The Legion Immortalis: The Bulwark of Heaven (Part 2)

[Faidth]

@Faran:

   Faran’s Song of Magnetism violently expels Jonas’s knives from his outstretched hands. The cleaver and the chef’s knife fall to the ground, sending up puffs of dust as the land heavily at Jonas’s feet. You have luckily managed to avoid the ends of Jonas’s blades.

   However, as Jonas looks to the ground, then back up at you, you realize he is smiling, a large grin plastered upon his face. Pain rips through your shoulders as a phantom cleaver slams into your back. Luckily, your Constitution is quite advanced, so this wound will only take days to heal rather than weeks.

   The force is great enough to knock you forward and your face slams against the ground before you. Your head throbs and you find yourself quite stunned. Jonas reaches down, taking his weapons back into his hands. He seizes you roughly by the hair, hauling you to your feet.
   
   He hoists you into the air over his head and his hands begin to maneuver quickly. You can feel his fists churning under you, as if you are the dough he is preparing for a succulent humble pie. Faster and faster you spin and a lesser man would violently lose his lunch at this point.

   Perhaps you can think of a way out of his grasp before he launches you somewhere unpleasant.

[Faran Beshral]

I landed back on the ground, a smile of triumph plastering my face. I had actually disarmed him! I didn't think that would work. Then he smiled at me and the only thing that proceeded the searing pain in my shoulder was a chill down my spine. I couldn't help but scream, to my shame. Whatever force it was dragged me down to the ground.

I must have blacked out for a second, because the next sensation I felt was being picked up by my hair. Symphony, it felt like my entire left side was both numb and on fire at the same time. In my daze I was being hoisted up, hands gripping my extremities tightly. The world spun. Someone, Jonas I could only surmise, was spinning me. What was I, some kind of toy? I quickly considered my options and found myself lacking, short of anything suicidal. I had to get away from him, but how? Only a shock of some kind could get him to drop me. So a shock it would  have to be. He was impervious to too much so I had to take a different approach.

As I spun, I sucked in a lungful of air. I needed quite a bit so as not to black out from this. Using as little air as I could, I Sang to the air around both of us, pushing it all away until there was nothing. In a ten foot radius around us the air turned white for a brief moment, where all the air had been pushed before equalizing. I felt a shock to my own system as all the air in my lungs was ripped out of me. My ears popped and rang and I felt very queasy. I just hoped Jonas was having as a horrible time as I was, he didn't even have any warning.

((Wisdom: Spiritual Magic – Song of Air) Faran pulls all the air out of an area, creating a vacuum. If the effect is successful Jonas drops Faran to the ground, the effect like having the wind knocked out of you. Side effects include symptoms of prolonged high altitude sickness: popping ears, nausea, headache, nose bleed, etc.)

[Faidth]

@Faran:

   Jonas stumbles backwards as he begins to feel the effects of Faran’s Song of Air. His dark face begins to flush a slight shade of red and as he attempts to regain his breath, he glances up at Faran, his mouth open wide.

   Faran’s attempt to be released from Jonas’s grasp works, but not in the way he expects. As Jonas stops spinning him above his head, and attempts to keep his balance, he calls upon his natural abilities over strength and constitution, and with one simple, yet powerful, motion, he slams Faran into the ground.

   Faran’s body embeds deep into the earth, leaving a large trench around him. Thankfully, Faran’s Constitution manages to absorb some of the damage, however, he can likely sense that several of his ribs are cracked, and a few might even be broken.

    Jonas stumbles out of the area of effect and thwaks himself upon the chest with a clenched fist, as if jump-starting his lungs again. Chanting something under his breath, he kneels down and slams his fist into the earth. Shockwaves erupt through the central area, launching Faran into the air as Jonas readies his weapons again. 

[Faran Beshral]

The ground came up to meet me with a crashing *thud*. Pain the likes of nothing I had felt before coursed through my body, making Cleo's little eye zapper a pleasant memory. I saw only ground and I was face down in it. Then I remembered to breathe... and wished that I hadn't. The mixed pleasure of breathing again and the searing fire of pain in my chest made me wish I'd never been born.

My left arm was folded under me. I couldn't move it. That was more than likely broken. In a few places. I think one of my legs was broken too. Not to mention a few of my ribs were now cracked. Every breath was agony. I saw spots in front of my eyes, more than likely from the lack of air I just had. I lay there breathing dust and fire.

What are you doing Faran? You're beat. Just give up. You knew you were going to lose, it was inevitable. You gave it your best shot and that's all you could do. Hey you've got it pretty good right here. At least you're not in the hands of Forsaken. Maybe they'll let you stay in Avalon and be safe. You can hide here while all of them take care of the Forsaken. You're not a hero, remember?

