[Morgoth]

This thread is for the match and intro posts only. There will be very little tolerance for spam.

Past games and winners:

Fantasy Deathmatch - BAD
Ultimate Deathmatch - DIB
Ultimate Deathmatch II - Morgoth
Ultimate Gauntlet - No winner

Excellent, I suppose it is only to say, with all the cliche it entails; 'let the games begin :P'

[Hume]

Jack had always known he was different from all his friends and his mates over the years. He always seemed more capable than them in just about everything. Now well into his mid years he should have settled down with a mate by now. Jack however knew there was something else out there that was calling to him, something bigger than all he had lived for so far. At seven foot Jack stood unusually tall compared to his friends too. This had always helped him out whenever it came to fights and sprints and the like.
One morning while travelling along with the rest of the clan Jack noticed another one of those funny shaped squarish things. Against the previous advice of his elders Jack thought he might investigate one of these things for a change. He ventured towards the strange structure. Upon finding an opening to the building he encountered a strange figure a little shorter than him. It walked up to him and tried pushing him away. Jack could not, would not tolerate this. He fought back in a flurry of punches to not only rival but better the best of his kind. Jack made quick work of the creature in little time. It was down on the floor with blood coming out of its head and trying to crawl away. It then pulled a small oblong shaped thing out its pockets and talked to it. Jack ignored the creature for the time being.
He ambled further into the building. There were strange designs on the walls and the building seemed to mock the regularity of natures creations. After exploring most of the building Jack decided that the stuff in there was of little interest to him. However upon leaving the building he noticed two long pointy objects next to each other. One about a foot long and double edged. The other was about two and half foot long single edged and wider towards the end. Jack picked these two objects up and in doing so cried in alarm as blood poured from his hand. These things were sharp he realised. He best holds them at the end where it appeared blunt. He took hold of the two objects and moved back to where that strange creature was. He waved the long pointy things at that creature then pushed the pointy ends hard into it. Blood. Lots of Blood came out him. Jack thought he could grow to like these things.
Jack quickly went back to his clan. When he returned and his old friends looked at him it was with a growing unease. He realised they were looking at the objects in his hands. Jack decided he didn’t like the looks they were giving him. Foam began forming at his mouth and he went wild. It took less than a few minutes and his rage abated. His whole clan lay dying or dead, all 58 of them. He had no regrets. Jack was tired of the life he was living.
A few days passed, Jack had been testing the limits on how to use these sharp things on all manner of creatures he could find. None could beat him. However a day of testing was about to arrive. Four strange square objects moving on black round things approached him. They stopped. Creatures similar to the one he encountered in that building on that day poured out of those objects. There were twelve in total. Jack gave them no time to react. He pounced at the first covering a good eight metres in one step and slashed at the first one between its head and body, it collapsed to the ground wreathing in pain. He then brought his right hand down on the creature to the right and slashed it from wait to shoulder and in the same motion jumped over than one and pushed the smaller pointy object into the neck of another creature.
Jack turned to face some more, one held a strange looking object in his hand, with round metal at the end and a wooden butt in the mans shoulder. The creature pulled his finger that was wrapped around a small metal bit jutting from the whole object. A dart flew at Jack and hit him. Jack did not like that at all. He pounced at the man and stabbed him right in the eye. ‘That’ll learn you’ Jack thought. He swiped his right weapon at another one coming at him caught its legs under it. With half of the flesh hanging of that one Jack knew it wasn’t going anywhere.
All of a sudden Jack started to feel very tired. He couldn’t go on. He tried getting away. But one of them caught him with a rope.
“Crikey! I’ve never seen anything like this. A Kangaroo wielding a machete and a long knife!” Said one of the creatures.
“But bugger me, were gonna have to put this little beauty down though”
“Actually Steve, I have a better Idea. Heard about that tournament?”

As he was sedated from the dart that entered his leg and slowly drifted into unconsciousness he had a few regrets about the choices over the last few days. His first regret was not killing that first creature he encountered in that house straight away, second was not testing limits of the weapons he had wielded better his last regret though was getting caught. Though these feelings were turned into rage, a rage nothing could withstand especially when the enemy does not cheat like just then.
Next time they wont be so lucky.

The machete and knife wielding Kangaroo Jack has entered the tournament.

[temp]

He saw the headline in the local news "Blade weilding Kangeroo Enters Ultimate Deathmatch"
"If a Kangeroo and do it, well, then so too can I!" he thought to himself.

He'd had a rough childhood. The other children always teased him, he could not even escape the looks of shame levelled at him from his own parents. You see, Fatty, as the children had nicknamed him at the young age of 6 years old, was an obscenely large child. When he was born, his skeletal form showed the early signs of abnormality. A protruding ridge on the forehead much like a caveman, bones and joints thicker and fused together as if to support a larger mass than is normally human. As he aged, this is precisely what happened. But no, it was not muscular growth that developed...it was fat. His inability for his body to break down fats resulted in retaining that weight on his body. ...and the result? Fatty is now 20 years old, 5 foot 5 inches tall, weighing in at 600 pounds.

The amazing thing though is that because of his enhanced skeletal structure, he was still surprising mobile. As a teenager, he'd gotten into many fights with his peers that so loved to tease him. They learned quickly that any type of punishment delivered to Fatty was simply not felt through all the layers of fat. They also learned that Fatty was not to be messed with. A single swipe of his massive arms, although not particularly fast, was capable of enflicting such force as to knock down walls or bend solid steel simply because of the weight backing up such a strike.

Outcast from society after several confrontations with the locals that had resulted in deaths, this tournament is the perfect opportunity for him to make a name for himself, something he could excel at, and a way to redeem himself in the eyes of his peers. For Fatty, now is the time.

[Valgard]

The forest hushed as a shape moved through the darkness. It moved quickly silently leaving almost no sign that it had ever been there, but it felt wrong to the creatures of the forest this thing was alien. Suddenly the shape had entered an open glade the moonlight fell upon is thick tough skin. The creature was heavily muscled and huge yet it moved with a feline grace. It was a hunter. It had been sent by its masters to find the monster that had defied its lords for so long. Now finally after weeks of hunting the monster through this forest, it had cornered it there was no where else for it to go. There was sudden movement and a shape hurled itself towards the creature. The creature threw itself backwards spitting its poison darts into its foe?s face whilst grabbing the claws reaching out to tear out its throat. It had the monster, no creature had ever survived its darts before, its poison acts instantaneously. All it had to do was wait and feast on the flesh of the monster till his masters returned for it.

Rugh stood up, the broken remnants of the creature in his claws, stupid demons when would they learn that he was not affected by there pitiful poisons. He threw the mangled remains away. He stands up to his full height 12 feet tall and massive, a true god amongst his kind. His red fur shone like blood in the moonlight. He lifted his muzzle to the moon and howled out his victory and challenge to the demons that sought to conquer his home land. As Rugh prepared to leave he caught a strange smell on the wind something he had not smelt before. It was not that of the demons, it must be some new monstrosity that they have created. A light flashed above and suddenly the glade was gone he was inside. It was a grey room metal he was surrounded by small pink things. He lashed out at them bellowing out and challenge but found he could not move. He was frozen.

"What a specimen, you were right john this is just what we need for the competition, however did you find him?

?It is, isn?t it. I heard about it from the gate people they are trying to claim this land.?

?What did they ask for in return, I hope it was not too much??

?Nothing, they seemed to just be happy to get this monster out of the way.?

As Rugh languish frozen in place his mind played back over his life, his childhood was carefree and peaceful, as his people lived in harmony with those around them. They had no need for warriors. They were a group of religious philosophers dedicating their lives to helping others and attempting to commune closer with their God Lunis. All this changed in his 13th year he was due to take the trials that would initiate him into the Priesthood. This was the year that the demons arrived and so start 20 years of unending war. A gate opened near the main city Khorash from this gate came things the likes of which no one had ever seen. The demons were welcomed by the high priests who invited them to the city, as they believed that all things were good in the world. That night the gate opened again thousands more monsters streamed from the gate led by a creature wreathed in fire all burned around him. Those that had been greeted and welcomed as friends opened the gate and the demon army descended upon Khorash slaughtering every living thing in the city. Everyone was dead Rugh?s entire family and life had ended that night. Rugh had been in the hills communing with Lunis that night and so was not in the city when it ended. He was filled with such hatred that he called upon Lunis that he would not rest until he had destroyed every demon from his landed and avenged the souls of those that had died in Khorash. Lunis answered the call. Rugh collapsed to the ground as his body was changed, it grew till he stood twice the size of a fully grown one of his kind. His fur changed hue it was now blood red. His strength had increased a hundred fold.

Rugh descended upon the demon horde as they plundered there way through the remains of Khorash. They fell like wheat before his claws none could stand before him. Their strange magics were torn asunder by his roars, with the blessing of Lunis he was immune to there effects. He slaughtered all who came before him cutting a swathe through their army forcing his way to the centre. Rugh burst out into an open space in the centre of the camp. Standing in the middle was the creature, a monster of giant proportions fully twenty feet high that towered over all else around it. It was constantly wreathed in flame. The demon turned to Rugh hefting it cleavers.

?Ah so a foe worthy of me has finally come, I have waited for you champion. Now you will be added to those already decorating my hall prepare to die?

