook her head slightly. “Almost … made you fall. Sorry.”

The man smiled. It was hard to tell how old he was. “No need to apologize,” he reassured her. “I’m alright, thanks to you. You have quick reflexes.”

Oddly enough, his kind words somehow released the knot in her gut. “Thank you,” she said, her voice still tentative but appreciative.

He nodded. “Are you in a hurry to sign up for the Championships?”

“I — yes,” she answered, astonished. “How … do you know?”

“It’s the time of the year,” he said, chuckling. “And I don’t think you carry around that sword for show.”

Ah yes, the sword. Meng Chiyi did not need to reach for it; its weight rested heavily, tugging against her shoulders. But in a way it was a comfortable sensation.

She sensed it would not be wise to share the sword’s name.

“If you’re looking for the signup office, it’s just a few streets over, actually,” he said, pointing. “You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” Chiyi said. She hesitated, then added, “You … are very kind.”

He looked at her, his gaze lingering to her left. He spoke with a gentle tone, as though trying not to intrude too much into her personal affairs.

“It is probably not my place to say it,” he said quietly, “but just remember, in the Arena, it can get intense.” He hesitated. You've probably already been through so much," he said, choosing his words carefully. “Take care of yourself out there. It's not just about winning, you know. Your life ... it's valuable.”

What does he know!?

Chiyi paused to consider. His words were laced with empathy, probably understanding that he couldn't fully grasp the depth of her p—

He will never know, never —

He wanted to remind her.

Who does he think he is, playing like —

Meng Chiyi met his gaze, appreciating his concern and genuine compassion. Even if such days were far behind her.

“Thank you,” she replied softly, her voice carrying a mix of gratitude and determination. “I will ... remember.”



Interestingly enough, the clerk behind the counter seemed totally unfazed by her unusual appearance, greeting her with a professional demeanor. He asked only for her name and element, the essential information needed for registration.

“Meng Chiyi,” she said.

“And element?” the clerk intoned.

She stopped chewing. In all the time spent on the journey here, everything she’d been through, she had never considered. What element?

“I … am supposed to know my element?”

“Of course,” the clerk said, with infinitely more patience than she would have expected. “You need to pick one of the eight.”

“There are eight elements?”

“That’s tradition,” he said, nodding. “Now, I haven’t been around much but I’ve seen people like you around, I think you people only deal with five? Well here there’s eight. Each corresponds with the Lord you’ll be trying to get favor from.” He indicated a chart on the wall, where symbols representing the different elements were displayed.

Meng Chiyi peered at it, slowly deciphering the words.

“It’s usually kind of tricky because unlike in the East, wood, metal, and earth are all just ‘Earth’, and fire, wind, and energy are split …”

She found her attention drawn to the depiction of flames, tracing the fiery lines with her red-eyed gaze.

Absently, she spat out a seed (taking care to aim into one of the potted plants, it would not do at all to spit at random indoors) and pulled out another wrathberry, popping it into her mouth. The flaming hot spice of the wrathberry’s juices coated her tongue, burning reassuringly against her taste buds.

She couldn't help but feel a mixture of amusement at the obvious answer. So much for “eight” elements.

“This,” she said, tapping the chart with two fingers, “is my element.”

“Yeah I can see that,” the clerk said, rapidly jotting down on his parchment. “Can we get someone down here from Maintenance please? Oh, nothing particularly major. The big element chart on the wall’s got a nasty burn mark.”



Sun. Mist. Light. Dark.

Rage. Hate.

Sadness.

The sun hangs low. It is taunting. The shadows stretch toward her. Reaching. Trying to grab her.

It is light, but it is not comforting.

A faint whisper in the air forewarns of an impending moment, a moment that will forever alter the course of her existence. The air crackles with electricity, and the scent of burning embers fills her nostrils, a premonition of the fiery chaos about to unfold.

And then, it happens.

In a flurry of blurred motion, the world distorts and morphs, merging reality with illusion. The shadows elongate and converge, forming an ominous figure wielding a gleaming blade. Its edges seem to shimmer with a malevolent glow, as if craving to taste the essence of life itself.

Her heart pounds in her chest, her breath quickens, and a sense of dread washes over her. But before she can react, before she can even comprehend the situation fully, the blade descends with an almost poetic grace.

Time stretches into infinity, as if every millisecond is an eternity unto itself. The blade strikes true, slicing through flesh and bone with chilling precision. There is a moment of profound silence, a breathless pause in the cosmos, as if the universe itself holds its breath in anticipation.

And then, the pain.

An excruciating surge of agony shoots through her body, and her world shatters into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. The reality around her warps and twists, the boundaries of the physical and the metaphysical merging into an incomprehensible tapestry—

Chiyi opened her eyes. Her heart was still racing, but not from fear nor pain. Instead, a sense of introspection had filled her being, as if the dream had opened a hidden window to peer within her. Rare moments of insight, reminding her of what she kept hidden even from herself.

She reached up and touched the smooth flesh that once used to be her left arm. It had long since healed, with only faint scars indicating where the stitches used to be. The memory of it had faded with time; she neither felt pain nor sorrow about it. Nor indeed did she ever really think about it anymore. She might as well have been born with only one arm.

We enter the world alone, and we leave it alone …

Chiyi glanced at her remaining arm, flexing it thoughtfully. She had long since hewn off the sleeves of her robes, leaving her arm bare. Her skin gleamed pale under the dim light, its surface marred by faint, criss-crossing scars.

I still have you.

Would that be enough? Hardly an ocean of time had passed since that. Compared to gods of ancient legends, her own life by comparison was but a blink of an eye.

I will always be part of you.

Chiyi brushed a finger over one eye and looked, but only faint steam drifted from her fingertips, and even that was gone.

“Fujun,” she whispered.



Shadows seemed to gather at the edges of the hallway, and the dim torchlight lining the walls did little to dispel the darkness. The hallway exuded an aura of anticipation, as if the very air held its breath in preparation for what lay beyond the teak door.

A chill of anticipation ran down her spine. She popped another wrathberry into her mouth, its blazing juices seeping into her nerves.

As Meng Chiyi approached the end of the hallway, her eyes were drawn to the solid teak door that barred the path forward.

The sun …

The symbol of the sun and moon vanished before she could push open the door and it swung open for her. The arena floor came into view, a mesmerizing sight of alternating black and white wooden panels stretching out before her. The stark contrast of the panels hinted at a duality of forces at play within the arena's confines. But it was the lighting that truly captured her attention. Initially shrouded in near darkness, the arena remained hidden in obscurity until a sudden burst of orbs appeared, illuminating the entrances with an intense white light.

The orbs hung suspended in midair, gradually forming a circle that enclosed the entire arena. As light flared at the center, the harsh radiance merged, revealing the barren expanse. However, the moment of clarity was short-lived, as the entrance orbs were soon obliterated, leaving only the central area bathed in glaring light. From there, the illumination faded gradually towards the edges, cloaking the outer reaches of the arena in deepest shadow.

Another chill lanced through her spine, but it rapidly dissipated in the heat of the wrathberry.

Surrounded by darkness … and monsters.

Did we make a mistake?

“I hope not,” Chiyi said under her breath.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 2
7/27/2023 12:27:12   
JhyShy
Member
 

 Italics - Inner thoughts

Ah, the sunset, it’s gorgeous, I always loved seeing it. It's a nice thing to see since I’ve been on this gosh darn trail for days. That town better be worth it I swear. Heard it was a place filled with elemental masters so I’m sure it is, it’d be nice to meet and partner up with them when time comes. But of course I’m here on a mission, and what mission may that be you may ask? Well it’s to get rid of this STINKING CURSE. I am so fr**king frustrated with the Wind lord. They just went on about how “Ooooh you are not worthy of the title of Chosen” then they put this curse on me and now all my non-wind equipment ain’t doing jack spit now! UGH, they also said something about going on this trip to find, uh, what’s it called? Bread? Brent? Then doing something there? Err, something along those lines I lost track after freaking out about how an Elemental Lord woke me up. What kind of sane person let alone deity would do that?? I can’t believe this.

The Chosen of Battleon, Ryan. Who was clad in one of a kind equipment and a stone mask welded onto his face, thought to himself as he pushed forward on the trail he’s following, he may call the wind lord whatever he wants but he really had to admit his directions were accurate and he did give him a very good map. Ah, but map or no he was getting tired of the plane views towards the town. He hoped whatever tourist spots they had there would surprise him. Amidst all the walking he only could utter one sentence to a statue by his side as the wind picked up and his green hair started to pull back.

“Man, we really should have brought a horse or a carriage”

“WOAH”

Ryan exclaimed in his excitement and amazement at the city in front of him. The city of Bren was large, brimming with all sorts of people and different species. Adventurers, veterans, and those with even more unique occupations. Only thing left for him to find there is an Archmage.

“Haven’t even entered yet and this place is already Battleon times 1000, got to thank the Wind Lord for leading me here once all this is over.”

He entered the city through the gates, relieved that he didn’t have to climb up the walls to not garner attention, after all, there are so many unique characters in the city of Bren. No one was there to look at him differently because of his mask and draconic left arm. After that thought though, he overheard one of the adventurers talking about the “Elemental Championships''

Is that what I’m supposed to do? I think I heard the Wind Lord saying that while I was freaking out. I better ask the locals what it is.

“It’s something unique to us!” said a local in a hurry to the colosseum.
“It’s a bunch of crazy people doing crazy stuff to appease some overgrown elementals I think?” said a rookie adventurer in a hurry to the colosseum.
“I don’t shocking know. It brings in tourists and I hate it” Said the local dynamancer who angrily went back to her tent. But not without looking scornfully at the colosseum
“I don’t know but it brings in a bunch of tourists and that brings in the gold. HAHA! If you wanna check it out, go to the colosseum just up the hill.” Said a blacksmith
“Please go away” Said a mother of three in the park as her children beg her to take them to the colosseum
“I’m so sorry about her…” Said the wife of the mother of three as they go to the colosseum

So, that’s where it’s being held, huh. Guess that’s where the Wind Lord wants me. Well, let’s see where this goes Ryan.

A clerk stood before the entrance and asked Ryan for his name. Unfazed by his appearance, his equipment nor the big totem right beside him which was a new experience to him. Normally they’d either be repulsed or concerned for him but here he’s treated normally. This hasn’t happened much outside of Battleon.

“Uh, Hello. My name is Ryan", he said with awe.

“I see. No last name nor other initials?” She replied.

“Err, are those needed?” Ryan replied as his confusion grows

“Not really, what about your element?” Replied the clerk, trying not to delay any further.

“Element? What do you mean by element?” Ryan was starting to grow cautious, he does not want to anger a patient clerk.

“Ah, you see here in the elemental championships it is a tournament where various characters fight in the name of their elemental lord.” The clerk calmly explained.

Oh. Oh I see where this is going. Ryan thought to himself hoping it doesn’t go where he thinks it is going.

The clerk continued to explain. “That is why you are to pick the element you are to fight for. This is to determine the elemental lord you want to represent and fight in the name for.”

After all this is over I’m gonna have words with that overgrown elemental. Ryan sighs. He finally realized why the Wind Lord locked him to the wind element.

“Wind. My element is wind.”

The clerk chuckled. “You're the third one this week. Just go forward, you'll end up in the arena supposed to be in.”

“Oh, uh, sure. Thanks Ms.?”

The clerk chuckled again. “No need to go that far. Goodluck out there little man.”

Ryan scratched the back of his head, a bit embarrassed “Oh, thanks” After that he walked toward the entrance until he wasn’t seen anymore.

“I wonder how much gas you have, little man.” The clerk replied, losing a bit of her composure as a fire-like shaped tattoo appeared on her face. Which she quickly got rid of after gaining her composure again.

Where am I? Ryan thought to himself, the last things he saw were going forward towards the hallway, creeping darkness and what felt like the world twisting and morphing to where he was now.

It felt to him like the time he was cast to the well of shadows by the shadow wizards of greed mantle. Or that time he was devoured by the Earth itself. It felt restricting, weirdly claustrophobic. It made him feel uneasy, but he had to move past that just like all the other times he’s felt unease.

All he could see are symbols that slowly vanish one by one. But suddenly the lights appear. One by one starting from his side then his then the one next to him. All the lights turned on in a clockwise motion to him. The last two seemed empty, he wasn’t quite sure.

Weird. There may be light but I can’t see them clearly. Am I supposed to fight these people? Oh well, I’m sure it won't be THAT bad it's not a fight to the dea-

Just then, the orbs shattered save for the one in the middle.

Oh. Please come back on. PLEASE!

But then. The light next to his turned on and next his.

Oh thank Lorithia. Okay, I don’t think this is a battle to the death so no need to be so worked up Rya-

Just then a voice whispered into his ear. “And so begins the Trial of the Veil. Fight or Die, adventurers, but let the Elemental Championships begin!”

“DIE!?!?!?!?” Ryan loudly exclaimed in the arena.
Post #: 3
7/27/2023 21:24:30   
Dragonknight315
Member

In the early hours of the morning as dawn earnestly began to rise, Elodie was already awake and moving. The kitchen was alive– the sound of metal utensils brushing against the sizzling pan filling the room. The crackling fireplace carried with it a sweet-smelling heat. As the eggs began to settle, Elodie carefully lifted the omelette’s edges with a knife.

It was her master’s favorite. Today was an important day, and she had to get it just right.

The servant tapped the pan against the metal stand with the perfect amount of force. The front part of the omelette slid free. Immediately, Elodie ran through her mental checklist as she added the rest of the ingredients.

Salt. Pepper. Shredded cheese. Paprika–

She had forgotten to grab the paprika. Elodie bit her lip at the thought, but it was of little consequence. As the servant held onto the pan with one hand, she reached over her back with the other. Her fingers twitched, and immediately the cupboard was open. Another motion, and the jar flew from its place and landed in her open hand. The servant didn't even look at the jar as she opened the lid and carefully poured its contents. Many years ago, little Elodie would have been surprised, overjoyed even to see the red powder in her hands. But the servant was grown now, and she had come to expect nothing less of her gift. Besides, true satisfaction was yet to come. The servant folded the omelette and began to plate Lord Durando and Rebecca’s meals.

When it was done, Elodie took a towel and wiped off her sweat as she looked at her work. It was immaculate. Some part of her wanted to bask in the moment, but Elodie knew better. She had to deliver the breakfast while it was still warm and whole. And so with her usual stoicism, Elodie picked up the tray and made her way to the door. Just as she was about to leave, the servant waved her hand, and the fireplace was shut.

Elodie kept a brisk pace as her footsteps echoed through the dimly-lit halls. The first streaks of light were making their way through the plain glass windows.

Her master had supposedly inherited the mountaintop mansion from his family. Lord Durando did not talk much about his relatives, nor did they ever seem to visit. No one really visited. There were a few traders that made routine trips to the estate. Occasionally, one of her master’s colleagues would pop in– quite literally, teleporting in for a time then disappearing soon after. Often, it was just her, her master, and his other servant. She was content with that.

