Round 4 IIzak vs. Car'mael [J- Wattz]

[Wattz]

Suddenly, the gray landscape began to overtake Hu’natu. This world, so structured, could not comprehend the strange magics within his essence. It did not take long before the shadows swirled around his frame, turning him into a petrified creature, an ordinary tree just like the rest of the ones standing still in the soil. His roots could not take hold in the concrete, and thus he toppled over, dispersing in a burst of dust.

In his place, another challenger. The Mara Terhon the BlackSilver appeared suddenly across from Artemis Soth.

The harlequin does not sport her usual smile, but instead a frown, floating in air and resting her head on her arms. As she spoke, her words seemed to drone on in boredom.

“A challenger lost to the world yet again.
Onward we go in the face of these blunders
New pawn,” she pointed to the Mara, “One clue I give you of this plane;
it is your will the shadows seek to sunder.”

Then she was gone again.

--

This is the same arena that Housemaster and IIzak were first placed into. Here is the original post (obviously all of these speaking parts happened before Car'mael's character appeared):

The world is silent. Not a gust of wind, not a flick of a bird’s wings can be heard within the gray. The space is wide and generous; an enormous yet terribly plain cement field with controlled patches of garden flowers and meticulously trimmed trees lined the path. The vegetation, though is should be bright and lively, is muted. The sky is a bright white color, though is not blinding, and the smooth cement of the courtyard seems to reflect it.

The combatants stand at either end, while the harlequin stands in the middle. She is small, scraggly, greasy, and the yellowed teeth stretch so far it seems as if her mouth is too big for her face.

The shadows the combatants cast are immense, while the harlequin has none.

She claps and cackles with glee.

“Jolly good, jolly good, such a glorious show!
Such might shows the tree, such grace shows the boy,
now pitted against one another as foes.
So what shall you do when your souls are the toys?”

No longer do the combatants cast shadows, as they snake free of their bonds. Vague figures now seem to surround the gray of the courtyard, though their outline is subtle enough that they are hardly noticeable.

“Do you hear them? Their rich desires, their jeers?
They see you, they feel you; not a want in disguise.
This world is their own, and out of love they see fear.
Their whispers speak truths and their claws discern lies."

She disappears.


Throughout the battle, you may make the shadows whisper to your character, to entice them as a siren might a sailor. Use your imagination, but be weary that they do not mean well (though for now they appear to), and can delve into your character’s deepest wants and desires. I'd like to see some creativity in how your characters handle this kind of vague direction on a story-telling level as well on a combat level.

After each combatant has had four turns [eight posts in total], there will be a small change to the field.

At the toss of a coin, IIzak goes first.

[IIzak]

A startled look crossed Artemis's face when the grey mist surrounded his opponent. He gripped his weapons more tightly, readying himself in case this was some sort of trick from the strange tree-man. When Artemis saw the tree-man turned to stone, he gasped aloud and a cold fear overtook him as his gaze shot from left to right, expecting to be next. The crack of the tree-man made him jump slightly. Always he had expected to die, however, he had expected it in battle, not in the form of a cold, unknown, torturous death such as that.

Suddenly, across the arena, another figure appeared. A hooded being that appeared to Artemis's eyes to be human. Still, Artemis kept up his guard, wary of this new arrival. "Perhaps it's this unnatural place, but something seems off about him" Artemis thought to himself, his sixth sense that all warriors possess warning him that all was not what it seemed.

“A challenger lost to the world yet again.
Onward we go in the face of these blunders
New pawn,” she pointed to the Mara, “One clue I give you of this plain;
it is your will the shadows seek to sunder.”

"Ahh, I see..." Artemis thought to himself, gazing more closely at the hooded figure across from him. "So this is my new opponent" Artemis pointed his weapons at this new foe and was about to issue his challenge when he felt a small poke at his consciousness. Artemis attempted to harden his mental defenses, but he was too slow and again he faded off into a sort of dreamlike state. This time, memories of his final battle as a slave came to him:

The air was warm and the atmosphere was tingling with anticipation. Artemis's tanned body shone in the blazing sunlight as the crowd roared in approval at the bloodshed they knew they were about to witness. Flipping his sword around in circles, he relished in the cheers of the crowd, basking in the glory of battle.

His opponent stepped out onto the dirt and immediately the crowds roars of approval transformed into jeers of dislike. The Red Minotaur was a savage fighter, and when he fought, the stadium filled up faster than anyone would believe. However, he had begun to win far to often and the previous love the crowd had for him shifted into dislike. They relished at the thought of someone gutting the arrogant Minotaur, and standing victorious over his body. Few understood how difficult that task would be.

Still, Artemis had confidence in himself, he would win, so that he could see the faces of his family members and hold them in his arms again. With a determined grin on his face, he flourished his weapons and bowed slightly to the Red Minotaur, saying aloud "Greetings mighty one. I know your name already, for I have heard it whispered in fear throughout the arena. Yet to level the playing field, I shall tell you my own. My name is Artemis Soth, and I am the bringer of your death!"...

