Round 1 - Jacogos vs. m139 (Judge: ~N~)

[~N~]

"Let there be light, he said, and it was so," a smooth voice, shimmering with eloquence and laced with malevolence spoke out of the bleak, enveloping darkness.

In the center of the arena chamber, a star the size of a basketball sparked into life with a nonchalant, almost condescendingly dismissive snap of his fingers, its flickering radiance now illuminating his devilish visage for both combatants--each exactly 25 meters from the other--to see.

Two eyes glowed as if they were pinpricks of flame, reflecting the shifting light that the newborn star threw off, but neither they, nor the orb of light, provided any warmth. A smirk of amusement sat upon his lips, unblinking like his gaze, which slithered back and forth between the two fighters as he measured both of them with unfathomably calculating precision.

~N~ moved with all the silent, hypnotic grace of serpent, and all the unshakable poise of legendary wyrm without equal.

"When one lives forever, Time and Death both become topics of academic interest," he slowly paced and gestured, as though lecturing to a darkened hall of students. "With all that time, one does a considerable amount of reflecting..."

Stopping suddenly and glancing up at both of them from his brief reverie, his smirk widened: "A practice I think more people should indulge in." With a raise of his right hand, and then his left, mirrors that looked like arched doorways slid up from behind and around the two combatants, each one seamlessly sliding alongside two adjacent doorways--one on each side, of course--coming together overhead as ~N~'s hands met above his own head to form a mirrored, dodecagonal dome.

A thousand mirrored reflections of themselves, the miniature sun in the center, and their arrogant host surrounded them now, instead of inky, black darkness. In any other structure, the dimensions might have become clearer, but the twelve mirrored surfaces of the high, arching, curved doorways only distorted and played maliciously with their perception of this prison's boundaries. Each doorway reflected past them into others, forming hundreds of doorways, images, reflections, lights and shadows.

~N~ interrupted their wonder with a sadistic fit of laughter.

"And thus from darkness, is infinity born... space and time, light and shadows, all of them multiplied..." he announced spreading his arms wide, "... and not."

He fixed his burning eyes upon them again, "For you are still trapped, in this very small space, no more than fifty meters across in diameter from any mirror to its opposite. Such a little span inside such infinite dimensions of reality..."

Then his voice dipped low and cold, "... just like your petty lives."

Then his eyebrows arched up and he reassured them in a deceptively warm tone, "But not to worry! I'm here to add to your meaningless existences and make things more interesting."

With another brisk snap of his fingers, two reflections stepped forth from the mirrors, one for each combatant, from a mirror just to the right of them. Each of these reflections was a shadowy doppleganger of their original, and as it was, each doppleganger was positioned opposite of the one they reflected, and next to the one opposite, so that each combatant now became aware of the shadowy double of their opponent standing near them, staring at them.

"There. Now there's twice as many of you as before," ~N~ observed with a hint of satisfaction. "They are but pale reflections of both of you, just as you are but pale reflections of me, but we make do with what we have."

"Of course, they are behaving themselves while I'm here--good little spectres that they are--but when I take my leave to watch this little engagement from afar, I cannot promise they'll obey either of you in the same fashion. After all, you are but fragile little mortals, and nobody likes being second best."

That wicked smile crept over his lips once more.

"Nor are those others," ~N~ now motioned to the other reflections in the mirrors, which all turned to face the fighters with the passing gesture of his hand in their direction, "likely to remain where they are, watching hungrily from the sidelines for their chance to matter."

"That's all life is, you see? A pit fight between mongrels to justify their existence." He bowed his head with a frown and paced leisurely once more. "But alas, the time grows short, and this speech overly long, so let's move things along, shall we?"

Right then, the floor started moving beneath them in a circular, counter-clockwise motion. The low chuckle emanating from his throat echoed off the mirrored walls, as ~N~ walk right out of existence, vanishing into the darkness itself.

"Good luck fighting each other... and yourselves. Each round, two more reflections will be set loose from those mirrors to add to our entertainment until only blood and shadows remain..."