So when she felt a pin-prick in her mind, Elodie knew something was off. Sure enough, as Elodie turned the corner, she found a pile of glass and a broken window. A wave of cold, mountainous air brushed against Elodie and demanded her undivided attention.

An uninvited guest.

Immediately, her mind began to race with probabilities and calculations. Such a break-in would have caused quite the sound. Yet Elodie had heard nothing. She wasn’t too far from the kitchen– which meant, Elodie assumed, that the figure must have broken in while she was cooking. The intruder could have anywhere from a few minutes to almost an hour to move.

The thought made her throat swell with vitriol. This had to be addressed now.

The servant picked up her pace, bolting through the halls as she carefully balanced the tray in her grip. Elodie’s mind reached out– as she passed each room, she did not stop to check them. She already knew that they were empty.

“... There.”

It was another minute before Elodie had sensed another soul. As soon as she felt it, Elodie came to a halt. She turned to the source, and only a few feet away was an ever so slightly cracked door to one of the storage rooms.

Carefully, Elodie set the tray to the side before inching towards the door. There was a high risk that the uninvited guest could have heard her swift approach. But Elodie had to make sure...

Gently, Elodie opened the door, ever careful of making a sound. As she peered through the crack, the servant could see them. A cloaked figure dressed in what appeared to be thick winter clothes. They were rummaging through some of the crates, seemingly fixated with their search. Oblivious to Elodie’s presence.

It was unmistakable. This was her quarry.

By chance, her sight was drawn to one of the towering stacks of crates. It happened to be right next to the perpetrator, and at its top was a small box. Unlikely to be all that heavy, but just heavy enough for Elodie to make it hurt. The servant steadied herself, hand tracing her necklace as she focused on the box. On the wood, its metal fastenings, on the very individual molecules that made up the box. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she reached out and demanded that it moved.

The box tumbled over, landing right upon the figure’s head as they let out a loud groan. Before they would have another moment, Elodie kicked in the door and barreled towards her target.

If the man had any last words, they were silenced as Elodie grabbed their throat and buried the hidden blade into his flesh. The figure gave no fight, and Elodie watched as the light left his eyes. There was not a single hint of remorse on her face as the servant retracted her blade. If anything, Elodie was frustrated. She looked down to see the man’s blood stained against her sleeve. How could she have let this happen? And just who was this person?

Elodie began to investigate the body, carefully pulling away the man’s patchwork coat. One thing was immediately apparent– this man was desperate. Apart from the ragged clothes, he was gaunt, his ribs visible on his torso. The remnants of already consumed food were scattered across his clothes and on the crates. But besides that, there was nothing else of note, nothing that would identify the figure.

An ordinary burglar, she concluded. With her search done, Elodie began to drag the body out of the room. In her head Elodie counted up the time it would take to dispose of the corpse and clean up the mess. By the time she would make it to the Communion room, the food would be cold.

A perfect breakfast, ruined.

“Ah, Elodie... You’ve finally arrived.”

As the servant entered the antechamber, she was greeted by the voice of an elderly woman. It belonged to her master’s other servant, Rebecca. She thought of the woman with high respect having served the master before her own arrival. Indeed, Rebecca was something of a mother figure to the orphaned Elodie, and she would normally brighten at the sound of her voice. But today there was not a hint of joy in her form as she placed the tray on the table.

“I sincerely apologize for the wait.” The younger servant straightened her blood-stained apron. “It won’t happen again.”

<I saw everything. There’s no need to apologize.>

The two servants glanced at each other as the door to the Communion room opened. Suddenly, the candle flames that illuminated the chamber were snuffed out, casting the area into complete darkness. Yet just as suddenly, the candles reignited with the distinct white glow of magic.

“Master Durando!” As the warlock stepped out, Elodie and Rebecca held a deep bow.

<Be at ease, you two. No need for the formalities today.>

Elodie quickly straightened herself before taking a moment to help Rebecca do the same.

“Your breakfast, Master, and Miss Rebecca. I am afraid that it might not be to your satisfaction.”

The two sat down at the small table before her, yet Elodie chose to remain standing. Her eyes were fixed to the ground as Lord Durando cut a small piece of his omelette before letting out an audible sigh of relief.

<Nonsense.> The voice echoed in her mind, his pleasure evident even through the telepathy. <Even Rebecca is enjoying your work.>

When Elodie looked up, just as he said, Rebecca was already digging into her syrup-smothered pancakes.

<Thank you, Elodie. This makes me feel more human again.>

“Pardon my rudeness, master, but aren’t you becoming something... more than human? Something grander?”

As Elodie looked upon her master, it was clear that the communion process was advancing as planned. Lord Durando was dressed with little clothes save for a few garments for modesty. His hair had fallen away long ago. His skin– or what could be called skin, was tan and smooth, like flesh-colored marble. There was only a small patch before; now it had consumed almost his entire body. The master elected to ignore the comment as he continued with his breakfast.

<And your meal, Elodie?>

<Of no consequence,> she thought. But before she could even speak it, the master turned to look at her with a frown.

<That will not do.> His lips did not move, but Durando’s voice once again reached into her mind. <We have a busy day ahead of us, and you need to be in good condition as we pack our supplies.>

“Pack?...” Suddenly, the realization struck Elodie. “Are we going out today?”

<For quite some time, actually. Rebecca will be taking care of the house in our absence.>

“But– But what about the next alignment?!”

<It won’t be for a few months,> he replied. <We have the time, and the journey is a matter of great importance. Now, take a seat. You can have some of my bacon.>

“... As you wish.”


Elodie rubbed her arm as she and the master walked down the streets of Bren. The blistering desert heat was new to Elodie, and the sand would make anyone itchy. Yet, that was nothing Elodie couldn’t bear. No, what had settled in her skin was the people. In her decades of living, Elodie had never seen so many people in one place. The crowds and its noises and every single stray thought that crept into her mind– It was dizzying. Never had Elodie felt so weak in all of her life. Her first instinct was to run away, but the servant tried to hold herself together for the sake of her master. As she looked up to Lord Durando, he was far more composed. Dressed in simple robes, every inch of his skin was covered in bandages. She was still donned in her usual servant clothes. The two would have looked out of place in the desert. But for today of all days, they seemed to fit right in with the diverse crowd.

<And here we are.> Lord Durando looked down to Elodie. Even through the bandages, she could make out a smile. <Welcome to Bren, Elodie. A nexus of power, and our destination. Do you know why we are here?>

<I do not, my master.> Elodie extended her mind in kind. Her eyes turned to look at the road and the people ahead of them. Dozens upon dozens of people filled the streets. Some were hanging decorations. Others were peddling food or other goods. And some, like Elodie and her master, were simply walking.

<Aren’t you curious?>

He was teasing her. <You wouldn’t tell me.>

<Then make me.>

Elodie paused for a moment before she gathered her response.

<Pardon me, but I know better than to try and look into your mind, Master.>

<Then what about them?> He made a sweeping gesture with his cane at the crowd.

Suddenly, Elodie stopped before taking a deep breath. Her hands were now at her size, her fingers tracing the air. The servant closed her eyes and let her mind wander. She jumped from target to target, sweeping across the crowd as she scraped their thoughts from the surface.

“A holiday? A festival?...” She mumbled. “No... A compet–”

Before she could finish her thought, Elodie’s eyes went wide. Without warning, she reached for Lord Durando’s arm–

“Master!”

– And tugged him off into a nearby alley.

<... Well done, Elodie.>

The servant let out a sigh as she gathered herself. “Master, I am sorry. I sensed a threat. Likely a pickpocket and–”

As Elodie let go of her master’s arm, she could hear the hissing in the air. Part of his bandages had come undone. And exposed to pure sunlight, his skin began to crack.

“It’s fine, Elodie.”

Whatever fear the servant had, it completely faded as Elodie was taken aback by her master’s voice. It was low, calm, almost distant. Yet it carried with it an indescribable authority. Lord Durando quickly fixed his bandages before nodding towards Elodie.

<As I said, I am impressed with your ability, especially with all the commotion.> He continued, once again speaking through her mind. <There is a tournament here, and it’s not too far away. I would like to see it.>

“... Understood.” The servant nodded back, and the two resumed their walk.

As they continued, the crowds were growing thicker. Eventually, they came upon a large center with ornately dressed figures directing the masses. Elodie did not have to use her gift to know that this was the right place.

“Excuse me, madam.” Lord Durando said as he waved towards one of the orderlies. There was no way the figure could have heard him over the crowd, yet the official turned towards the warlock all the same.

“Oh, hello there!” The woman stepped towards the two. Elodie figured that she must have been around her age, perhaps younger. “Are you here for the tournament?”

“Yes,” Lord Durando replied. “My companion here, Elodie, is one of the participants.”

Immediately, Elodie turned to glance at her master. The confusion was apparent for all to see.

<Master? Participating? Was this the important–>

The orderly picked up on her expression. The woman’s face was painted with concern as she spoke–

“Yes... I have Miss Elodie written down on my roster for the Championships, yet– Were you aware of this fact, ma’am?”

“I entered her on my behalf.” Lord Durando calmly replied, much to the orderly’s dismay.

“... That won’t do. Participants must enter by their own consent. Any attempt–”

“I accept.” Elodie stated, raising her voice to catch the orderly’s attention. “If my master desires it, then I will enter this competition, whatever it is.”

“– let me finish!” the woman spat out. “You don’t even know what you are going into. This is the Elemental Championships! An all out battle to the death!”

“... For a chance of a lifetime,” Lord Durando added. “A wish– a favor from the powers themselves.”

A wish. Elodie went silent as the word echoed in her mind. The two seemed to continue on for a while before one of them pulled the servant out of her trance.

“... So, do you still want to enter?” The orderly asked.

“Yes. My mind has not changed.”

“... Then right this way.”

Lord Durando gave a wave as the two stepped away, his voice following Elodie in her mind.

<Think of this as a test, Elodie. I’ll be watching from the stands– be sure to make it entertaining. Oh, and don't get yourself killed.>

The servant let out a sigh, both physically and mentally.

<... As you wish, Master.>

As Elodie and the orderly made their way towards the competition, the orderly asked one last question.

“Hey... You can back out at any moment, you know? Not to offend, but this is a serious matter, and...”

It was apparent to Elodie that the orderly was not impressed with her attire. It was then that the tiniest smile began to creep up on the servant’s face.

“I assure you, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I am more than prepared.”

<A wish.>

The word lingered in her mind as the servant walked along the dimly lit corridor. Her master was gone. So was the orderly. Here, Elodie was alone with her thoughts as she followed the runes forward.

What would she even do with such a thing? Immediately, she thought of her master, of helping his communion with the black skies, of repaying the decades of kindness he showed to a poor orphaned girl. She thought of Rebecca and her old age; Elodie prayed that she was alright back in the mansion, the fear of another intruder still on her mind many weeks after. How Elodie wanted to spend many more years with her... And before long, the young servant knew that she too would grow old and gray before fading away. And then what?

Perhaps that would be her wish. There would be no greater honor to Elodie than to serve at her master's side forever. Such a thing would make her truly happy.

As if to answer her desires, a door swung open, revealing the path forward. Elodie stepped boldly along the wooden planks and into the pale arena. Then, illumination. Light pushed back the darkness, yet it held only so much sway. As Elodie looked around, she could make out the shapes of other figures. Other competitors.

Obstacles to her and her master’s goals.

Suddenly, a whisper touched Elodie’s ear, and she spun around to find the source. Yet there was only the empty hallway behind her–

“And so begins the Trial of the Veil. Fight or Die, adventurers, but let the Elemental Championships begin!”

It was time. As Elodie steadied herself and turned to face the center, she held a curtsy and raised her deep voice for all to hear.

“... I hope you find this enjoyable, Master.”
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 4
7/27/2023 22:39:01   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


 Soft warmth brushed against his eyelids as Sterling awoke to the dawn. Roused by reflected light bouncing off the pastel brushstrokes of clouds in the skies overhead, peaceful laziness contrasted by the constant bustle of Bren at its most festive. The young man yawned and stretched until his spine gave a staccato series of relieving pops before he carefully rose to his feet. He'd slept beneath the sky, surely so, but on a precarious perch on the roof of one Bren's very many inns. Tucked away in a corner creche made from the valley of the dormer of an attic room and a bundled up shirt, cloaked in western shadow. As beds went, the clay tile was hardly the absolute worst…rare was the night he had better than stone leveled with packed dirt.

Today was the day. And he was greeting it very nearly starkers, clad only in his underwear.

Sterling smiled and rolled his shoulders, bending this way and that to loosen back up, totally unconcerned about giving anyone at ground level a show. Someone might find the way his tail whipped around offensive, he supposed, but they'd need good eyesight to pierce the long reach of the darkness that obscured him. And to be looking up to begin with. As the thought occurred to him, Sterling used that same tail of his to snatch up his shirt before riding soft curlycues of shadow to the tune of silk brushing steel. A gentle set of spins descending the slope down to the window of the dormer. As he came to a halt he caught the soft light of an alchemical glowglobe from within, sign enough that the occupant was awake, and gently leaned over to rap lightly against the frame.

"Good morning, Sterling. You can come in." The voice was soft and gentle, and Sterling smiled as it meant his companion in Bren was already decent. So he opened the window wide and carefully climbed inside, catching sight of an equally young woman perched up high on the bed. Her chestnut curls were still slightly mussed from sleep, and he caught just a glimpse of her horn-rimmed glasses before she blushed and quickly buried her head more deeply into the book in her lap and cried out. "STERLING!" The very image of a proper young lady in society, she was adorable like that.

"Oh come on, Bella. Nothing you've not seen before. Besides, we used to bathe together, eh?" Mirth was bright in his voice as he plodded over to where he had tucked his things in their shared room the night prior.

"That was a decade ago. More even!" Sterling couldn't help but laugh at the protests; modesty was an exceptionally rare commodity growing up. It played well for anyone eavesdropping through thin walls, but they both knew how hollow the words were. Durgan did his level best, but the entire household was so many shades of Fragile that everyone helped each other out. Especially when it came to health and hygiene.

When his laughter died down, Sterling crouched by his pants and hazarded a reply. "Pfft. And? I still got scales in all the same places, Bella. Not like they get up each night and crawl around!" Meanwhile…pants. Not a problem for most folks, right? One hand to lift and hold, the other hand to button up the fly. Simple as. But even with a tail tucked through a third 'leg' to help bear the weight of the fabric, Sterling forever had the problem of only having the one. Hand, that is. It meant it was always a struggle with the buttons, even after a lifetime of practice. "Aaaanyway, good morning to you too, Bella. You can stop burrowing your nose into that book now, by the by."

"Your shirt, Sterling!" Her voice had a niggling edge of exasperation, tempered by an age of experience. "Oh for the love of Lorithia, you could've waited till you put on a shirt first!" The good humor was infectious, however, and she dissolved into her own giggling fit as she closed her book. Waiting and watching as Sterling stuck his tongue out at her and started to wriggle on his gambeson rather than his normal tunic. He was going to look ridiculous and she knew it, with the panels of yellow and blue, once Sterling donned his wig.