Images flashed though my mind. A burning village. Screaming. Murder. Rape. The same questions entered my mind then. Nations, peoples all have their petty little squabbles. They happened over and over again. The little guy was always the one hurt by them. Did I make any difference then? Could I hope to make any difference now, as weak as I am? I'm no hero.

...Screw that.

I clawed at the ground with my right hand and dragged myself out of the crater I was occupying. I looked around me, still face down in the dirt, in time enough to see Jonas slam his fist into the ground. A shockwave roared toward me and launched me into the air. It felt like I flew forever but it must have only been a few feet. The landing aggravated every broken bone in my body and I moaned through gritted teeth. I opened my eyes and saw my pants laying in front of me.

My pants! I dragged myself closer and fished through my pockets with my good hand. I pulled out twenty silver marks. Well, not really silver. A nation really couldn't get by financially if they made their currency out of actual silver. But they would more than do. Last trick, and I doubt they've seen this one. I drew myself up in a kneeling position and held the coins loosely against my waist. Jonas was now regaining his weapons. I hurt so much, but damned if I was going to take this lying down. I let out one shrill note and the coins flew from my hand with a ringing sound. Twenty silver pieces, shining in the afternoon sun, fanned out and flew with deadly force straight toward Jonas.

((Intelligence: Spells – Song of Magnetism) The shotgun. Twenty metal objects are flying with, generally, the speed of an arrow, on individual vectors in a spray pattern toward Jonas. Muck like a shotgun.)

I watched as the coins flew away from me in slow motion. I could feel blackness creeping in the edges of my eyes. Symphony... this was only the sparring match!

[john greymore]

Sembas was out, Faran was in. Fenwick didnt' think it would get any tougher than Sembas' battle, with the flying and the shooting and all the fake supposed pain.

He was terribly, terribly wrong.

Faran was soon forced to get out of his clothes to untrap himself. How he did that without giving himself a wedgie, Fenwick didn't really want to know at this point. 

Faran's songs rang out shrill and loud at times, others appearing a more desperate scream, but at times, Fenwick could just make out the words of a magic spell chant. At least, he thought he did... It was kind of hard to tell with Faran being swung around and around... Then a white light flashed around their area and for a moment, he couldn't be sure what had happened, the only indication of anything happening being a very, very loud slam to the ground.

Fenwick flinched, silently thankful that he was not the one up against the butcher alone.

'It is over' he thinks. 'I would have given up if I were him.' Yet, to his horror, the butcher slams his fists down and Fenwick can almost swear that he had his own air knocked out of him despite the barrier.

Then, out from the crater was a hand.

May he have mercy...

Faran flew up...up... and the landing was less than graceful. There was a moan from the naked body, but, insanely, almost against odds, he opens his eyes...

Seeing his pants, he drags himself closer... Was he giving up? Was he going to just put on his clothes? Fenwick hoped he did. Faran had already done a lot more than he had expected. Yet, all he did was pull out twenty silver marks. Frowning, Fenwick wondered what he would do with those things.

He is answered quickly by a note that appeared to command the coins. All of them flew out in a large area, yet their target was clear. The butcher would feel pain, or at least some pain.

In his excitement, his calm demeanor is shattered as he shouts out in joy for Faran. A loud 'Yes!'. Yes, he had been an idiot when they first met, yes, he was a stubborn little fool at times, but all of those seemed to be helping him at this one point of time... perhaps to the point of suicide.

Cardack turns over, looking a bit startled by the loud exclamation. It seemed that he too had been watching intently.

After the butcher... what was his name? Faran had said it earlier on... a bit blurry... Joe... it sounded like Joe... Oh, Jonas! After seeing Jonas' counter, or even whether he'll try to counter it, Fenwick moves over to Hestia's side to speak to Cardack, although Hestia can clearly hear what is going on.

"When I'm up there, do I get to carry you along? I mean, I remember my spells, but I've had...er... your pages for quite a while now."

He doubts he'll be allowed it, given a real life simulation where his book was missing... still, worth a shot. Yet, he could not help but wonder...

...Who would he face and lose to?

[Kitharsis]

Sembas was in good spirits after he and Archer's match.  Her words sent him beaming with pride as they walked to the other side of the fence.  Faile left from her perch on the ring and was grumbling in his ear over the match while sitting on his shoulder.



As soon as Faran and Jonas begain sparring he could tell that the result would be far different than He and Archer's match.  Jonas didn't carry the same mood as Archer at all.  The calm baker seemed out for blood...

Sembas cringes as Faran is slammed down hard on the ground.  Rubbing his back where he fell from the fence, he can only imagine how the Singer feels at this moment.  Drumming his fingers on his spear, he whispers over to Archer.

