Help
It was beyond conception. That man should be able to fight so. He would not have been able to manage this fight without the help of his ancestors. Or even before with their help. This transformation had changed him and his connection to his ancestors. He no longer just heard them but felt them. Felt the tug of their souls on his. Felt them direct his movements as they were never able to before.
That his opponent should fall in this way was wrong. A warrior like this deserved better. Still life was not a story like those the helikan might tell. Men like his brother fell sick and died when none could defeat them in battle. Empires fell from complacency as much as the sword. Sometimes better fighters fell to lesser men. This was one of those times. It was he felt regrettable. To have only been able to truly see, too truly test who was the better man. Who victory truly should have belonged too.
As he took the steps to close the distance with his opponent he raised his sword to deliver the final blow. His opponent was trapped. He had retreated all the way to the wall. His opponent seemed resigned and yet at peace with himself as if death held no mystery for him and no fear. It was a shame. That he should have to kill a man as this. That he should have to die like this. He brought down his sword with a scream…
His opponent was defeated, unarmed. All that remained now was to kill him. He struck out with a thrust of his sword barely missing his opponent’s heart as he kicked away and scrambled back. It was of no concern. Even the crowd settled. Already bored, disappointed with how the fight had turned out. So was he.
It was he felt regrettable that the fight should be over. Victory had been given to him by the fortune of chance and not by skill of arms. No not given but rather stolen from him. There was neither honour in this victory nor any glory to be won. This fight that had been the greatest of his life and he suspected of his opponents as well proved nothing. No true victor had been revealed. Neither had bested the other. But what a fight it was! Their swords had flowed effortlessly, meeting one another again and again until they danced to the music of their making. His ancestors had guided his hands and he had met every parry and struck every blow exact and precise and yet always his opponent’s blade had s been there to meet it. His opponent was a true warrior a man of consummate skills. For him to have matched with his own skill alone that of his entire line…
Ultimate Deathmatch III
#62
Cause 
- Elder God
-
- Group: Malaz Regular
- Posts: 5,885
- Joined: 25-December 03
- Location:NYC
Posted 10 November 2006 - 10:55 PM
Okay now it wont let me post things the same size as I just did. I think I need mod help.
DIBs Im going to send it you by email okay
It was beyond conception. That man should be able to fight so. He would not have been able to manage this fight without the help of his ancestors. Or even before with their help. This transformation had changed him and his connection to his ancestors. He no longer just heard them but felt them. Felt the tug of their souls on his. Felt them direct his movements as they were never able to before.
That his opponent should fall in this way was wrong. A warrior like this deserved better. Still life was not a story like those the helikan might tell. Men like his brother fell sick and died when none could defeat them in battle. Empires fell from complacency as much as the sword. Sometimes better fighters fell to lesser men. This was one of those times. It was he felt regrettable. To have only been able to truly see, too truly test who was the better man. Who victory truly should have belonged too.
As he took the steps to close the distance with his opponent he raised his sword to deliver the final blow. His opponent was trapped. He had retreated all the way to the wall. His opponent seemed resigned and yet at peace with himself as if death held no mystery for him and no fear. It was a shame. That he should have to kill a man as this. That he should have to die like this. He brought down his sword with a scream…
…And tapped his opponent on the shoulder.
...
...
It was a shame he thought as he watched his opponents back. They might have been friends. He would have liked that, to be friends. Still life was not a story. Two men entered only one would live to leave. Life may not have been a story but it was unfair.
DIBs Im going to send it you by email okay
It was beyond conception. That man should be able to fight so. He would not have been able to manage this fight without the help of his ancestors. Or even before with their help. This transformation had changed him and his connection to his ancestors. He no longer just heard them but felt them. Felt the tug of their souls on his. Felt them direct his movements as they were never able to before.
That his opponent should fall in this way was wrong. A warrior like this deserved better. Still life was not a story like those the helikan might tell. Men like his brother fell sick and died when none could defeat them in battle. Empires fell from complacency as much as the sword. Sometimes better fighters fell to lesser men. This was one of those times. It was he felt regrettable. To have only been able to truly see, too truly test who was the better man. Who victory truly should have belonged too.
As he took the steps to close the distance with his opponent he raised his sword to deliver the final blow. His opponent was trapped. He had retreated all the way to the wall. His opponent seemed resigned and yet at peace with himself as if death held no mystery for him and no fear. It was a shame. That he should have to kill a man as this. That he should have to die like this. He brought down his sword with a scream…
…And tapped his opponent on the shoulder.
...
...
It was a shame he thought as he watched his opponents back. They might have been friends. He would have liked that, to be friends. Still life was not a story. Two men entered only one would live to leave. Life may not have been a story but it was unfair.
#63
drinksinbars
- Soletaken
-
- Group: High House Mafia
- Posts: 2,162
- Joined: 16-February 04
Posted 13 November 2006 - 12:04 PM
“That was foolish,” said the First in his mind, as Kaal picked up his blade.
“How was I to know he was so skilled?” asked Kaal.