The gambeson did represent the Day, though, and the humor eventually bled away into a tense silence as he strapped it into place. Bella hadn't been looking forward to Today. She waited until he pinned the empty sleeve into place before she broke the silence again, voice whisper-soft out of concern. "Are you sure about this, Sterling?"

"Sure's sure."

"You don't exactly strike me as a hero, you know. I still don't see why…"

"Hero? Hah! You've been reading too many tawdry tales again, Bella dear." Sterling forced a bit of levity into his tone - they had been back and forth on this each day since she arrived - then launched into the same answer he had given every time the subject was broached. "Heroes ride on pegasi, rescue damsels who don't know any better, and loaf around with royalty. I'm just here to give all these Normies a good 'What for!' and show them what they're all missing, yeah? And unlike your stories, I wouldn't mind being set for life from the Boon. That's no Legend, that's fact."

She gave him a skeptical glare over the rim’s of her glasses. Consistency hadn't convinced her, and his delivery this morning served him no better. Her expression faded into a soft moue of frustration as she perched her glasses up in her hair. Getting them out of the way before casting the blanket off her lap and opening her arms wide. "Fine. Have it your way." She sighed, hands beckoning him in. "Give a girl a lift?"

Sterling favored her with a thankful smile as he bent over to retrieve her. His sole arm snaked around her waist as she latched around his neck with strong arms. It was hard to argue with her, harder still when he was lifting her up. Her soft warmth clung to him, the scent of her hair filled his nose. Lightly spiced, cinnamon with a hint of nutmeg. Sterling wondered if she realized how their embrace, innocent as it was, threatened his resolve more than anything else.

They lingered a heartbeat longer than usual, maybe two, before Sterling turned and carried her to her wheelchair. Careful as ever not to drag her feet along the floor nor bang her legs, limp of life, on any furniture along the way. They were both from Durgan's hold. Both a pair of Broken Dolls, cast aside by society. He'd been born this way, though Sterling knew even had he been born with all his limbs, his looks still would have made him an outcast. Bella though? An accident with a horse-drawn cart as a girl barely a handspan in age had left her paralyzed from the waist down. Durgan claimed her parents were 'incapable' of caring for her afterwards, and had rescued her to his orphanage. Probably a mix of truth and one of Durgan's gentle lies, really.

Bending at the waist, Sterling deposited Bella gently into the wheelchair and helped lift her feet onto the pedals meant to keep them safe. She held him there for a moment, lightly kissing the top of his bald head in a ritual nearly as old as they. "Thanks, Sterling." Afterwards he sat himself beside her.

They passed the next hour beside each other as Sterling began the laborious task of getting his gear on. Normally he left the straps partially done, but not Today. Today he needed every strap in its proper place, firm and tight. All while Bella filled the air with gentle gossip from back home, catching Sterling up on what events she hadn't yet mentioned over the past couple days. She stuck to the good tidings, given the Day ahead. And for his part, Sterling declined to ask about any names he hadn't heard her mention. It had been a few Winters for him, and Fragility had a way of catching up to the Dolls. Today wouldn't give them the opportunity to celebrate the lives of the lost…

Eventually, his gear was settled and strapped. The Day was calling, and Sterling rose to his feet at Bella's side. Only then donning his wig of ombréd tones. "So." He spun in place with an absolutely lazy effort of gliding How do I look?"

Expectations were one thing. But fully assembled, Bella failed to check the laughter that bubbled up from the depths of her lungs. Blue and yellow peaking from underneath silvered maille warred with the patterned pink and purple of the wig. Even Sterling's shield wasn't helping matters, its outward surface off-white with patchwork enamel. "You are…Lords and Ladies!...utterly ridiculous. Fantastically ghastly, Sterling!" She shook her head, trying desperately to quell the mirth with little success. "You'll stick out like a sore thumb, even in the shadows!"

Sterling's grin was massive as he stuck out his tongue at her playful 'insults'. "Most excellent then! It means my warfare is at work! Very psychomological and all that." He chuckled and spun round again.

"That's psychological, Sterling."

"Whatever. Works either way!" As he spun, Sterling dug into a pocket of his denim trousers, fishing out a coin purse that he gently tossed into her lap. She couldn't feel the weight of the impact, but they both heard the menacing jingle of a fairly full purse. "Anyway. Look, I'm not saying you have to come watch, but if you do~." He drawled the word lightly as he slid backwards towards the window again. "That ought to leave you plenty for spending. And don't forget to have the innkeep fetch a porter or coachman for the streets after he gets you downstairs, yeah? Bren's got too many hills for you to be wheeling yourself around."

Bella's expression grew soft and sad - he was about to pull his trademark vanishing act on her rather than…well. She would've preferred an alternative. Quite a few alternatives. "Must you, Sterling?"

He shrugged lightly, pushing the window open wide again. "'Fraid so. Going to have to hustle on up there hot quick. Something about competitor paperwork, rules and regulations, or some such. You know how it is."

She gazed at him, a hint of sorrow dulling her eyes, but not a hint of fear. Dolls didn't do Fear. "Take care of yourself. For me? Please?"

Sterling swallowed at the lump trying to form in his throat, nodding to her. "I will, Bella. Lorithia provides." Then he tucked himself into a ball, rolling off the sill and onto the roof, barely able to catch a final benediction from Bella.

"And Darkness protect."

~~

Bren's festive state of affairs turned an already choice city into a paradise for shadowgliding, though Sterling stuck to the rooftops for a while after leaving Bella behind. The air moved more freely a few stories up, and the thieves’ highway was blessedly clear of crowds this time of day. Sure, there was the occasional rooftop party that had never actually stopped, but those were easily navigated around. Much more so, compared to turning a corner in the thick foot traffic below.

It also gave him a chance to breathe, and focus on the transition from roof to roof. Strings of pennants and festive garden archways offered him the choice of grinding rails to cross gaps, but for the most part he mixed casual bunny hops with the occasional trick. Slowly the fun pushed aside the fuzzy feelings in his chest. Quelled the butterflies in his stomach. Leaving Bella behind had been more difficult than he had expected, but he hadn't really had much of a choice, had he? He needed someone from home. It was important. There were scarce few Dolls who had made it to adulthood to choose from though.

Could've sent an invite to Timothy, he supposed to himself, but he probably would've blabbed to Durgan. Brother that he is to me, we would've been like oil and water by now to boot. Nah. Molly? She'd've blabbed too. I doubt Cassandra would have made it, some idiot would mistake her condition for vampirism along the way. Marcus? Worse off than Timothy when I left, and also confined to a wheelchair now. And the rest lack the hands to check my straps properly. Had to be Bella. Always had to be Bella. It had always been about Bella, really.

With his mind growing increasingly distracted by thoughts, Sterling shifted off of the rooftops. Descending down a series of gutters, downspouts, and signposts to safely land on cobblestone streets. The crowds weren't too bad, and he could settle into a mindless bounce to devour the distance from here to the arena.

He had refused to be honest with her, because she would've pitched an absolute fit. But being a self-made man thanks to the Boon? Not really the plan at all. Well, maybe he hadn't completely lied, either - getting the better of some Normies was always a plus in his mind. The vast majority of 'whole' folk just took what they had for granted, really. They didn't appreciate what they could do, and their lives were lesser for it. Life wasn't all roses and peaches in the 'House of Broken Dolls', sure, but he'd bet they were all happier on the whole. Durgan sure tried his best as caretaker and father figure, and the bonds between the Dolls ran deep. Which was why he needed another Doll around.

Which brought him back to Bella. And how warm her arms felt wrapped around his neck.. Oh bother…

~~

After nearly having one last crisis of conscience about the whole affair yet again, Sterling finally managed to arrive at the Arena Complex. Where he had been ever so helpfully guided to a hallway descending into Twilight Arena and informed that he would arrive when he was needed. Coldly cryptic, and the dimly lit liminal space gave him no aid to burn away anxiety. Too thin to mix things up and engage in a bit of wall-riding. Too confined, with enough bends he couldn't even really pick up much speed. Just him, his thoughts, and the slow repetition of tikka-scree as he shadowglided over a paneled wooden floor. The hallway just kept going and going, and it amazed him that he hadn't seen a single door nor managed to cross back onto his path with all the turns.

How was he supposed to arrive when he was needed, in any case? That hadn't made any sense to him in the heat of the moment, and made even less the longer he kept gliding through the hallway. What even was the point of a hallway this long!? He probably could've crossed the entire Arena Complex by now. About the only benefit it had was helping him cast aside the outside world for a bit…and that by pure frustration!

He turned yet another corner, finally greeted by a door covered in a massive sigil. Sterling came to a stop and stopped, leather soles touching ground intentionally for the first time since he had hit the streets proper. An hour ago? Longer? This hallway was the worst for keeping a mental clock. The sigil was fascinating though, sun and moon embracing each other in a motif that positively reeked of magic's trappings - metaphorically, that is, as the hallway remained a lightly scented pine from the flooring and nothing more. Fascinating and concerning, because magic was not something Sterling enjoyed dealing with in his day to day affairs. All too often it was being cast at him for fumbling a pickpocket in his early days of "wealth reallocation" work.


Good times, those. Sterling snorted softly in amusement, before reaching out with a cautious tailtip to prod the sigil. Only for sigil and the door beyond it to disappear into a welcoming darkness beyond. He had arrived, he just didn't know it quite yet.

Light briefly pulsed, an arcane affair which spotlit more wooden paneling beyond. Painted, at a guess, in some grand checkered pattern. Then back to a darkness that was wonderful and comforting…and all too brief as floating orbs of pure brightness snapped into existence one by one along the perimeter. The logic dawned on him slowly as he stepped in and a light popped to life above his head - one at each such entrance. And a final in the center. Bright, bright, far too much light.

Then Twilight teased him further. All of the entranceway orbs burst with alchemical flares, though he felt not even a whisper of wind from any shockwave. Cascading cloaking Darkness around the central circle. He almost whooped for joy before they began to reform, visual malice to accompany words that dripped with fell gravity.

“And so begins the Trial of the Veil. Fight or Die, adventurers, but let the Elemental Championships begin!”

It didn't take much to test the shadows beneath his feet, even as the words echoed in his skull about the Trial he found himself in. With so many sources, all hanging so low? The shafts of light ate away in a piranha frenzy, even with the smallest gap between foot and floor. Leaving him with neither grip nor traction, a glassy feel that would have a glide stutter and drop leather to wood. A combination destined to crash.

There was some science to it all, Durgan used to prattle on and on about...angels? Sinews? Slopes and hyper tengus. Sterling wasn't stupid, but none of that geometer nonsense really stuck in his brain. He did understand slopes really well though, and all the disparate lights were carving right into the shadow beneath his soles. Didn't really matter how many dj's of angels there were, the reality was clear: Too. Much. Light. He needed to figure out how to turn them back off, fast, or he'd have to engage on foot.

"Well...bollocks."
AQ  Post #: 5
7/27/2023 23:33:36   
deathlord45
Member

“Ed… Ward. Now you try!”

“HONK!”[“Edward”]

The small human boy stood smiling up at the avian head of the massive mismatch of creatures that rested before him. A creature that most adults would have a large berth from just from the inherent danger the creature of dubious origin presented. Bjhonkcioucles could see all the frightened stares pointedly coming from the sides of people’s visions, the beast paid them no mind as it understood the parts that made it up were creatures that elicited a primal free in most humanoid species.

While them not running in terror is commendable, they could at least be more discreet about their cowardly glances,

“No. No. Not ‘honk’ Edward.”

This one unnerves me the most given he feels no fear in my presence, even the other goslings are afraid. Why is this one not?

Before the great could respond to the human gosling a bell chimed through air calling all to come to its mournful song. Knights, soldiers, magicians, saints, crooks, criminals, constructs, and other beings of great mortal might rose as one, to begin making their way through the streets of Bren the time they were waiting for had come.

Bjhonkcioucles, noted many many performers on every street it passed some recounting tales of victories past, others the brutal ends of many a soul.

A glorious city of death. Victory and death in the spotlight, while surviving or thriving though not victorious left to fade into obscurity.

The massive beast felt great scorn towards the bloody sacrifice it had found itself entangled in, as it neared the arena. Glory and power or a violent sacrifice of the self to the gods, though no matter how distasteful the creature found the practice it couldn’t die it was the only hope for some to change their fates.

“Aaaaah!”

A loud thud rang out like a thunderclap in the solemn part of the lobby dedicated to those pitious few who came seeking glory, as one of the receptionists had toppled over taking the chair down with them.

“Hohohohohohohhooooooooonk!”[“Pfffffftahahahahahahhahahahha”]

“I am truly sorry sir or madam for showing such a shameful display of my ineptitude. Please, right this way, the Arena will lead you to your venue.”

At first it was suffocatingly dark and then blindingly bright, as great lanterns illuminated the void of artificial night. A field of light and darkness was to be the first testing ground for Bjhonkcioucles and the others called to this place.

“And so begins the Trial of the Veil. Fight or Die, adventurers, but let the Elemental Championships begin!”

Planting its feet wide, the chimera took a deep breath in as a response to the commencement call.

“HOOOONK!”[“Glory to us all!”]
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 6
7/30/2023 21:58:24   
ChaosRipjaw
How We Roll Winner
Jun15


 She wields a sword, a saber, fierce and strong,
A weapon forged in battles, where she belonged,
But 'tis not her essence, nor her true might,
For within her, something still burns, an eternal light.


Fight or die.

At least one of them here didn’t like those odds, Chiyi thought wryly as the sinisterly armored young man expressed his disbelief. All in all, it was not unexpected. Chiyi wasn’t entirely sure about the specifics about how the Championships worked, but a deathmatch in a gladiatorial arena didn’t seem all that far-fetched.

The orbs abruptly came back on again, flooding the arena with light. Chiyi blinked, adjusting to the sudden change in brightness. The terrifying screech of a — Chiyi did a double take — a goose? pierced the air, coming from a creature so horrible her eyes fairly skipped over it. Fortunately it was on the other side of the arena, more than a hundred feet away. The young man next to it would likely be having company very, very quickly.

Instead, Chiyi turned her attention to the two immediately to her sides. She noticed to her left it was significantly darker. Two of the overhead globes there had not reignited themselves, she saw. As for the individual standing nearby—

Chiyi wasn’t sure what caught her attention first, the scales or the tail. Iridescent scales glistened and a whiplike tail lashed about, calling to mind the sort of creature parents would describe to scare children. Curiously, its left arm (if it had a left arm) was hidden under some sort of shield strapped over its left shoulder. Long, gaudy hair covered its head, hues of purple and pink she suspected was not natural.

What in nature gave birth to such a creature?

Now, while she was expecting a fight to the death, what happened next she did not expect.

“Ayy, Auntie!” the tailed creature said suddenly. Just as suddenly, Chiyi found he (he did sound male) stopped seeming so alien. Friendly, even?

“You and I got something in common, so how's about doin’ me a favor?” he continued. “If you put out some lights, I'll give you a hand in showing little miss serving girl over there—” he pointed past Chiyi’s shoulder “—what it's like to act with some agency!”