Shaken by the images of his past that had flashed before his eyes, Artemis felt himself wobble slightly, shaking his head to clear the out the intrusions and regain his focus. He stared at the being across from him and saw the icy blue eyes glowing beneath his hood. "Human or not, honor is necessary" Artemis thought to himself. He bowed his head slightly in the direction of his new adversary and called out "Greetings Hooded One, I am called Artemis. I would ask your name before battle is joined so I may know the being with which I do battle."

Artemis assumed a pose of readiness with his weapons as he awaited the beings reply, ready for any tricks the being might try.

[Car'mael]

A bit of background music, if interested... (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80kOBeMEm2I)
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Being wrenched from the ghost town just as his meal(s?) were just arriving was disconcerting at the least and discourteous at best, so it was no wonder his arrival in the grey arena left Terhon in not the best of moods. The sight of the harlequin frowning before him, a human (he could not be certain, appearances having been deceiving before) standing opposite himself, and their rather toneless surroundings were enough to draw a mental sigh. An eyebrow rose beneath the hood, contemplating it all resignedly. No point to remaining annoyed when the source of that annoyance was beyond retribution or enlightenment.

Gods. They truly tested one’s patience.

Letting the harlequin’s words wash over him and listening absently, the Mara began to appraise his situation thoroughly. She was immediately cast aside as of very limited importance to the situation—the last godling had sought entertainment and if she was anything like him in her intent, she would not intercede against him or any opponent directly. Of more immediate need for his attention were the surroundings and the human-seeming creature opposite him within them. Icy eyes flicked to the smooth cement, considering the traction as reasonable enough for his claws, then the fancy foliage beyond its expanse. As far as his telepathy could sense, however, that foliage was as useful to him as wax flowers—no life-force within it for his consumption and use, in fact no energy he could drain at all. The very ground was just as lifeless and fake. Nothing populated this place, either, except himself and the person standing across the concrete field… and, well, the godling, but she was anything but edible and so didn’t count in Terhon’s opinion. No animals, no insects, nothing making a sound, not even the air. In fact, it was rather stale air, undisturbed by anything but themselves. A rather unremarkable location in the end, but the Mara supposed it was as good as anything for a battle to bored godlings.

Terhon had shifted to contemplating the man when the harlequin pointed his way, finishing,


“…New pawn,” she pointed to the Mara, “One clue I give you of this plain;
it is your will the shadows seek to sunder.”

The Mara switched arched eyebrows as she disappeared. Truly? Grey shadows in a grey world? Uncertain of the dangers she likely sought to tease him with, he cast about with his telepathy once more, and his mouth shifted to an ever-so-faint frown as he glanced around. Something hovered at the fringes of the foliage, shadowy and with a wisp of soul-essence to them, the vaguest suggestion of intelligence and presence. Ghosts of a sort, wraiths being a better term. Not so different from what he knew lived at "home" on the Fifth Shadow-Plane now that he tried to examine them. Beneath his gaze and scrutiny, however, the transient things flickered and flowed like ripples in a pond, here then gone in the briefest of moments. Annoying things, for all he himself had become one when "killed" in the mortal world before, his physical form destroyed and his remaining energy sent back to his home plane to struggle to rebuild from such a tenuous existence. Mara-wraiths fed on the energies of others in the Shadow Plane to restore themselves… and only the lucky ones succeeded at gaining back enough to regain a corporeal form. Vague memories of flitting around and enfolding prey to drain and devour like an amoeba were enough to make Terhon’s slight frown deepen further. Sufficient of these "flies" were enough to weaken even the strongest of his kind, just like leeches could drain humans to dangerous depths in swamps. They were not the only annoyance one had to contend with at "home", and he had no wish to face these, let alone anything along similar lines the harlequin thought to embellish this world with. The Fifth Shadow Plane, to say the least, was not an endearing place to even its true residents, so while the shadows gave Terhon a sense of nostalgia, there was no fondness attached to it.

The unpleasant wraiths were whispering already.

"Terhon, Terhon, whatever happened to your father? Fed on the both of them, the real and the foster? A mother's milk was not enough to take?"

"Is there any love lost to a Mara, or only lives as meals?"

"Betwixt and between of Heaven and Hell, your 'home' is atrocious, so where do you dwell?"

"Carmen, Carmen, come back! If only you were a Mara too…"

Wincing away from those murmurs, shoring up his mental shields to mute the annoying whispers, Terhon grumbled to himself, fighting the sad last memories of his most recent visit of the material world, <With gods and godlings always playing with mortal souls, who is to say she will not be, someday? Reincarnate enough times, and the odds fall ever closer to that favor. Heaven cannot exist without love, and she earned safety enough from Hell by protecting others. I will find her again, someday, and again after that—Carmen, my love.>

Perhaps he flung the thought aimlessly at those creatures more for his own sake of arguing it, to buoy up his hopes and reasons for continuing to exist, and less as a defense against the wraiths? It wasn’t as if the wraiths cared.