Without replying Rugh ran straight at the demon seeking to tear out its heart. The flames blazed out from the demon as Rugh reached it. The heat and flame would have burnt any normal creature to the bone within seconds, but Rugh didn?t notice the flames they circled his body his blood fur seemed immune to the heat. The cleaver in the demon?s hands slashed out with blinding speed seeking to intercept and halt the charge. Rugh ducked under the first blow and leaped up to tear out the throat of this monster, but the second cleaver caught him hurling him to the side. Rugh sprang back to his feet immediately ignoring the gash in his side where the blood was already pouring free mixing with his fur. Rugh grinned and reached down gathering his blood in his hand. He concentrated for a second as the demon sprang towards him using the gift of Lunis to turn his blood into a weapon. The blood flowed into the shape of a long spear that Rugh hurled at the demon catching it in the shoulder throwing it backwards. Rugh immediately followed the fallen demon leaping upon it and grabbing the spear, which twisted and changed into a wide bladed sword which he brought down into the demons chest. A roar of pain and anguish sounded out from the demon and all of his army that were to near collapsed to the ground and stopped everything as the pain of their leader invaded their minds and caused them to overload.

This was the first battle of the war that Rugh has fought for the last 20 years as army after army of demons, their assassins and other creatures have been sent through the gate to subjugate the land, but always Rugh was there to lead his people now warriors all to fight them. With the protection and aid of Lunis they have always emerged victorious.

Now as Rugh stood trapped unable to call upon his gifts he cried out.

?Why have you abandoned us what have we done to offend you? For now I am gone the demons will destroy all of my people.?

At this moment a ray of light from the moon shone through a window in this thing and fell upon Rugh?s face and he heard a voice in his mind.

?Do not worry my child this is meant to be, there is something coming that is too powerful for you to defeat. The demons have summoned forth there God to do battle with you. This is why you are to travel with these creatures; they are taking you to a fight where you will increase your skills and power to be able to face this demon God once you have won. Do not worry I will be with you always now I return your powers to you. Look to the moon I shall be there my son.?

With this the moonlight faded leaving Rugh alone again but now he could move again the enchantment on him was broken the power of Lunis was once again with him. Now he was ready to face whatever this fight had to throw at him.

[fan_83]

It has been a long time since it was alone, it has always the company of its mate and his clan for company in its life, but now its all alone, its mate and clan has been slaughtered by their enemies. It alone has survive and has sworn vengeange, its enemies, the korwas is now destroyed, its young slaughtered, its females butchered all the while their males were out hunting. It took great satisfaction in the howls of sorrow and pain when teh males returned to find everything in ashes. Soon, they will hunt and they or it will die. There is no longer any way left for their species to survive, the last enclave of their kind, the arogs. Beloved of the god Arses, who gifted them with intellect, magic, strength, endurance and speed, all because of the act of kindness by one of their primal ancestor. In the milennia since then, the arogs have grown past their cousins who weren't lucky enough to be gifted.
Weighing in at 600 pounds of solid muscles and 6 feet when upright, the arogs was once snow wolves who was gifted by Arses's gift of magic allowing them to shapechange, they are no longer bound to one form, but could change form dependent on the mastery of the magic. They once ruled a whole continent, but with intellect comes pride, jealousy and greed, territorial wars which was once only done in times of starvation became a norm, and their numbers dwindled. With all the females now dead, their kinds will be extinct, but it the last member of clan will see the korwas dead by its claws and fangs rather than old age.
In the end, it has emerged truimphant as the korwas was reckless in their anger and become easy prey. But its victory is hollow as it was the only left of its kind, doomed to wander alone for the rest of its life. Although it can shapeshift to other forms, no child will quicken from their mating, it has become too different. It prayed to the creator of its kind for a solution and the god Arses answered, it will create a mate for it if it could prove itself in a series of fights in another land . It agreed.
In the blink of an eye, it found itself in a small space, Arses informed it that when the time comes it will be guided to its opponent. It obeyed and decided to practice its skills, shifting its form from that of the wolf to the hawk, to the white bear, to the many others that it is familiar with, although it can change its shape, its mass remained, it makes a small bear, and an extremely large hawk. Soon, it thought, soon, it will either win and get a mate or die, it couldn;t decide which is more preferrable.

[Illuyankas]

The two acquirers stood outside the tavern, talking between themselves. Rain fell in destitute splats around the oilskin-covered men, and ran in flashing disarray around their heels down to the street?s surface.
?Are you sure he is in seclusion here? It seems too obvious a refuge for one as infamous as him.?
?Oh, shut the hell up with the official speech! Seriously, if you blow our cover by talking like you?re in the presence of our Lords, this whole charade will be over before you?ve noticed the arrow in your spleen. Let me do the talking. Alright??
?Fine, you insufferable buffoon.?
?I can stab you, you know. You have no idea how tempting that is. Now. SHUT. UP.?
With that, the lead acquirer stepped into the bar area, his associate closely behind him, grumbling.

The bartender?s province had started life as a large open room, with a series of hearths and several spits tended by a weary spit-wench at one end and an antiquated set of stairs at the other, seeming to lead to various rooms for rent. Now, packed full of tables, themselves full of punters of varying size, smell and weapon-capacity, the acquirers were subject to a vigorous eyeballing by the majority of the residents, before they turned back to their clay mugs and plates of unidentifiable animal. Weaving through the crowded room, the two went to the table containing the dual exceptions to their gawkers, a heavyset elderly man drinking from an old horn, dressed in old military chain, and a lanky youth in leathers tearing a roasted chicken apart with his teeth and hands. Sitting in the table?s unoccupied seats, the lead acquirer addressed the older gentleman.

?We hear you provide services, for the right price. We require such a service, and can, ?recompense? you for this undertaking.?
(?How does that vary from my speech? You wretched, ego-driven imbecile-OOF!? grumbled the second acquirer, before being elbowed in the ribcage.)
The grey-haired man remained silent. The youth continued his assault on the bird?s carcass. Slightly taken aback, the acquirer pulled a scrap of paper from his sleeve and continued.
?I am authorised to pay you an exceptional amount of money, should you accept this task. Here is the complete figure,? he stated, sliding the note over to the man. Still, he did nothing. The moment stretched, only being broken by the youth gnawing away at the remnants of the chicken. Frustrated, the lead acquirer turned to the youth and demanded, ?Can you stop eating that damned bird? so? loud?? trailing off at the sight of his face.

The left half of the boy?s head was normal, save the unusual white colour of his hair. The right half?
The right half was a carved obsidian cap-mask completely covering that side, in the shape of a horned demonic figure from ages past. As the acquirer looked closer, he saw that it wasn?t a mask; it actually occupied the same space as the flesh on the other half. The carved snout met the nose, the forehead seams came together, and even the lips connected to their ebony counterparts. As the boy chewed, he saw the teeth on the right side were unnaturally black as well. Stunned, he heard the grey-haired man speak for the first time.
?Yes, he is quite a fright. Luckily the stone side makes up for his bad looks; though I am impressed you reacted so calmly.?
?Oh har har, you old bastard. You?re paying not only for this, but for the next eight chickens.?

The acquirer rocked back, pulling two knives free from his sleeves and scanning round the room. His companion joined him a moment later. The old man looked at them both, then began guffawing. The leader narrowed his eyes at the man, then studied the boy more closely. Matching his stare with blue eye and black socket, the youth returned his stare, chewing idly on the spine, and nodded. Without shaping any words with his lips, he stated, ?Yes, I am an aeromancer. I?d talk to you personally, but since the? accident, shall I say, my voice hasn?t been the same. Besides, I?m hungry.?
The head acquirer continued his study of the youth. The inn they had entered was one of the old construction rules, and almost perfectly draught proof, to the extent there wasn?t a fluttering candle in the building. Yet, this boy?s hair stayed in continual movement, flowing in a manner suggesting he was immersed in the sea. He no longer seemed so young, finishing off the last of the chicken bones to the elderly gentleman?s chuckles. The lead acquirer began to understand the slight mistake the targeting department had made, when it sent him and his bumbling, officious partner to this lousy, rat infested-

?Wait. Roots? RED roots? You dye your hair white? From ginger?? The leader said, disbelieving, while the old man started laughing anew.
?Sure. Wouldn?t you, with red hair?? replied the semi-masked man, before he turned and punched his chortling partner across the face. ?Stop that, Wynn! Let?s see this guy?s offer, he seems alright. Well, he hasn?t tried to horribly murder us in our sleep after buying us both a vast feast packed full with as many animals as is possible to bring to this little place and have cooked and served with several dozen quality ales, wines and moonshine as an accompaniment before we retire to our guestrooms and place several tripwires and mantraps around to deter intruders, hint bloody hint.? Still rumbling, the older man - Wynn ? picked up the note and said, ?I haven?t had a laugh like that since Kele here-?
?Kele?? the leader stammered. (The pompous acquirer, still somewhat off put by the appearance of their target, noticed several of the surrounding patrons lift their heads, and one slipped out the door. Suspicious, but he wanted to hear their target?s response to the note.)

Wynn barked. ?Yup, he has a most manly name, doesn?t he? Heh heh heh heh heh!? he laughed, until he read the note, at which point his face closed down completely. ??Are you serious? Do you take us for fools?? He snarled, handing the note to ?Kele?, who seemed as taken aback as his friend.
?Absolutely," the lead acquirer replied, composure restored, "We have the resources and the influence. Alternatively, we can give you three-quarters of that figure and ownership of an island worth half of the original sum down south, in the Tropics. Each. All you have to do, Kele, is win.?
?Win what??
The head acquirer smiled. ?The game.?
The semi-masked man?s eye narrowed. ?I?m not sure I like this. Who will be my opponents??
?Whoever else answers our requests. We have some very wealthy backers. And I can assure y-? ?I dislike the activity these oafs are undertaking, it appears we have been anticipated,? The lead acquirer was interrupted by his partner, looking at the men surrounding the table. About to cuff the man, the leader saw that several armed guards had appeared by the entrance, and blocked the stairs. Every drinker in sight held a sword of some description. The spit-wench ran to the bartender and both hid behind the bar.
?Well, isn?t this nice,? sent Kele, humming through the air, audible only to Wynn and the two acquirers. (The leader whispered to the semi-masked man, ?Wow, you can have so much fun with that ability! Can you help me make these young orphans we met on the way here cry themselves silly? It?s for a bet, you see-?)