The burst of words briefly disoriented her, but the past few hours had given a respectable amount of practice. Still …

Perplexed, Chiyi looked over her shoulder to her right. Indeed, there was a “serving girl” there, dressed in the odd frilly outfits Western nobles had their servants wear.

“Her?” Chiyi asked, half-turning back to the tailed creature.

Instead of an answer, he leaped, throwing an uppercut. Instantly his side of the arena was plunged into darkness as the globe above his entrance shattered and extinguished.

So, he was creating darkness deliberately. Not a bad tactical move, Chiyi thought, making the connection with the tailed creature's earlier request to “put out some lights.” It hadn’t crossed her mind before but it seemed the lights going out earlier had been a sign that they could be broken. Not a bad idea. In battles, exploiting darkness could offer numerous advantages.

However, a sense of foreboding crept into her. Darkness and his long, lithe and sinuous form … like …

Like a Locust assassin.

Of course this fellow looked nothing like one, but she couldn’t help but imagine the Locusts cloaked in black, flitting to and fro in the shadows faster than the eye could track.

She also recalled one of the symbols on the elemental chart back in Bren, specifically that of a black circle of yawning darkness …

This creature may have seemed friendly, but he surely had another reason for the darkness, Chiyi thought, her guard rising. She would have to be cautious.

On the other hand, the other person, the serving girl …

Chiyi's mind raced. The girl appeared harmless, clad in her frilly outfit, but appearances could be deceiving. What could she bring to the table in this killing floor? The girl didn’t look like she would stand a chance if she had to take both the tailed creature and Chiyi on …

So why did Tails extend an offer to you instead of Maid?

Chiyi had to make a decision, and quickly. She knew she couldn't take on both opponents at once; that would be a fatal mistake.

Choose wisely.

Taking a deep breath, Chiyi made her choice.

She chewed off the last of the wrathberry’s flesh, leaving a seed rolling about on her tongue. Chiyi backed away and looked at the globe above her own entrance.

She spat. The stone-like seed flew straight and true, aimed right at the orb of light. It exploded and the darkness swelled, plunging a solid half of the arena into the black.

Continuing to back away toward the main central light, she popped a fresh wrathberry into her mouth. The fresh spicy juices burned reassuringly.

And now, a triangle of light and darkness.

Chiyi discreetly raised her arm, extending three fingers.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 7
7/31/2023 1:02:56   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


 Sterling crouched onto his heels as the Trial's warning echoed its way into nonexistence, frustrated at the state of the arena in that moment. His crippling disappointment at the flooding of light notwithstanding, it could serve a noble purpose: it gave him a chance to look over the opposition on the field. Absolutely brightly lit, with none of the concealment that dark alleyways or the shifting shadows of crowded streets tended to have. A boon and a blessing for spotting a good mark. He wasn't out to cut purses from his competition, but the training had some overlap when looking for hidden pockets that might hold nasty surprises.

The closest movement was to his right, drawing his attention with a tilt of his head and twist of his neck. A white-haired lady in a fancifully distressed outfit. She gave off the air of putting up with absolutely no bull, which was reinforced in his mind by the ludicrously huge blade carried at her back. Especially for someone else lacking an arm. Really? Neat. She's no proper Doll, not with that demeanor, but maybe… He wasn't opposed to the thought of extending an honorary status as courtesy, and his experiences with thievery made teamwork an attractive concept. Willing or otherwise.

Sterling filed that thought away with a lashing of his tail, his gaze sliding past the white-haired battle mistress towards one of the more vocal set. Confidently unarmored was one thing — he respected that from his fellow one-armed competitor even if he had avoided that risk like the plague it could be - but unless his eyes were deceiving him…that was a maid. A bona fide maid. A civil servant of the rich, powerful, or someone who was more likely just both. His mind raced, trying to recall what she had said; but he came up empty, as he had been distracted with the lights. He ought to smack himself for carelessness, and it showed he needed to focus.

Focus! Some form of maidservant, possibly not even here of her own volition. Servants were notorious for hidden pockets, and a quick glance over hardly defeated that notion. She had to have some form of surprise to be here, Sterling would just bank on multiple.

And then the lights to his left went out.

Sterling's eyes went wide for a moment as he tilted his head in the other direction to the sound of shattering orbs. Lights snuffed by shadow. Not just one, nor two, but three slots had been put out by unseen forces in total simultaneity. Each above a position where he…honestly hadn't seen a soul. It made him look upwards for a moment, lids narrowed against the brightness above him. Can it really be that easy?

It was worth testing, in a moment. Just as it would be worth avoiding the ever-loving Heck out of the chimera to the maid's right. That thing was proper massive, ten tons of beastly hides mixing in on each other in a quadrupedal behemoth. Hyperbole? Sterling was not about to test the theory and find out; aside from its goose-like head, he had significant doubts that anything he could do to the beast would leave more than a mark. Probably just make it angry at best; which would be worse. It left him with a bad feeling deep in his stomach, further aggravated by being a bit too light-blind from the central lantern's shine to get a good look at the foe purely opposite him in his current position. Hopefully that one's shout had been…not a threat?

Better to stack the deck, regardless.

Sterling took a deep breath, putting on his least-threatening grin given his mess of a mouth, and used a pair of fingers to let loose a shrill whistle over towards his nearest opposition. "'Ayy, Auntie! You and I got something in common, so how's about doin' me a favor? If you put out some lights, I'll give you a hand in showing little miss serving girl over there what it's like to act with some agency!" As he extended his offer, Sterling gestured with his thumb over towards the maid, making it clear who he meant.

Not that he waited for a response. If he was going to stack the deck, Sterling had to take every advantage available. His thighs bunched tight as he launched himself skywards, rising up into an uppercut towards the orb above him. The mix of brightness and anticipation had him screw his eyes shut, but he felt his knuckles connect with the outer shell of the orb. A flare of pain shot up his arm as the thick shell flexed and resisted for microseconds — an eternity of thought that screamed 'Mistake!' into his mind — then shattered into nothingness. No debris, no shards of glass or other alchemic material.

Just. Lights. Out.

He opened his eyes in relief, reaching out as naturally as breathing to the pool of pure pitch that stretched for several feet from the wall. Landed not with the soft thuds of leather against wood, but an even softer pair of 'Tcht's as Sterling embraced the darkness with Shadowgliding, lazily spinning himself in a full circle to witness his work. All the while shaking the throbbing sting of lingering pain from his hand. Half the perimeter lights being snuffed gave him room to maneuver, to build speed safely without care for angular assaults of lantern light.

Sterling grinned broadly, his expression lent a feral air by his broken dentistry, even if he was totally obscured in Shadow for the moment.

While he had missed the clarifier question in the act of shattering his sphere, he was able to catch the Honorary Doll abide by the bargain. Sterling bit back on a chuckle, because it looked curiously like she had simply spat at the orb and out it went. He hadn't expected her to actually adhere to his request, but oh how lovely the deck was becoming indeed. She earned his respect and, as far as he could give it, his trust for now. His amusement only grew as the surprisingly deep and eloquent tones of the serving girl shouted on over. "Have you no manners?" Sterling had to bite back all the harder at that. He had asked, hadn't he? The maid was simply miffed that the question had not been offered to her.

Too bad, so sad. Sterling didn't have any actual pity for her, that was just the luck of the draw. Like being born without an arm, but the servant's bad break wasn't Sterling's problem. It was a problem caused by Sterling, which still threatened a snicker. He needed to build some speed, though, to deliver on his deal…so he let his skating answer for him as he stuck to the deepest shadows. The soft 'Ksssht, ksssht,' of his soles crossing one over the other impossibly smug as he kept against the wall, making his way towards the entrance belonging to his new 'partner' under cover of Darkness.
AQ  Post #: 8
7/31/2023 7:53:51   
JhyShy
Member
 

 Ryan was sweating bullets. His red eyes were contracted to an extreme extent, he didn't know what to do. Ryan didn't know what to feel, on the one hand did the Wind lord truly want him to die or prove his worth and on the other did the gods he considered as friends really did let this be? He didn't know, he was shaking. The light to his side never lit up it seems, he could run that way and hide until it's safe to strike!

No I can't do that, I always sucked at impromptu sneak attacks. Maybe I can run around the battlefield, and keep dodging attacks...No, no I can't do that. I was always bad at dodging and what I'm with and what I'm wearing right now? I'm in an even shorter timer to give myself and advantageous position before I have to start making even more sacrifices, did they hear me when I screamed, I hope not but if they did then, oh Lorithia. What do I do... WHAT DO I DO

He was panicking. He's never been in this kind of situation before, in an arena with beings he's never met, beings who's powers he doesn't know in a region that could potentially have a different way of handling magical techniques.

Stay calm Ryan, stay calm. Keep panicking and you'll end up worse than you are know. This freaking armor will make it worse. We could use our buddy Angra Linorm as a shield, no, we'll lose a constant stream of power. Focus Ryan.

Ryan was stuck in place for a moment until-

SHATTER

Did- Did I just hear a shatter? Wasn't there light over at that side? Wait if there's light on me, and no light on the others. Does that mean each light has one person on them? Jeez I should have paid attention which portion this place had light. Too late now, but if what I heard was right then... I'm sure none of us here can fight in complete and total darkness! There is no way my luck can be that bad! Literally no way!

Ryan shattered the light in front of him with his draconic left hand and grabbed Angra Linorm as fast as possible and sprinted to the light at the center.

If what I'm thinking is right, then the one in the middle should break too. Ah but what if that one is much more durable? I should probably use my feet for this one. When I swung on that orb in front of me it didn't even move an inch, it didn't matter how hard I swung it should have moved no matter what! I could dropkick this and if it doesn't even move I'll just use it to propel myself to the one next to me!

Ryan dropkicked the large orb in the middle, making sure to bend his legs to make sure his theory was right. He then leapt from the orb towards the light closest to his front and jumped towards that direction. Once reaching the middle point of him and the orb he dropped Angra Linorm to the ground knowing it will catch up in a bit and summoned the sword the Wind Lord gave him.

Guess there goes that plan. Guess it's time to make use of this sword the Wind Lord gave me!

I never saw the ones I'm with properly, that's my fault. But I got to survive here, and I've never truly survived when I didn't fight back.

Ryan leapt towards his opponent turning counter-clock wise as he did. On his right hand, the Wind Lord's Laughter while his left was reaching for the ground. And as he started raising his left to perform Rising Wrath.

"HEY THERE NICE TO MEET YOU, NO HARD FEELINGS-"

Then it was as if time slowed to a crawl. Ryan never got a full good look at who was his side as he fixated on what to do. But now, he finally saw it. It was huge, he's never seen anything like it before. In his eyes it was just a thing on top of a thing alongside another thing. He's never seen this combination before in all the times he's been adventuring and therefore he could only muster one thought in his dumbfoundedness.

Is that a duck?
Post #: 9
7/31/2023 20:58:56   
Dragonknight315
Member

<Time to get to work.>

As Elodie straightened herself, the servant looked around at her so-called competition. To her right, one figure was already screaming in terror which was a good sign. Some kind of adventurer, Elodie assumed. Clad in fur for armor, they at least looked the part, though the green hair was not doing them any favors.

<You’re in here with us now; there’s no time for regrets.>

Content with her assessment, she turned her attention to a much more concerning topic– A harsh shriek immediately to her right. Some kind of animal cry, yet Elodie could not place her finger on what exactly. And looking at the thing made her only more confused. An amalgamation of beasts fused together into one entity. It had a white-feathered head and a large orange mouth that lowered into a smooth gray torso and reptilian scales. It was similar to something Elodie had seen in her master’s tomes, yet creatures of the Black Skies were far more alien in appearance.

To the servant’s left was a far more pleasant sight if not a welcoming one. An older woman dressed in Eastern garb. Red cloak. Tied-up white hair. Notably, she was missing an arm– and an oversized sword was strapped on her back to compensate.

<Surely there is a story behind that...>

In one glimpse, the woman had earned Elodie’s respect. Only a fool would ignore such visible signs of experience. To have survived with only one arm...

Finally, to her far left was the servant’s last competitor. Another messy abomination– some kind of rodent with irregular scales... and what appeared to be a candy-colored wig? Elodie took everything back about the first figure. The would-be adventurer’s green hair could be visible a mile away. But this one? Their “hair” was so loud she could see it through walls.

<... Is this a circus?

For what the rodent was worth, at least it was able to talk unlike the other beast. It seemed to call out to Elodie and the swordsman with a whistle.

"'Ayy, Auntie! You and I got something in common, so how's about doin' me a favor? If you put out some lights, I'll give you a hand in showing little miss serving girl over there what it's like to act with some agency!"

“Her?” The elderly woman responded.

Elodie’s eyes darted back and forth between the two. Before any promises were made, the rodent rose into the air, slamming their fist into the light. And then he was gone, swallowed by the dark.

The servant turned towards the other woman, and their eyes met– Elodie could see the look of hesitation on her face. Ultimately, the woman turned towards the light above her. The sound of a loud, distinctive spit preceded the shattering glass. She had made her choice, joining her newfound ally in the dark.

"... Have you no manners?"

The servant tutted and shook her head as she reached underneath her cloak. It was insulting. It was like Elodie was back at the orphanage. Surrounded by fickle children and animals, and all of them ganging up on her. But it was of no consequence, the servant told herself. As the servant pulled out her hand, a dagger rested in her palm. With darkness to her left and light to her right, Elodie called out to both of them.

“Making friends? Forgive me, but... Shouldn’t we be killing each other?”

Elodie twirled the blade in her hand. She didn’t even look up as the servant tossed the dagger straight into the air with a confidant smile. The glass was shattered, and the light died. Now, she would show them just what “agency” the servant had.

Without any hesitation, the servant sprinted, tracing the wall with her left hand. She did not need the light to find her way. Her footsteps grew louder as the servant gathered speed, joining in harmony with her foes. They too were on the hunt.

Finally, with enough speed, Elodie turned and leapt straight up towards the wall. One foot touched the solid mass of wood, and the servant felt the force move through her being. From the wood, through her leg, into her chest, then back into the wall– She felt the chain of causality that connected them. In that instant, it was as if they were one entity. She felt the tug of gravity, the universe imposing itself upon her. Her foot began to slide. But before it could claim her, the servant slammed her other foot against the wall, and her inertia changed.

The world seemed to turn at an angle as the Psionicist shifted her balance before continuing her sprint diagonally up the structure. Her clothes, her hair, they were being pulled towards her feet towards the wall– It was as if gravity had always worked this way. This was Elode’s gift. In her mind, the universe and its rules held no sway. Not so long as she had her way. She hoped that the crowd could see the display in the dark.

With her hands now free, the servant rushed to pull a pair of daggers from her hips and tilted her sight towards the spotlight. One figure had dared to step into the open, illuminated center– the one-armed woman.

<You’re mine.>

At the apex of the arena, Elodie gritted her teeth as felt her mind straining. Her breath grew heavy as reality tried to right itself. Instead of fighting causality, Elodie pushed off the wall and let gravity reclaimed her. It was like whiplash. She felt her body buckle as her momentum was redirected, launching Elodie through the air towards her adversary with a flying kick. The daggers left her hands and flew ahead of the servant, their sharp edges racing to meet her quarry first.