With time running out, that human standing nearby yet demanded his attention and so he obliged again. Undoubtedly the godling sought a battle here today, and this human… a mere human? Hardly, not if they were both pitted against each other here! There had to be, to use the ironically human phrase, "a catch". Merely human would have been a mere meal, tossed to him where he’d been before, not requiring the disdainful effort of relocating the Mara. No, this one had to be more than he seemed for the godling to go to such effort. Brown hair, green-brown eyes, brown dominating the close-fit clothing, it all suggested a bland and mundane theme. A sword was no surprise for all it was slightly odd in shape with that long hilt, but the two daggers were unusually prominently displayed in the man’s bandolier for a typically last-resort weapon. The spicy tang of magical aura and power hovered around the man, so either he had some innate ability of his own or carried enchanted items. So this man was more—or carried more—than he seemed at first glance. Intriguing, and one to approach warily as a result just like the Yynglyng before him. A surprise fireball to the face tended to mar one’s complexion and rather sour any appetite, not to mention ruining the whole day.

The magical power drew icy eyes to narrow, a taloned hand hidden in the flowing sleeve of those dark robes flexing hungrily. Dinner had been delayed. Terhon was hungry, and any power looked enticing right now.


Artemis bowed his head slightly in the direction of his new adversary and called out, "Greetings Hooded One, I am called Artemis. I would ask your name before battle is joined so I may know the being with which I do battle."

Dinner wanted introductions?

Terhon’s eyebrows rose like a startled bird’s wings, mildly amused and slightly confused.

"Why?" his metallic voice questioned dispassionately.

The human had already taken a ready stance, intent on fighting. What did names matter in a fight? To be screamed like by a lover in ecstasy? Hardly. To be called in the middle of a blow? There was no reason for forewarning. To be offered mercy or beg it? There were only the two of them—with the harlequin gone and not about to favor any until perhaps the end, who else was there to ask it of? The wraiths wouldn't care any more than the flowers did.

"Perhaps after," the Mara added, a wry hint to his sardonic words. Battle seemed imminent, so Terhon’s feet gripped the concrete for traction with the faintest of crunches, claws sinking in as easily as a bird's into soft wood, and he reached up within his hood with a taloned hand to start drawing his feathered bird-mask up over his face.

"Terhon…"

"Terhon…"

"Terhon…"

Bedammned those wraiths! The Mara paused with mask still in hand and shot a glare to his right at the things flickering in his peripheral vision. They were actually teasing him, mocking him! Could the human hear them, too? Icy eyes shifted back to the human, suspicious.

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<Telepathy.>

"Wraith Whisper."

"Vocal words."

[IIzak]

Artemis looked out at his opponent, who appeared to be studying him intently, and a shiver ran down his spine as the being's icy blue eyes narrowed hungrily. As he waited for an answer to his challenge, Artemis felt a powerful aura radiating from his opponent; he could feel it bearing down upon him like a heavy stone weight dropped on his back. Artemis could feel the blood pumping through his veins and his opponent's stare left him feeling uncomfortable, as though he were an animal up for slaughter. Suddenly his opponent's voice cut through the unnatural silence of the arena like the blade of a knife through warm butter. "Why?" came the reply.

Artemis's blood began to boil at the insult he felt his opponent had sent his way. He felt a cool rage building within him as he contemplated his opponent's question. "Why?" came the echoing voice. It sounded cold, dispassionate, inhuman. "The reason is simple, it's only honorable that you should know the name of a man before you end his life!" Artemis shouted back passionately, conviction ringing out through his words. "I guess I should have known better than to talk of honor to a man who won't even fight with his face bared." Artemis spat, venom apparent in his voice.

His opponents voice sounded again, slithering out from under the cowl of his hood. "Perhaps after" it called, a tone of mocking apparent behind the words. It was evident to Artemis that he was being underestimated by his opponent, but that was fine by him. The eeriness of his opponent's voice grated on Artemis for a moment until a wall of icy fury repelled Artemis's fears.

His previous fears forgotten, Artemis flourished his blade and cried out "You should have told me now, I've heard its quite difficult for people to talk when they're dead!" With his retorts tossed, Artemis decided that the time was ripe to quit peacocking and initiate combat with this rogue. Charging forward, Artemis covered the distance more quickly than a normal human; the magical bracers that he wore around his ankles pumping extra strength into his legs.

As he sprinted forward, he assessed Terhon as a real opponent for the first time; noting how battle-ready he seemed, the weapons that he carried, and all of the other factors that went into determining how powerful a person was. This close, Artemis noticed the bird mask that obscured Terhon’s features even further and added an aura of mysteriousness to his appearance.

More important than the mask though, was the gargantuan glaive Terhon wielded and Artemis understood he would need to be cunning if his attack was to slip past Terhon’s glaive and strike him. As he began to execute his maneuver, Artemis's vision swam, and suddenly the black-robbed being, transformed into the Red Minotaur and Artemis was again back in that old arena...

He charged in, pretending to be bull rushing the large minotaur, sword high over his head as though he was attempting to end the fight with a single over-head chop. At the very last second, he dipped his body low, dropping down to one knee as he shifted the weight of his sword, deceptively transforming his attack from an aggressive over-head chop into a vicious one-handed thrust aimed at the Red Minotaur's seemingly exposed belly. Simultaneously, Artemis drew a dagger from his bandolier and sliced it downward towards the Red Minotaur's left shin, knowing that if he struck with the dagger, he would be able to activate its innate powers and paralyze his opponent for several precious seconds.