“I told you, Brother, this one travels the fourth. His soul flows through time like yours flows through choice. You can feel and touch what you could have been, while he sees what was. His kin leading back to the start of their line stand with him and give him their power, yet you shun us. Let your mind see what your eyes cannot.”
Biting back the retort he had been preparing, Kaal instead let himself drift toward a meditative state that he normally used to travel between dimensions. Holding at the nexus point, he could feel the pull toward each of his forty-one brothers, though the pull toward his dead kin was of a different texture to the others, as if the gravity of their soul had been lessened by death. Unusually Kaal opened his eyes and viewed the world from the edge of existence. Momentarily he could see the forty two universes overlaying each other, with every image distinct yet blurred into one. Unsure of what it was he was doing, Kaal focused on his own universe while fighting to maintain the nexus. Shock almost caused him to lose his focus.
Across the sands from him stood not one warrior but a host of them, lined up in rows of seven. The swordsman who Kaal had been fighting was at the centre of the front line, watching him. Kaal gazed across the line, noting the exact same posture in each warrior as they stood at attention. Their battle garb, though similar, grew more archaic with each warrior, tracing back through time as the style and detail evolved. Kaal knew that if he had time he could study these ghostly spirits and read an entire civilisations history by the evolution of the armour. He was awestruck by the sight.
Kaal realised something was odd about the front line, for the ghost to the warrior’s right was too archaically armoured to be his father and was actually the warrior in the row behind. Intrigued, Kaal put the thought of it to one side. Kaal raised his sword in salute again, and noted how each and every warrior responded in suit, except something was remiss for unlike when standing still, a few of the warriors reacted differently. One of them didn’t react at all, while another gave an elaborate bow.
Kaal cocked an eyebrow, and knew then that his opponent had grasped the fact that, Kaal now knew his secret. Calling out to his dead kin, Kaal felt them crowding behind him, flowing out of him as if he were a door. Unlike his opponent, his Brothers were nothing alike. None looked the same, or bore similar weapons. Some carried swords, while others carried axes, spears, and bows. A few of them bore what looked like plasma rifles and shock-sabres, but by mental instruction they understood such technologies to be illegal. Weapons of strange design and function were held in hands of every colour as his Kin prepared for battle.
The armour they wore was utterly distinct to each one, with some wearing full plate armour to another who wore a tattered loin cloth and the skin of some predator that Kaal didn’t recognise draped across his shoulders. Another wore futuristic battle dress that covered their bodies like a thin film and made them seem naked, while giving their body a statue like form. One of his kin was comically short, being just under five foot in height, yet he was as wide as he was tall and hefted a massive war hammer that would have weighed more than that of a grown man. Another of his brethren was stick thin and freakisly tall, and as he moved into line, Kaal noted the snakelike movements of his body, as he seemed to flow across the sands with short sabres in each hand.
Most shocking of all, and something that Kaal had never realised was the presence of two female equivalents of himself. Noting his attention they both grinned with as much psychopathic glee as their fellows that he shuddered involuntarily. He had never tried to hard to speak with his dead kin, for many had been dead before he was awoken, their souls passing into the void long before his had been born in the celestial cauldron of his own universe. Now he was using them for his battle, and he felt a strange ambivalence to his mercenary attitude tempered by the knowledge that had it been another of his Brothers who made the request that he would have responded instantly.
Across the sand, the other army eyed them with keen interest, and Kaal noted the hungry gleam in his opponent’s eyes and knew it for anticipation. He felt it stirring in his heart and chest, the tingle spreading out to make his stomach flutter and his head rush with blood. He felt a kinship of blood not spirit with his opponent welling suddenly and violently in his mind and relished this chance to show his quality to his opponent. They were so similar in many ways that Kaal felt a guilty similarity with this man, unlike anything he had with the First and his kin. It wasnt just the living warrior who looked eager though, the ghosts of his ancestors had been watching their kin fight down the generations and were once more given the chance to test their mettle. The synchronicity of their movements was starting to falter as each prepared to fight.
“It will be as it was on the plains of Erion, divide and conquer!” spoke the First in his mind. Kaal smiled, and then attacked.
The pain in his back was forgotten as his bloodlust took over. In moments his blade was seeking flesh, while all around him the dead fought in total quiet. His opponents movements were not as sure as they had once been, but the man was still a deadly blademaster, and Kaal had no illusions to this being an easy fight.
“How was I to know he was so skilled?” asked Kaal.
“I told you, Brother, this one travels the fourth. His soul flows through time like yours flows through choice. You can feel and touch what you could have been, while he sees what was. His kin leading back to the start of their line stand with him and give him their power, yet you shun us. Let your mind see what your eyes cannot.”
Biting back the retort he had been preparing, Kaal instead let himself drift toward a meditative state that he normally used to travel between dimensions. Holding at the nexus point, he could feel the pull toward each of his forty-one brothers, though the pull toward his dead kin was of a different texture to the others, as if the gravity of their soul had been lessened by death. Unusually Kaal opened his eyes and viewed the world from the edge of existence. Momentarily he could see the forty two universes overlaying each other, with every image distinct yet blurred into one. Unsure of what it was he was doing, Kaal focused on his own universe while fighting to maintain the nexus. Shock almost caused him to lose his focus.