<Hold nothing back.>
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 10
8/1/2023 2:20:27   
deathlord45
Member

Searchlights were the first thing that came to mind when Bjhonkcioucles fully started to watch its surroundings, especially the lights above that seemed to be purposefully illuminating the contestants. Islands of light in a vast shroud of shadow informing everyone inside and out of the contestants movements, or would be the case if not for the radiant sphere in the middle of the arena emitting its blinding glow to all corners.

Movement on both sides of the chimera pulled at its attention and brain power to judge if either one was an immediate threat to their life. The left eye saw that those on to the left of the chimera were either moving away from or were being engaged in an area away from the amalgamated creature. Meanwhile Bjhonkcioucles’s right eye noted movement in pseudo parallel to the chimera’s position.

Humanoid, moderately tall, some form of hide or scale armor, lightly armed. Not optimal conditions but it’ll have to do for now. While I’m dealing with this one the other three will likely tire themselves out a bit making this a lot easier.

As quickly as their bulky frame would allow, Bjhonkcioucles repositioned themself angling towards the lone warrior now in front of them. Muscles tightened, readying to spring forth and trample the would-be contender unaware of how foolish their mistake had been.

Hoooo, I stand corrected they won’t die unaware.

The scale clade humanoid had spun around to face the threat they had naively left their back turned towards. Bjhonkcioucles couldn’t help but smile on the inside at the foolhardy bravery displayed by the one in front of it.

The patchwork beast gasped at the wide but shallow pool of power that dwelt within it, recalling the the mages that created it called it mana the fuel for magic. Mentally holding tight to that pool of power, the chimera readied it for use should the humanoid in front of it attempt any sudden tricks.

“HONK” [“You shall have the honor of knowing the face of that which shall bring you ruin.”]
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 11
8/3/2023 21:01:03   
ChaosRipjaw
How We Roll Winner
Jun15


 Amidst the revelry, shadows creep,
A presence lingers, secrets keep,
A tale untold, a silent plea,
A heart in search, yearning to be free.


Chiyi’s skin crawled despite the wrathberry’s soothing, searing flavor. Having her back to the light would put her at a major disadvantage. What was the saying? Enemies in the dark, while you are in the light …

In the next moment, however, any doubts she had were quickly assuaged. A faint Ksssht, ksssht echoed from the shadows to her right. She squinted, trying to adjust her eyes. She could see movement — albeit movement far too swift compared to the little she had observed earlier.

Twenty years ago she would have called herself irrational, but her instincts were confirmed: the tailed creature definitely needed this darkness for a reason. Of course, there was always the possibility he could move that fast even in the light. But if that was the case, why would he bother shutting the lights off first?

“Making friends?” a second voice said. “Forgive me, but … shouldn’t we be killing each other?”

Chiyi’s red-eyed gaze snapped back to the maid in frills, just as she tossed a dagger at the globe floating above her own entrance. Quite suddenly, the triangle that was two-thirds bright became two-thirds dark.

And thus the sun begins to set …

Curses! Chiyi swore. The curtain of shadows dropped over the frilly maid as well. She had broken her own globe! Chiyi’s pupils strained to adjust yet again.

No matter how experienced a woman was, how many times she came face to face with danger and threat of death, she always found her pulse and breath quickening.

Instinct kicked in. An attack was definitely coming.

Sanzhi!

Chiyi swiped with her three fingers and the air promptly exploded. Three gashes ignited, crossing into each other in the center, in a shape akin to the tines of two pitchforks attached base to base. The force of the ignition forced her back a few steps, and she let the momentum carry her. The fiery shield of the Three Fingers didn’t exactly light up the gloom, but it did throw an eerie glow over it all—

Just in time, as her red eyes found two blades flying straight at her. Flying straight through the lines of fire.

A long time ago, Chiyi’s only experience with combat had been the occasional adventure novel that the local peddler would have on hand. It was said that in moments of distress, time would slow down for the viewer as death approached.

That was a long time ago, and now Chiyi could confidently say such writers knew absolutely nothing about what it was like to be in a real battle.

Instinct.

Chiyi spit.

The wrathberry seed flew to meet the first dagger. It slammed into the tip with a sound like flint on steel, and the dagger went spinning away into the dark.

Chiyi had not stopped moving though. She twisted her body and the second dagger zipped by her chest. Just as it passed, she reached up and snatched it out of the air by the handle.

“Ow!” she cried as she rapidly dropped it. The blade was searing hot from the flames!

A flap of cloth as the maid sailed over the wall of fire, kick aimed straight for Chiyi’s chest. Chiyi twisted aside, reaching up for her sword as the kick narrowly missed her shoulder, instead going right under her armpit. To her merit, the maid was not fazed by the miss at all, instead dropping to the floor and rolling forward—

Too late, Chiyi realized. The maid’s momentum was too much, and Chiyi couldn’t back away fast enough. She would never be able to get a clean slash in this range. The maid was also definitely armed with knives, and if Chiyi knew anything, those small daggers were definitely not the end of her hidden weapons. And Chiyi’s fingers were still burning from Sanzhi—

So instead, Chiyi did the unexpected; she stepped closer to the maid, right inside the latter’s guard. Quite suddenly, the two women found themselves face to face — or rather, nose to nose. Chiyi drew a sharp breath as she took in the maid’s finer features: deathly pale skin, shoulder-length gray hair neatly combed straight, held back with a black hairband. Chiyi also caught a whiff of something she couldn’t quite place.

The maid stared back expressionlessly with eyes like stained glass.

“Watch where you’re going!” she said.

“Haha Auntie! Married life slowing you down?”

“Why you little—”

She reached up—

—and grabbed the maid’s ear, delivering a painful twist.

Tiger Mother Ear Pinch of Death!

The maid’s expression abruptly changed. Embarrassment? Fury? For Chiyi, she was mortified while also about to break into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. In the midst of life and death combat, and of all the things she could go for, she went for an ear pinch! The hilarity of the moment was sobered somewhat when the maid bared her teeth in rage, revealing a mouth filled with wolf-like teeth.

However, the maid’s eyes suddenly shifted as she turned slightly. Chiyi noticed it as well; a whooshing sound accompanied with a blur in the gloom behind them.

At that moment, the maid suddenly reacted violently, slamming an elbow into Chiyi’s left side, knocking the wind out of her. Chiyi released the maid’s ear and staggered back, about to deliver a shoulder check, but the maid twisted aside and rolled to Chiyi’s right under her reach. The reason became clear a beat later, as Chiyi saw the tailed creature fairly gliding across the wood floor, swiping at the maid’s legs with what looked like an axe. The blow missed the maid by a hair and the tailed creature slipped back into the darkness.

Chiyi whirled away from the maid, putting some distance between them.

Chiyi pulled out another wrathberry and popped it in her mouth. The adrenaline of the moment was fading, and now she could register the throb in her side and in her palm. As funny as that altercation might have been, it had shaken her. This was not the time to be distracted. Any more and she might be losing more than just the one arm from all those years ago.

As the wrathberry's fiery juices coated her tongue, Chiyi couldn't help but feel a surge of energy coursing through her veins. The spicy sensation that was once comforting now seemed to fuel a growing fire within her. It was as if every bite stoked the embers of her emotions, igniting a newfound intensity.

“Enough games, kid!”

Chiyi reached up and grasped the hilt of her sword.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 12
8/4/2023 0:11:05   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


 Typical housestaff were quiet things - it wasn't uncommon for adolescent Dolls of demure persuasion to wind up working the lifestyle - but this maid? Anything but silent. “Making friends?” Such a silly question, followed by the more entertaining still: “Forgive me, but … shouldn’t we be killing each other?” Sterling's amusement waned slightly at the gravity of the comment, if only just. There was no strict rule that everything had to be a killing blow, and his personal tactics ranged at most towards crippling rather than outright fatal injuries. Time enough to administer some form of assistance…or just let someone with less reservations do the messier business of the final dispatch.

Or, time enough to turn off a light. The combat maid had surprises aplenty up her fine dress, as Sterling watched her throw a tiny dagger up to shatter the orb above her. His grin grew wider at the foolishness of the act — his competition was giving him such luxurious gifts. Already the arena at large had flipped a personal detriment nearly to a playground of near-mindless ease for shadowgliding within…and a brief glance confirmed there was only one perimeter light left! 'They don't realize…yet.'

Laughter bubbled in his thoughts as the world exploded into motion. He was far from the only one who abused a bit of concealment in the deepest shadows. The maid kept herself hidden long enough to launch twin pricks of gleaming steel at his current partner-in-crime, following the thrown blades with a prodigious leap of frilly fury. Bounding from up high, closing the vast distance in a singular motion to attempt a flying kick. Her movement was swifter than he had anticipated, but that was part of the fun he could have in these conditions. To face surprises as much as introduce surprises of his own.

Her alacrity to test the tenuous 'trust fall' of the handi-capable duo forced his hand, much as it dictated his partner's response. Sterling was compelled to adjust his route with immediacy. He leaned hard to his left, leaving the concealing darkness of total shadow as he curved his forward progress. Shade and darkness curled his route through paracausal friction — accelerating him further even as the brightness of brief flame punctured the gradients ahead. He missed what his Eastern ally had done, at least with specific detail, but that alone revealed an important tidbit to file away in his mind. His ersatz ally was beholden to Fire and could avoid throwing knives with some amount of aplomb.

'Good to know.' It was, perhaps, the last calm and collected observation Sterling would have as he unhooked the tomahawk from his belt. Poured on the speed to catch the pair as they began their martial tryst. Their corps-a-corps dance made it difficult to spot precise details of the exchange…but Sterling could swear there was a brief moment where his ally channeled her inner grandmother by twisting the maid's ear. 'Sweet move!' He hardly had time to process much more than how the maid was manipulated to his dance partner's right side. The price of his own speed: a thousand and one thoughts for his brain to process and discard while his subconscious spun wheels to shadowglide.

Sterling bent his legs as he straightened his path, crouching low and counter-balancing with his whipsaw tail stretched behind him. Twisting his lower back to keep his shield presented to the pair as much as possible those last few long yards. His arm cocked back, tomahawk brandished for maximum potential damage. The yards separating him from the maneuvered maid became feet, became inches; became the swing of a deep downward chop that split the air with the brushing whisper of steel. A nigh-silent promise of swift savagery descending to part flesh from hip and thigh…

…Only to become a wild over-rotation that had Sterling skidding into a spin as the edge parted nothing but air when the serving girl demonstrated supreme skill by rolling to their collective right. Or some sixth sense, which could be far worse. In either case, placing herself behind his ally and also neatly out of reach of his short weapon, left him the problem of physics. Speed bled away as the shaded gradient beneath him edged ever closer to unadulterated light, traction grew less streamlined and more slipshod with each passing microsecond. A disaster for someone who hadn't grown alongside the skill.

It wasn't the speed of thought that corrected Sterling's predicament, it was ingrained physical reflex. Thoughtless response pushed his knees to straighten his legs, pulled in his extended arm and tail to move with the momentum. Shuddering soles smoothing into a flattened 540° spin that might look a marvel to a fledgling ice skater, but he felt the shakiness keenly. Heard it in the klicks and pops that punctuated the softer hiss of gliding momentum. All hinted at the ragged edge between spin to slip that could have sent him spilling to the ground in unseemly fashion.

The act cost him speed, but had one keen benefit that did not escape his conscious mind: It left him presenting his shield to the pair as he gained a bit of distance. He would need to be more careful with his next assault, but the position left him at odds. Sterling could circle back around, returning to the shadows and finding a new opportunity…or he could fit the tomahawk in his hands to different task. Gliding backwards did little to help him accelerate, but he was equally adept at curling his route around. And with a look over his shoulder, Sterling noticed that there was only one last perimeter light in play.

A smarter man might have held fast to the tomahawk. A greedier man might have attempted to weave around the massive chimera and its monstrous playmate to deliver the blow directly. Sterling was neither of these, but he was one to capitalize on and feast upon the opportunity presented to him — he whipped his tomahawk wide in a long, arcing toss towards that last remaining orb that nearly scraped the low ceiling. Letting it tumble end over end as he angled himself towards the maid's original entranceway.

His path and his smile both expanded into far more crooked curves as the last light along the arena's edge was cast out with a satisfying shatter. This arena should have been a bane upon his skills…and instead now provided him all the opportunity to become the shark in the depths. Leaving him with a single triumphant thought surging above the rest, 'Time to make the best of it.'
AQ  Post #: 13
8/4/2023 5:08:13   
JhyShy
Member
 

 Is that a duck?

As soon as that thought hit, so did he hit the ground. His momentum being halted by the behemoth in front of him and his hand never continuing it's proper motion and missing his target and only scratching it's leg. As soon as Ryan realized he was face to face with beast he quickly grabbed Angra Linorm by his side and dashed away to keep some measure of distance.

"MAN YOU ARE ONE UGLY DUCKLING" Ryan was the first thing he had to shout in front the whole arena, shocked at the sight of the beast.

Confusion, Fear and weirdly, Interest grew inside Ryan. What was this thing he thought to himself? He's never seen that kind of beast back in battleon or as a matter of fact. He's never seen a beast like that in all the eastern continents from Granemor to Deren. Could this be a western phenomenon? After all he's never explored the west beyond the ruined Oaklore now known as Dragonlorn Keep.

Ryan put his sword on his back and Angra Linorm on his side. He needed to focus, the more his emotions grow the more he will lose focus to keep his anger in check. He needed to take his mind of his emotions and face what's in front of him.

Maybe I can distract it? Can I throw anything here? No, I should focus on seeing what I can do to that thing, scout potential weaknesses. First of it's obviously huge, lumbering. Doubt it could move fast. Looks like it has the scales or, hides? I've broken them before with just my hands, I've also fought bigger monsters than that. I think handle them. If that's all this thing is then this will be doable!

Just then he planned to once again sprint towards the beast leaving Angra Linorm to catch up to him.

"Hey you weird duck thing! Let's see what you can do!"

There were however a few things Ryan failed to consider. Firstly, he was getting reckless, while he did his best to cover his emotions he could not control his wrath seeping into his thinking even by a little. And second, he stood still for far too long against a beast like Bjhonkcioucles.
Post #: 14
8/4/2023 23:16:11   
Dragonknight315
Member

<... Fire?!>

An instant felt like an eternity as Elodie’s knives hissed through the air towards her prey. But the one-armed swordswoman was seemingly prepared. There was a blur of motion, a wave of her hand– Then the air ignited, flames pouring out in front of the woman as she stepped back. Instead of sinking into hot blood, the knives sunk into the wall of flames. In the next instant, Elodie watched as the woman spat something at one of the knives, and it was knocked away with a metallic crash. The elder then plucked the other from the flames and tossed it to the side, though not without an audible cry.

As the servant’s flight drew her ever closer, Elodie’s subconsciousness was in a frenzy. Pieces of data were coming together into an observation. The spitting from earlier. The shattered glass, and now her deflected knife– They were certainly linked, or so her instincts believed. Yet the maid would not have time to dwell upon that assumption. As Elodie touched the flames, they broke beneath her heel. She felt the heat as it rolled against her frame. Unfortunately for the servant, the swordswoman was already moving. Just before Elodie’s kick would grace the swordswoman's chest, she twisted her frame, and the servant sailed right over her shoulder.