The tavern?s door smashed open under the impact of a soldier?s boot, and several infantrymen marched in and took position with the so-called ?patrons? around the four. A cavalry captain strode in, sniffed contemptuously, and stalked to the table, where he unravelled a thin but lengthy scroll.

?Official assassin and population modifier Kelehedemon of Ilkas. You are hereby charged with four hundred and seventy three counts of legal murder taken to excess, seventeen hundred and four counts of illegal murder, three acts of genocide, seven declarations of genocide, two hundred eighty one acts of vandalism, membership in fourteen illegal organisations, exploding over nineteen hundred rare animals using alchemical and or magical means in the King?s Zoo, stealing approximately one quarter of the Kingdom of Frioel?s yearly income for running six prostitution rings across the Kingdom, running six prostitution rings across the Kingdom, and nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine counts of adultery, included thirteen members of the Royal Family.?
?Actually, I slept with the bartender?s wife earlier today, so that?s ten thousand adultery cases.?
?Noted,? smirked the captain, while most people stared at the nervous spit-wench, and stared with alarm at the enraged bartender lofting a crossbow from behind the bar, before being addressed by the captain, ?We?re going to torture him horribly first, good sir, so put your weapon away. That bolt won?t be as bad as what we have planned for him, though if you have any graters, mussel shells, hefty cacti or annoying minstrels, that?ll be a start.?

The lead acquirer looked around the room while the officer gloated, at his nervous partner, the tense soldiers, some in and some out of uniform, all of them armed with some kind of blade, Wynn stroking his cummerbund nonchalantly, the irate bartender and his worried-looking wife, before stopping at Kelehedemon. The man?s obsidian half had a crimson flame burning in the empty eye socket, adding to his villainous appearance. Raising an eyebrow, the leader asked the unspoken question.
?They have a method to suppress my magic here, I think on either the captain or one of the sergeants who came in, I would have noticed otherwise. The charm I have fixed in my eye allows me to use my powers at all times. It?s one I received from a charmingly pretty sorceress a few years ago, in return for some, ?special massage?.?
The eyebrow rose further.
?Yes, it?s all in the fingers- what? The plan? I?d hate to play you at Charades, all I can do with my eyebrow is get a headache. Anyway, it?s up to you what you want happening here.?

Grinning, the lead acquirer sat forward and said, ?I think it?s time you proved yourself able, Kelehedemon. Show us you deserve all this wealth.?
?Finally.?
The captain turned at this, from the bartender still holding his crossbow, but never finished his turn.

Every sword in every soldier?s hand flew out of their grip and into their throats.

A series of dull puncture noises were audible, like a multitude of knives being thrust into a side of pork; followed by five dozen thuds and a pattering of blooddrops hitting the stone floor. The two acquirers, Wynn, Kelehedemon, the bartender and the spit-wench, the only living people in the room, looked around at the inn, now carpeted with corpses, in silence. Silence, broken first by the second acquirer.
??F**k me??
The leader broadened his smile, and said ?I guess that means you passed the test. Welcome aboard. We have to make a quick exit, our ship leaves in four days.?

?MURDERER!? screamed the bartender, firing his crossbow at Kelehedemon. The bolt visibly slowed enroute, until it stopped completely next to his neck, and began spinning slowly, inside what seemed to be a tiny self-contained, horizontal tornado. Kelehedemon plucked it from the air, and turned to fully face the bartender.
?I had forgotten you two. You could have survived this day. But you had to try to kill me. Well, now I?ll have to try to kill you,? he rasped, sounding utterly different. The lead acquirer looked at him closer, and saw that he was using his lips to talk, instead of his abilities. Even his hair had stopped waving, and hung lank and limp from his ravaged skull.
?Maybe you should have a bath.?
Wynn started laughing again, then wandered over to the door, drinking horn in hand. Opening it, he looked outside and shouted back, ?It?s clear, they were all inside. Didn?t even leave a guard on the horses. And it?s stopped raining too. I?ll get our mounts, you grab our stuff and the least burnt of those chickens, else you?ll be whining the whole trip. Young people today, moan moan moan??

?Can we help at all?? asked the leader, to which Kelehedemon shrugged. ?Grab the large bag under the table, then go get those chickens,? he ordered the second acquirer, who grumpily acquiesced and picked up the vast leather knapsack, promptly falling over one of the corpses. Staggering upright, he chucked the bag over a shoulder and stumped off towards the unattended spits. Alone for the moment, the acquirer thought how to phrase the question he had in mind for the semi-masked assassin.
?You?re thinking I exhausted myself, which is why I?m using my voice to talk, right? You?re thinking you may have made a mistake.?
?Having seen some of our other intended targets, not at all. I?m fearing for the safety of my major bet, on you to win.?
?Your bet is safe. I can do acts of such rather extreme complexity for much longer than that, but using my power too much does give me a headache. And I despise headaches when I don?t need to suffer them. So I used the force ruffling my hair and vocalising my thoughts to block that shot. It?s only for vanity?s sake and effect anyway, and I have no need to hide anything or impress you further.?
Kelehedemon reached under the table and pulled out a length of chainmail, throwing it over his head. As it unrolled to his ankles, the leader inquired, ?How does wearing riding chain help you be a stealthy assassin?? Strapping on a swordbelt with two longswords, he said, ?It doesn?t. Killing all noise, however, does. And armour always helps.? Pulling a long, covered sheath from beneath his chair, Kelehedemon opened it and checked the contents as the second acquirer headed past and outside.

?You go and get the other two ready to ride, I have some business to take care of. Gods, that?s such a poor clich?. Is there even another way to word that??
The lead acquirer looked over to the terrified bartender and spit-wench, and said, ?None that comes to mind. Very well, we?ll expect you out shortly. I still need to talk to you about scaring the crap out of those gobby orphans,? walking through the door. Kelehedemon looked around the body-packed room, his gaze finally lighting on the sword sticking out of the captain?s throat, a sword identical to the two at his waist. With a shucking sound, it tore itself free from the congealing blood and flipped through the air to land in the semi masked assassin?s right hand, while the other slung the sheath over his shoulder. Advancing on the cowering civilians, he tilted his head, and the spit-wench collapsed. When the bartender rushed to her side, Kelehedemon said, ?Relax, she?s alive. I am a population modifier for Ilkas, you know. I modify populations. I weed out the criminals and other targets I am paid for, and I replace them by having lots and lots of sex. As you can imagine, it?s a highly sought after career only available to the best. And I am the best.
?It?s a shame your country refuses to acknowledge Ilkas and the other allied nation?s view on this, it would save so much blood on your side. Look at this sword. A Frioel captain?s sword, a good four foot long, made of the finest steel in your or my country. And I have nine of them, taken from those trying to kill me for doing my duty. Ah, but look at me, wittering on like this while you look after your wife.

?You?re a good man, you know,? the assassin said, ?I?m not.?

[Shinrei]

Quidolgio squatted down in the sand, watching the foam swirl up onto the beach, the roar of the surf pounding the reefs in the distance. He grinned widely as he watched the crab scuttle towards him. "Ooo, yeh think yer gonna pinch me eh?" He blew out his cheeks and bugged his eyes at the creature which halted and began waving the larger of its two claws in the air. "Aha! That's a fightin' stance if I ever saw one!"

Quidolgio, still squatting, reached up and imitated the crabs aggressive stance. "Oooh, look a' me and my big scary haand."

From behind came a voice filled with false incredulity, "Quiddy! You talkin' to a crab?"

With a squak, the wiry little man lost his balance and flopped over onto his back. "I'm helpless!" he cried, before rolling over with a grin and casually bouncing to his feet. His left hand immediately reached for his well oiled dark mustachios in a gesture well recognized by all that knew him. Some people said he colored those mustachios black (but never to his face.)

"Gurtle! You've come to looan me sum o' yer ample flesh! I've been too skinny all o' my life 'tis true..."

The large woman threw back her head and laughed. "But then, Sir Chicken Legs, what would you have left to pinch?" Quidolgio grinned back at her, still strumming his mustache like a guitar. Gurtle's expression suddenly darkened and grew serious. "You've forgotten that today's the day, haven't you."

Quidolgio's grin remained unchanged, but for someone who knew him as well as Gurtle, she immediately recognized the brighter glint in his eye. Taking his hand away from his face with a grand gesture he exhaled loudly and exclaimed "Now, you know I wouldn't go and forget the day I am to reclaim my glory!"

With a laugh and smooth ease of motion, he adjusted the blades at his hips, and sauntered up off the beach, the almost inhuman grace of his movements betrayed only by the crab clinging to his pant leg.

Gurtle didn't bother to wait for him, she knew he'd take his own time. He always did. Besides, she had to get back to the village quickly to make sure the send off party was fully prepared to meet their honored guest. Well, some honored him, others were just excited over the prospect that he was leaving and might not come back. Either way, everyone in their little hamlet was going to turn out to see their most famous son go off to fight in the tourney.

Quidolgio had only made it a third of the way to the village when he stopped to remove a pebble from his boot. Hopping up onto a rock he pulled the cursed foot encasing contraption off and started digging for the offending stone. He glanced up to see three strangers advancing on him. Upon seeing they had his attention, the three strangers threw back their hoods to reveal their identities. Their challenge would not go unnoticed.