"... unless you can find a way to stop them and free yourself from this cycle of life and death."

Only his multiplied, echoing laughter remains as ~N~'s words trail off, leaving each of you locked in this slowly spinning prison of illusion and phantoms.

One last insidious whisper slithers into each of your heads, "Feel free to cry out for me if it all becomes too much to bear, and I might just ease your suffering..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(You have 4 posts per person and 48 hours to respond between each post.)

By chance and a cointoss, m139 goes first.

And below is an artistic rendering of this grand arena, provided by TheBat:

[m139]

For beings who live forever, or those who always are and never came into exisistence, time is either not a quality they recognize or one they recognize as a mere measurement. But for a human being, time takes on another quality: one of the ever moving present.

Time is brief, they say. And indeed, the present, always moving forward, is so brief that one cannot quite comprehend the moment passing until it is already gone. But yet it is these singular moments of the present, these brief, incomprehensible moments, that human beings latch on to. Sometimes, true, they try to hold onto a moment past as it slips away, or they attempt to latch onto a moment of shaky future that can never be grasped. But the present calls all mortals to itself, and though its call in though be denied, what it contains is the imposing reality, which acts on a person with or without his consent.

It so happens that a particularly strange reality forced itself to a man named Merik. He along with another, found themselves in the middle of a mock creation story. First, there was darkness, and then there was light. And then, there were thousands of lights and thousands of beings.

Or at least, that was what seemed to be.

But what is perceived is not always truth. Yet, it is not always a fallacy. Instead, it is often a strange mix of both. And, to add to the confusion, what is real, without proper reflection, can sometimes become almost indistinguishable from the lie.

So it was with the words spoken and images shown to Merik and the other.

At this moment in time, there were thousands of Meriks circling thousands of suns, each one fixed as he leaned heavily on the cane he held with both hands. At least, that is what the casual observer would see. But if one had the ability to look deeper, they would see that of all these Meriks, only one was thinking, only one was engaging his thoughts in the present happenings around him.

And it is this Merik, the true Merik, whose little existence we are concerned about.

And as for his thoughts? Presently, he is dismissing most of the words that were spoken to him. That life was meaningless, he disbelieved- and had always disbelieved- entirely. He had always believed there was something that made life worth living, and made other peoples' lives worth preserving. But what exactly was this meaning? Certainly it was not to die here...

He looked at what he believed was the shadow of his opponent in front of him. She was a strange woman, unlike any in appearance he had ever seen before. And then, he looked at the one directly across from him, the only other woman who was fixed and unmoving. Then his eyes fell on the unmoving shadow Merik.

Merik did not doubt his own existence, even in a world that had turned strange all around him. However, that other unmoving Merik who was not him, he was mere shadow. Or at least, that is what he thought. Or he hoped he thought. And as for the two women? Were they real, like him? Or were they shadows, too? They certainly did not look like women. But they might be real. Or they might not be. Or perhaps- perhaps all three of them were real? What was the truth?

In this spinning world, as Merik spun, Merik's mind spun within him. In its constant motion, there was no telling what was reality. If only something were fixed-

"Who are you?" he suddenly called out, looking at what he believed to possibly be the other being. She might lie, but then again, lies cannot be formed without truth. Still...

More clarity was needed. And this place, though seeming to be illuminated by many objects, made recognition of reality all the more difficult. More of these reflected lights would only confuse, but more darkness...

The true Merik moved his lips, and half the Meriks in the mirrored space did the same. A mirror panel above him began to slowly get a little darker as wispy bits of greyish white began to form as high as they could. He was calling a storm. This environment was not ideal, for it, to say the least. He knew, even as he called it, that at its peak, it would not be the great storm it could usually be. No, there was not enough water in this little bitty space for that. At most, it would only cover the dome part in a light gray, and make this lower air a bit drier. But it would serve its purpose, once it had fully formed. The darkness would blot out some of the false lights, and these false lights would no longer be reflected. And then, hopefully, what was real would become a little clearer.