"I'm certainly glad you took it easy on me.  As modest as you were once we finished, I know I'd be in Faran's position right now.  Jonas moves very quickly too, for such a large man.  Is there some secret to the elder Ageless' speed?  That would prove immensely... useful..."

[Faidth]

@Fenwick:

   Cardack’s eyes grow wide. “You want me… to go out there… with you… against Divine knows what?”
   Hestia gives him a sharp look and he sighs heavily. “Well, I suppose I have to, don’t I. If I’m to make amends with my past and blah, blah, blah-”

   Hestia gives him another warning look and Cardack ceases his whining and raises his translucent palms defensively.

   “Fine. Fine. Whatever. I’ll go with you. But I swear on my… cripes… what do I even have to swear on anymore. Can’t swear on my soul… It’s in this damned book. I’d swear on my heart or my left testicle or something but the former hasn’t beaten in ages and the latter-”

   “Not there anymore?” asks Bran from nearby.

   “No!” shoots Cardack with irritation. “They are perfectly intact, albeit a bit on the milky, white, see-through side, but I assure you that they work perfectly fi-” Cardack throws up his hands in exasperation. “WHY ARE WE HAVING THIS DISCUSSION?!”   

   Hestia smirks. “Well… they worked fine on me last night,” she quietly comments.

   “There! You see! Perfect working order!” shouts Cardack. “You fleshy types looking down on me for my lack of tangible limbs! Well, I’ll tell you one thing young man! Some things still work just fine after you’re dead… again… dead again! Anyway! I swear on… this book! I swear on this book that if you get me mangled in your little practice slap-fight here that I am going to beat you with this entire volume until you cry.” 

   You suddenly realize that Cardack’s pages are a bit sticky. This conversation has gotten immensely uncomfortable, and you’re afraid to speculate as to WHY those pages are sticky. 


@Sembas:

   Archer smiles up at you. “Was I taking it easy on you? I hadn’t noticed.” She winks at you and Besnik, perched atop her shoulder, rolls his eyes.

   “As for your interest in our use of speed, yes, it is something that is exceptionally useful, and can even be taught to others. Most of the Elder Ageless possess this skill, and perhaps, with time, I might even be able to train you to acquire the skill.”

   “Besides… I need to give you some way to keep up with me, don’t I?” She nudges you good-naturedly. Anyway, if you were impressed by my skills, or even those of Jonas, wait until your first time on the front lines. Watching the Elders in action, especially General Fury and the Archon is quite a sight to behold.”


@Faran:

   The coins are launched at Jonas with astonishing force due to the use of your Song of Magnetism. However, Jonas makes no attempt to dodge out of the way. Rather, you see him hunker down into a wide stance, his large legs forming a perfect arch as he flexes his arms at his sides.

   Just as your projectiles are about to embed in Jonas’s flesh, the mountainous man lets out an earth-shaking roar, and you can practically see his skin thicken as he calls upon another of his Constitution skills.

   The coins slam into his torso, neck and biceps, but you can hear a sharp metallic clink as they bounce off of his body. Before they have the opportunity to drop, with amazing speed, Jonas plucks each and every coin from the space in front of him.

   “To truly know your enemy, Faran, you must experience their power.” Jonas’s low, rumbling voice fills the area. “To fight the Forsaken, you must inure yourself to the pain that they will surely inflict upon you. I only hope you are ready for this.”

   Hestia gasps and Muse appears quite panicked.

   “Oh, Divine,” breathes Archer. “Surely he’s not going to-”

   “Jonas!” shouts Dethys. “Come to your senses! He is too young for this!”

   Jonas’s eyes lock onto those of Dethys. “You know as well as I that the Forsaken care nothing for age or experience when fighting us. They do not see a Childer Immortalis… they will see a victim. If he gets used to the pain now, when he crosses paths with them, perhaps he will not be so terribly affected.”

   Without another word, and despite the protests of his brethren, Jonas launches the coins back at you. As they grow closer, they expand rapidly, and in the space of a breath and a blink, all twenty silver coins have transformed into twenty razor-sharp cleavers.

   Constancy covers his sister’s eyes and Hestia gasps as she clutches Cardack to her chest. Blood’s expression is impassive, but Cleo’s eyes have widened, and the sons of the Archon and the General look absolutely shocked at this turn of events. They all know what is coming.

   A single word erupts from Jonas’s lips and is carried to your ears. “FLAY!”

   The first cleaver brings mind-numbing pain as it rips the skin off of your shoulder. The second brings agony as it tears the skin off of your neck. The third cleaver swipes across your abdomen, taking the majority of the skin that once protected it, and a fourth quickly, but brutally, removes the skin from your eyelids. The fifth pulls at the thin skin between your toes, as the sixth slashes down your back, leaving your raw flesh exposed to the sun above. Another provides you with a torturous circumcision so devastating it would kill a normal man with the shock from the pain it brings. Yet another carves the skin off of your ribcage, letting it fall to the ground in one long, bloody strip.