Elodie braced for impact. When her feet slammed against the wooden floor, there was a sharp pain in her knees as Elodie threw herself into a roll. A fall from such a height, with how fast she was moving– A poor decision for most. But for Elodie? She thrived. The servant was trained for this. The pain, the fire– nothing could stop her.

Elodie felt the ground turn over her spine. After a single tumble, the servant pushed against the floor, rebounding into the air with an upward flourish to kill her momentum. As her feet touched the wood, Elodie spun around to face her foe. The swordswoman was right upon her, so close that they were almost touching. Running on pure instinct, Elodie raised her hand and–

Suddenly, the servant's thoughts were cut short as the most unbearable sensation was imposed upon her. Like needles piercing her nerves. Elodie seized with an audible cry as the swordswoman took her one arm and twisted her ear. Elodie bared her sharp teeth as her body moved on its own. She had to stop this immediately. Her right elbow was thrown forward, slamming into the woman’s side. It was enough to push her back and release her grip.

The immediate pain quickly faded, but the experience stayed with Elodie. She had felt nothing like it. So embarrassing– so undignified! To know that Lord Durando just witnessed that!

Elodie fixed her eyes to the elderly swordswoman with a stare so wicked it could curse her. How she wanted to drive her blades through her heart... But this thought too was interrupted. As Elodie wound-up her arm to strike back, she felt that pinprick in her mind–

<Behind.>

The servant didn’t know what, but something, someone was behind her, and it demanded her priority and her attention. She lunged forward, not at the swordswoman, but past her, slipping by the woman’s side. As the servant landed unopposed behind her rival, she looked back to see a blur rushing by. Her eyes followed the source only to see a tomahawk and a familiar candy-haired wig slip by with a distinct shuffling noise.

<... Backing up your new “friend,” huh? That trick won’t work twice.>

The scaled one was a threat, but so long as she kept her ears open, Elodie could avoid another swing.

As Elodie turned to look back at the swordswoman, something caught her eye. A small cloud of black dust.

Her cloak. A gift from her master.

Though Elodie made it through the flames unscathed, they had left its mark on her clothes. Bits of her white stockings were blackened. One side of her cloak was seared, its chain and golden trim now dulled. Elodie raised her gaze towards the one-armed woman. As the spotlight caught her eyes, they glimmered briefly with a streak of red. The servant took pride in her work, but she would enjoy making the swordswoman suffer.

The swordswoman had stepped away, gaining some small distance between them. But that was of no consequence. Elodie held her arm before her as she stepped forward.

“Permit me this small indulgence.”

Elodie reached out towards the swordswoman. Not with her earthly hands, but her unearthly mind. She focused on her target. Her hair, her clothes, her sword, grasping at her rival’s very essence.

Then, the Psionicist closed her hand and pulled down with all her being.

“Kneel.”
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 15
8/5/2023 0:37:37   
deathlord45
Member

The humanoid seemed quite panicked when facing down the mighty but patchwork form of Bjhonkcioucles. Their non-armed hand halted mid upswing, though the chimera didn’t notice anything coming from the motion until it felt a minor but sharp pain in its right forelimb.

Aerokinesis or aerogenesis, can’t be certain but this will be bothersome since it doesn’t have any tells other than hand movement.

"MAN YOU ARE ONE UGLY DUCKLING"

“Honk??” [“What do you mean ‘duckling’? I am a goose.”]

Are all the peoples in these lands so under-educated in ornithology? Or just not knowing of common waterfowl?

Either way, this scale clad humanoid needed to be dealt with quickly given the nature of the competition. Taking a few steps forward the patchwork behemoth stated to manifest the magic within itself into the world at large.

"Hey you weird duck thing! Let's see what you can do!"

“Honk!” [“For the second time I am a goose not a duck, leave the arena and study birds for a time!”]

“HONK.” [“I’ll show you what I can do.”]

“Honk.” [“Manifest from within, condense into shape, launch forth and bring down my target.”]

A clear blue light emanated from the haphazardly created creature which then wrapped around into a single point to become a sphere of crystal clear water. The newly formed ball of water then shot forth towards the armored humanoid in front of it.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 16
8/7/2023 20:56:07   
ChaosRipjaw
How We Roll Winner
Jun15


 Though shadows dance around her, dark and wild,
Within her core, compassion reconciled,
She's not a monster, nor a heartless soul,
Just one who's loved and lost, seeking to be whole.


Meng Chiyi rolled the wrathberry seed around her tongue, its surface still covered by half-chewed flesh. Spice and sweetness, heat and warmth beat in time with the pulse in her blood.

So the tailed creature really was keen on helping her after all, Chiyi thought. Her eyes had adjusted now; she could see him — or at least his general form — zipping about in the darkness. Those that struck from the shadows were hardly the most trustworthy of folk, but better against the maid than Chiyi … though she suspected that might change in a heartbeat.

Speaking of which …

Chiyi’s gaze flicked to the frilly-clad maid, who now stood amidst small clouds of black dust lit up by the great orb of light now behind her. The girl's delicate attire, once pristine and immaculate, was now marred by singed edges and scorch marks. The shield of fire Chiyi had conjured with the Three Fingers had not been as useless against the maid’s assault after all.

The maid’s face was impassive as always, but as Chiyi’s red eyes met hers, she could see a kind of … bridled fury? Not just anger. A sadistic anticipation.

The maid raised her arm, stepping forward. Chiyi reflexively tightened her grip on her sword’s handle in response, ready for another strike from one of those miniature knives. Her pupils were so contracted against the bright light now that they might as well be almost entirely flat red, ready to react to the slightest of movements.

That was not what happened.

“Permit me this small indulgence,” the maid said, slowly. Vehemently.

Chiyi narrowed her eyes.

Not a surprise attack. What is she—?

Only one word followed. “Kneel.”

Chiyi drew her sword as a horrible alien sensation snaked across her skin—

—and the sky dropped on top of her.

Dread grips her. Whispers surround her. Shapes and forms materialize from the mist, only to dissolve back into nothingness as she drew nearer.

Distant voices fill the air, their words carried by the wind but remaining just out of reach, like half-forgotten memories. Her heart races as she follows the path, an inexplicable sense of urgency propelling her forward.

“A tragedy—”
“What will she say?”
“To think it would end like this is just—”

“Where is he?” she whispers.

The veil began to thin, revealing a scene that was comforting in its familiarity, yet chilled her to the bone.

It was—

Chiyi’s eyes snapped open. Instantly, the chill in her soul was gone, replaced by the fire of wrathberry … and something more as she remembered.

Rage.

Reflexively, she had managed to turn the impending slash attack with her sword into a ground thrust, holding her up so she was spared from a faceful of wood.

Once, Chiyi would have had to blink the stars out of her eyes — she felt like someone had dropped a house on her. But that feeling was rapidly burned away. Before the near-crush, she had felt something else. Something she had kept hidden for a long time.

Having it laid bare to her again dredged up a feeling that the old Chiyi recoiled from but the older Chiyi acknowledged with grim understanding.

Boiling fury.

The maid, Chiyi saw, had not followed up with that mysterious force. Chiyi had no reason to believe it was done by anyone else other than her. But that force, whatever it was, clearly was not an easy one to muster. The maid was bent over with her hands on her knees, as though she had just run a marathon.

Peering from under her bangs however, the maid’s eyes glinted with a malevolent glee. That crushing force may have drained the maid of her energy temporarily, but definitely not any of that impudence.

Take care of yourself out there.

Chiyi’s lip curled. The smarter move here would probably be to retreat and let the tailed creature take over. It was unlikely Chiyi could counter that supernatural force in any way, and she had no way of knowing how strong it might be the next time the maid decided to attack. Hell, she didn’t even know if her surviving the previous one was a fluke or not.

Fight or die.

She was quite sure, however, of two things. One, she was still alive. And two, the maid was going to pay dearly for that mistake.

Your life … it’s valuable.

Yes, that’s right …

Not so long ago, she had declined to share a particular detail about the sword she now held. In particular, its name.

Chiyi shifted her grip on the Headhuntress’s Torment. The pale skin of her arms rippled as she vented her strength — and her fire.

Shizhi!

Chiyi’s Four Fingers erupted into a frenzied inferno. Blazing red and orange flames surged forth and engulfed the Torment, turning flat gray steel into a burning wound against the shadows.

At the same time, she briefly registered a faint shattering sound and the final globe of light went out, plunging the rest of the arena into the black.

Sunset at last.

Putting all her strength into her arm and waist, Chiyi shoved the blade forward, its curved edge cleaving hard against the wood. One last unbidden thought—

I would have been happy doing laundry and plowing fields with you.

She charged at the maid, the Headhuntress’s Torment tearing a trail of fire into the wooden floor.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 17
8/7/2023 23:18:05   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


 Gliding backwards on even terrain, heading towards deeper shadow, left his mind to run hamster wheels of parallel thoughts. He'd finally laid proper eyes upon his fourth opponent in the arena…and was struck by left arms being the apparent creature feature in Twilight. Though unlike himself and his Eastern pseudo-ally, his last foe had something of a monstrous visage between their masked face and bulging left arm that reeked of draconic heritage. No mistaking that, and proper monstrous compared to Sterling's own looks. His personal great affront to fashion and culture was a grand gesture of loud color, a jab at all the Normals who mocked him for the occasional patch of scales.

A monster and a chimera facing off. He had absolutely no desire to get involved in that particular mess. Doubly so since the Goose-mera outmassed the entire field — combined. He would rather be chased by Detective Zenishima and his mook squad for days than have to deal with the sheer bulk of waterfowl, reptile, and who knows what else. Not that Zenishima had much of a chance of catching him since he had left Durgan's house and the whole of K'eld Varlish behind. The only time the detective had come close involved fireworks going off along shingled rooftops, sending Sterling into a nearly terminal tumble into an alley in the dead of night. He'd survived, obviously, though trying to explain the extent of his scrapes and bruises to Bella after had been a delicate thing.

Sterling ground his crooked, broken teeth and unslung his weapon of choice from his shoulder as he focused back on his preferred playmates. The memory had his scales itching with the weight of a bad omen, already on edge from the chimeric honks that had drowned out the majority of any exchange the pair had. Though a single word did reach him alongside an astonishing sight. An authoritative command tumbled from the maid's lips — "Kneel." — and his ally faux-Doll crashed to her knees. No tremor of the floor, no flash of light, nor brush of air. No sign of a reason at all.

Alarm bells rang in Sterling's mind. The maid was indeed far more dangerous than she appeared, managing so much from the utterance of a single word, even though it appeared to take a toll. Sterling twisted, placing heel to heel and shifting his weight to resuming gliding forwards rather than back with only the squeaky hint of leather on wood. Then pushed hard to begin to curl back towards the femme fatales.

Dolls protected their own. Honorary or no. 'Here we go now. On the offense.'

His white-haired ally wasn't a typical Doll, though, and had managed to catch herself on her own overlarge sword. She had even managed to thrust it into the wood beneath her, and the strength to do so was not lost on Sterling. It was a good reminder of how she was not the Dolls he grew up around, and filled him with a rush of adrenaline. She was proving such a wonderful choice as an ersatz ally, and he could play off of her defiance nicely.

The shushing sounds of his shadowgliding softened as he stopped pushing hard, letting himself coast in towards the pair. Sterling kept the clip of a man at a hard run simply by shifting his hips, knees, and ankles as he angled in and began to close once more. He gripped the cane tightly towards the tip, holding it upside down and deploying the blade with a gentle 'ka-click'. Its harp edge served the same end as his loud colors in the light. Distraction and chicanery.

Heck, if the maid were very experienced, it might even work better. There were entire techniques devoted to spear and sword about letting one's grip slip with a swing or a thrust, to gain 'phantom' inches on the strike. Skills cultivated by professional knights and courtly duelists, and lifted wholesale by the brotherhood of thieves, brigands, and bandits. It had the allure of underhanded deviousness, and a crafty mind was something Durgan cultivated in the Dolls when smarts didn't stick.But that particular trickery wasn't Sterling's ploy here. His cane was an incredible tool, and the gentle curve of the beaked handle was ever so easy to overlook. Sterling planned to break the maid's stance, hook a knee or ankle as he blew past this time around and send her crashing to the ground. Keeping his speed lesser than his full gliding dash would let him better react and adjust, having witnessed her preternatural reflexes.

'Well, guess it's true. No plan survives contact with the enemy.' In Sterling's case, his plan was in jeopardy thanks to his ally. As he closed the last few yards, the white-haired lass caused a blaze to erupt from her sword and ignited the ground beneath it. Flamesgrew hungrily towards the maid in a manner most magical… and cast light at ground level as Sterling came to pass along his ally's left. The shadows flickered, at precisely the wrong moment.

For the second time, the word 'Bollocks' came to mind as Sterling felt the threat to his shadowglide and was forced to adjust by raw reflex. He kicked his left leg wide, ankle pushing inwards to the limits his Soul Soles would allow him, to beg for even a hint of future traction. Crashing his right knee to the ground, twisting and contorting to stay upright while using the bulk of his body to maintain some measure of shadow. Not nearly well enough to glide the length of his limb, but to smooth the sudden scrape of steel on wood. Lengthening the inevitable skid, fighting against deceleration.

Even so, he twisted his shoulders and punched hard, an ugly right hook to help keep him upright. And to deliver his original intent, beaked handle set to snare the maid's leg and drop her towards the flames…and whatever else his ally might have in mind.
AQ  Post #: 18
8/9/2023 5:10:25   
JhyShy
Member
 

 "HONK"

Ryan started dashing, finally having the idea to go for it's legs. Thinking the beast will think he will go for it's neck.

Ryan, however being too slow realized something ahead in the distance.

What the duck is that? it was blue in color from what he saw, shining aqua. Radiating, pristine, it was like it was reflective-

WAIT HOLD UP, PAUSE His instincts as an adventurer kicked in. IT'S A PROJECTILE

Ryan on instinct used his left arm, forgetting he didn't have a shield on him. Realizing too late and getting out of the way only having his left arm hit the aqua ball hit him sent him flying to a different direction but thankfully his left arm, draconic and entropic in nature and the distance just being enough to weaken it, managed to nullify enough damage to leave him feeling stung.

"AGH DUCK. Yeah, duck that. I'm out" Ryan quickly retreated to garner more distance thinking he was gonna be safe until he finally saw them. Three unique looking and feeling characters. He saw a maid, bathed in eternal night and loyalty to a master. A monster who's purpose was to dismantle and destroy the norms that had mocked him and most damning of all, he caught sight of a person who should under no circumstance should be underestimated he respected them the most out of the three and the one who caught his eye the fastest. He didn't even need to know her or take a good look at her that well to know, he just knew, this feeling, this presence. It was that of a veteran adventurer.