All that Artemis saw was the Minotaur, however; the attacks were all aimed at Terhon, the unforgiving steel of Artemis's blades stabbing and slashing towards the black-robed Mara.

[Car'mael]

Some more background music... (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysSxxIqKNN0)
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"The reason is simple; it's only honorable that you should know the name of a man before you end his life!" Artemis shouted back passionately, conviction ringing out through his words. "I guess I should have known better than to talk of honor to a man who won't even fight with his face bared," Artemis spat, venom apparent in his voice.

His previous fears forgotten, Artemis flourished his blade and cried out, "You should have told me now; I've heard it’s quite difficult for people to talk when they're dead!"

“…Dead…”

“…Dead…”

“Dead?” came the echo of the wraiths. Clearly from the human's lack of reaction, he couldn't hear them, at least not what Terhon heard them saying.

The Mara wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but for the moment he was rather envious.

The human’s retort rolled off the Mara as rather illogical and more emotion than sense. What good did knowing the man’s name do? A life was a life, animal or man or tree or dragon. All had their own identity, and as such were honored as that individual life. He sensed the man’s soul, his life-force, his mind—what more did he need to identify the creature? A name was but a breathed sound in comparison to those identifiers. On the flip side of the coin, Terhon had no wish to give his own Truename as those had power across the planes of existence for a Mara much as it did for elemental creatures; the fool could too easily give it out or use it in a Summoning himself. Bad enough to have gods and godlings calling on one; worse when Men did the same to pull him into their petty conflicts! He had no wish to be Summoned at whim like a human’s pet dog just to suit this opponent’s idea of “honor”.

Honor. What a lofty term to be thrown about!

“Does honor dictate you attack another for the whim and amusement of others as well?” Terhon returned impassively, deciding such a young thing probably needed to reconsider his reasons for this. Unlike himself, the human wasn’t intent on this battle because he was hungry and needed the nourishment, after all. “In that stead, why should I bare my face to your blade any more than I would bare my arm, my chest? You are fast to invent your own rules of what is ‘honorable’ when it suits only yourself.”

The Mara barely had time for his answer when the human was rushing him. The ground between them closed with surprising speed for what seemed a normal man, those legs pumping impossibly fast, that sword brandished high for an obvious swing though not as quickly as those legs. Mara were creatures of opportunity, not confrontational unless it was on their own terms—much like a hunting leopard, interested in favorable battles only and preferably striking from concealment. Not one who liked such a direct approach, Terhon didn’t wait to be slashed at and instead wrapped robes close and leapt up and back, to his right, putting the spiritual nature of his garments to use. He choose to retreat into concealment the easiest way against such a land-bound opponent on this featureless expanse of concrete, in height and the invisibility of his robes.

Just as well he had taken to cover. As the man dropped to one knee, that sword glanced off the side of his leg as he leapt up, merely scraping armor beneath those robes even as he vanished from sight but a surprising success all the same. Even more astonishing was the man’s swinging with one of those unusually-brandished daggers, as that enchanted weapon cut into the scale-like armor of his left foot, leaving a fair slash and an odd warmth behind. By the time Terhon had moved up and aside, the poison was working and his limbs could not move, leaving him pinned and paralyzed there in the air… if undetectable by the naked eye. Tar-like black blood dripped to the ground below, staining it slowly as it was absorbed into the concrete, leaving a sharp and burnt scent to the air.

His mind was free to wander, though. And the wraiths seemed to find his situation hilarious, to his annoyance. Terhon hated peanut galleries.

“One little birdie… what an odd bird to hover so.”

“Best seat in the house.”

“Shadow-boxing with a whole new meaning!”

Indeed, the human was fighting below still, against… nothing. Blade and dagger struck and feinted at some other invisible opponent. A sword that was as useless as a branch against him, in truth, though the dagger clearly could strike damage through Terhon’s protection as most enchanted items did. That dagger was a nasty blade to freeze an opponent to one’s mercy so. Considering his opponent’s sense of “honor”, this man was likely to take advantage of all the damage such an opening offered, too. So, then, the daggers were therefore weapons to evade and deflect whenever possible. Intriguing and ironic to have that same blade force him to take this time to consider it and its twin in depth.

“'Take me, Friend Death!'” a wraith quoted laughingly.

Mara memories took time to fully come to mind and reveal all their depths, much as flowers took time to fully open. There were too many jostling for attention for a Mara as old as Terhon to give any of them a chance unless he had a moment of bored stillness such as this. But that quote revived one he was less inclined to fight as it echoed the irony of the moment by being one of few times he was in a situation that amused others. Such situations were few and far between, and he had a feeling the current moment was much the same to the harlequin--it would certainly be so to Carmen if she knew.

He abhorred the indignity of embarrassment.