Across the sands from him stood not one warrior but a host of them, lined up in rows of seven. The swordsman who Kaal had been fighting was at the centre of the front line, watching him. Kaal gazed across the line, noting the exact same posture in each warrior as they stood at attention. Their battle garb, though similar, grew more archaic with each warrior, tracing back through time as the style and detail evolved. Kaal knew that if he had time he could study these ghostly spirits and read an entire civilisations history by the evolution of the armour. He was awestruck by the sight.
Kaal realised something was odd about the front line, for the ghost to the warrior’s right was too archaically armoured to be his father and was actually the warrior in the row behind. Intrigued, Kaal put the thought of it to one side. Kaal raised his sword in salute again, and noted how each and every warrior responded in suit, except something was remiss for unlike when standing still, a few of the warriors reacted differently. One of them didn’t react at all, while another gave an elaborate bow.
Kaal cocked an eyebrow, and knew then that his opponent had grasped the fact that, Kaal now knew his secret. Calling out to his dead kin, Kaal felt them crowding behind him, flowing out of him as if he were a door. Unlike his opponent, his Brothers were nothing alike. None looked the same, or bore similar weapons. Some carried swords, while others carried axes, spears, and bows. A few of them bore what looked like plasma rifles and shock-sabres, but by mental instruction they understood such technologies to be illegal. Weapons of strange design and function were held in hands of every colour as his Kin prepared for battle.
The armour they wore was utterly distinct to each one, with some wearing full plate armour to another who wore a tattered loin cloth and the skin of some predator that Kaal didn’t recognise draped across his shoulders. Another wore futuristic battle dress that covered their bodies like a thin film and made them seem naked, while giving their body a statue like form. One of his kin was comically short, being just under five foot in height, yet he was as wide as he was tall and hefted a massive war hammer that would have weighed more than that of a grown man. Another of his brethren was stick thin and freakisly tall, and as he moved into line, Kaal noted the snakelike movements of his body, as he seemed to flow across the sands with short sabres in each hand.
Most shocking of all, and something that Kaal had never realised was the presence of two female equivalents of himself. Noting his attention they both grinned with as much psychopathic glee as their fellows that he shuddered involuntarily. He had never tried to hard to speak with his dead kin, for many had been dead before he was awoken, their souls passing into the void long before his had been born in the celestial cauldron of his own universe. Now he was using them for his battle, and he felt a strange ambivalence to his mercenary attitude tempered by the knowledge that had it been another of his Brothers who made the request that he would have responded instantly.
Across the sand, the other army eyed them with keen interest, and Kaal noted the hungry gleam in his opponent’s eyes and knew it for anticipation. He felt it stirring in his heart and chest, the tingle spreading out to make his stomach flutter and his head rush with blood. He felt a kinship of blood not spirit with his opponent welling suddenly and violently in his mind and relished this chance to show his quality to his opponent. They were so similar in many ways that Kaal felt a guilty similarity with this man, unlike anything he had with the First and his kin. It wasnt just the living warrior who looked eager though, the ghosts of his ancestors had been watching their kin fight down the generations and were once more given the chance to test their mettle. The synchronicity of their movements was starting to falter as each prepared to fight.
“It will be as it was on the plains of Erion, divide and conquer!” spoke the First in his mind. Kaal smiled, and then attacked.
The pain in his back was forgotten as his bloodlust took over. In moments his blade was seeking flesh, while all around him the dead fought in total quiet. His opponents movements were not as sure as they had once been, but the man was still a deadly blademaster, and Kaal had no illusions to this being an easy fight.
#64
Dolmen 2.0
- is probably lying
-
- Group: Malazan Artist
- Posts: 2,692
- Joined: 04-September 05
- Location:Camorr
-
Interests:Walks in the park.
Waiting till jean gets here.
Posted 13 January 2007 - 01:44 PM
The suns beat down on the brazen earth below; searing heat permeated the Arena as the multitudes reconvened about the killing field. The blood on its floor had long since dried and turned to dust from the last battle fought on the dun brown packed earth. Talk still spread about the previous encounter, many were at a loss to explain what had seemed to the mundane eye as a simple battle between two exceptional warriors, but a study of the arena floor told a different tale. Spectators could still hear the ghost like war cries now trapped within the walls of the impromptu battle ground, craters littered the massive spaces where unseen hammers had been swung, scars crisscrossed the field where phantom claymores had clove the earth, even now members of the crowd could feel the electric crackle in the air that hinted of the raw life forces still abundant after the final corporeal blows had been struck, Yes the arena hadn’t just seen a battle, it had felt the caress of a war and this little detail had drawn the Dark God closest to this plane. Hades knew that the dreaded repossession of his soul was at hand.