   As each cleaver continues to rend your skin from your flesh, you become acutely aware of the sand that digs into the wounds, and how the breeze has been transformed into a relentless lash.

   Across the field, tears stream down the eyes of Jonas Philosophy, and he collapses to his knees in pain. So great is this man’s empathy, that every blade that bores into your skin brings him the same agony.

[Faran Beshral]

The blackness receded momentarily. There were voices. Someone was shouting. The pain was not so great somehow. I was possibly delirious. I got to my feet almost automatically. Jonas looked serious. Very serious. Scary in fact. He frightened me. I hadn't feared anything since I was a child. This man... was he..? He was serious. I heard his words. I felt somewhat elated. He respected me enough to show me the truth.

"FLAY!” and then there was PAIN.

My own coins returned as scythes likened to those carried by the angels of hell. They swung and chunks of me flew. Ripping. Biting. I saw my own intestines spill from my abdomen. I closed my eyes to the horror, but another slash skillfully removed my eyelids. Blood ran into my eyes and everything was red. A blade slashed lower than my abdomen and I began screaming harder than I had ever screamed before. Something felt as if I had been kicked in the groin harder than anything I had ever felt. I didn't want to think of what had just happened to my manhood. Why wasn't I unconscious yet? Why could I still feel everything? The blades were intelligent. Poking, pulling every vulnerable part of me, every pressure point. The wind bit me as hard as the blades and the sand pelted me as thousands of tiny arrows.  I had no more skin. I was swallowing blood. It pooled beneath me in a lake of red.

One of the blades knocked the earmuffs off of my head and the sweet sound of the Symphony flooded my ears. Drowning out my screams. Oh so sweet. I longed to join in, to escape my fate worse than Hell. I continued to scream and scream and scream. Seconds turned to minutes, into hours and into days. The Song my only comfort.

And at last IT was over. I saw through the haze of red, a red Jonas on his knees, in the red sand. Crying. He hurt himself to show me Truth. Was he once... one of them? I could not longer stay standing. I saw him, looking at me and I met his eyes.

“Thank you.” I said, though it was more of a bloody gurgle than anything else. I fell over into the pool of my own blood.

I didn't wake up for a long time.

[Kitharsis]

"Haha, I kept up fine last ni-"

Sembas is cut off as Jonas roars, causing the coins to bounce off without effect.  The chef's next move causes him to gasp.  His skin crawls as he watches Faran get flayed by the many cleavers.  He grips his spear tightly in his hands and clenches his teeth.

"I understand that preparing us for battle is necessary."  He says as he pulls his hood up over his eyes.  "But that was not!"

He turns on his heels to leave and goes so far as to take a few steps before stopping.  His body was trembling.

"Such a grotesque display.  I finally see the horror of our war.  The reality of it sits heaped upon one of our comrades skin..."  He says, with a shaky but determined voice.  "I...  After that..."  He sighs and rubs the back of his head.  "Allow us a moment, please.  We've had enough of this for today..."  His words trail off as he exits the sparring grounds, his hood hanging low over his head.  Faile looks back at the others over his shoulders, her eyes wide with shock.

[john greymore]

Jonas roars, the marks stop flying, Fenwick asks his question, gets a response of fear (He was just asking for the book! Not like he was going to throw it away or anything...). Somehow, the book had some substance on it. He wasn't sure what it was and doubted anything happened back in Hestia's place, but in this place anything could happen. He would have to clean it up soon enough...

There was some sort of commotion. Nearby, Dethys shouted for Jonas not to do it, whatever it was. He turns his head around, trying to find answers in the faces of the others. Only shocked responses, fear, outrage. Nearby, Hestia gasps, grasping Cardack closer to her chest.

"Flay."

He wasn't sure whether he wanted to see this. Something about that one word, along with the bullets that he held in his hand that seemed to be a very uncomfortable mix...

Faran is cut into bits and pieces, his eyelids neatly cut off. The Ageless couldn't die, that was a blessing. Yet, to balance it out, the pain they were doomed to feel seemed a heavy price. Fenwick saw all of this as blood started to first trickle out from every possible orafice, before it turned into something of a river. Soon after, with what seemed like all his skin torn off him and some open wounds in his abdomen, there was silence, save for the crying of the butcher, of Jonas.

Even from here, Fenwick could feel his pain. He didn't want to feel it, especially after all of that, but he did. It didn't affect him terribly from here, outside the field. Lucky him he thought.

A gurgling came over from where Faran stood. Though his mouth was bloody, they visibly moved enough to allow anyone to see that they had formed the words 'Thank you'. He then fell into his own pool of blood.