[Jacogos]

But, as always, we must begin with music!

---

"I no longer see the point in participating in this 'contest', Shade. Clearly they do not appreciate my efforts, or else I might've gotten at least a little further."

"Uai, you're getting too bothered by losing. Not everything can be gained from victory. Only in defeat can you truly figure out what it is you need to do to better yourself."

"What, have you become enlightened since last we met? Don't throw such drivel at me. I've experienced dozens of defeats and know that they only weigh down on you like sand. You either win and stride forward, or lose and regret it. Either way, you have 'learned' something."

"Suit yourself, Uai... I still believe you should participate again. It's almost a tradition now."

"Pah, what do you know of 'tradition'? I'll try once more, sure, but I'm doing it to prove that I'm the best, not to impress you, you sly creature."

"Since when did I ever suggest I wanted you to impress me, woman?"

As usual, whomever scheduled the so-generically-named Rumble was impossibly bad timing. Uai was replaying that conversation in her head during one of her meditations when a feeling of weightlessness, followed by a distinct impression of movement left her feeling a bit queasy. It was a sensation she was familiar with at this point, and thus barely even affected her current feeling of zen.

Uai opened her eyes to view darkness at first. Then, someone spoke. Following their words, a point of light sprang into existence, bathing the area in a strange off-blue hue. The owner of the voice was likely the massive creature that snaked its way around them, dipping and bobbing its head as it began to talk whilst it shaped the arena around the two warriors pitted there this day.

Against what her irritation might have otherwise designated, Uai listened to the creature's words, her position seated upon the floor unchanging as the mirrors rose up around them. The mirrors presented a problem, as they were shaped in a way that threw the entire field into disarray, making distances and reality twist in stomach-churning ways. For a moment, Uai had to drop her vision and stare at the ground just to keep her breakfast inside.

This is not unlike my second fight in the Rumble four years ago... She thought with a bit of nostalgia. The arena had the similar mirror problem, saving that it wasn't the light that made it impossible to see this time... Sighing, she steeled herself and scanned the field again.

Based off the information that was presented to her just before the mirrors came up, she was pretty sure she could pick out which enemy was the real one. She simply had to look straight forward and he was the one closest to her. For now, that would make things easy. Once they began moving... That might make things difficult.

Then came the shadows. Uai grimaced as she saw the creatures materialize at the higher being's command. According to it, Uai would have to be as careful of them as she would be of her opponent... She didn't enjoy that. Particularly the part where the mirrors might be spawning more of the fiends.

That leaves only one course of action... Uai thought, remembering the same match again. Standing, Uai lengthened her nails and slowly drew her right hand across her left side, drawing five lines of blood. Not too deep, but enough to cause lines of crimson blood to begin spilling down her body.

"Who are you?" came a man's voice. Her opponent. The one she was here to defeat. The thing truly standing between her and victory. He was human-looking, roughly her height, and middle-aged for a human, if he was. He looked somewhat intelligent based on the look in his eyes; at the very least, he was scrutinizing his surroundings about as much as she herself was.

He was armed like a ranger: a standard sword, a knife, a bow, and a quiver of arrows. Uai disliked carrying weapons, as her magic and her body were really all she needed. Still, a man with ranged weaponry was dangerous, particularly if he was even somewhat skilled with it. She would have to assume he was and be careful...

"Damn, but immortals do so enjoy hearing themselves talk," Uai barked at the air around them, a scowl on her face. "At least come up with something original if you're going to waste my time with your drivel!" Turning her attention back to the humanoid, Uai bowed slightly. "I am Uai Trakand. I will be your opponent this day." Righting herself, Uai began drawing her spilled blood up into the air in front of her with her magic. Splitting the accumulated blood into three pieces, she hardened them and formed them into three-inch-long projectiles, roughly equivalent to river rocks.