Hades sat cross legged on the cool stone floor of his new cavern-like waiting room; unlike the one before, this room was covered in runes he'd scrawled in black ash chalk, waiting for the moment he'd need them. This time he had no guards to usher him around, I guess they learn quick around here, how unfortunate. He had not been surprised to be returned to the folds of the living, once again he felt like an undead wolf walking among tethered sheep, It was as if the earth itself was cradled within his jaws and all he need do was close them. Hades sighed as he struggled to contain the blood lust within him. Recently the desire to kill came naturally, something had changed within Hades, this time round his own conscious will seemed to revolve around this new bestial hunger. Hades could feel his soul diminish but what truly frightened him was the fact that he had started to enjoy it…
“If you keep thinking about sheep I’ll kill you” Ergas voice had lost its old whimsical nature, it seemed the resurrection had affected her as well.
“Oh good, your awake,” Hades’ words practically oozed sarcasm “We’re due for a fight soon, finally I get to kill someone.”
“Indeed,” Above him hades heard a solid voice reply “it’s about time.” Hades looked up at the malformed figure of the nude demoness. Her eight arms hung limply about her frame like flails, moving to some unseen wind they simultaneously flowed back and forth.
“So you finally came out huh? You’re different from what I remember though, have you lost weight”
“You’re absorbing my spirit faster than I expected” Hades smiled coldly as he noticed the beads of sweat pooling on Ergas scarlet black skin, as she continued to speak her voice grew tight with effort “I didn’t expect to possess you this long on my own, I no longer have the strength to break our bond, let alone control you,” Ergas eyes seemed to glaze as she tried to step back, tripping as she did so, she fell to the marbled floor landing right in the centre of one of Hades’ runes. Her eyes widened “these runes are…you wouldn’t dare…” Her words seemed to drain away as she lethargically watched Hades rise up and tread towards her, as he did so the runes themselves began to bind Ergas frail body, cracking and crushing bone as they fastened around her numerous limbs. The hapless demon tried to scream but Hades’ hands clamped about her mouth like iron. Drawing her up with one hand Hades’ eyes glowed with malign power.
“I’ve died twice already firstly as a slave to my people and secondly as a slave to you.” Hades’ voice reverberated like thunder as power gathered about his still human form “I think it’s inevitable that I will remain a slave to one master or another, so I’ve decided to choose my own master while I still can. That said, what better master is there than desire?” Hades’ smile drove spears of ice into Ergas barely beating heart. She felt what was left of her strength filter out of her and watched in despair as it gathered into the savage form of the now massive demonic warrior. as the last dregs of her spirit left her Hades flung her aside as though she were an undesirable stone, and she careened into the stone wall of the room with a loud crack, feeling every bone within her splinter into shards.
Hades smiled as he felt the anger of the Dark Godling pummel against his spirit. I guess you thought you controlled me? Allow me to show you how wrong you were…The living runes began to glow once more as they dragged out what was left of the demonic soul within Erga and tore it into eight glowing orbs; her silent scream rang in Hades’ head. Hades closed his eyes as the incandescent orbs merged with his body, each part forming a ghostly limb extending from one of the two shoulders. As the arms solidified Hades could feel Ergas strength course out evenly within him. As the rush from the surge of power began to fade a new sensation overtook his mind. The Darkness within him began to solidify into an image, Hades smiled. Once I would have called myself a man, but no longer. I am beneath man now, I am beyond it. Hades stared down the narrow causeway leading to the arena killing grounds, At the thought of the battle field a dark grin crept across Hades’ shadowed face, In the distance Hades heard the crowds baying for blood. Hunger burned once more. No, I am not a man…
*
Hades paced forward along the causeway towards the arena entrance, as he approached the glowing end of the tunnel his eight arms started pulling out blades, picking up speed and trailing the blades along the walls He began to chant the rites of the hurricane.
My blades will burn, my feet will churn
My heart will fill my soul
To live, to die, and always cry
Will never be my goal
My path is clear, for blood is near
My sword shall take its toll
Draw close my brother, my son, my father
Let war consume us whole.
As the incantation left his mouth Hades felt the winds of war surge about him as he strode out onto a field of chaos. A tornado now raged about the arena blowing rocks and soil up into the air. The hurricane had answered his call. Hades heard the announcer call out his opponents name and through the sand blasted torrent Hades could make out the features of this so named, Kelehedemon. The figure of his opponent seemed unremarkable save for an odd mask and shock of sable white hair that billowed about his face.
Hades watched through the scarlet hued lenses of his eyes as the man approach with a coolly restrained hunger. As the young man neared, Hades started to gauge his opponents’ movements. Despite the high speed winds ripping at his body his steps were constant, almost at home in the gale. Staring back at Hades kelehedemon raised a hand to his side, the good half of his ravaged face smiling sardonically as the winds stopped almost instantaneously and then with a gesture began to flow in the opposite direction. Hades cocked his head and grimaced wryly “an aeromancer,” Hades’ voice blasted through the winds now clawing at his face; with a shrug he calmed the air about him blasting sand out towards the stands of the arena. “These winds are yours then, not mine.”
The seemingly young warrior smiled in acknowledgement.
“You’re foolish to have tried calling elder winds; there are some forces best left to…professionals”. Hades felt the words echo in his head and growled at the remark.
“your words tire me already.”