He didn't get close, not even sure they noticed him. But he did notice them and he screamed at nearly the same pitch, tone and voice of a courageous pink dog back in Granemor. And so he ran into the darkness but quickly circled back to and bumped into a scaly creature.

So this is it? Am I gonna die here? No I don't wanna die He was panicking.

Would the lords really just let me die here? Panic turned into frustration.

Even after all I've done for them?? Panic turned into frustration.

No. I won't let them have their way, I'll live through this. I'll live through this even if I have to kill every sorry being in this stadium Frustration quickly turning... Into wrath.

Ryan swore he heard something from the goose but he wasn't too sure if it was real or just from the armor. He could only mutter one thing back though.

"Hey, weirdo, don't ducks quack?"
Post #: 19
8/9/2023 21:13:37   
Dragonknight315
Member

The floor shuddered and cracked as Elodie brought her mind down upon the swordswoman. Gravity obeyed her command, and Elodie watched as her rival’s body buckled under the immense pressure. It was as if the very world was fighting against her. However, as Elodie imposed her will upon the huntress, her foe would simply not give in. Metal met wood as the swordswoman planted her blade into the ground, barely catching herself from her fall.

“... You’re a stubborn one, hmph?”

The servant let out her heavy breath as she hunched forward, hands pressed against her legs. The outcome was not entirely what Elodie had hoped. The sight of the swordswoman desperately trying to hold herself up brought the servant no small joy. Still, the work was yet to be finished.

Elodie wiped the sweat off of her brow as she looked down at the swordswoman. The servant was getting close to her limit. But with the end so close at hand, what was a little more effort? She felt her thoughts as they moved through her nerves, through her hands. With an audible hiss, a thin blade peered from both her sleeves.

<Let’s end this.>

Elodie pulled her arm back, ready to drive the metal into the woman’s throat. But then suddenly, the swordswoman shifted, and the ground ignited–

The servant gasped as the flames swept across the floor and underneath her. Elodie staggered back, her body racing for safety. But amidst the roaring flames, she could hear a familiar shuffling, a sound now known to her.

<The scaled one...!>

The servant was in danger, and she knew it. Beside her, the troublemaker. Beneath her, the fire. And in front, the swordswoman. Three different threats all upon her. With her mind still clouded, there was no guarantee of safety, no time to adjust. Elodie had to gamble and hope that the choice worked out.

The veteran moved with purpose, kicking the blade and rising up to meet the servant. Elodie pivoted her body, attempting to leap to the right. But as she did, Elodie felt a snag on one of her legs as it was pulled out from under her. From the corner of her eye, the maid could see the cane on her heel.

It was a calculated risk, but Elodie had made the wrong choice. And so, her failure was made real as she felt a searing lash on her shoulder.

The swordswoman’s blade did not strike entirely true. Elodie had barely managed to avoid a lethal strike. But as she fell into the flames, that was of little comfort to her. As she hit the floor, Elodie rolled to the side, desperately trying to escape the fire’s reach. The servant pulled herself to her knees and brushed off the remaining flames. Suddenly, she felt it all–

<Stupid. So utterly stupid!>

Her bleeding shoulder. Her aching bones. The agonizing pain of her seared skin. It was all so painful. Yet nothing compared to the pain of her crumbling pride. To have been outplayed, to be brought so low by these two individuals. The servant looked up to find the elder looking down at her, blade resting on her shoulders. Off in the distance, her “friend” was simply standing by and waiting.

<... Enjoying this, aren’t you? Putting the two of us against each other? Saving your own life and intervening only when it causes chaos? I’ll enjoy wringing your neck.>

The maid’s fist slammed against the floor before leaping to her feet. Her whole body ached in protest, but she didn’t care anymore. She had to rectify this. If not for her sake, then for her Lord’s–

Like an animal, Elodie lunged towards the swordswoman, thrusting her hidden blades forward like fangs. She could barely feel her arm as the blood stained her ash-tinted apron. The swordswoman stepped to the side, easily dodging the servant’s thrust. Without wasting a moment, Elodie followed up, lashing out with her arms from side to side, but she gained nothing from it. Her rival mirrored the servant’s intentions, carefully weaving herself between Elodie’s strikes with focus and precision.

With each miss, the servant grew more and more agitated, and her body moved slower and slower. Elodie was unable to keep pace with her foe. Seizing the opportunity, the swordswoman responded in kind. After her last dodge, the woman twirled, carrying her momentum into a wide spin with her blade. Elodie barely had enough time to bring her arms up. Steel met steel as the blade struck the metal gauntlets beneath her sleeves. Elodie felt her whole body shudder from the recoil. But it appeared that the swordswoman had suffered far worse. Completely taken aback by impact, she staggered back.

It was then that Elodie saw her opportunity. The servant twisted her hands, reaching out for the flat of the swordsman's blade. Then, she dove, throwing all of her weight forward to tackle her rival.

<Come, save your friend, troublemaker.>
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 20
8/9/2023 23:15:24   
deathlord45
Member

"AGH DUCK. Yeah, duck that. I'm out"

Has he realized that I dislike being called a duck, yet keeps saying it to anger me? Either way it seems like the aquaball hurt, it also seems like he is used to different equipment instead of that mutated arm. Perhaps he is seeking freedom from some curse here, sadly only one may have such a boon.

Whilst in thought the armored man ran past Bjhonkcioucles towards the melee that had been happening behind the behemoth.

“Hisssss!”[“How dare you! Come back here and face me with dignity you coward!”]

The amalgamated lifeform’s muscles surged as it did its best to shift the considerable bulk of its body around so that it could give chase to the cowardly fool who would dare turn their back on an opponent in this place. As the chimera finished the tedious task for one of its size, it found that the target of its ire was backpedaling towards the creature as if more frightened by the trio doing battle.

They certainly look interesting. They’d probably know the difference between a goose and a duck right? Perhaps if any of them live we may converse after the championships.

Pleasant thoughts of a possible future distracted the lumbering monster from the shift in the armored one that had become its opponent.Stance, breathing, overall body language all subtle things that only the most trained or the most wild would notice had all altered in that man.

"Hey, weirdo, don't ducks quack?"

Every animal instinct suddenly blared to life in Bjhonkcioucles’s mind, what was before it was no longer a bumbling fool, but a hunter, neigh a worthy opponent.

“Hissssssss.”[“I already told you I am a goose. Though it seems you lack the capacity to pay attention. Maybe I should beat into you.”]

Bjhonkcioucles lashed out with its tomia at the armored one’s face hoping to damage one of his eyes to lower his accuracy. The chimera also reached for its magic and readied to put some distance between the two of them if needed.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 21
8/11/2023 18:11:18   
ChaosRipjaw
How We Roll Winner
Jun15


 So let us not judge her by her deadly art,
For in her heart, there beats a human heart—

“What are you all singing?”

“Nothing, ma!”

“I TOLD you all to stop singing that song!”

“But ma …”

“Enough of this nonsense! It's disrespectful. You know why she turned out the way she is now!”

“We know, ma, but the song—”

“I don't want to hear it. Show some consideration for what she's been through. She's not just a fighter, she's a person.”

“Yes, but ma …”

“A person … like me.”

“I … I’m sorry, ma. I won’t sing it again.”

“Now, off to bed you go.”


With every beat of her heart …

Every bite of wrathberry …

The rhythm of battle pulsed through Chiyi's veins, igniting a fiery determination that matched the blazing inferno of her weapon. Torment surged forward, an unstoppable force cleaving through the air and wooden floor, its trajectory fixed upon the frilly-clad maid who stood before her.

But the maid was not so easily overcome. Chiyi was not surprised as she recovered with impressive alacrity; the maid rose to her feet, a glint of concealed weapons flashing from under her sleeves. Chiyi's crimson gaze locked onto the revealed threat. There was no question about it. The maid guise was simply a farce. She was definitely a trained assassin of sorts.

And to kill an assassin …

As the Torment's fiery edge seared the floor, Chiyi realized the wood wasn't naturally spreading the fire. A pity, as it wouldn't offer the satisfaction of seeing the maid consumed by flames. But then again, her fire never retained its energy for long once she unleashed it.

A different course of action then.

One-handed swordplay could be elegant, as Chiyi had figured out in her earlier days. A dance of precision where each strike had to be calculated to maximize impact. But that elegance was often overshadowed by the relentless truth that it was harder to maneuver a blade properly without the full support of two arms. The lack of balance affected the body's movements, rendering certain maneuvers cumbersome and awkward. What was once executed with fluidity now demanded meticulous planning, each strike a delicate harmony of muscle and intention.

In any case, the absence of a second arm also meant relinquishing the option of seamlessly transitioning to a two-handed stance. That flexibility was a double-edged sword, quite literally. The inability to employ a two-handed grip robbed her of a powerful defensive technique – parrying against a stronger opponent. Against a forceful blow, a single arm could only do so much, leaving her vulnerable to overpowering attacks.

So many weaknesses … though not without recompense. And so, her chosen path emerged as a natural solution to these intricate challenges. The weight of her weapon became her ally, compensating for the limitations her physical condition imposed. The heavy, broad blade held a raw, primal power that resonated with her style – a forceful counterbalance to the vulnerability of a single-handed approach. The irony, Chiyi mused grimly, was that her remedy for this affliction bore the very name of her tormentor. The Headhuntress's Torment, heavy and imposing, became her paradoxical savior. It was a merciless weight that mirrored the burden of her condition, a weight she willingly embraced to counterbalance the relentless challenges of her one-armed battle style.

A weight that now threatened to ruin her attack.

Quick thinking led her to shift her momentum, her body pivoting as she executed a backwards run. With a swift, powerful kick against the flat side of the Torment, she sent it soaring out of the wooden floor in a blazing upswing.

Curses! Not close enough. Briefly, Chiyi lamented her exuberance in the moment — another second and —

No, wait.

In the split second before the Torment's impact, a faint, familiar sound reached Chiyi's ears, making the hairs on her neck stand on end— a soft ksssht, ksssht. The tailed creature! His form emerged from the shadows, their actions synchronized with uncanny precision. So, he hadn't been content to let the two women fight it out to exhaustion.

Lit by the fiery glow, the tailed creature was a mix of eccentricity and menace. Chiyi could now make out a missing arm, wild hair, what looked like a pattern of shimmering scales, and agile movements swift and alien. He brandished something long and metallic — exactly what, Chiyi couldn't tell —

The maid, thrown off balance by the tailed creature's attack, fell toward Chiyi in an unexpected twist of fate. Chiyi couldn't discern the exact nature of the tailed creature's strike, but it had clearly struck a chord.

The testament to the maid's skill lay in her ability to adapt swiftly, maneuvering her body with an innate grace that kept her attack focused and relentless. However, a faint jarring in the Torment told Chiyi her strike had hit home—

Though not close enough. The maid was upon her. The fire went out, leaving behind only the haunting traces of its glow, painting their silhouettes against the darkness.

Chiyi's pulse quickened, her instincts driving her movements as the maid's blades cut through the air with deadly precision. Each strike was a calculated assault, aimed at exploiting the smallest opening in Chiyi's defenses. With Chiyi's one hand held up in the peak of the upslash, the “smallest opening” here might as well have been a fortress with the gates wide open.

It might even have worked back in the days when she had both her arms.

With a practiced fluidity, Chiyi channeled the momentum from her previous attack, guiding the Torment's path. The blade swept counterclockwise, a graceful arc that culminated in a deft twist of her grip. The Torment's blunt edge came to rest on her shoulders, its moment of inertia now centered between them.

Perfectly balanced.

Chiyi couldn't attack in this stance, but now she was free to move about. Her breath came in measured intervals, her focus unbroken despite the intensity of the clash. The maid's onslaught continued, a relentless barrage that demanded Chiyi's full attention.

Instinct took over and Chiyi moved defensively, evading the flurry of strikes that came her way, their edges knifing the air like ethereal whispers. Her movements were a dance of evasion, her body and feet a symphony of fluid motion as she wove through and sidestepped the maid's strikes. The air crackled with tension, each movement a testament to their expertise and determination.

The intensity of the battle carried them forward. With no window for attack appearing, Chiyi was pushed back by the maid's aggressive assault. The tailed creature slowed his approach, remaining at a cautious distance, wisely avoiding the immediate fray.

Then quite suddenly an odd smell cut through the peculiar odor Chiyi had picked up earlier from the maid. Iron.

Blood.

Whatever injury Chiyi (or perhaps the tailed creature as well) had inflicted on the maid earlier was definitely taking its toll. Was it just Chiyi’s imagination, or was the maid moving a fraction slower than she was a few moments ago—?

Now!

The unspoken command resonated within Chiyi's mind, a call to action that propelled her into a decisive move. Timing was crucial, and Chiyi seized the opportunity. With an expertly timed dodge, she evaded a deadly stab, her body spinning clockwise with fluid grace.

The Torment's blade swept perilously close to her hair, an audacious maneuver that defied the edges of danger. Chiyi's outstretched blade reached for her foe, intent on separating the maid from her head—

Unfortunately, the maid's instincts were as sharp as her blades. In a fraction of a heartbeat, she brought her arms up to block Chiyi's attack. For a split second Chiyi was expecting to see two severed arms spraying blood—

—and then the clash resonated like a struck gong. The Torment's blade rebounded from the maid's defensive stance, the forceful impact causing Chiyi to stagger back, thrown back by the Torment’s weight.

Uh oh — not good.

With a solid yank, Chiyi jerked her blade back, raising the flat of the Torment into a defensive shield—

—and the maid pounced, throwing all of her weight forward. A surge of malevolence—

The maid slammed hard into Chiyi, having thrown all her weight into the tackle. The impact fairly bowled Chiyi over, although she reacted quickly, stepping back with one foot to stop her back from slamming into the wooden floor. Chiyi gritted her teeth (the seed rolling around on her tongue had long since had all the flesh chewn off). The maid must have been truly desperate to attempt such a maneuver. But no matter, one turn of the blade should—

—and that was when she realized she couldn’t budge the sword. Reflexively, Chiyi yanked on it as hard as she could, but the sword was stuck solid as though the air around it had frozen, even though she didn’t feel a lick of a chill.

For all intents and purposes, her Torment had turned into a solid beam, clamping her against the floor. Above her, the maid was poised to strike, hidden blade gleaming in the twilight gloom.

Pinned like a rat.

Of course, this was enough to render Chiyi helpless, then she would have been dead a long time ago.

Pinned like a rat … or rather, a snake.

She released the Torment’s handle, then swiftly slipped her arm under her and simultaneously kicked her feet, slipping out from under the frozen blade.

The floor’s splintered wood scraped against her back as Chiyi twisted away from the rat trap, her lithe body moving serpentine like the fire of Shizhi. A rush of air raised goosebumps on Chiyi’s skin; a mark of how narrowly she had evaded the maid’s attack.

Not entirely to Chiyi’s surprise, the maid released the sword, which promptly unfroze — a result of another one of her enigmatic magicks, no doubt. The maid then promptly reclaimed the fallen blade and whirled, stumbling slightly under the Torment’s weight, and threw it in a spinning arc at the tailed creature — an impressive feat of strength. Unfortunately, this meant Chiyi was — ironically — disarmed.