A voice calls from nearby. "I understand that preparing us for battle is necessary, but that was not!"

Sembas.

Although the display ahead was disgusting, his defiant cry caught Fenwick's attention. He sees the man, Faile on his shoulder, walk a few steps before stopping. Fenwick's body echoed Sembas', although for a different reason.

He would be next. He would feel pain.

Sembas says something, but his back was towards Fenwick. Losing his interest, he turns around only to see Faran still lying on the floor. Of course, what else did he expect? He had expected Faran to stand, to shrug it off like he shrugged off insults, to simply walk off the field. No. Not even the stupid, stubborn-to-a-fault, I-won't-take-your-orders Faran could stand up against that onslaught.

But there was another feeling that festered and grew. A type of joy. Jonas had managed to do all that with one simple word. He was old, centuries old, but one day, Fenwick would be able to command such magic. He would be able to make his tormentors suffer. His parents' murderer, or murderers, would lay bloodied just as the wretched Childer Immortalis currently was.

The murderers were mortal, or at least he figured they would be mortal. They may not be able to feel this type of wrath, and the thought was a bit of a downer, but his own power could grow.

He had molded his magic and spells around such suffering and pain, around fear. One day, his enemies would bow to him.

[Faidth]

@Sembas:

   “Sembas!” cries Archer. Concern clearly marking her face, she hurries after Sembas.

   However, Blood impedes her progress, thus blocking her path.

   “No,” says Blood quietly. “Let me handle this.”

   Archer reluctantly agrees and Blood follows after Sembas.

    “You would walk away from this place?” questions Blood. “Just because that sight affronts your eyes? Do you think it will be so easy to walk away when the Forsaken turn their gaze to you? Do you think you’ll just be able to leave the battlefield?”

   Hearing no immediate response from Sembas, Blood sighs in exasperation. “Who are you to judge what is appropriate and what is not? Though we might not like it, Jonas wouldn’t have done it if Faran couldn’t handle it. Did you even hear what Faran said? He said ‘thank you.’ Did it occur to you why someone would just thank the man that ripped his skin from his body? Faran now realizes the horror that we all face. Jonas respected him enough and believed in him enough to push him to his limits, and in the process, he somehow managed to get through that walnut-thick skull of Faran’s!”

   “Yes, the pain that Faran must feel is excruciating, but you have no idea what that man-” she gestures to Jonas, who is still upon his knees and sobbing. “Has given to teach him this lesson. His pain is no worse than the agony the Forsaken have forced upon each and every one of us. We all bear the scars of the Forsaken!” Blood’s fists are trembling with anger, and Archer quickly attempts to intercede so you do not fall victim to one of Blood’s tirades.

   “Adia… I’m sure he does not mean to judge Jonas too harshly. But imagine what this poor man must be thinking right now.” Archer puts her hand upon your shoulder.

   Blood shakes her head, a look of disgust present upon her face. “Gladia… You know this better than most… You know what it is like to fall victim to the Forsaken.”

   “Yes…” Archer’s gaze becomes distant. “And I am sure that it will haunt me every day of my being. But perhaps it was a bit much too soon.”

   “We do not have the luxury of time, Gladia. We can’t just keep them in Avalon forever. Sooner than you think they will be back out in the world, and there will be a target upon each of them, just as there are targets on each and every one of us. We are hunted, Gladia! And so shall they be! Do you wish for your babyface boyfriend to be tortured and killed by the hands of Severan and his followers?”

   Archer’s face pales considerably at the thought of harm befalling you.

   Blood runs her hand over the top of her head. “Look, I empathize with you, Sembas… Really, I do, but if you react this way now, how do we know you’re not going to fall apart when it actually matters? You must steel your resolve now, for by the time this is over, you will see spades worse than this.”

[Kitharsis]

Sembas stops as Blood addresses him.  You can clearly see he is gripping his spear tighter than ever, although he has stopped trembling.  The Falconer stands stock still until she finishes speaking, allowing every word to sink in.

He pulls back his hood, and turns to face Blood.  No tears, no visages of horror or pain mask his face.  Stern reslove beams from his golden eyes as he meets Blood's.  His leather glove moans as it grips his spear tighter yet.

"I hold no ill will towards Jonas.  I know why he did that, and why he had to.  My heart goes out to each and every one of you, you Ageless who have whitnessed such torment through the Forsaken.  Immortality steals away the quick release of death.  It makes me sick to think of what has happened, and what will happen because of this war."

Sembas runs a hand through his hair and closes his eyes.  Opening them, he continues and begins pacing forward.