Hades raised his blades as he released the power pent up within him, it surged out towards his adversary who dodged it by flowing up into the air.
"...that wasn't nice. Now I absolutely have to kill you."Gathering the air around him kelehedron lifted a sword embedded in the earth and grabbed the hilt thrusting it out he then shot himself downwards towards Hades, as Hades leapt to meet him the Trumpet blew and the blood sports began…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hades sat cross legged on the cool stone floor of his new cavern-like waiting room; unlike the one before, this room was covered in runes he'd scrawled in black ash chalk, waiting for the moment he'd need them. This time he had no guards to usher him around, I guess they learn quick around here, how unfortunate. He had not been surprised to be returned to the folds of the living, once again he felt like an undead wolf walking among tethered sheep, It was as if the earth itself was cradled within his jaws and all he need do was close them. Hades sighed as he struggled to contain the blood lust within him. Recently the desire to kill came naturally, something had changed within Hades, this time round his own conscious will seemed to revolve around this new bestial hunger. Hades could feel his soul diminish but what truly frightened him was the fact that he had started to enjoy it…
“If you keep thinking about sheep I’ll kill you” Ergas voice had lost its old whimsical nature, it seemed the resurrection had affected her as well.
“Oh good, your awake,” Hades’ words practically oozed sarcasm “We’re due for a fight soon, finally I get to kill someone.”
“Indeed,” Above him hades heard a solid voice reply “it’s about time.” Hades looked up at the malformed figure of the nude demoness. Her eight arms hung limply about her frame like flails, moving to some unseen wind they simultaneously flowed back and forth.
“So you finally came out huh? You’re different from what I remember though, have you lost weight”
“You’re absorbing my spirit faster than I expected” Hades smiled coldly as he noticed the beads of sweat pooling on Ergas scarlet black skin, as she continued to speak her voice grew tight with effort “I didn’t expect to possess you this long on my own, I no longer have the strength to break our bond, let alone control you,” Ergas eyes seemed to glaze as she tried to step back, tripping as she did so, she fell to the marbled floor landing right in the centre of one of Hades’ runes. Her eyes widened “these runes are…you wouldn’t dare…” Her words seemed to drain away as she lethargically watched Hades rise up and tread towards her, as he did so the runes themselves began to bind Ergas frail body, cracking and crushing bone as they fastened around her numerous limbs. The hapless demon tried to scream but Hades’ hands clamped about her mouth like iron. Drawing her up with one hand Hades’ eyes glowed with malign power.
“I’ve died twice already firstly as a slave to my people and secondly as a slave to you.” Hades’ voice reverberated like thunder as power gathered about his still human form “I think it’s inevitable that I will remain a slave to one master or another, so I’ve decided to choose my own master while I still can. That said, what better master is there than desire?” Hades’ smile drove spears of ice into Ergas barely beating heart. She felt what was left of her strength filter out of her and watched in despair as it gathered into the savage form of the now massive demonic warrior. as the last dregs of her spirit left her Hades flung her aside as though she were an undesirable stone, and she careened into the stone wall of the room with a loud crack, feeling every bone within her splinter into shards.
Hades smiled as he felt the anger of the Dark Godling pummel against his spirit. I guess you thought you controlled me? Allow me to show you how wrong you were…The living runes began to glow once more as they dragged out what was left of the demonic soul within Erga and tore it into eight glowing orbs; her silent scream rang in Hades’ head. Hades closed his eyes as the incandescent orbs merged with his body, each part forming a ghostly limb extending from one of the two shoulders. As the arms solidified Hades could feel Ergas strength course out evenly within him. As the rush from the surge of power began to fade a new sensation overtook his mind. The Darkness within him began to solidify into an image, Hades smiled. Once I would have called myself a man, but no longer. I am beneath man now, I am beyond it. Hades stared down the narrow causeway leading to the arena killing grounds, At the thought of the battle field a dark grin crept across Hades’ shadowed face, In the distance Hades heard the crowds baying for blood. Hunger burned once more. No, I am not a man…
*
Hades paced forward along the causeway towards the arena entrance, as he approached the glowing end of the tunnel his eight arms started pulling out blades, picking up speed and trailing the blades along the walls He began to chant the rites of the hurricane.
My blades will burn, my feet will churn
My heart will fill my soul
To live, to die, and always cry
Will never be my goal
My path is clear, for blood is near
My sword shall take its toll
Draw close my brother, my son, my father
Let war consume us whole.
As the incantation left his mouth Hades felt the winds of war surge about him as he strode out onto a field of chaos. A tornado now raged about the arena blowing rocks and soil up into the air. The hurricane had answered his call. Hades heard the announcer call out his opponents name and through the sand blasted torrent Hades could make out the features of this so named, Kelehedemon. The figure of his opponent seemed unremarkable save for an odd mask and shock of sable white hair that billowed about his face.