---Flashback---

Terhon hovered silently in a back alley, keeping watch over the tavern his beloved Carmen’s recent incarnation was staying in, a sentinel in darkness as loyal as a guard dog. He could not enter without permission and others there were uninclined to welcome his presence, so for now he hid here, out of the unusually heavy flow of traffic. The city was in crisis, wounded being brought to the tavern for tending, of which his beloved was aiding with the company of her friends. Better he remain here, though, in the forgotten quiet of the alley, than scaring the frightened populace further with his very presence.

It was there that the incident happened, one fit to terrify and traumatize the poor Mara for life.

“Take me, Friend Death!” someone yelled behind him.

In the time it took him to turn and face that voice, the human-seeming figure had closed the distance and leapt on him. Powerful arms embraced him; limbs clung to him with the relentlessness of an octopus; the fellow latched on with the enthusiasm of a child coming home. Fangs clamped down through his insubstantial robes and onto the solid metal of his armored shoulder, unable to penetrate yet able to indent enough to retain a vice grip.

Terhon was being glomphed by a vampire.

Any attempt to pry the man off made the crazed vampire only try to latch on the more, glomphing to an arm, a leg, his shoulder again alternately. Nor did Terhon dare cut the man off in a literal sense, as drawing the blood of the undead only made Mara ill, that tainted life-force as bad as thoroughly-rotten and mummified food was to a human. Yet he just couldn't get the damned man to get off!

Finally giving up on trying to be rid of the vampire, Terhon resigned himself to enduring this indignity by simply folding his arms across his chest and standing still in the alleyway, leaving the thing chewing on his shoulder-armor with the blatant joy of a puppy on a toy…

It was that way which the other members of the vampire clan found them a couple hours later, seeking to retrieve their errant member and resume the treatment of his madness. Though he had felt the amusement pouring off them when they came, saw the crinkle of eyes in enjoyment and hands trying to hide the smiles, heard the stifled laughs in their voices as they apologized for the inconvenience Mircea had caused and thanked Terhon for not giving the crazed vampire the final death he sought.

Sometimes, being an intimidating specter of Death was a bad thing.

---End Flashback---

Still, Terhon mused, this could always be worse. The human could be doing the same as Mircea.

In the light of that, being forced to watch the man shadow-boxing was not such a bad thing. It also allowed him to plan his next move. When this poison wore off, the next move was his own. A five-point strike was the most appealing at the moment, one that could turn the tables or even end this game, perhaps. The glaive would lead, his wings sweeping open with the sound of a thousand swords being drawn to offer their razor tips in a crossing slashing just above it, his taloned feet reaching to grasp and crush and tear just below it, all five seeking to maim or kill in that one impact. In rushing the man like a bird of prey he would lose his robes’ concealment as his wings emerged and his feet rose up, visible again as he made that strike, but such was the price of his concealment. He had to wait for this unknown substance to wear off first, however. Until then, any attack was moot.

“'I hold no fear of you,'” a wraith quoted mockingly, words the patriarch Radu had said after yet another and similar incident with that same Mircea.

<Shut up,> Terhon grumbled at it, refusing to remember more.

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<Telepathy.>

"Wraith Whisper."

"Vocal words."

[IIzak]

Artemis heard his opponent's voice call out some retort, and the words struck Artemis's conscience profoundly. "I FIGHT FOR NO ONE"S AMUSEMENT!" he roared angrily, the words drawn from his throat before he knew what he was even saying. How this opponent infuriated him! Standing there smugly as if he knew the secrets of the world. What did this person know of the struggles and torments that he had endured, of the things that he had done in his life that inspired him to battle...

"No stop!..." Artemis thought to himself, "This is exactly what he wants from you. If you get angry you will lose your control and an out of control warrior can't even call himself a warrior." All of these thoughts flashed through Artemis's head in moments, even as he was executing his attack on Tehron. With his emotions under control Artemis was able to complete the attack sequence to some success.

Artemis felt his weapons connect with his opponent and grinned, sure that he would now be able to finish this fight. the sword had glanced off of some unseen armor that Artemis supposed had been hidden beneath his opponent's billowing cloak. Despite this fact, he felt the dagger pierce through Tehron's foot and he activated it's powers with a mental command, causing a magical poison to secrete into his opponent's skin that would leave him helplessly paralyzed.

Artemis swept his sword around in an arc, planning to take the head from his opponent's shoulders, however, his blade swept the air. He couldn't believe his eyes... the man was gone! Artemis searched back and forth with his eyes, gazing in all directions as he searched for the shadowy opponent, but he was nowhere to be found. "Where could he be?" Artemis asked himself, a confused look plastered on his face as he peered at his surroundings.

"Surely he can't be hiding, there's nothing he to hide behind" Artemis said aloud, pondering it further as ideas as to where his opponent had disappeared to flashed through his mind. As he pondered, Terhon's words floated back into his consciousness "“Does honor dictate you attack another for the whim and amusement of others as well?” Terhon returned impassively, deciding such a young thing probably needed to reconsider his reasons for this. Unlike himself, the human wasn’t intent on this battle because he was hungry and needed the nourishment, after all. “In that stead, why should I bare my face to your blade any more than I would bare my arm, my chest? You are fast to invent your own rules of what is ‘honorable’ when it suits only yourself.”