"I pray we have the pleasure of a glorious fight..." she said with a wicked smirk, and then she shot the blood-rocks forward. Though they soared through the air towards Merick, they were, in truth, not aimed at him. If he moved not at all, the projectiles would fly past him and collide with the mirrors behind him. Hopefully, this would shatter a few of them and give her a bit of insight as to how to proceed from there. In the meantime, she quickly began moving forward after the projectiles, closing the distance between herself and her opponent.

[~N~]

The mirror images focused intently on their originals, unfazed by the words or the actions of the ones they observed.

Mimicking their movements and conjurings precisely, the shadowy reflection of Merik begin mouthing the words to the conjuring, surprisingly adding to the storm as it struggled to coalesce within the very peak of the mirrored dome, while Uai's reflection mirrored the cuts to her arm, producing phantasmal replicas of the spilled blood that Uai herself called forth from her own arm.

Facing the inspiration for herself, the mirror image of Uai Trakand allowed a smirk to play upon her lips and then hurled the phantasmal orbs of blood right at the original Uai. "We shall see how your 'originality' serves you now, Uai..." it whispered.

Even as these three blood stones hurled their way towards the "real" Uai, two more reflection projections--again, one for each combatant, stepped forth from the mirrors; this time, from mirrors to the right of each original combatant, along a perpendicular cross from where the originals were standing.

They, too, now watched their originals for "inspiration."

[m139]

Time, assuming one is going at a constant speed, is supposed to move forward at one steady rate. This, at least is how it "objectively" moves. But humans, although constantly moving more or less at a constant, often feel that time passes at a fluid rate.

Sometimes, time seems to move incredibly fast. A sun seems hardly to rise before it has sunk again in the sky. Other times, time seems to move incredibly slow. A minute seems to be an hour, and an hour seems to be a day. And the human waiting grows older than his time allotted.

However, although both can be exclusive, or neither may occur at all, it is often the case that a mortal feels time upon him in both a fast way and slow way, at the same exact bit of time.

And at this particular instant, time seemed to press itself on Merik in quite a fast way. Storms formed, blood was thrown, shadows grew. And yet, even though it happened almost all at once, Merik experienced them almost distinctly.

He was calling his storm, when suddenly, he realized the dome was filling up at a faster rate than before. The clouds, despite the lack of water in this dome, actually had some substance and were pretty much blotting out the topmost mirrors. But with so much of the room's water up there...

At this moment, he also realized that the air was getting much drier than even he had expected it would. It was as dry as one of those frigid winter days. His call should not have made it that dry, not yet, at least. He turned to his right. Sure enough, his shadow was just finishing the words of the same spell, and looking back at him.

Merik would have sighed, except that doing so would necessitate a deep intake of breath following, which would probably lead to a coughing fit. Although the top of the dome was covered, and now there were a few less dancing figures, the cost of so much coverage was much higher than Merik would have liked. A thinner layer, even if less effective would have been preferred.

He turned to his shadow for a moment, and spoke, softly so as not to need to breath from the throat too much, "You ought to learn some moderation."

Then, Merik turned back to his opponent, and saw ball like objects being thrown. By themselves, the objects would not have been hard to avoid. A simple throw, at a simple speed- why, even an old man could dodge that! Of course, the man would have to have good eyesight to be able to see the threat. And with these mirrors, multiplying curves and arches and projectiles-

There were a thousand balls were heading towards Merik.

And so, since Merik could not decrease the threats, he decreased the only thing he could: the target size. He dropped his cane, and ducked down, hoping that the arch had been aimed towards his head, and raised his hands up to protect his upper extremity. This gesture was useless, however, as the rocks flew to the left and right, never even coming that close to where he had stood.

From underneath the little sun, he could see the woman's feet coming closer and closer. Still crouching, he picked up his staff again. If she got close enough, he would attempt to jab her with it. Such a move would not hurt her, so much as knock the wind out of her. And anyone who breathed deeply in such an environment would soon feel the consequences.

And so Merik waited, biding his time.

Behind him, the other two stones hit their target, and on a single pain of window, a couple of small cracks arose, which in turn caused other little fissures to form, until on one panel there was a small web of cracked glass.