"The night before I fully enlisted to my village's militia, I spent in the mountains.  I knew through my service in protecting the people I would have to harm others.  In the mountains Faile and I made a promise to each other to never hesitate.  Never hold back a blow for the sake of a person who would harm my friends and family.  With Faile by my side there was no one to contest us, and we took comfort in the knowledge that we could protect those close to us."

He pauses for a moment, before adding, "I have killed and mutilated men before.  That is not my issue."

Sembas is standing directly in front of Blood now.  He stares directly into her eyes, the two of them being nearly the same height.

"Yes, Faran and Jonas's sparring, if you will call it that, sickened me.  I wanted nothing more than to leap the fence and come to Faran's aid.  But as I watched, I realized I would be just as helpless as he.  Through battling with Archer and watching Jonas, I realized just how helpless I am against the Forsaken.  The fact that I am so weak to protect the ones I care about..." He glances at Archer, Dennan, Fenwick and Faran, before marking everyone else present and returning back to Blood.  "That is difficult for me to accept..."

Breaking his stare he hangs his head.

"Forgive me, I meant no disrespect to Jonas and Faran." 

[Faidth]

@Sembas:

   The crimson that washes across Blood’s face evaporates into nothingness, and you see her fists relax at her sides as she hears what you have to say. Perhaps you have struck upon a nerve, as when you mention feeling helpless, Blood turns from you and faces towards the sparring arena again, her arms crossed over her chest and a thoughtful look upon her face.

   She says nothing else, but simply parts company with you and Archer. You watch as she makes her way towards the sparring area and kneels beside Jonas, who is having difficulty rising to his feet due to agony. Tears continue to stream down his face, and perhaps for the first time since the flaying of Faran Beshral, you notice that Jonas does not merely weep the tears of a man in pain, but tears of blood that sting his eyes and tear at the fibers of his heart.

   Drops of sanguine roll down his cheeks and stain the front of his typically spotless baker’s attire. Every time you have seen him, his garb has always been in an impeccable state. Despite the fact that he wears white pants, a white shirt, and a white button-up jacket, you’ve never seen a blemish upon his garments… until now. 

   Blood offers her arm to him, supporting his bulk with all of her strength. He gratefully rises, his feat unsteady beneath him.


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       Meanwhile, Hestia has knelt beside Faran and is quickly attempting to cease his bleeding. He is a pitiful, pulpy mess, and it is certain that his wounds must be tended in a hurry if he is to make a speedy recovery.

   Blood helps Jonas to Faran’s side, and the Philosopher of Light, who was once known by a much darker name, the Butcher of Darastae, kneels down beside his would-be apprentice. His arms still trembling slightly, Jonas calls upon every ounce of willpower he has to suppress the pain that is impeding him. Wordlessly, he carefully takes Faran into his arms, holding him to his chest as one might carry a sleeping child.

   There is a silent exchange between him and Hestia, and the healer motions for Jonas to follow her and take Faran to the recovery area where she may properly tend to his healing.

   Muse stands nearby, and there is a look of sorrow upon her face as she watches Jonas carry Faran off. Her gaze settles upon the “Magical Earmuffs” she had given to Faran not so long ago. She picks them up from the dusty ground and slowly begins walking behind Jonas.

   Blood, too, takes her leave, likely heading for the Bulwark Headquarters, in order to inform the General of what just transpired. Given Fury’s uncanny powers of observation and her ability to perceive and anticipate far more than she lets on, it’s quite possible she already knows, or perhaps has always known, what would happen upon this day. However, decorum suggests that Blood file the report anyway as injuries of such severity, especially at the hands of another Ageless, are often logged.

   There is silence around the sparring area and no one can be moved to speak for several moments.

   Finally, Dethys clears his throat. “Well then… That was… gooey…” With a look of disgust, he glances as the discarded piles of Faran skin that litter the sparring area. “Eww…”


   Quite suddenly, there is a loud, whirring sound, as if some enormous, magnificent gear has been wound into place. The sound echoes throughout all of Avalon and around you, you begin to see the scenery change. Since you arrived, Avalon had been as a desert, which made a great deal of sense given the location of the gates.

   However, you all remember that it had been mentioned Cleo has the ability to change the location of Avalon at will. As such, you can see enormous, snow-capped mountains and gigantic trees looming in the distance. The air has been affected with a sweet smell that brings to mind fresh, spring water as it trickles down the hillside into an awaiting pool where, cool and refreshing, it might be drunk by passersby.

   There is the faint smell of honeysuckle carried upon the soft, wafting breezes that pass through the sparring arena, and a few, well-placed clouds provide some shelter from the sun’s rays.

   This change of scenery appears to affect everyone’s moods for the better, and draws their attention away from the macabre sight that still stains the sparring ring. While the rest of you marvel at this change of place, Dethys snaps his fingers, dispelling the lumps of Faran into… well, you probably don’t even want to speculate where he’s sent that mess.