Artemis was stung by these words, they cut far deeper than his opponent would have believed.

Artemis knew that aspects of his life and his code were not as honorable as he made himself out to be. He knew that the very way that he fought, with those daggers that poisoned and drained others. Truth be told, he hated the damned daggers. Artemis knew that his daggers were incredibly hypocritical, it was a truth that he struggled with everyday. He had originally obtained the daggers to deal with the Banshee that had harassed him during his travel's after he had won his freedom in the arena. They were now his curse, a heavy burden that he carried on his soul. At the thought of this voices began to speak out in his head.

"A curse eh?...

What do you mean by that?...

Oh come now, do tell us the story...

Artemis jumped in fear, his gaze sweeping left to right as he attempted to discern the source of these noises. Perhaps this was a trick by his opponent to get into his head. But no; it didn't feel like his opponents aura, it seemed something... darker. Suddenly the Harlequin's voice rang out in his head once more.

“Do you hear them? Their rich desires, their jeers?
They see you, they feel you; not a want in disguise.
This world is their own, and out of love they see fear.
Their whispers speak truths and their claws discern lies."

Artemis's blood turned cold as he realized where he was. During his searching he had walked far too close to the edge of the shadows, those indiscernible figures far to close for his liking. "No... no, no, get away!" Artemis yelled out, swinging his sword at those unseen enemies as the shadows seemed to pull him in closer. Desperately he fought against their pull, however, they whispered seductively to him and he felt his resistances crumbling. They began to engulf him as the voices whispered once again.

"You promised us a story..." the voices whispered, their voices the last thing he heard as his vision began to dim, his sight going darker and darker...

Artemis was running. Some would have called it sprinting even. He was wearing the only outfit he owned, the tight-fitting brown tunic and pants that blended so well into the woods he sprinted through. It was nighttime, however the full moon lit up the sky and gave just enough light to trick the eyes. Every swaying tree looked like some other evil, looming out of the darkness.

Artemis shook the thoughts away and kept on sprinting. He could hear the footfalls and snapping twigs that meant he was being followed and he had an idea as to who it was. His suspicion was confirmed when he heard the wailing keen of the Banshee. Artemis was at a loss as to how it could have found him. After all, he had thought that he had escaped the demon once and for all back near his home country of Aldretha.

Still, unless he was incredibly unlucky, it had to be the same banshee that had chased him all the way across the continent. Artemis could feel the Banshee closing in on him, and despair began to creep into his soul as the keen sapped his strength, barely penetrating the wax he had stuffed into his ears after the Banshee's first keen.

His heart leapt when he caught sight of the lights of a small village up ahead. He knew that the Banshee wouldn't follow him into the village, for some reason she never did. It would be a small reprieve for him, he knew, since towns never seemed very happy to have a Banshee tormenting travelers that came into town. Inevitably, they would blame the newcomer for bringing it to the town and he would be shunned from the city, forced to continue running; always running from this evil creature.

The Banshee pulled back from him as Artemis neared the lights of the village. They appeared to be having some sort of festival. Bright lights and loud sounds burst through the darkness like a holy beacon and Artemis was eternally grateful as he finally reached the outskirts of the village. Breathing heavily, he slowed his pace and walked with a sense of wonder, gazing at the fantastic sights and inhaling the delicious smells that wafted from several tents set up all around the village.

"Beggin' your pardon lord, but you look like the sort of man whose seen a ghost..." a snivelly voice said from inside one of the stalls set up near the road.

Artemis shook his head and smiled sadly. "You've no idea friend" he replied, turning to look at the man. He was short, only coming up to Artemis's shoulders, and greasy black hair fell in clumps about his head. There was a strange look in the man's eyes, as though he wasn't entirely there, but Artemis paid it no mind.

"Well then sir, you're in luck. I just happen to have exactly what you need. Here take a look" He said in that same grimy voice as he gestured to the various items he had on the table. And there they were, a pair of daggers that gleamed and twinkled in various lights around the town. They seemed to call to him hungrily, as if they had minds of their own. Without a thought, his hand naturally reached out and grasped the cool hilts of the twin daggers. "Ahh excellent choice, and they seem to have taken a liking to you as well." the shopkeeper said, a greedy smile appearing on his face.

"How much?" Artemis asked, his eyes still glued to the daggers.

"Well sir, I'll tell you what, you can have 'em for 3 silvers each, but only because yah look like you could use 'em." the shopkeeper said, that grin still plastered on his face. The man's face darkened suddenly, a scowl taking over his features. "Be warned sir, for when these daggers are used, you taint yourself as well."

Artemis disregarded the warning though, being an un-superstitious man. Instead, he paid the silvers without a thought and carried that daggers away...

After staying in the town for several days, his previous premonition came true and he was told to leave. Not wanting to cause any trouble in town, he complied, leaving quietly with the twin daggers tucked away into his bandolier. As soon as he was out of eyesight of the town, he pushed the wax back into his ears. And not a moment too soon, as the Banshee burst out, wailing her eerie keen. Caught by surprise, Artemis began to back away, tripping over a tree root as he did so. The Banshee moved closer, ever closer, until finally it was so close that he could smell its rancid breath.