On the other hand, Chiyi could now see the bloody wound on the maid’s back, a visible crack in her otherwise untarnished facade.

And as a snake smells blood—

Erzhi!

Chiyi’s Two Fingers ignited, the flames mirroring the fire within her. The winds of battle swirled around her, and she focused her energy, honing it into a single burning point.

The next instant, she lunged, her burning Two Fingers reaching out like a snake’s deadly fangs. The flames danced and hissed in twin trails as she moved, her body a coiled spring ready to strike. The distance between her and the maid closed rapidly, the air filled with the crackling energy of their impending clash.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 22
8/12/2023 21:03:41   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


 The skid, the slide, the sweep of his cane all had his muscles twitching in microsecond adjustments to stay upright. Sterling's success in hooking the maid as he passed? Not much of a pull… but it didn't need to be to deliver the intended result. That intent simply worked both ways, breaking both competitors' balance, sending each into unideal situations. For the maid, it ruined her evasion twice-over — she had nearly leapt into him as he passed by, making adjustments rather easy — and denied her the sweet escape away from oversized steel. The massive blade connected with the lithe servant, though Sterling couldn't watch the impact. 'Good enough.'

Sterling's own balance was spoiled, the sole chance to save it would involve releasing the cane, something he was loath to do. He had fallen dozens, hundreds, thousands of times before. Pushing his mastery of his own shadowglide just a bit too hard in the cruel face of physics, so despite the threat of violence about the arena, his reactions were on cruise control. Sterling stretched his body straight and tucked his tail, crashing to the ground shield first. 'You know…' It slid several inches, straps digging in painfully, before it finally skipped. Sterling's view and world spun out as he skipped and rolled. From shoulders and hips to white-knuckled grip he clattered and skid, punctuated by white lightning shooting up his spine as the base of his tail crashed into wood. "...this never, ever! Hnng."

He bit the inside of his cheek at that, choking down the embarrassing cry of pain from the love tap from physics and gravity. Sterling had had enough, jolted from reaction to action as he twisted his hips contrary to the roll, and flared his legs wide to get some purchase. Leather squeaked against wood, then stopped. His wig tumbled off to one side as he was laid out, central orb tauntingly shining down upon his prone self, pointing back towards his favored pair a handful of meters distant. Sterling pulled himself to his knees and set the cane upright as the taste of iron began to tingle on his tongue.

With a grunt of effort, Sterling pushed down hard on the cane, pushing the blade into the wood as he righted himself into standing firm. Then he spat to one side, staining the wood with a gobbet of blood. "Ever doesn't hurt. Bollocks." With care he flexed his shoulders and tail, though the latter stung with the same disproportionate pain of stubbing one's toe. Dozens of sites of dull throbbing, individually suppressed by the adrenaline flooding the system, leaving him with a whole body throb of annoyance. "Gah. Making me look like I'm going through puberty all over again. What a farce." He could push the consequences off to be tomorrow's problem with soreness and bruises.

And what was a little bit of pain, anyway? Sterling constantly made it Tomorrow's problem growing up. He hadn't thought about the pain he'd endure as a spratling, throwing himself at a trio of Normies bullying Timothy. A wild flailing of legs and tail, no cares save the red that descended on his vision. Earned his first thrashing that way, no mistake, and Durgan had tanned his hide afterwards for picking a fight. Insult to injury, but Sterling had done it again and again as he grew older. Throwing himself into the fray against the odds, drawing attention away from other Dolls. Getting disciplined after in a vain effort to curb Sterling's growing feistiness in defense of his kith and kin.

"Violence should be a last resort, Sterling," the old man had told him time and again. "Let words and actions carry the day, turn the other cheek. Let go of your pride." Durgan had misunderstood, though; it was never about pride. Sterling could weather the verbal slings and arrows all day long, even the literal stones thrown in his path when he did dart into the K'eld on errands. He wasn't fragile like the rest, he could take it. Which was why he kept interposing himself when it was any other Doll taking on the abuse, no matter the cost. When Timothy couldn't talk his way around a problem. When Bella couldn't soothe frustrations. When Cassandra couldn't skirt away on her own from prejudice and ill-conceived hate.

Whenever the shadows could get him there in time.

He spat another mouthful of bloody spittle to one side, gaze locking back onto the pair as the maid took to Chiyi with a flurry of stabs and thrusts. Sterling realized he had missed her recovery and couldn't quite tell how much of a wound she had taken from the duo's gambit. The dress was matte black, and though blood was evident from the shine, the contrast was difficult for his eyes to pick out. 'Right, I'm done with this.' He pulled his cane free as his stomach roiled, bubbling with faint nausea as resolve settled like a leaden weight. A hint of bile in the back of his throat mixed with the bloody taste, vile as he took a step forward.

'No more games.'

Shadow softened the footfall of leather to wood ever so slightly, but there was no trace of glide. Another step, setting the pace uncharacteristically slow as he closed the distance at a walk. Letting the servant burn her adrenaline out while the white-haired vixen continued to capably evade. Up until the maid lunged into a tackle — a trick as old as time. An easy way to bully a one-armed soul. Sterling's mind sifted through a small selection of memories, the darker ones from the time after he had left Durgan's house. From after he had left Bella and the rest behind.

Brigandry drew some horrid types. Proper villains and the like, but you learned what you could from any source once you were "in" the brotherhood. They liked bragging about their victories, their brutality. His mind latched onto one such example, the drunkard's voice echoing in his head. 'Which is more painful: A, or B? Forehand or backhand?'' Sterling didn't need the mockery though, he would skip straight to the end, recalling the reenactment of the final deadly blow. His stomach churned with a fresh wave of bile. There was no question which line in the sand mattered more at this moment: it would break Bella's heart to watch him kill a woman; it was breaking his own to see a Sister in Spirit being bullied. 'Time to end your career, little miss maid.'

Sterling drew the cane high, spinning the shaft so that the beaked handle was facing forwards and casting a fell shadow beyond the pair. A deadly blow with the windup of a single step as he neared the tangled legs of the grappling ladies as they fought for control of the sword. He braced himself inside to deliver a killing blow, and in that half second of humane hesitation, lost his chance.

The maid whirled, having gained control of the heavy, oversized sword and managing to throw the burdensome weapon at him. From her knees. Sterling frankly gawked at the feat of strength in the heartbeat it took to crash into him. Breath exploded from his lungs in bloody flecks as nearly twenty pounds of sharp metal careened into his side. Torment's edge unceremoniously cracked rings of maille, slicing into the gambeson beneath and biting into flesh, but it was no mortal blow. The ghostly pale, scorched little wench of a maid lacked the follow through to make it worse — no strength pushed behind the edge to commit it to cut deep into his innards, no grip to prevent deflection and rebound. Torment etched proof of its passing in blood only to clatter to the ground behind him.

Sterling staggered, crow hops ironed long by the shadows beneath them. His grip on his weapon slackened, shaft slipping until the handle butted against his hand, and reflex raced against pain response to draw his arm back against his wounded flank. Pain blossomed through his side, stealing his strength and breath, leaving him both bloody and bloody frustrated. Whether she had intended it or not, the maid had stymied his intended assault with that act of desperation. Sterling growled through teeth stained scarlet, tail lashing so hard to one side it cracked the air sharply.

Then he flipped his grip on the cane; its business end would serve just as well. His ally surged in her own assault, fingers trailing fire towards their shared quarry, so Sterling waited half a second more as he steadied himself. After all, it only took two measures to deliver one of the oldest cadences of war. Step. And thrust.

Shaded steel shot forward as Sterling took that fateful step and advanced upon the maid. To press, and this time, to stay as long as it took to put her down for good.
AQ  Post #: 23
8/12/2023 23:34:18   
JhyShy
Member
 

 The legendary dragon Entropy, born from the hatred of a prince and swore to destroy everything and in doing so, ruined the timeline and forced the god’s hands into fixing them. It’s hatred for the pantheon was beyond any amount of hatred other mortals could muster. When it was defeated, it’s scales and parts of it’s power were used to create what is now known as the Mark of Wrath.

As Ryan’s anger towards the wind lord, despite only being shown for a brief period the original dragon’s intent magnified and intensified it. Clouded by the armor’s anger and clouded by his confusion against a monster, can he live to see another day?

Ryan’s stance changed. His breathing, his posture and his demeanor changed. Despite it being subtle, the effect will not be.

Hard…to…Br…eathe. Must…keep….control. As the monster reached out to Ryan to damage his eyes. Ryan reacted too slow and therefore

“AGH YOU FREAK.” The monster had used it’s small but sharp tomia to scratch the flower on the stone mask. It’s pain being equal to having one’s own eye scratched. This pain, this reaction only fueled his hatred and therefore, has finally intensified what he has been keeping under control. His Revolting Distaste.

“You hate me huh? Well, I’ll make sure you know what it actually feels.” Ryan grabbed the monster’s neck, but due to the size difference the grip was not strong. But it didn’t matter, Ryan used it to pull himself to his real target, it’s right front leg.

Ryan grabbed onto the leg manifesting claws on his right and using it to puncture it’s the scales in it’s leg to stabilize his grab. “My Goddess you’re a fat freak, I’m not even sure I’m deep in your leg. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you feel right at home, you animal.” Ryan started to use his left to continually clawing it’s leg, while also concentrating to finally turn on consuming hatred. His demeanor was no longer that of an adventurer, but instead that of an animal. Ryan used his monstrous left arm to claw instead of punch, if he didn’t have the mask welded into his face, he would have been biting the beast as well.

“I’ll make sure you don’t forget this one.” Ryan released his left hand from the leg and reached to the ground as Angra Linorm finally caught up. Ryan released his hand into an upward motion and several green sharp winds released from the ground and hit the beast’s legs.

Ryan felt something inside him.

Finally…. Consuming hatred has been unleashed, his strikes will be made weaker, but his rage shall be felt.
Post #: 24
8/13/2023 18:56:16   
Dragonknight315
Member

Elodie braced herself as she slammed into the swordswoman. The servant had seized her moment, and it appeared to have paid off. The veteran was taken by surprise, and the two warriors tumbled towards the ash-stained ground. Their bodies stopped mere inches off of the floor. The stubborn swordswoman had kicked her leg out; she now bore both her own weight and Elodie’s.

<... Focus.>

The servant tightened her grip on the flat of the oversized blade. With how the two had fallen, the warrior’s arm crossed over her chest, hand fixed firmly to its handle in a reverse grip.

<Focus!>

Elodie focused her will through the steel in her hands, the inherent chaos of probabilities that made up its existence. She jerked the blade, turning it clockwise into just the right position– placed exactly on the woman’s right shoulder to block the use of her remaining arm. Then, just as its momentum came to a stop, Elodie locked the blade in place.

A simple object, but for the servant, it was no simple feat. Working against ever-moving inevitability demanded a resilient focus. But Elodie only needed to hold it for a moment for her plans. For that instant, its potential would be fixed, trapped in a state of immovability– much to the swordswoman’s dismay. Elodie watched as her rival instinctively went for her sword, fervently trying to move it with no success. Elodie let out a dry laugh as she looked down at the trapped swordswoman. She had regained the advantage; if the swordswoman dared to use her flames, then it would result in her own destruction.

One of the servant’s hands remained pressed against the steel; the other she slowly raised, poised to deliver a lethal blow to the warrior’s throat. But just as Elodie was about to strike, she hesitated.

As the servant caught the glint of her own blade in the spotlight, something changed. Looking upon her arm, the black sleeves of her dress were gone. In its place was a black ooze that sunk into her flesh, as if her clothes and her very arm had melted into a single mass. Out of horror and curiosity, she tried to move her corrupted arm, and the mass swirled like a writhing appendage.

Elodie let out an audible gasp. She blinked, and then it was gone, her arm returned to normal. A mere hallucination.

<A mark of the Black Skies...>

The experience almost broke Elodie’s concentration. And it did no favors for her morale. It was clearer than ever that the servant was at her limit. She needed to make her move before she ran out of time. As if to answer her thoughts, the servant could hear the now certain sound of the troublemaker’s advance as the shuffling turned to footsteps.

<Right on schedule– >

She had successfully goaded him as Elodie refocused herself to the task at hand. But as she did, the swordswoman took advantage of her hesitation. She let go of the blade and squirmed out from underneath the servant’s trap. Gritting her teeth, Elodie plunged the blade down, but it did not find purchase in her rival’s flesh. The blade narrowly missed the swordswoman and slipped into the wooden floor. She let out a groan as her knuckles bashed against the splintered wood.

A costly maneuver that she couldn't afford. Drops of blood and wooden shards laid where the swordswoman once was. But now she was free and on the move.

Elodie’s mind rushed to fill the gaps between reality and expectation. She had succeeded in provoking her scaled adversary closer, but there was no way to capitalize on it. Not yet. She needed more time–

An idea rose to the surface of her mind. A grim, ruthless plan. One that could deal a crippling blow to both her foes at once. One that could spell her own disaster. But it was a path to victory, and she would see it at any cost.

<... So be it. For you, my lord.>

The servant needed every bit of time and focus she could muster to clear her mind. As the swordswoman rushed away, the sword remained, defying gravity as it hung suspended in the air. The servant released her grip on the blade, allowing its future to resume, the steel clattering to the ground.

Elodie looked back over her shoulder; just as she expected, the troublemaker was closing in. She took the swordsman's blade into her own hands. The sword was heavy, far heavier than she had anticipated, but that fact would prove useful. With a deep breath, the servant heaved the blade into the air. Streaks of fiery pain ran through what was left of her scarred flesh. Through pure determination, she tossed the blade over her shoulders straight into the scaled one. Just as she hoped, it had just enough force to serve as a timely distraction. The troublemaker staggered, desperately struggling to regain his balance.

With heavy breaths, Elodie rose to one knee and turned to face the beastkin. Everything was coming together. The servant’s mind rippled through the air, her will expanding as she reached out towards her foes. Elodie’s sight was growing hazy and unclear. But in her mind, she was certain. As the warrior and the scaled one drew close, their lethal intentions united, Elodie slowly raised both her hands–

< –Now!>

As the two lunged towards Elodie, she pushed off of the ground and tumbled to the side, barely dodging their pincer attack. Whatever plans they held, they would now be at Elodie's mercy. Her attention was divided between the two of them, but with the three of them so close? It didn’t matter. Elodie reached out from the very depths of her soul...

... She could hear screaming. As Elodie sought to wrestle control over reality, the veil– all that separates her from everything that was not her– was tearing. She could hear screams from beyond ringing in her ears. Incalculable impossibilities that threatened to swallow up her meager existence.

The servant knew it; she had pushed herself too far. But there was no turning back. She would brave the nightmare and push through.

The cube, the meteor fragment that hung from Elodie’s neck– it started to vibrate. As she closed her eyes, blood trickled down Elodie’s cheek like tears.

<... I’m not afraid.>

It was the last thought Elodie had– at least, the last thought that was still hers as the servant crossed her arms. Two waves of pure force, one emanating from each of her rivals, were set to collide. One last act of defiance before Elodie collapsed onto the ground, unable to glimpse the fruit of her labors.
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 25
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