[john greymore]

Faran is taken away from the arena, the whole process seeming as if he was being disposed of. Excellent, not only was he beaten to a pulp and the injuries grieved for, he'll also heal and wake up and fight another day... probably being beaten to a pulp. Again.

Ah the joys and wonders of being an Ageless.

Blood and Archer had apparentely talked some sense into Sembas, or Sembas had talked some sense into them. Fenwick had overheard them, that being the only thing left that could take his mind his soon-to-be pain.

Blood had mentioned something about steeling themselves soon or else face death. Fenwick had near burst out laughing. Jonas himself was crying, and upon taking a closer look, they looked like blood. Such is the empathy that they feel pain of the others. Such is the empathy that, on the battlefield, would also immobalise a whole unit of Ageless. Perhaps it could be controlled, but oh such pain they would have to before and after. He was amazed that none of that had been driven insane yet.

Dethys breaks the ensueing silence with his antics. That was a refreshing change, as refreshing as...

...What was that sound?

Avalon had moved, or the world had moved for Avalon. It seemed to be more of the latter though, as Fenwick had not felt anything during the change. The air smelled sweet, a clear contrast with the dry, hot air that had permeated the desert. Speaking of which, clouds had suddenly appeared and blocked the sun's rays, making everything a shade darker. Fenwick was not sweating, but he did appreciate the change.

He is a bit disorientated however, and more than a little light headed from the sudden change. Just a little bit of time would fix that though.

Dethys snaps his fingers and the arena is cleared. Fenwick goes over to Dethys.

"I guess I'm probably up against you?"

[Faidth]

@Fenwick:


   Dethys’s eyes widen. “Me? Dear boy! Why ever would you think that? What? Is it because I’m a mage, too? Is that it? That is stereotyping and I don’t have to take it!”

   Bran rolls his eyes and nudges his perpetually amiss honorary uncle. “Uh… Uncle Dethys. I think he believes you are to be his opponent because you are his mentor.”

   “Oh! Right! Mentoring! Hmm…” Dethys taps his foot upon the grassy ground. There is no evidence that this place was ever a desert, and one can’t help but to be thankful for this change in scenery. “Well... I just got these robes pressed, and I really don’t want to blemish them. I mean, look at me! I’m absolutely charming in these things. Look at them!” Dethys poses so that you might admire his freshly pressed robes.

   “Couldn’t you just have them pressed again?” questions Bran.

   “Bah! That’s too much work!” grumbles Dethys.

   “You have magic,” Bran offers.

   “How many times must I tell you, boy? Magic is-” begins Dethys.

   His two apprentices finish the phrase from memory. “Never to be used for frivolous pursuits.”

   “Ah!” beams Dethys. “Serenity! Constancy! You were paying attention! Anyway! No, you won’t be facing me. I think I’d rather just observe your abilities from here. However, I’m sure we can find you a worthy opponent.”

   Dethys claps Dennan upon the back. “Dennan!”

   “Yes, Uncle?” comes Dennan’s low, rumbling reply.

   “Why don’t you put Fenwick here to the test?” suggests Dethys.

   Dennan nods slowly. “As you wish, Uncle.” He turns to his bear companion, Fensten, and whispers something in the creature’s ear.

   Whatever he says, Fensten whimpers and moves to follow his companion

   “No, Fensten. You wait here. I’ll be alright.” Dennan scratches the bear between the ears and the enormous creature nuzzles his hand.

   Dennan gestures for you to enter the sparring area and proceeds to lumber to the far end of the ring. His expression is unreadable, but he appears as calm, relaxed, and wholly unflappable as always.

   Like the other Ageless, he is polite enough to allow you the first blow.

[john greymore]

Dennan agrees to the competition in such a steady, calm, controlled voice that Fenwick is unnerved.

He steps into the ring, being allowed, as the others were allowed, the first move. Unsure how to start, Fenwick does the polite thing and does a slight bow. Politeness politeness!

Yet as he does so, he recalls everything about Dennan. Calm. Uses a greataxe... will probably read everything that Fenwick does... if necessary, can shapeshift. In other words, he's screwed. Yet there was one thing more that he needed to know...

Breathing in deep, Fenwick mumbles a few words under his breathe. As he does so, he feels ten, probably a hundred, times stronger than he does. Every single muscle in his body seemed to have bulged by just a little, but the magic that courses within him would allow him to punch a hole through a brick wall if necessary. [(Wisdom--Spiritual Magic: STRENGTH)]

It was a risky move, but he had to try. He made a beeline for Dennan, his eyes constantly focused on Dennan's. The plan was such: He would strike out with his right arm, aimed for the left side of his face (his left, or Fenwick's right), after which he would bring up his left arm to block the counterattack which would most definitely come from Dennan's right arm. After that, Fenwick would knee him straight in the privates and, with his right arm, elbow his head straight down. With that done, he would jump back and return to his position. Dennan's counterattack would hurt...