In the mirrored room, these cracks were instantly multiplied, and the scenery at once changed from infinite hallways to a giant kaleidoscope, and each individual piece of color, reflected thousands of thousands of times, could vaguely be traced to an arm or a leg, or a bit of face, colors swirling, twisting perceived reality just a tad bit more.

[Jacogos]

Things are beginning to heat up...

---

Uai watched intently as her 'mirrored' self began to copy her movements mere moments after she herself began them. It was an odd feeling, as if watching yourself from another's eyes in slow motion. Uai watched her claws- but then, they weren't really her claws- tear open a wound in her side. An echo of the dull pain she had felt then rung in her body, reminding her of her own mortality.

Instead of aiming the stones at her opponent, or even her opponent's shadow, the other-Uai aimed her projectiles at the real Uai, launching three phantom blood-stones at her. The mirrors behind and around her multiplied the projectiles by hundreds, throwing off her vision of them, effectively blinding her to their true position.

Swearing, Uai tucked her upper body down and rolled into her stride. She felt one of the phantom stones tag her leg, but the lesser recreation of the blood coupled with Uai's original lack of force behind the shots barely left a welt. It stung a bit, so Uai shrugged it off effortlessly.

Finishing the roll, Uai got her feet under her and was about to continue running when she saw the efforts of her own true projectiles. The sigh made her catch herself, halting in place with her hands on the ground and both feet poised under her as if to kick off into a sprint. The blood stones hadn't had nearly enough impact as she wanted, causing the mirrors to only crack instead of completely shatter. Blast it all, I didn't put enough force into it, she swore internally. The cracks multiplied themselves into the other mirrors, causing a spiderweb of reflections that were only half reflections and half partial glimpses into other mirrors. It caused Uai's eyes to cross at one point, and she put her head down to right her vision once more.

Gods, I can't deal with this dizzying sight, she thought to herself angrily. She prided herself in combat proficiency, readying herself for every possible situation and outcome on the off chance that something went wrong. Unfortunately, there was a limit to just how much you could prepare for. Gritting her teeth, Uai forced herself to bring her head back up and face her opponent.

Crouched, the man had his staff held ready, eyeing her warily. He had dropped his position to avoid the stones, no doubt; it was hard to recall, as her attention had been on other-Uai. Foolish, Uai. You were running straight at him and you focused your attention elsewhere, she berated herself with an audible snarl. Likely the man would think that was for him. Let him. Uai wasn't above common intimidation tactics, if they worked. Allowing her blood to collect for a moment, Uai glanced behind her in order to manipulate the small trail she had left in her short amount of movement.

Once she had hold, the yynglyng woman shot forward, kicking off from her prepped foot placement. In transit of the dozen or so feet between herself and him, Uai grasped at her fallen blood behind Merik as well; the blood-stones had fallen into small splatters of liquid without her influence on them post-impact. All of the blood together was enough to make something a bit more... prudent this time.

The blood coalesced near her right hand into a long shape, rod-like and thin. Magically formed into a point at one end, it made for a suitable spear, though hardly long enough to be called such. Even as her hand grasped the makeshift weapon, Uai noted her opponent's grip on his staff. He was ready, waiting. Was he a mage? Did he have a spell prepared? He should've loosed it by now. No, likely he was ready to attack her with that stick.

How unfortunate for him.

Just as she got within a few feet of him, Uai dropped her stance for a moment, then jumped. Her powerful legs propelled her an easy two feet above Merik's crouching form. Mid-flight, Uai hurled the blood-spear at Merik's center, now clearly going for a real attack should he be able to pick it out amongst the mirror's dizzying visuals. Uai herself had a perfect shot; the ground was completely mirrorless, and offered nothing in the way of difficulty other than the angle of her ascent versus the angle of her throw.

Once that was done, Uai's leap took her clear over Merik and allowed her to land with a roll on his other side. The roll added a bit more to her distance and put her square up against the cracked mirror, which she landed against with a bit of force. Uai's breaths quickened from the effort of her attack, and it was then that she realized just how difficult it was getting to breath.