"We have come along way, to fight one so renowned as you. Attend!...." the one in the lead exclaimed, an ugly snear across his darkly tanned face. Startled, his utterance stopped short as he looked down to where Quidolgio was now crouched at his feet, poking at his boot. "This looks like it keeps th' stones out pretty well. Where'd yer get these fine boots?" The leaders face turned pale, he hadn't even seen the man move from atop the rock. With a curse he leapt back while his two companions shrank away. The bald headed one on the right, who had been smiling up until then, suddenly looked like he wanted to be sick. Quidolgio turned to him and smirked, "I know wha' you be tryin' to do. This here black stone around my neck protects me from them mind games and sorcerols and mumbledy abracadabra ka smoke'm high and lows." The big man on the left with the look of a professional soldier growled and grasped for Quidolgio, who twisted and turned out of the man's reach. The soldier looked down at his hand and grunted. He was holding the black stone that had just been around Quidolgio's neck. With a flash of triumph, the bald man's eyes lit up and he raised his hands from which flame sparked.... and suddenly turned and vomited on his companions. Falling down to the ground retching, the man collapsed and was still.

Quidolgio looked bemused, and traced his mustache with his hand. "Now isn't tha' odd. Maybe it was that pebble in my boot that saves me from your type." With a cry the leader launched himself forward, long knives with blades as black as obsidian appearing in both hands. The soldier on the right drew a short sword and mace which began to twirl as he too advanced towards Quidolgio. What commenced was the most lopsided battle ever to have been won by a stiff leather boot. As he left the three men in the dust, Quidolgio scowled as he stared down at his now torn and tattered footwear. "I guess what they say is right. A stone in the boot soon ruins the leather." He glanced down at the crab on his pant leg, who seemed quite unpurterbed by the previous exertion. "Now where am I gonna find a new boot that properly matches the other one, an' with me leaving for the tourney tomorro'?" From behind him came a groan. Quidolgio grinned, winked at the crab and said, "Oh, o' course."

[dessembrae]

Kahmul had reached the ritual age, every young man has to take the journey or so father had said. Journey alright, from what he had heard it was to hell and back. Rumours of hellfire, the body becoming one with the inferno.
((Gods what am I getting into, its only days away!))

The village was situated high up, part of a mountain range adjoined to an old dormant volcano. Rumours abound of showers of hot rocks made sure that pilgrims and curious travellers kept their distance. Kahmul was the only young lad in the village. All the others being womenfolk and old men. He tired of this secluded and solitary life he lived in. The ritual brought prospects of travel, freedom, A LIFE!!

"Once you are an adult, you can leave this place. Experience a bit of this damned world for yourself." His father drawled.
((Hmm! just try and stop me.))

A day and night had passed and the time of reckoning was upon him. Kahmul was led to a narrow inlet in the mountain-side by his father. The low entrance meant that visibility was poor. No delaying the inevitable. The ceiling was so low that he was crawling most of the way and a few twists in the path later it was complete darkness. It was so dark it felt like the sun hadn't gazed his way in a lifetime.((Oh how i miss the sun.))
Kahmul spoke too soon as in the distance he could see a light. Not blinding but more residual, like there was a power there.
Pulsing.
Watching.
Growing.

As Kahmul came to the edge the heat was such that his cloth pants stuck to his legs. Hands also wrapped in the sleeves of his tunic to hold back the pain. Even as he stared at them they were barely recognizable as limbs at all.
((This is too much, father have I not been a dutiful son. You repay me with this?! NO. NO MORE. I accept this, this gift................. this burden.))
His fathers words ringing in his ears, "Don't worry son, you'll know what it means to embrace the faith. One day."

He reached the edge of the tunnel. Heat surging all around him. Only one way to go
Down.
What awaited Kahmul was a sea of flames. He pierced the surface like a knife through flesh. Then there was only peace.
((Why am i not dead?)) In his heart of hearts he knew he should be but something was pushing him back to the surface. Pushing the boundaries, of logic, reason and capacity. ((Hmmm......faith. Faith indeed Father.))
When he awakened. He awakened with new purpose. Long gone was the foolish child that was little more than his fathers pack horse. In its place was an individual full of passion and hatred. Hatred of what he was and what he had become. Tattoos now enveloped Kahmuls entire body from head to toe. To look to long was almost like entering a trance. Were the tattoos dancing?
At will the fire seemed to jump out all across his body, licking at the ground almost trying to find flight from his hands. Only to moments later fade to a glow.(( This is going to be fun.))

Kahmul needed to find a testing ground for his new found ...... heat source. He would travel, yes find the freedom he so yearned for. Show the world how to embrace the faith, his faith.
WAIT. The world out there isn't so forgiving, he had heard stories. At home he had weapons... throwing knives of various descriptions. A childhood hobby would now have a place after all.(( Father you've been preparing me this whole time. Bastard.))

As he was leaving, Kahmul spared the village one last glance. A faint smile on his face.

(( Oohh, can't leave without saying goodbye. The height of bad manners don't you think..........................Father!!!))

[Tes'thesula]

“So who is this guy anyway?”
“Who is this guy?! You’re telling me you have never heard of the most famous serial killer in recent history?”
“I travel a lot.”
Doctor Branner looked at his companion a moment, a single eyebrow raised, before turning away. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Richter just smiled, “So?”
With a sigh, the doctor gestured towards the glass holding room that dominated the area. Within, sat on a plastic bed that with a toilet was the room’s only furnishing, was a hunched blonde figure wearing a medical gown.
“This handsome, young gentleman is Cepheranishai,” Branner started
“That his real name?” asked Richter, his head pressed against the glass.
“Not likely, but it’s all we can identify him by. Before he was picked up, there is no record of him anywhere. Anyhow,” Branner flicked open the file that he held, and began reading, “On the date 1.7.90.67, the patient known as Cepheranishai entered the Number 5 apartment complex. Working his way up the building, he proceeded to enter every living space and murder the inhabitants using nothing but his bare hands. The patient then left the building and attacked the first person he saw, one Mr. Aver Gadson. At this point the police were notified, and the suspect shot and apprehended, but not before killing another four people.”
Richter’s face was white, “By all the powers,” he gulped, “So how is this guy still alive? The kill count must have been in the triple figures. In one evening!”
“The defending lawyer used the insanity defense. What sane person would do what he did?”
“Ok, so how’d he end up here?”
“This is where is gets interesting. You remember how I told you that he was shot by the police?” Branner waited for Richter to nod, “Well, when the police doctor got round to treating him, he found that the gunshot wound had completely healed. We were very interested in this, and had him transferred here after his sentencing, to examine him fully.”
Richter turned his head to look at the doctor, “And what, pray tell, happened to police doctor who first examined our crazy friend.”
Branner looked away.
Richter’s hands flew up “Well dammit all to the Powers - ”
“Well, what did you think would happen Richter? This is a secret government organization! We can’t have civilian doctors knowing this kind of thing. You knew this when you signed up with us!”
“That’s because they gave me the only opportunity there was for me to Travel!”
The two men stared at each other. It was an old argument.
“So? What’s the theory on where the healing comes from? Genetic?” asked the Traveller softly.
“Nope.” Replied Branner, moving over to the intercom system.
“He an outlander?”
“All the tests show him to be from good ol’ Plane Prime.”
“So what is it?”
With that question hanging in the air, Doctor Branner, pressed down the intercom button, allowing his voice to be heard in the glass cell. “Cephi,” The hunched figures head swung to gaze at where the two men were standing, the granite gray eyes and beautiful face betraying no emotions. “Cephi, would you please remove your robe.”
The killer stood up, and reached behind him, untying the robe’s knots. In a moment the robe fell away, unveiling his body to the two spectators. Richter let out an almost inaudible gasp.
Covering the entirety of Cepheranishai’s torso, from shoulder to shoulder, from neck to waist was an elaborate tattoo. It depicted everything from a dragon curling round his right side, to a flock of sparrows flying across his chest. A cloudy mountain rose up from his pelvis, and a bamboo forest could be seen peeking up from under his left arm. The tattoo was brightly coloured, and not a bare patch of skin could be seen.
“You think the tattoo does it? Body art heals his body?”
“It seems that way. Apart from the tattoos – and the raging insanity – there’s nothing special about this guy. The problem is that he won’t tell us anything about them, not even under torture. For pity’s sake, we can hardly torture him anyway – he knows that any damage we do will be gone by morning. All he tells us is that ‘the pattern will not be broken’.”
“‘The pattern will not be broken’?”
“Yep, you heard anything like it in the Oulands?”
“Well, in Plane 2 there’s a ideology that says the entire multiverse is just some giant cosmic weave that cannot be altered. But that’s the closest I’ve heard of it.”
Branner looked at his timepiece. “Ok Richter, there’s a reason I asked you here, and it’s not to play guess who. You remember that tournament you told me about a couple of weeks ago?”
“The Ultimate death match…” Richter’s eyes widened, and he pointed at the statue-still Cepheranishai is his glass prison, “Oh no.”
Branner smiled, “Oh yes.”

[Asandir]

It's like floating ol' chap, no seriously it is. Eventually when you decide to join the rest of us you'll see.
Aaaarrrr he's right matie. There do be busty bussoms and bottoms all abouts in dis here afterlife.....
Pah what the hell did I go listening to those two codgers again for. Busty babes my arse just more bleeding demons in both sense' of the word. Dragging me it yet another bleedin dimension to save their scrawny hides. If only those damned necromantic elves hadn't ressurected me. Oh it's a great time of need, your country needs you, you're it's saviour blah blah blah...Oh no you don't...
The last remaining prince of Argoia hacked off yet another demons limb, this one looking slightly like a fluffy tentacle.