Hades watched through the scarlet hued lenses of his eyes as the man approach with a coolly restrained hunger. As the young man neared, Hades started to gauge his opponents’ movements. Despite the high speed winds ripping at his body his steps were constant, almost at home in the gale. Staring back at Hades kelehedemon raised a hand to his side, the good half of his ravaged face smiling sardonically as the winds stopped almost instantaneously and then with a gesture began to flow in the opposite direction. Hades cocked his head and grimaced wryly “an aeromancer,” Hades’ voice blasted through the winds now clawing at his face; with a shrug he calmed the air about him blasting sand out towards the stands of the arena. “These winds are yours then, not mine.”
The seemingly young warrior smiled in acknowledgement.
“You’re foolish to have tried calling elder winds; there are some forces best left to…professionals”. Hades felt the words echo in his head and growled at the remark.
“your words tire me already.”
Hades raised his blades as he released the power pent up within him, it surged out towards his adversary who dodged it by flowing up into the air.
"...that wasn't nice. Now I absolutely have to kill you."Gathering the air around him kelehedron lifted a sword embedded in the earth and grabbed the hilt thrusting it out he then shot himself downwards towards Hades, as Hades leapt to meet him the Trumpet blew and the blood sports began…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Behind this mask there is more than just flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea... and ideas are bulletproof Gas-Fireproof.
#65
Illuyankas
- Retro Classic
-
- Group: The Hateocracy of Truth
- Posts: 7,254
- Joined: 28-September 04
- Will cluck you up
Posted 18 January 2007 - 08:56 PM
As the immense figure grew in his vision, Kelehedemon blinked, then corrected his flight to spin past the outstretched blades, parrying the nearest to stop it claiming his head. His other sword tore itself out of the ground and flipped into his hand as he banked around and headed for where Hades would end his leap. The giant was halfway through turning to face Kelehedemon when the assassin arrived at his back, swords aimed at his heart and spine. They were just a foot away when four of Hades’ weapons burst out of his flesh and met Kelehedemon’s own. Only able to avoid a wound by wrenching himself away from the blades, Keleh recovered from the bone-shuddering movement and hovered above his opponent as he hit the floor of the arena, cracking the ground and raising a cloud of dust. What to do, what to do… Of course. Speeding down, Kelehedemon flew round around the warrior, trying to get past his guard, that whirling wall of steel that so vexed him. Faster he orbited the giant, trying to keep him off balance, trying to make him overreach, allow an arm to stretch that bit too far… Let me cut a tendon or two and cripple that arm and ruin his defence and finish this match and so I can get back to talking to the pretty girl in the bookies office. I don’t know how well he can read my movements when I’m on the non-eyed side of his fat head, or how fast he can make those swords appear, but that body was to die for, and you will. Hubba, hubba, so to speak.
The two of them danced together, subtle movements of blade meeting blade that would degenerate into savage slashes that rang throughout the arena, before switching back to softly seeking any advantage. The hulking form of Hades, impossibly nimble, pursued an almost ethereal target, in that as untouchable as the assassin seemed, he was unable to even press the demonic fighter, let alone cause him to break his stance and leave an opening. In a break of pace, Kelehedemon attempted to hamstring his foe, dropping a sword and planting a hand on the arena floor, touching it for the first time since Hades’ initial attack. Turning on it like an axis, his legs the counterweight, he slashed at the nearest ankle. The blade met the limb just in time to recoil from the newly emerging sword hidden beneath the skin. Keleh had had enough. It’s obvious that two swords against what, seven? Eight? Whatever, it’s too many swords for just two to deal with. I- The thoughts were dashed from his head as the same force he dodged in the very first moment was flung at him again, at point blank range. Starting a roll, the impact blast threw him head over heels, the confusion from the blow delaying the horrible realisation that, as he flipped to his feet and took a sword through the chest, Hades had read his recovery move. A moment of mental whiteout, as the shock hit – what an idiot he’d been! – then he saw the remaining six points heading straight at his face. It seemed as if his perception had slowed; the rainbow play from oil on the sword in his chest being washed away gently by his own blood, the grin on Hades’ face widening as the points closed the distance, the hate in the fighter’s eyes turning to joy. Kelehedemon’s hand crept upwards slowly, achingly so, and formed a fist.
No.
The concussion smashed into the crowd, forcing them to recoil, bleeding from the ears. All the dust the combatants had kicked into the air was pulled into the area directly around Hades, as he twisted under the immense, vice-like pressure from Kelehedemon’s attack. He’d kept the air about himself under his direct control in an attempt to stop the aeromancer manipulating it, a seeming success, but it had folded like paper under this assault. Rocks pulled up from the ground dug deep into his flesh as he tried to watch Kelehedemon, head screaming with pain. If Hades was a lesser man, or even a man at all, he would be blind, deaf, and very, very dead. He could just make out, through the blood being pushed out of his eyes to pool in their sockets, the crimson figure of the mage, arm still outstretched. He saw the fist open like a flower, all fingers splayed out, and the force lessened, then ceased. Ceased, and reversed. The blood squeezed out of his pores by the pressure splattered the ground around him, the stones driven inches into his legs and chest ripped themselves out and ricocheted off the arena floor, drawn by the force of the vacuum centred on Hades. An arm dislocated itself. His eardrums shot blood out like cannons. His eyes burst. Unable to see, or even shriek through the void, he couldn’t watch the fingers of the hand point at him, and a blast of wind fling him into the arena wall, bits of baroque balcony showering his supine form.