What's going on? she asked herself silently, turning around to put her back to the mirror and eventually bringing her vision skyward. The darkening area at the top of the arena gave her half of an answer; she wasn't keen on the sciences, so all she assumed was that these clouds were doing something to the environment. Her mouth was dry, and her recent exertion wasn't making that any better.

The question is... Is this him, or the 'god'? Uai thought grimly. Part of her distrusted the arena-maker on principle, but this would explain why the man had not moved much since the fight's beginning. She would have to assume he was some sort of weather-controller... Which would probably prove useless to him considering their arena. That truly remained to be seen, however...

Let's just finish this quickly. This was her last thought as she observed the fruits of her efforts on the battlefield. At least for now.

[~N~]

The arena was already imposing its unique qualities on each of the combatants, much to ~N~'s amusement. The creator of this little illusory prison of mirrors watched both combatants cope with and attempt to either destroy or use the arena to their advantage, and whilst doing so suffering little surprises along the way.

When Uai sent her little crimson rocks at one of the mirrors, sending cracks all over its surface that were summarily replicated by the others, ~N~ managed to refrain from openly laughing at the unintended effect it had on her. With both combatants now experiencing the onset of the effects of each other's actions upon their environment, ~N~ simply opted to continue letting things play out as they would.

The damaged mirror was cracked into a dozen different pieces, but not ready to shatter just yet. It would seem that with a little more force, it just might be reduced to shards of itself... only to reveal...

What was behind them?

The second set of mirror images acted as the first set did when they appeared. Uai's second reflection imitated her movements in reflective opposition, running not opposite in the absolute sense, but as a mirror image would, towards Merik, drawing up, simultaneously from the same trail of blood as she did, a phantom spear, and vaulting the same distance into the air, doubling the number of Uai's jumping down upon the poor conjurer.

Of course, what would happen when they landed...

Merik's second reflection, to the right at the end of a 90 degree arc, crouched as he did so ducking projectiles that were never aimed at him, the mirror behind him becoming likewise cracked, but not really. He took up a defensive stance, biding his time while he waited to pull of his next action.

Meanwhile, the original two reflections repeated the same actions that they had committed to doing, with Merik's first reflection still conjuring the storm, while the Uai's continued to shoot the bloodstone projectiles at the original Uai... and anything else in her way, including Merik and the second Uai reflection...

Still, the situation became even further complicated when the fragments of reflections, now pieces of their former selves, started slipping forth from the mirrors in pieces of their respective whole forms: four hands... four feet... a head here, one there.... a piece of a torso, a piece of a leg...

Like some grotesque shadowy agglomeration of phantasmal body parts, these too now slipped forth from the cracked and not-so-cracked mirrors...

And in the distance, ~N~'s inhuman laughter could now be heard.

[m139]

It was time, now. It was time now to act. Uai's feet were coming closer, closer still. He watched them, and as she passed the sun, and then- there were two of her.

For a second, he was confused. The mirrors, now cracked, had made it slightly easier to concentrate- look at the full form instead of at the parts. But now- now he was seeing double again. And they were both throwing spears at him...

In a panic, Merik did the one thing he could do- he called down a quick torrential downpour, calling it so that it would hit the point of both spears, hoping that the real one, whichever, it was, would not hurt him.

The downpour was not nearly as long in height as it usually was- there was nowhere enough water in this arena for that- but his timing, even in his panic, had been impeccable. He had used this skill way too much- both on birds and arrows- for it to be otherwise. The two spears were hit and driven down as their throwers passed on above him, but as they followed a bit after the spears, and they were not hit by the rain. The spears, on the other hand, were impaled in the ground in the considerably sized-although quickly evaporating- puddle of water. True, the spears were less than inches away from his toes- that was a bit sloppy- but at least he had downed the spear. Now, to find out which of the two was real...