He had never been the indoors type which had driven his parents up the walls and thus his banishement. Then he'd got mixed up with the most unusual and disreputable bunch of people (as he thought of them because you couldn't really call them human well not all of them and the ones that looked human well you were better off thinking of them as something else). So he'd joined them and along with his various skills and his amazing talent for well you know, he fit right in.
So his life of socially unacceptable things that shouldn't be done was began. Travelling dimensions, plundering and pilllaging, learning new things as time went by thieving, whoring, drinking, alchemy(all fairly useless things where he came from apart from maybe the extra wepons training or the odd trick). It was goin brilliantly apart from the times he was convinced into joining yet another hairbrained scheme by Clacks and Wakka, the dirty dwarf duo with imaginations so perverse their own mother abadoned them(when they were five we might add) or ending up saving The Captain from another deal gone wrong, actually maybe it wasn't going all that well but unfortunately for him it got worse.
Being an heir of the Argoia line means defending ones country and so he was called home to help out with these new alien invaders. The rest of the crew tagged along thus his new predicament. I mean its all well and good frying the enemy with your pet dragon but you shouldn't really let Clacks stand behind you with an explosive thats ready to blow...of course Clacks and Co. managed to escape with help of a teleportation spell but they kind of forgot about the Prince who ended up a bit dead. Now his dragons not talking to him, he pesky friends are once again after getting stuck in another dimension(that bloody hairbrained magician Merlin, I mean REALLY), he's not reallly alive, his skins an unhealthy pallor, he's goin to have a hard time picking up women, he's in need of a beer, there's demons attacking him...wait no they're dissipating, what can possibly go wrong next......

Hello Prince Raine, we are recruiting for this centuries Ultimate Deathmatch, we were just wonderi...
I'm busy, now bugger off.
Really sorry but you see it's not voluntary, my associates and I think you should come along quitely.
Oh really, well then let's be off, it's not like I'm busy, oh no, I've nothing important to do, I suppose if I had two overweight obnoxious Mueli I'd be.....swish
The prince flipped himself into the air while skewering the boarish looking Mueli on his right while at the same time launching his neck dagger into the Mueli opposite him' right eye socket. With them both incapacitated he went to work on them with kind of bloodlust only the criminally insane or the berserk have(Or prince slips from one to the other depending on his mood).
Heads flew, limbs were hacked off and the poor tosser, sorry acquirer was disembowled. Well the prince is frustrated.
Unfortunately he didn't manage to stop the dart from well somewhere. As he slides into unconciousnous, he only has one thought
What bloody next.............

[Dolmen 2.0]

The Sahara desert had become a dead land. Few recalled the presence of life within it, nothing had walked its fiery open expanse for a hundred years years?until now. The lone figure of a young warrior, gilded with seven blades, had made a pained journey into the heart of the soulless desert. Guns wouldn?t have worked they had told him,
??only blades my friend, Strong blades, laced with old magic.?
Old magic, huh? The warrior known as Hades thought, in the post holocaust world "magic" was a concept as solid as water. Yet here he was, trained through all 300 of his charmed years, just for this?encounter.
As he cleared the horizon he saw it. A pile of rocks rising 5 meters into the open air, silhouetted against the setting sun. Yet that was not what caused him to stop. At the top of the rock tower stood a nude figure. Surrounding the figure were a multitude of rocks, all of which were suspended in mid air. Across the distance he heard a deep horrendous sound. It took him a while to realize it was laughter, the lone figure on the tower, a woman it seemed, slowly begun to step off. Instinct told Hades to block to his left the moment she disappeared. Instinct was wrong.
*
?pathetic.?
Hades? eyes snapped open to a roaring headache. To his horror he found he had no hands or feet and before him stood an eight armed woman hefting his swords and his freshly carved leg.
?don?t scream??
A roar of agony erupted from Hades
??fine then scream, but I was going to say??
More screams erupted
?Will you stop that!?
The screams continued.
?Brother!? the petulant words echoed out and immediately overwhelming pain surrounded Hades sending him into a red haze.
*
Hades woke up once more; bracing himself to the pain?None came.
?ah you?re awake. Stand up my sister waits??
Hades found that he could indeed stand. Legs.
?yes? Hades whipped round to the familiar voice. Fast. Too fast. ?You have legs, and arms too..?
Arms? Hades looked through newly sharpened eyes. 1,2,3?8?
?but how? they were gone...?
?my brother needs you.? She smiled. ?he is ready to emerge from this cacoon of his but he needs?essence to do so. You will take your swords..." She threw the blades at him, he caught them all fluidly.
"..and travel to an event in time where powers gather. They call it the ultimate death match. It is ther that you will gather souls. Do you understand??
Hades heard himself say ?Yes?
?Good, well then shall we go??
?Back through the desert??
?Oh gods no, that?s uncomfortable, we?re taking the easy way out. brother??
She disappeared. Hades stood perplexed ?Where?d she g??
Hades was gone before he finished the sentance. Burning silence returned to the Sahara, the blazing home of the most powerful demon ever to walk the heavens; a home?
?for now.

The earth rumbled. From afar it sounded like the deep, dark, laughter of a God.
*

Hades appeared in an open glade of blue leafed trees. the cold air was fresh and crisp, and the loamy soil underfoot was cool and damp.
"Where is this?" hades asked
"well I couldn't help noticing that your pathetic self had only seven enriched blades." The woman from the tower continued "In case you've forgotten you have eight arms babe. what you need is some icing to put on da cake..."
Bemused Hades watched the nude form of the eight armed demoness saunter casually towards a menhir situaded in the centre of the glade. As she approached both her and the menhir blurred from hades' vision and suddenly she was gone.
Alarmed Hades willed himself forward. he found that he'd just crossed the 40 m distance without taking more than a step. how the hell ?

"you learn quick," The sultry voice of the woman came from within his head "now quickly reach into me"
Hades looked around in shy confusion
"The rock you fool, I'm in the damn rock! reach in now before I black out!"
"Oh, right." Hades plunged his hand into the rock, it gripped onto living steel flesh. drawing it out he found a blue shadow on his eighth arm.
"mmmm" A giggle echoed in his mind "now this is where it gets fun!"
Slowly the shadow encompassed his arms shoulders and chest. Hades felt immense pain along with overwhelming pleasure, the tsunami brought him to his knees. When it was done hades stood up.
"my blades have disappeared."
"no we still have them, I'm hiding them for us."
"US?"
"yes, us." the voice was all around him "don't you see? We are joined. now we are complete." Another giggle of pleasure.
Hades slowly caught on as minds began to link. Sudden instinct made him reach out only to find all his blades extend from his body like shadows.
"Now you begin to understand don't you?"
"hmph" Hades snorted "I understand alright, Erga." The use of her name caused Erga to mentally flinch.
"you know," Hades continued as he began his walk away from the menhir "the least you could have done was buy me dinner and a movie, before choosing to have your way with me."
As hades reached the end of the clearing Erga responded.
"Well I know this place..."
"Oh shut up woman."
With that they were gone.
*

[drinksinbars]

Kaal watched as the universe fell in upon itself before his eyes. What had once been a planet of lush greens and blues had long ago succumbed to the irrefutable force of the massive black hole that was destroying this region of space. Stripped of the life giving star it had circled, the world was now barren and dead. As the star had been devoured it had sprayed superheated plasma for billions of miles into space. With one single pass, ten millenniums of civilisation had been burnt into ash. The surface had been completely incinerated, the very rocks turning to liquid a mile in depth. In the aftermath of the black holes passing, comets and meteorites had smashed into the now plastic surface of the planet.
That was years ago though, and now as far as Kaal could see there was nothing but oddly shaped rock. The planet, once known as Erion, had been rechristened Gehenna by the First. Kaal walked across its surface, oblivious of the vacuum, and considered the appropriate nature of the name. The First, He Who Founded, had refused to explain what had occurred on Erion, preferring for his other self?s to witness the results of the destruction firsthand.
Kaal could understand his reasoning, for he wouldn?t have believed the First, even though he himself was the First, in a way. Some things though defied words, for some things had to be seen.
This particular possibility had not occurred in Kaal?s universe, but it stole from him over thirty-four of his alternate self. By some cosmic trick of chance, his universe had been spared, and for that he was thankful. He was the last of his brothers to travel between the worlds, and now he shared the urgency that they had expressed for the last few years. Although his Brother, who had only been a babe when catastrophe had struck, was kill when his planet died, his soul was still bound to Gehenna.
?You know what must be done, brother,? spoke the First in his mind.
Kaal took a deep breath of air from his Erion, for he hadn?t yet mastered the difference between mind speech and thought.
?I understand, brother, though it fills me with fear.?
?There is no fear, you are one of many. Only we span the multi-verse??
?By your will alone, Brother, not by mine. I had simple dreams, and few ambitions.? He felt the full weight of his fifteen years, a weight that had been considerably lighter before.
?Yet you will do it. This is not personal glory we seek. This is salvation. You must push my brother, you must bring your people to the stars, and you must prepare them for the death of their world.?
?Then it is only a matter of time?? he asked, fear gripping him.
?All things are inevitable.?
?What must I do??
There was a terrible silence, one he hadn?t experienced since his brother first spoke to him years ago.
?Conquer them, conquer your world.?