Kelehedemon stood unsteadily, hand clutching at the wound in his chest, dislodging some chainmail links which alternated with the blood to patter on the ground. Feverishly he reached inside his mail and scrabbled under his tunic for his carrying pouch, bringing it out and emptying it into his other hand. Sorting through the items, he grabbed a shard of flint and returned the others to the pouch. Holding the flint in one hand and the sword he had dropped in the other, Kelehedemon tried to restore his composure. Stupid, STUPID! Making too many mistakes! Stabbed, then so much power in killing him, YOU’RE RUINING THE BET! Wait, wait. Wait. Bleeding. Calm. Calm. Take the greater, from the lesser, and repeat. Bring the lesser to the wound… He struck the flint against the blade, and the spark grew into a flame, hanging in the air. The flame travelled to the gaping hole in his chest, and covered the perimeter. Sizzling and a smell of roasting pork accompanied Keleh’s indrawn breath. With utmost care he manoeuvred the flame to the hole in his back, and cauterised that. Then, the flame shrank and moved inside. His eyes widened and he grimaced against his teeth, then relaxed as the flames died out. He’d stemmed the bleeding, leaving a clear hole through ribs and a lung, clean through his torso. The damned giant’s sword had cut far, far too close to his heart for his liking. Hells, I think I burnt my aorta. Ah, at least I can go get healed now, and get a beer or twelve or- hmm? Oh, crap on a stick.
Kelehedemon looked at the rubble covering his opponent shift, then sighed, and started scanning the audience crowding the walls as the debris flew apart, the enormous figure of Hades standing upright, roaring with rage. The giant strode through the rocks, to stand facing the assassin, a sneer on his face. The dusty blood covering his face and shoulders started to flow upwards, creeping back into his ears and pooling in his eyes, eventually forming the burning red orbs Keleh had tried to read all battle. The two arms either side of the dislocated limb grabbed it and yanked it, pulling it back into position. Hades’ expression didn’t alter a hair.
“Looking for a way to escape, worm?” Kelehedemon turned to the fighter.
“No, today has gone so horribly awry, with almost everything I’m doing or have done going wrong in exactly the way that makes my situation worse and causes me a lot of damned hassle, I’m just making sure my wife isn’t here. Bloody harridan.”
“Perhaps she could take your place for you. I’m sure she could do a better job, maybe she could use some spoons to duel me at swords, and give me a challenge!” As the giant bellowed with laughter, Kelehedemon stared at him, then turned away. He walked over to a patch of ground and wiped the dust off with a booted foot, revealing a resin-coated leather sheath. Reaching out a hand to either side, his swords flew to him from where they lay, and began to rotate around him.
“A challenge, you say?” The sheath burst out of the ground high into the air, and the two swords sprang up in a flash of silver towards it. A moment of motion, then seven shining blurs streaked down and hammered into the ground around Kelehedemon, followed by the fragments of sheath fluttering after. The dust settled and showed seven identical blades surrounding the assassin, who gestured. The swords rose up and sped towards Hades, who brought forth his blades and grinned ferociously. “This is more like it!” he yelled, as he caught each weapon on his own in turn, holding each one back with little effort. “You should have shown me these seven swords at the start, then this might have been more entertaining!”
“Who said anything about seven?”
“Wha-” Hades began, only to be interrupted by the stabbing pain in his legs. He looked down and saw two gleaming lengths of metal, red with his own blood, protruding from his thighs, only for them to be pulled free and join their fellows in a complicated orbit over and around the damned mage-assassin. Kelehedemon looked over to the enraged behemoth as he regained his footing, and smiled, an expression made more effective by the flesh coming away from his mask and spilling a small stream of blood over his chin. The nine swords, a pair reddened to two-thirds their length, continued their dance above his head. His arm came up, and pointed at the fighter.
“I’m going to enjoy this immensely.”
The nine blades whipped out...
The two of them danced together, subtle movements of blade meeting blade that would degenerate into savage slashes that rang throughout the arena, before switching back to softly seeking any advantage. The hulking form of Hades, impossibly nimble, pursued an almost ethereal target, in that as untouchable as the assassin seemed, he was unable to even press the demonic fighter, let alone cause him to break his stance and leave an opening. In a break of pace, Kelehedemon attempted to hamstring his foe, dropping a sword and planting a hand on the arena floor, touching it for the first time since Hades’ initial attack. Turning on it like an axis, his legs the counterweight, he slashed at the nearest ankle. The blade met the limb just in time to recoil from the newly emerging sword hidden beneath the skin. Keleh had had enough. It’s obvious that two swords against what, seven? Eight? Whatever, it’s too many swords for just two to deal with. I- The thoughts were dashed from his head as the same force he dodged in the very first moment was flung at him again, at point blank range. Starting a roll, the impact blast threw him head over heels, the confusion from the blow delaying the horrible realisation that, as he flipped to his feet and took a sword through the chest, Hades had read his recovery move. A moment of mental whiteout, as the shock hit – what an idiot he’d been! – then he saw the remaining six points heading straight at his face. It seemed as if his perception had slowed; the rainbow play from oil on the sword in his chest being washed away gently by his own blood, the grin on Hades’ face widening as the points closed the distance, the hate in the fighter’s eyes turning to joy. Kelehedemon’s hand crept upwards slowly, achingly so, and formed a fist.