He dropped his staff, and reached forward with both his left and right hand, one towards each of the projectiles. And he gasped in surprise when he discovered that both his hands touched substance.

Immediately following this gasp, he began to cough. He had forgotten about the dry air, and paid dearly for it in this little fit. He steadied himself, holding the two spears, breathed shallowly to regain composure, then began to mutter some more words. Bits of water, some of it already floating back to the sky due to the shadow Merik's continual work, began to float towards Merik. Once again, the arena was becoming exceedingly dry, all the water either going back to the "storm" overhead or swirling up around the two spears.

As the water rose up the butt of the spears, a good chunk of it seemed to disappear completely, for Merik was spreading it out to moisturize the air around him. It would now be much more easier to breath, and therefore, move quickly and inhale deeply. The rest remained around the body of the weapons.

It was at some point while he was doing this that one of the spears slipped from his grasp. He recovered himself, once again standing on his two feet, and pulled up the spears, which came out surprisingly easily. He then noticed that the head of one of the spears were gone, and that the spears were... dissolving? At this point, he realized they were not of wood, but of something else. Dark red, dissolving in water- some sort of fire?

As he turned around to face the two Uai's, he appeared to be holding two long water shaped tubes, thicker and a bit longer that the blood spears that had been thrown at him. Now, which one was the real Uai?

It was at this moment that another stone whizzed by him, just to the left, right by his ear. He jerked to the right, and just in time, too, for more followed. But, judgingb the sound, they would not quite have hit him, even if he had not moved. He looked towards his source, another Uai. If this one was the real Uai, it had not been aiming at Merik this time, or Uai was a really bad shot. And the first set of stones had not hit him either. Had they been aimed at him at all?

But if not aimed at Merik- the question was who or what it was aimed for? The stone whizzed just past his left ear, so the object would be slightly towards the right of where he had been standing.

He turned and looked at that Uai that would be at the end of its path.

"Nobody likes being second best..."

The thrower... all it could do was copy the first action, just as the shadow Merik was still calling the storm. And the shadow not aiming at Merik because... it was trying to get rid of the original Uai.

He turned to the real Uai, and began the walk towards her, two short columns of water still in his hands.

Even from the distance, he could see the signs of the lack of water. She was not quite gasping, but from her breathing pattern, he could tell she felt the effects of dry air that only a moment ago he himself had suffered from...

"The elements are unbalanced," he called out, quite pleased with his own little moisture bubble, "Perhaps we need a little less fire and a bit more... Water."

The columns in his hands burst apart into what looked like little darts and shot out all around him. Granted, none flew more than five feet before turning around and whirling in a different direction. But that was the truth, and the truth was a little hard to see.

Merik watched, pleased, as all of these projectiles were multiplied thousands of times along the walls. Heading- well, if one followed them long enough, and did not get confused by all the cracked windows, they would discover the projectiles were headed nowhere at all, but were simply making shooting out and back and out again.

It was then that Merik heard the voice of this odd creator laughing. Merik smiled. If that man decided to play tricks, adding shadows to reality, why shouldn't Merik himself join in this illusion?

[Jacogos]

We can't keep this up!

---

So many things began happening at once that it was difficult for Uai to keep up with them all. Her vision blurred as her eyes scrambled to keep up with each different instance of action. Momentarily, her vision faded, the amount of stimuli and the bone-dry air coupling together to cause her to nearly lose consciousness. Something else clicked, however, and brought her back to reality, just in time to see three phantasmal blood-stones directly hitting her.

One glanced off her arm, barely registering. The other two hit her in the face and chest, the latter knocking a bit of wind out of her. Again, the conjurations weren't enough to do any real damage, but she could feel the blow to her face swelling a bit, just below her left eye or upper cheek. The problem, really, was her reactionary intake of air, which caused her lungs to recoil in shock from the lack of water. She coughed, then quickly put a hand to her mouth, steadying herself. She was going to get nowhere like this. She had to end this.