Kaal sat on his throne, the knowledge and power of his forty one brothers residing quietly within him. It had been twenty years since the final resistance to his rule had been destroyed and in that time life had grown dull. Only six others, the First included, still lived, yet he could still feel them all. One had lost an arm the year before, his left, and the others had offered him their own in aid. Now Kaal could not un-robe in front of another lest rumours of his being a witch resurface, for his left arm was ever so slightly insubstantial. It was of little concern to him, it would return to normal eventually, it had been worse at the time. He knew if urgency dictated that he could renew himself completely, but that version of Kaal had given him his skill with steel, a gift not forgotten.
The First had granted him and the others the telepathic abilities that had originally allowed him to first breach the multi-verse. The world that the First had been born to was advanced beyond all of his Brothers, not just technologically speaking, but evolutionarily speaking. The First had shared all of this with Kaal, and in doing so had granted him other advantages of speed and strength beyond those of his people. With this strength Kaal had become a war leader, and eventually a conqueror.
With his Brothers skill in war, and his own experience, he had crushed any resistance to his will. He knew beyond the waters other men walked, but his world wasn?t ready for a global leader despite the First?s wishes. As it was he had no enemies with a land border and had been free from attack for decades.
Of all the universes that he inhabited, Kaal?s was the least advanced. Others were already pushing their civilisations into the stars, while his own was barely out of the Iron age. With their knowledge of technology he had opened universities and schools in every city. To every nation he had conquered he had brought peace and strength. Men were less likely to war when they were well fed and educated, and his knowledge meant he could provide both. Somehow though Kaal had grown to enjoy the battles, and so spent most of his time coexisting in the body of his most violent self, who warred almost ceaselessly in his universe.
A figure approached the throne, shocking Kaal out of his contact, for the throne room was generally sealed and he had heard nor felt anything.
?Who goes there?? asked Kaal. He stood off his throne, at six foot he wasn?t an overly large man, but he was graceful and deadly with a sword always within reach.
?Hail, King of Erion!? said the figure. They looked like a silver god, but Kaal had seen the future and knew they wore an elaborate body armour that moulded itself to the body. It was more of a liquid skin than armour, and now it concealed the figures face.
?Show yourself, lest you feel my blade. Your armour won?t protect you from me!?
The cowl of the armour slid noiselessly back over the creatures skull to reveal a face similar to that of an Erionian.
?You wear well the illusion of my people, yet I know you for something else.?
It masked its surprise well, but not so well that Kaal didn?t see it. Something struck kaal in the throat and he felt bands of fire crushing him. As he fell over he saw another of the creatures was waiting behind him and taping its temple.
?Telepathic dampener, useful no?? said the creature with obvious mirth.
Kaal called out to his Brothers for aid, but for the first time in forty years, there was only silence.

[Morgoth]

Glittering hungrily in the weak light of the dying fire, the knife stood halfway buried in flesh and wood. The sound of its descent echoing through the room. Slowly retracting his hand from the handle, Slorm sat back, a confused yet triumphant look playing on his handsome face. He had wanted to do that all evning. Fear had held him back, which in retrospect seemed childish and cowardly. Weak. There was nothing in the room to fear, apart from him obviously and perhaps also his companion. A glance told him that his opinion was suprisingly not shared unfortunately. No matter, they would all see their folly soon enough. His mind pricked slightly making him look once more towards the table. Slorm knew his knife. He knew how people reacted to its... intrusive presence; he had certainly plenty of experience on which he could base his assumption. People did scream, or they babbled. They could go into shock, staring incomprehending at what had been done to them. There were many ways, many variations. They should not, could not however, be bemused.

Inja sat tranfixed; her eyes bound to the point were steel met flesh, locking it to the wood beneath. The inn was silent, only a cough or a sickly wheez slithering into her head to disturb the desperation growing within. Her companion was pleased, she knew. Fear was not something Slorm was accustomed to. Indeed, he possessed the kind of insanity necessary to be considered fearless. His stunning intelect was certainly not the reason he had been chosen to accompany her. It had been believed that he would have been able to offer her a level of protection if the meeting went badly. Now though, she wondered if perhaps her need for security would be her death.

“I thought you said this was an expensive place”
“It is... One of the oldest and most respected lodgings in the city I would think. Or so I thought...” Inja glanced at the sickly looking bouncer as he opened the door for them. It was suprising he could even stand let alone open a door she thought, taking in his ghatsly paleness and runny, dark red eyes. They stepped into the inn which was lit only by the flickering flames of a fireplace, casting wide, dancing shadows across the large room that made up most of the ground floor of the building.
“Why are there no lamps?” Slorm frowned, eyeing the few, half visible patrons suspiciously. His large hands moving to rest on the pommels of twin swords bound to the muscled trunks of his thigs.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, almost managing to convey the impression that nothing, least of all a slightly too dark inn could make her feel the least bit uneasy. “Wait here and try not to kill anyone, I’ll go find out. Remember the nature of our visite; it would not be wise to show agression at this point. The client could...”
Her sentence lost all will to live and shriveled into oblivion as Slorm, seemingly not having heard her, grabbed hold of a man passing them and lifted him off his feet to come face to face with the soldier, then with equal speed let him go in disgust as the unfortunate man started coughing violently. Phlegm and blood splattered onto the floor.
“Why is there no light?” Slorm rumbled, the tip of his boot poking the fallen man.
A groan escaped the fallen figure. He opened his mouth to speak only to be racked by another fit of coughing. Unable to make any coherent sounds, he pointed a shaking, miscoloured finger towards the rear of the room, to a table located practicly under the majestic stairwell leading to the rooms of those wealthy enough to live there.

Her heart was thunder in her ears. Her hair was slick with sweath and she could hardly draw breath. The reborn sun blushed seeing its reflection running down her cheek. She steadied her nerves, her heart, slowed down her breathing. It was a new day and she was still alive. Coughing slightly, she strolled down the still empty street satisfied with the knowledge that her bet was safe. Not once during the rest of the day did her thoughts more than brush upon anything else but the memory of two large brown eyes kissed by the moon.

Eyes unlike anything she had ever seen before. The man, their potential client, looked up at them from the shadows of the corner. The weak light of the fire flashed in his eyes. Extrodinary eyes with eyebrows arching elegantly above them, gifting him with a constant look of amused surprise. Long fingered, slender hands rested in front of him, palm down on the old, half rotted table between them. Half rotted? I must have mistaken this place for somewhere else.
“So, what do I owe the pleasure of such high class company?” His voice was deep and pleasant. Vibrating through the room and up through her body. Inja forced herself to suppress a sigh. She could fall in love with that voice. Quickly taking note of her inability to answer, Slorm stepped forwards, adressing the man.
“Cut the act, assassin. We’re here to hire you, so there’s no point acting all fancy and stuff. We know what you are and you will not be able to convince us of being a lord or summath.”
The man turned his head slightly to face Slorm, a slight smile playing along his lips.
“Assassin? You must be mistaking me for someone else, good sir, for I am not such a man”
“Cut the crap. You’re an assassin and we’re hiring you to do some killing. This can surely not be too damn difficult to understand.”
“Ah, I see now, I think, the source of your confusion.” A hand waved lazily, stopping Slorm’s emerging protest.
“Assassin implies a person who kills for gold or services. I however, am not for hire.”
Finding her voice again, Inja placed her hand on her companions shoulder to stop him from replying. Reasured that he would not throw himself across the table, she slowly pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Now, we’re not wanting to insult you, sir .”
“Call me Nai.” His smile made her heart skipp a beat.
“Is that your real name?” She smiled back, meeting his beautiful eyes squarely.
“No.” She could feel his breath gently touch her face. He smelled of fallen leaves, of earth and grass.
“Well then... Nai. Every man has his price. I am sure we can come to some arrangement.” A hint of anoyance flashed through his eyes and was gone. From the way Slorm tensed behind her, she knew he had noticed it to. We don’t really know what we’re dealing with here. If the stories are to be believed, sanity is not the most prominent part of his character.
“I have no price. There is nothing that I want which you can offer me. I do not kill for gold...”
“..but surely..”
“...I kill for fun”

Nai locked his hand around the gripp of the dagger and pulled it out of his hand as if half of its lenght was not embed into the table underneath. No blood oozed from the wound into the rotted wood underneath. A distatched part of Inja’s mind wondered absently why the rott seemed to spread from the center of the table and out, instead of from the edges and inwards.
“Now why did you do that?” Something in his voice had changed, making the hairs on her arms lift. This was the kind of voice that could give her nightmares.
“I was trying to hold a civilized conversation with this young lady, and then you decided in an effort to attract attention to yourself to impale my hand on the table. Wouldn’t it be easier to, I don’t know, tell a joke?”
“Now you listen to me you little ****..” Slorm bent forwards so that his face was almost touching that of the other man.
“I do not care whether you’ve killed kings, emperors, gods...”
“...I would hardly have called her a god..”
“…cities or even whole nations…”
“I only ever destroyed one city, but that was included in the process of destroying the nation, so I don’t know if that counts. And besides, they had it coming.” Before Slorm could continue, Nai put a finger to the soldier’s lips, hushing him. The touch was icy cold, burning against the skin.
“Well, this has certainly been a delight. I would love to talk to you more, but you did try to harm me and I cannot allow that. Such a waste of your talents.” Before the big man had time to react, a hand closed aroudn his neck and slammed his face into the table with a wet crunch, almost cracking the already weakened wood. A knife -his knife- stabbed through his neck, slicing muscle and splitting bone before it pushed into the table beneath. This time, it drew blood.

[Cause]

?He could just make out what was happening in front as the charge built its deadly speed. Suddenly the front rank broke away and lowered their lances. Lances of his own design; they were eighteen feet long; hollow for riders to manage the weight, but most importantly longer even the pikes of the Morti. He could no longer see through the chaos of dust, smoke and riders but knew what must have been happening. The front rank would be tightening the formation, riding now knee-to-knee matching each other?s speed in preparation for the final strike. When it came it would come as one. The momentum of werox, rider and lance striking out all across the line with perfect timing. The Morti formation would be rolled up, the ranks compressed under the force of the blow. He saw the riders of the front back riding back now through the gaps left in the lines, lances broken. Saw the second rank now break away, ready to again strike the morti. Soon it was his and the third and final ranks turn to break lances. But when they passed the returning riders of the second and cleared the confusion they saw it was not needed. The Morti were in confusion all along the line, the formation was broken and already some shameless cowards broke and ran. Dropping lances and drawing swords they charged on. War-smith Xe?en Ma?tor of the Heron clan knew he had earned his third name for this, and as he brought slaughter to the Morti he wondered what it might be?.