As despair and terror filled him, Artemis fumbled for the daggers on his bandolier and drew them out before stabbing them outward and plunging them deep into the creature's chest. When the daggers met the Banshee's flesh they're magic activated and they hungrily began to feed on the creature's lifeforce. Horrified, Artemis attempted to release the daggers, but they wouldn't come out, and his hands wouldn't let go.

The light faded from the Banshee's eyes and slowly it's features began to soften, returning back to their original form as the creature died in his arms. "I know you..." Artemis whimpered, terrified at the person he held in his arms. Tears began sting his eyes and, try as he might, Artemis couldn't hold them back, and they rolled down his cheeks. Sobs racked his body as he cried over the body of the fallen Banshee.

A voice called out to him from nowhere, whispering a single phrase... "You are mine."

Artemis heard the voice but paid it no mind as he continued grieving. "Oh no... no, please no... mother... no, no, NO!"

"NO!" Artemis screamed, waking up shivering and on his back in the grey of the lifeless arena, his opponent still nowhere to be found. Panting heavily, Artemis shook his head and attempted to clear the thoughts from his mind. It had seemed so real, so terrifyingly real, yet he knew that he had to clear his thoughts if he was to survive this ordeal.

Or perhaps he shouldn't survive; perhaps he should just let this person tear him apart, destroy him utterly. "Not an option." Artemis growled in his mind, throwing up a wall of anger to block out his depression. "After all, I still have to find the bastard that transformed my mother and take my revenge" Artemis thought to himself, still angry, but starting to calm down now and analyze things as his usual, rational self. The revelation startling him, since he had never before considered the possibility.

Sitting upright, he gazed up, still breathing heavily. Cold sweat made his armor uncomfortable but he push all of these distractions from his mind. He knew why he fought. Even though he had been forced to compete in this tournament, if he didn't make it through, he'd never avenge his mother. He fought to keep her memory alive, and Artemis vowed then and there to find the man and make him pay. "One thing at a time though, first I have to take care of my enemy here, otherwise, this all ends now."

"I know you're still here somewhere," Artemis called out to the greyness, hoping to draw out his enemy from his hiding place, "And you must know that we all have our reasons why we do battle. So do not mock me again."

Still sitting on the ground, Artemis sat, now silent, and waited for the Mara's next move.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(I suppose I should do a key as well)

Artemis's thoughts
Tehron's words
Spirits
Harlequin
Flashback

[Car'mael]

Background stuff again... (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vAzIcViJa4E)
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The human denied fighting for another’s amusement. No surprise. They all did. At times, Terhon wondered if anyone ever would admit the gods and godlings were amusing themselves with his or her life and the tribulations involved. That was, in itself, a big part of why the Mara as a species detested higher powers and refused to be involved in their plans. His current role in such was forced—he’d been pulled off his home plane for these battles. As well, Terhon’s individual choice to involve himself in the mortal world on Carmen’s behalf was an unusual one for his kind, but it did not mean he enjoyed being caught up in the whims of creative powers. Had Terhon any choice in the matter, he would take Carmen’s soul with him and hide in a forgotten arena such as this or even his home plane (detestable as it was in areas) for eternity, content. But only the Mara as a species had rejected the gods and so exiled themselves away from the hub of existence. Humanity had not.

Considering the brashness of the breed, it might only be a matter of time, however.

Well, his disappearance took less time to be noted than expected. One swing, and the human was looking around with a dumbfounded expression. So much for an amusing exhibition of shadow-boxing with blades. A small part of Terhon (only small, mind you, being mostly impassive by nature) was actually disappointed to be denied the display. After all, he was fast and agile for a human, adept with his weapons. The Mara appreciated skill when he saw it… even if he intended to consume the source. When you were an omnivore of life energy, you tended to become a bit of a connoisseur of the living things you met. People poked fruit and vegetables; Mara studied the lives and skills of prey. One could say it made for interesting dinner conversation at the least, be it with other Mara or the prey themselves. Terhon wasn’t ready to discuss his observations further while invisible, however, as that defeated the purpose of being unseen.


"Surely he can't be hiding, there's nothing he to hide behind," Artemis said aloud, pondering it further as ideas as to where his opponent had disappeared to flashed through his mind.

“Hiding, hiding, where did you go?”

"No show! Not fair!"

“Count to twenty, then find me!”

“Marco!”

“Marco!”

“Come on, you’re supposed to answer ‘Polo!’” taunted the wraiths.

The man jumped, but he was looking every which way, stumbling ever closer to the edge of the concrete where the wraiths flittered and flickered. What did he hear, Terhon had to wonder. Not the same things, no. But then, wraiths were hardly compassionate creatures, intent on their own needs with the mindlessness of a flytrap and just as lethal at times.

He would know.

“Carmen saw you like this…”

“Did you call to her like this?”

“What do you remember? Do you even know?”