This in mind, Uai forced herself to take note of her surroundings. There was another mirror-Uai... right? She had to be, she was crouched no more than a few feet in front of her, not in bits and pieces like the shattered mirrors would have been. From the looks of it, she had copied Uai's previous move; what had that done?

Her enemy, meanwhile, was standing now. He seemed to be controlling... water? Was that water? Uai saw her vision flicker a moment, nauseating her as her vision 'steadied' in view of the labyrinth of reflections behind him. Yes, that was water... He was a water mage. That explained everything... The clouds above were likely his work, and they were somehow drawing up all the water from the area below. Somehow, he seemed unaffected... Likely his own magic not affecting him. How very fortunate for him... she thought bitterly.

"The elements are unbalanced. Perhaps we need a little less fire and a bit more... Water." The man spoke in a clear tone, blissfully oblivious to the desert that she found herself in. No, that he put her in. Uai felt herself grind her teeth, an audible noise at a few paces. He then began to form his water into what could only be an attack. Uai's response was a hiss.

"Great Ionor, hear this, your servant's call;
Your faithful one desires a bloody fall.

In need I summon those who served you long,
So that I might sing this final song.

In the light we dance, and shadows we cast;
Mirrors reveal the sins of our past.

Though copies may come, score by score
None match up to whom came before!"

Snarling as she rose into a low stance, Uai felt the servants of Ionor begin to flow into the realm she existed in, fleeting visions of bird-like creatures that ducked and darted in the air around her. Even as they did, Merick's water darts formed and Uai knew she was in trouble. The tiny point of water multiplied themselves by the thousands in the 'shattered' vision of the mirrors, causing them to be everywhere at once, on all sides and completely unavoidable.

Even before they moved, Uai knew she had no chance avoiding them.

Therefore, she didn't care.

Screeching a battlecry, the yynglyng woman hurled herself forward, reaching out to take her spirits in hand and into the shape of a deadly whip of talons and beaks. She did not care if the darts hit her or not; in her mind, it would simply add to the ammo she had if they drew blood. Either way, she would pull out ahead in this fight. No, all she cared about was taking this fiend down before he subjected her to more of this unbreathable air.

Lashing out with the whip, Uai directed the weapon as one normally would a whip, cracking it toward's her opponent's left leg (the one on her right). With Ionor in her favor, the whip should have no trouble wrapping around his limb and digging into his flesh, allowing her to pull it out from under him and leave him prone on the ground.

All the while, Uai awaited the stinging pain of the multitude of weapons, a pain that may not ever reach her, if Merick kept up his charade.

[~N~]

The spears--phantasmal and blood--had barely missed their target, but while both combatants struggled with problems of the flesh such as fatigue and breathing, the phantasmal shadowy reflections only mimicked these conditions in seeming mockery, possessing none of the effects or physical being to suffer from these conditions.

However, the arena had well and truly become a storm; not just of rain, but of weapons, shards, and conjured things. All this and more, for each weapon, shard, and thing possessed their own reflections, shards and things! Two things became four, four things became sixteen, and sixteen became...

Too much.

Phantasmal shapes flashed and flew, cutting past, through, into and beyond each other. Reflections of reflections of reflections...

It was a mess. An unholy storm of shades.

Were it possible to behold ~N~'s expression during this melee, one would glimpse a very toothy Cheshire grin that would span to the ends of one's vision.

The phantoms ripped into each other, and cut into the two combatants. Their actions became impossible to follow, as the multitudes duplicated and reduplicated, obscuring vision, purpose, and intent. They launched new attacks, and were summarily interrupted by others replicating these same actions; their spears, darts, and conjurations continued, but were deflected, interrupted, and shot through by those launched by their opposites!

The arena was becoming saturated with a glut of competitors, all bent exacting their own wills on the others, wills that--given the circumstances--were constantly and inevitably shaped by the wills of those around them. If anything was to be accomplished at this point, the ranks would need to be thinned out.

"Let the carnage commence, and praise be to the one who brings death and silence to the rest."

After all, this was a true maelstrom of chaos from which only one victor could emerge.