? Xe?kar Ma?fur blade champion of the Heron prepared himself for the fight to come. He was to face Va?kor Li?por Te?ma famed war champion of the eagle clan, who had earned his third name in the recent Journey against the Helghari. He had singly defeated two of the king?s bodyguard before killing the king himself. The eagle clan complained the Heron had fallen behind in the sack of the city, that they had left the eagle clans flank unprotected. The truth at least how the Herons saw it was that in their haste to claim the glory of reaching the palace first, they had outpaced reason as well as the rest of the travelers. What mattered was neither truth nor fault, only that the honor of the clan had been insulted. Such attacks had to be met and outmatched or not it fell to him to redress the honor of the clan. Whether he did it with his death or victory the result was the same. Drawing his sword and tonfa he saluted his opponent and attacked. When the dust settled a dying Xe?kar lay atop a dead Eagle champion and though he would not know it life, in death he would be rewarded with the third name Ti?elc. Revered for over ten generations as the greatest champion of the Xemati family?

?Xe?an Ma?re Ti?om warcrafter of the coming battle felt unimaginable pride at having been chosen to lead. Starting at the disposition of the enemy, a smile came to his already beaming face. He had seen their weakness, victory was almost certain?.

?. Standing at the prow of his ship Xe?tar Ma?lel led the Modan across the great water to unimagined new lands?


Awaking from the dreams of his line Xe?el Ma?tok fifty-third scion of the Xemati family felt as he always did, unworthy. The feeling only made more intense by the dreams of glory in contrast to his shame. At twenty-seven summers he was still unrecognized for any accomplishments of worth. He hoped that would soon change. His chance to bring more glory to his family, for self-respect and even perhaps for the coveted third name was coming. It rested on victory in the great tournament. His ancestor Me?kar had earned his tertiary for martial prowess and he had only defeated a Modan champion. What might be his fame if he defeated the champions of nations and gods from across the world?

The thought of glory decided it for him. He would spend these last days before the competition in training and not resting as he had first thought. He must not lose. He would not allow it. Standing up he crossed his small room to were his armour lay against the wall and his clothes were neatly pilled on a small stool. The clothes were a bright blue the colour of the heron clan, the armour was as well but of a more darker shade. It was the armour of a cavalry soldier and as such was only half-plate but he knew it was well made and would turn aside almost any blow where it did cover him. What worried him most were the joints and the inner thighs. The beast he was riding usually protected them. Quickly getting dressed and putting on his armour leaving his helmet behind he went back to the bed. His sword and tonfa were in their scabbards leaning against the wall near the headboard. He never liked being far from his sword. It was a plain sword though none would ever call it such. Although without adornment or embellishment it was a marvelous weapon, obvious to any eye the work of a superior artisan. The pommel was a perfect sphere, the cross guard exactly parallel to the blade and the metal shone and glistened in the light. The blade just over a meter long was perhaps unusual in that in never tapered to a point rather being straight as a geometers ruler for a meter of its length before one edge tapered whilst the other remained straight forming a right angled triangle for a point. It was the heirloom of his family, passed down from father to son with the formers death. Than broken and re-forged by the heir guided by the ancestor spirits and quenched first with blood and than water to seal ownership of the blade. It was far more than just a sword any more; it was the anchor in this world for the spirits of his ancestors. The source of their guidance and of the dreams.

Finally ready he made his way downstairs. The people their either shied away from his double puppiled gaze or stared back with unveiled hostility. He was Modan, the stuff of these people?s nightmares. The harbingers of war, the people with no respect for borders. What arrogance a people must possess to call the land theirs, to claim ownership? A claim that most could not even back up with strength. The Modan crossed were they wished moved where they wished and lived where they wished. It only came to war when people tried to stop them, push them out. Still he supposed their hatred was deserved. His people had crossed these lands not so long ago and when the Empower had thought to remove the barbarian squatters from his lands the Modan had delivered un-repented slaughter.

Going out into the small garden of the in having negotiated for its private use. He drew his sword and sought communion with his ancestors. The pupils of his eyes shifted. The one that saw the world that was shrank and the other that saw into the spirit world grew. A host of like dressed individuals a few amongst them without armour confronted him though they seemed strange like swirling shadows against the backdrop of the world that was. So many. Kneeling he spoke ?honored ancestors?
?Rise Xe?el?
?Prepare your stance, show us?
Moving through the forms Xe?el demonstrated his skill with sword and tonfa, singly and together. With double-handed grip for powerful strikes, with one-handed grip blocking imagined strikes with his buckler.
?You hold your blade too tightly?
?No, now too lightly?
?Good?
?Again?
?Shift forms, try Je?kali?
For hours the training continues under the watchful gaze and tuition of his ancestors. So many had come. Was it an omen? Did it show their approval? They wanted him to succeed.
?You?re becoming distracted. You must focus?
?Prepare yourself?
His ancestor the honored Xe?kar glided out from the group sword drawn and ready to attack. He met the blade and parried but failed to score a strike, the dance continued. He would be ready. And if any looked out of the windows of the inn into the garden below they would have seen a madman fencing against air.

[Morgoth]

Excellent intros from everyone. I think the quality of this DM will be quite impressive.

But to move on to what you've all been waiting for, the plan of battle.

Fan_83 v DIB
Shinrei no Shintai v Valgard
BAD v Dessembra
Asandir v Illy
Morgoth v Temp
Cause v Dolmen
Hume v Tes'thestula

One match at the time. The first name begins the match. So Fan_83 will write the first post in the first match, DIB the last.

Good luck everyone

[Valgard]

Rugh was prodded forwards by more of the these small pink creatures. They wielded strange metal rods that sparked and hurt when they touched him. Rugh could have killed them all if he wanted, but he remembered the message from Lunis and this gave him the strength to contain his rage at being imprisoned. He would save it for the first creature he would fight, all his hatred and rage for the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of these small pink creatures. He had killed only a few of them so far only those that had come to close. They tasted odd he didn't like it so after the first one he stopped, but his captors fed him well. He guessed they wanted to keep him in top condition for the competition.

He was made to fight a variety of strange and weird creatures. He assumed to test his abilities and to show his captors his potential. They were no match for him he barely broke a sweat against them. If all he was to fight would be this easy then these battles would hardly challenge him and that is not what he was here for. Rugh was starting to get restless he had been imprisoned for at least a half cycle of the moon. He had not seen the sky once since the night he was captured, the smells were all wrong it was driving him insane. He would pray to Lunis to give him strength to stay focused on the path.

Finally it was time Rugh was now being forced to stand upon a giant platform. He could smell the anticipation in the air the smell. The Platform started suddenly and rose up towards the ceiling, which started to move itself, creating an opening for the platform to rise through. The first thing Rugh noticed was buzz like ten thousand bees swirling overhead it rose louder and more insistent as he neared the opening. He raised his great head up and saw the stars burning brightly overhead. He let loose a howl of greeting and thanks to Lunis to have allowed him to see the sky once more before it all ends. As his howl died away the buzzing change from a loud hum to a roar. He burst though the opening into huge open space. It rose up on all side like the bowl of the volcano where the monastery of Shooma used to be found before the demons burned it to the ground. Except the volcano wasn't full of thousands upon thousands of spectators all roaring in delight at the thought of the spectacle to begin. Every form of life was present in the audience, things which defied the imaginations, stared (if that is correct term to use for some of the creatures) in rapt attention for the carnage that was about to be unleashed.

Rugh raised his arms and tensed his muscles shattering the chains that held him bound. This action caused a small riot amongst the more excitable members in the audience and several of the nearest spectators were crushed up against the edge and 20 or so fell over the edge to die on the spikes lining the edge of the stadium (possibly placed there to discourage the more interested members from participating in a more aggressive method than just placing a bet). ?First blood to the stadium.? Thought Rugh with wry chuckle.

He looked around trying to take in all there was, but it was like a sensory overload so much to see he very nearly missed the most important thing, the other platform contained a small pink thing like the ones that had the sticks. Just as he was about to attack, suddenly a light the power of the sun illuminating him from all side and voice boomed out over the noise of the crowd.

?Ladies, Gentlemen and other esteemed spectators I welcome you to this the Ultimate:Gauntlet. For this the Second night We have for you a Creature from the Planet Gaenorth. This monster you see was captured and entered by the brave efforts of two of our longest running backers. This demon creature is a monster without thought or language. It has plagued the new settlers there who are only hoping to live out their new lives in the fertile and lush valleys. This creature has slaughtered them in their thousands and now he is here tonight to amuse us. See the beast and watch is fight. I give you the Blood Demon?

Rugh roared a out his challenge to the voice to the lies it spewed. But he was drowned out by the crowd that called out their approval of the voice.

Rugh howled out to the night sky ?Lunis if you can hear me I dedicate the voice to you to erase its lies from world.?

?First though I must face this minor annoyance so that I can find a true opponent that will allow me to reach my full potential..? Flashed quickly in his mind.

?Now the other opponent that we have for our enjoyment is over there .....? boomed out the voice again.