If he doesn't find out whether Dennan is right or left handed, he would at least be able to deal some form of damage to him.

[Faidth]

        As you barrel towards Dennan, you notice that he makes no attempt to dodge out of the way. You draw back your right arm to connect with his face, however, as you near him, you see him slam his fist into the ground.

   An enormous wall of rock and earth explodes out of the ground, serving as a one foot thick barrier between you and your target. Your fist slams into the wall, sending searing pain through your knuckles, and you hear a few bones fracturing from the force of the blow. You stumble backwards as Dennan stomps upon the ground , causing the wall to retreat back into the earth.

   Dennan takes several steps back, faces you, and crouches into a low position, causing him to appear more animal than man. His calm, emotionless visage is replaced by a wild, feral look that strikes fear into your heart. No matter how you attempt to steel your nerves, you cannot help the hesitation that grips you, and your intelligence allows you to conclude that whatever is going on is some kind of fear effect produced by Dennan calling upon one of his Charisma skills.



(Note: Effect- The user’s presence creates fear in his opponents. During the opponent’s next post, they are so overcome with their trepidation that they simply cannot will their body to near their target. No physical attacks can be taken for this post. Ranged and magical attacks are still available to use, however, their potency is much reduced. This effect lasts for only one turn, unless the user chooses to continue the effect, thus sacrificing their next action.) Dennan will only be using this for one turn.

[john greymore]

As Fenwick runs closer and closer to his target, he senses something amiss, but, shrugging it off, he continues on.

But as Fenwick draws closer and has his right arm cocked and ready. He fires... and a huge wall of rock rises and protects Dennan. Fenwick's eyes widen as he sees this, but it's too late. His arm does connect, but it is with the rock wall. There are a few audible cracks and Fenwick nearly screams from the pain, only to be stopped by Dennan's stomp, throwing Fenwick off on the ground and causing the wall to return to where it came from.

The pain is nearly unbearable, but it is not as bad as the humiliation. He had forgotten! These were Ageless, these were trained. They had both magic and blade.

With this in mind, he watches warily as Dennan simply steps away from him and crouches down. Their eyes were locked again, allowing Fenwick to see the visible and sudden change as Dennan appears to metamorphose from Ageless to Animal. His eyes had a feral glint, he seemed to be a wolf, about to tackle him...

'He hasn't changed! He's still the same!!' His logical side shouted at him. 'Control! Be in control!'

Alas, he cannot return in control. Drowning in fear, Fenwick attempts to step back, but instead falls and lands on his bum. Instinctively, he throws out his right arm behind him for support, only to be rewarded with another jolt of pain similar to the first.

Yet he feels nothing as he pushes himself back with his legs, his eyes unwilling to move away from the terrible visage before him. He swings out his left hand frantically, as though it could push it back.

Moving away far enough, he manages to obtain some semblance of control. He controls his shaking (He was shaking?? When... when...) and takes a deep breath. Dennan is an Ageless.... Fear is simply an emotion... stay calm... calm...

The shaking lessens and he manages to look away. A spell directed at Dennan was out of the question here, since it would require looking at the monstrosity, but he could work his magic on himself.

Mumbling to himself, the adrenaline and fear drains away, causing the dull ache he feels on his right hand to creep back at him. He casts the spell and instantly feels safer, protected. (Wisdom--Spiritual magic: SOOTHSAYER)

He turns back and finds himself now able enough to watch out for any of Dennan's attacks, although not necessarily look at him directly for an extended period of time. His arm would have to be treated, but right now he prepares himself to roll out of the way if Dennan decides to seize this opportunity.

[Faidth]

        Dennan wastes no time. You see him jump vertically into the air, and much to your surprise, he simply keeps rising. As you gaze overhead, you see that the talented shapeshifter has transformed into a giant eagle, easily large enough to carry a human rider.

   The creature begins to circle the sparring area and gathers speed as he swiftly moves in smooth arcs. The sight would be quite beautiful and majestic, were it not for the fact you see him rapidly change directions. He points his enormous beak towards the ground and begins to plummet towards you, letting out a shrill cry as he descends upon his prey.    

[john greymore]

The eagle that is Dennan dive bombs straight for Fenwick. He wasn't sure what would happen, but Fenwick guesses that he'll be moving too fast to change direction in the last minute.

With quite a bit of effort, Fenwick manages to push himself up to a squat. He would wait. At the moment right before Dennan can crush his bones, he'll jump off to the right, curling off into a roll to disperse the shock.

Hopefully Dennan can't cast magic in animal form...