Grimacing beneath his mask, Terhon drifted closer to where the human had tumbled. The poison had swiftly weakened, wearing off and leaving him but a bit stiff now, but his own current position was not ideal for the five-point strike he had planned so the situation had to be remedied. He wanted the man’s life-force, and he hoped to get it without losing his own to these wraiths, preferably before they might drain the human dry. That was assuming they were anything like what he had been, long ago…

<I know enough,> he flung back at the wraiths warily, irritated.

---Flashback---

Hunger. Cold living hunger, reflecting the emotions of the life-energies around by picking pieces of words from a wide selection of memories to call and call and call. Calling drew entities with greater energy, the living ones, like death-scent drew flies. Calling, calling, but to him/it what was being used was merely material from that prey creature, not something that could be comprehended.

Until…

Until after what could have been days, or centuries, or forever for all the wraith-entity-Terhon knew…

“Terhon… that IS you! We found you! We found you!”

Beings that came close at his/its call, made noises, but evaded his/its draining embrace. Of course he/it kept calling, trying to reach that needed energy. Then something simply dove into his/its clutches, giving generously of that substance he/it so desperately needed. It was bright as a flare, warm as a fire, powerful as a sun. He/it drank deep, and when that bright life was almost gone, another took its place. This second was darker but just as strong, oddly familiar to his returning awareness and the physical substance that came with consciousness. That second life was… like himself? Like what he had been, only greater.

“Go on, Terhon… I give it, my little one. I give you my wings.”

Terhon drank.

When icy blue eyes finally opened, his substance fully regained and awareness with it, he found himself holding a blue-grey feather that was not his own. Gunmetal blue, he’d heard it described as by humans. And he opened his own black-silver wings for the first time as he jumped in surprise at finding such in his hand. Wings he had not owned before. Wings were something only adult Mara had, and unless you were one of the original five who existed, the only way to earn them was by consuming another Mara.

Gunmetal Blue was his father.

Triumph and grief swirled in an unusual maelstrom within his rusty heart as he turned to face Carmen and her allies, stunned and shocked by what had just happened… and the sacrifices made on his behalf.

---End Flashback---

Terhon had been a wraith, but how friends and beloved had found him, the trouble they went through for him, the sacrifice his father had made to restore him, it was all overwhelming. All for a wraith to recover an identity? A tremendous amount of love lay behind such an endeavor. To this day, the Mara wondered why, and why him, of all creatures…

Just because he had been one didn’t mean he fully understood them, however. Jerking away from the memory, Terhon swung a taloned hand at one that wraith that strayed close, hoping to drain it instead, but it melted away from his talons like mist in a breeze, seeming to laugh at him. A cold brush against his injured leg, a tug on his own life-energy, made him realize that he himself was the one who had strayed too close! Distracted by the memory and the emotions it dredged up from his depths, he had floated to the edge, drawn like the human into their reach. They swirled teasingly near, evading his frustrating attempts to get a talon deep enough into their transient forms to drain that pitifully minuscule energy of their existence and be rid of them entirely.

The man was sitting on the ground below him, seeming a bit grey himself. What had these creatures drawn up from the human’s depths? Much he likely would rather not have resurrected so unkindly, either. The Mara felt a pang of fellow-feeling for this human, perhaps sympathy, perhaps pity. But now was not a time to allow his own emotions to sway him, nor those wraiths to have their way, and lingering amid them was unwise.


"I know you're still here somewhere," Artemis called out to the greyness, hoping to draw out his enemy from his hiding place, "And you must know that we all have our reasons why we do battle. So do not mock me again."

“My reason is but for a taste of blood. Your death is not necessary to me,” Terhon returned, voice ringing in the still air.

Terhon reached under his robes to a wing and ripped out a metal feather of his own. As he leapt back and dropped from the sky to land further onto the safety of the concrete, he flung the metal blade at the man’s shoulder. No, he did not seek a serious wound. A minor wound with the blade imbedded, even for a time, would feed him. And for this creature in similar straits of unwanted torment, he was willing to restrain his hunger enough to leave this prey alive. Some life-force would be sufficient for his needs for now. Perhaps by leaving his opponent alive, as well, the harlequin would be annoyed, a bonus for those who had no wish to be amusing her. That might even appeal to the human?

Heavy talons hit the ground with enough force to make the concrete crack and buckle beneath the impact, forming a small crater and cloud of dust. There Terhon straightened, awaiting the man’s reaction, the floating dust briefly outlining his invisible form as it dispersed. Would the human come to look, to investigate out of curiosity? Would he remain with the wraiths, lethargic under their persistent torment? The Mara hoped to draw him out, injured or no. The wraiths were not something he would subject even prey to by choice.

“We found you!”

“You almost ate Naitachel, too!”

“Do not mock me again.”

“Mock.”

“Mock.”

“Mock.”

Damn annoying things…

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<Telepathy.>

"Wraith Whisper."

"Vocal words."

[Wattz]

IIzak has until Saturday August 4 to let us know he is still around. If we get no response from him, Car'mael moves on to the next round and IIzak is placed in the Bronze Match.

[Wattz]

August 4th has arrived and IIzak has yet to respond. This means that Car'mael will be moving on to the next round. This post will be edited later to include a full evaluation of the battle.