[fan_83]

IT was awaken from its rest by stings in its coat, it raised its head to see a grey and pink being moving around, making too much noise and smelling like the waste from a herd of boojam. It heard Arses then, telling him to follow the bumbling thing to meet its first opponent in a fight. The bars that was in its way swung aside and he allowed himself to be prodded along a path that is both dark and smelly. All the while, Arses is informing him of the battle custom, he will be required to enter a round pit with sand for footing, and with smooth rocks for its walls, he is to attack the pink thing that will be in the pit, he is also only allowed to attack after a loud piercing noise is made. It is impolite to attack before then. All this while he is being prodded by that bumbling loud thing that is seriously annoying him.

Soon, he arrived at a tunnel leading towards light, Arses, told him that it was the entrance of the pit and wishes him luck. All alone, it moved towards the light, all the while being prodded by that smelly loud thing that is soon making him lose his temper. He could hear noise, loud and incoherent noise from the tunnel leading to the light. He decided to slow down, catch the scent and choose a form. That annoying thing poking him, decided to poke him some more. He chose to kill that annoying thing as practice to decide which form is best. As he slowed down some more, that bumbling pink/grey thing moves even closer and starts poking him some more. With a thought and a backward step, it changed its tail into a stinger of a scorpion; it took great satisfaction to feel its stinger move into and all the way through the pink and grey thing. The feel of warm fluids awakens its instinct to hunt and kill. But first it had to learn, changing back its tail; it padded back to the bumbling thing which is silent for once and the stench of its bodily fluid cover its natural stink.

After a couple of prods and swipes, it found that the claws of a bear work best, while the skin of a crocodile seems to be the most resistant. Deciding to make a grand entrance in honour of Arses, it rushed towards the light and shifted into a peregrine and clawed his way into the air, the silence of the crowd allowed him time to scan the battlefield. It is as Arses said a round pit that is filled with sand and nothing more. He could see many many more of the pink things but they seem to be in a riot of colour and shapes as well as size, but the one thing remains the same, their stink of boojam waste. It don’t think that they will taste nice, as it circled the pit again, it saw the gaze of all those pink skins on him, and another pink skin walk into the pit, its opponent it decided. Circling to get a scent of its opponent, it could feel the gaze, a predator and a good one. Its peregrine eyes, could make out the detail of its opponent, it moves like an experienced predator, its eyes were studying him as well; all the while its one appendage was gripping his grey hard thing, while the other one seems translucent, almost like trying to see through water. Shifting its nose, to get a better scent, it was curious to find that it scent is full of blood and earth. It’s unlike those other pink skinned which is merely smelly prey.

Shifting back to its natural form at its end of the pit, it waited for the loud piercing noise to come, to signal its fight

[drinksinbars]

In the beginning there was only silence and emptiness, and then, then there was light.

?I think he?s waking up,? said a metallic voice to Kaal?s left.

His vision was still blurred, but he rolled his head toward the voice and could just make out the dark silhouette of a short and stick thin figure standing over him. He let out a groan as a wave of nausea spread through his entire body. His stomach heaved and even though the room was little more than fuzzy shapes of light and dark, they spun uncontrollably. He sat up, hoping to force some gravity on his mind and ease the burgeoning headache that was threatening to crush his mind. He felt a sharp prick against his neck and the pain disappeared almost instantly.

?Better?? asked the thin man. Kaal could understand the words, though he had never heard their like before. The sounds the creature made were like squawks of a bird, high pitched and fast. Kaal took a moment to look around the room, noting the resemblance to the futuristic hospitals he had seen in one of his Brother?s universes.

Choosing not to speak, Kaal forced his mind to seek out his Brothers, but something seemed to stand between them. Where before he had, what he always thought of as a window into, the memories and experiences of forty-one others, now there seemed to be a black wall. He felt the absence like a knife blow to the soul. He had memories of places like this, but had never been in one before, and the easy access to the knowledge and experience of his brothers that had guided him for years, was denied him. His link to the other versions of himself, which had served to push him for all of his adult life, had been stripped away from him. He was, for the first time in twenty four years, utterly alone. A new feeling joined it, or perhaps an old one that he had somehow outgrown, fear.

For one horrible moment he thought he had imagined his whole life. It was not too far a leap, for in one of his universes he may have visited a place such as this, although he had been uncomfortably aware it was for the mentally ill. That memory seemed to resonate with him for a moment, and the life he thought was his own suddenly felt far away and alien.

He lifted his hands to his face as he felt himself on the edge of tears. He stopped, shocked into immobility. His left hand was ghostly and transparent. He could still make out the lines that traced across his palm and the scars that lined his forearm, but he could see the white floor tiles through his flesh as if it were a clear film filled with water, not skin, bone and muscle. Just above the elbow the ghostly flesh ended and solidity resumed. He felt his heart skip, for he knew then that he wasn?t mad, and he wasn?t alone, not totally.

His left hand shot out and plunged into the chest of the thin creature. His flesh that was not flesh, passed through the body of the creature as if it were passing into lightly packed snow. Kaal could feel the creature?s organs swirling away from his ghost arm, and he could feel its blood pumping through his ghostly veins. He found the heart, and wrapped his fingers around its edges being careful not to sink them into it. He could feel the terror of the creature as its heart beat like a drum, wild and rapid.

Kaal smiled at its discomfort. Where his arm was plunging into its chest, the creatures pale skin was crystallising with frost. He could feel its heart slowing as the strength was swallowed by his icy grip. The creature collapsed on the floor as Kaal withdrew his hand. The blue colour quickly faded back to pink and the creature gasped as it held its chest in pain.

?Get me my armour,? he ordered.

Kaal walked along the dark corridor with a look of grim determination on his face. He could feel the One pushing against the barriers in his mind, and knew it was only a matter of time before their contact was resumed. He had felt the barrier weaken the farther he moved down the corridor and instinctively knew that it had been the something in the medical facility that was blocking his link with his Brothers. He would have to live long enough for the link to be re-established, for he felt with some certainty that to die before then would sever the link with his brothers in a way none that of the others had been lost. He had never felt such fear before, but instead of unmanning him, it had given him a strange sense of purpose.

He was expected to fight, or so they had told him. They hadn?t told him against what though, and he had the sinking feeling that he wouldn?t like it. He had torn the sleeve that covered his left arm, off, for he was now unashamed of his ghost arm. It was his only link to his Brothers, and for him it was a symbol of the One. So he would display it for all to see. He felt it was a good omen that what he had given in sacrifice was now a source of confidence and power.

His cloak billowed out behind him, as the wind brushed past him. Small dust devils charged down the corridor toward his feet and he stamped through them, oblivious to their biting touch. As he neared the exit he felt the sound of the crowd rolling over him like a wave. He focused his mind, determined to put such distractions beyond him. There was a shimmering heat wafting down from the exit and he felt sweat break out on his right hand and down his back. He rubbed his sweaty palm across his leather armour somewhat unsuccessfully, before bending down to try the sand instead. Satisfied he wouldn?t drop his sword at the first heavy blow he got up and continued on.

There was a moment of distortion as he emerged into bright sunlight, and he lifted his left arm to block out the glare, before he realised the absurdness of that, and so instead thrust it into the air. The crowd roared in appreciation and he let a slight tremor of excitement and enjoyment through his mental defences. He loosened his sword from its scabbard and held it lightly by his side. Across the sand he watched the dark maw of the second entry portal in anticipation, while his hand nervously clenched and unclenched the hilt of his sword to the steady beat of his heart.

A large bird burst into the arena and pushed high into the air. Yet something was wrong, for even at distance its wingspan was massive. With great flaps of its wings it pushed itself into the air above the arena and began to circle. The speed with which it moved was astonishing, for it seemed to split the air before it and plunge into the gap. Even as little more than a fast moving blur, Kaal could easily tell it was a bird of prey much like those his people had once used on hunts, only this one was easily four or five times bigger. He could feel a hungry gaze boring down upon him and smiled back at the creature with awe.

?Should have asked for a bow,? he muttered. He caught the slightest dip of a wing and then his vision suddenly filled with talon and claw hurtling toward him at speed before it suddenly broke off its attack. ?Or a bloody plasma rifle!? he shouted after it.

[Asandir]

'You wake him'
'Nooo you wake him, I've already lost an arm and he didn't even have his sword'
'Exactly, you might as well lose the other one then you'll look more balanced'
'Oh, ha ha. lets just faze the basta.....'
The two guards went silent as the shadow of the broad shouldered, dark haired prince fell upon them. He was a scary sight to your average human, tall muscular scarred and a demeanour like a rabid rockweiller.
'Well hello there boys, decided to free me yet before I rip your stinking heads off.

'Aahhh you know we can't do that prince but ahh you are fighting today see. The official tournaments began. All you have to do is win see and then you can go back to whatever you were doing'

'oh I SEE' said the prince.

The prince grinned malovently and fast as cat reached through bars and ripped the guards other arm off. Blood sprayed in wide arc as the guard screamed in agony. The other ran down the hall for reinforcements. It was going to be difficult getting him up into the arena.

Suddenly something pricked the princes neck and he once again he fell into oblivion. The administrator appeared from behind a hidden wall with more men.
'Get him up to that arena now and place his weapons next to him. Bloody royalty'......................


Raine awoke to the roar of the crowd. He began to rise when he noticed his weapons next to him and so ignoring the crowd he began to strap on his equipment. His bastard sword he strapped to his back, his daggers were placed all about. He inserted his twin cutlasses into their scabbards around his waist and then a few special items of which the administration could see no practical use for. Once fully equipped he glanced around the arena ignoring the jeers and catcalls of the crowds.
'Bunch of bloody hairlich monkeys'.
He then noticed the freakshow striding towards. "Damn" he thought, "somebodies mother actually rutted with a pig, I better inform him the poor man before he finds a mirror".
Then his piercing blue eyes noticed something in the crowd....