No.
The concussion smashed into the crowd, forcing them to recoil, bleeding from the ears. All the dust the combatants had kicked into the air was pulled into the area directly around Hades, as he twisted under the immense, vice-like pressure from Kelehedemon’s attack. He’d kept the air about himself under his direct control in an attempt to stop the aeromancer manipulating it, a seeming success, but it had folded like paper under this assault. Rocks pulled up from the ground dug deep into his flesh as he tried to watch Kelehedemon, head screaming with pain. If Hades was a lesser man, or even a man at all, he would be blind, deaf, and very, very dead. He could just make out, through the blood being pushed out of his eyes to pool in their sockets, the crimson figure of the mage, arm still outstretched. He saw the fist open like a flower, all fingers splayed out, and the force lessened, then ceased. Ceased, and reversed. The blood squeezed out of his pores by the pressure splattered the ground around him, the stones driven inches into his legs and chest ripped themselves out and ricocheted off the arena floor, drawn by the force of the vacuum centred on Hades. An arm dislocated itself. His eardrums shot blood out like cannons. His eyes burst. Unable to see, or even shriek through the void, he couldn’t watch the fingers of the hand point at him, and a blast of wind fling him into the arena wall, bits of baroque balcony showering his supine form.
Kelehedemon stood unsteadily, hand clutching at the wound in his chest, dislodging some chainmail links which alternated with the blood to patter on the ground. Feverishly he reached inside his mail and scrabbled under his tunic for his carrying pouch, bringing it out and emptying it into his other hand. Sorting through the items, he grabbed a shard of flint and returned the others to the pouch. Holding the flint in one hand and the sword he had dropped in the other, Kelehedemon tried to restore his composure. Stupid, STUPID! Making too many mistakes! Stabbed, then so much power in killing him, YOU’RE RUINING THE BET! Wait, wait. Wait. Bleeding. Calm. Calm. Take the greater, from the lesser, and repeat. Bring the lesser to the wound… He struck the flint against the blade, and the spark grew into a flame, hanging in the air. The flame travelled to the gaping hole in his chest, and covered the perimeter. Sizzling and a smell of roasting pork accompanied Keleh’s indrawn breath. With utmost care he manoeuvred the flame to the hole in his back, and cauterised that. Then, the flame shrank and moved inside. His eyes widened and he grimaced against his teeth, then relaxed as the flames died out. He’d stemmed the bleeding, leaving a clear hole through ribs and a lung, clean through his torso. The damned giant’s sword had cut far, far too close to his heart for his liking. Hells, I think I burnt my aorta. Ah, at least I can go get healed now, and get a beer or twelve or- hmm? Oh, crap on a stick.
Kelehedemon looked at the rubble covering his opponent shift, then sighed, and started scanning the audience crowding the walls as the debris flew apart, the enormous figure of Hades standing upright, roaring with rage. The giant strode through the rocks, to stand facing the assassin, a sneer on his face. The dusty blood covering his face and shoulders started to flow upwards, creeping back into his ears and pooling in his eyes, eventually forming the burning red orbs Keleh had tried to read all battle. The two arms either side of the dislocated limb grabbed it and yanked it, pulling it back into position. Hades’ expression didn’t alter a hair.
“Looking for a way to escape, worm?” Kelehedemon turned to the fighter.
“No, today has gone so horribly awry, with almost everything I’m doing or have done going wrong in exactly the way that makes my situation worse and causes me a lot of damned hassle, I’m just making sure my wife isn’t here. Bloody harridan.”
“Perhaps she could take your place for you. I’m sure she could do a better job, maybe she could use some spoons to duel me at swords, and give me a challenge!” As the giant bellowed with laughter, Kelehedemon stared at him, then turned away. He walked over to a patch of ground and wiped the dust off with a booted foot, revealing a resin-coated leather sheath. Reaching out a hand to either side, his swords flew to him from where they lay, and began to rotate around him.
“A challenge, you say?” The sheath burst out of the ground high into the air, and the two swords sprang up in a flash of silver towards it. A moment of motion, then seven shining blurs streaked down and hammered into the ground around Kelehedemon, followed by the fragments of sheath fluttering after. The dust settled and showed seven identical blades surrounding the assassin, who gestured. The swords rose up and sped towards Hades, who brought forth his blades and grinned ferociously. “This is more like it!” he yelled, as he caught each weapon on his own in turn, holding each one back with little effort. “You should have shown me these seven swords at the start, then this might have been more entertaining!”
“Who said anything about seven?”
“Wha-” Hades began, only to be interrupted by the stabbing pain in his legs. He looked down and saw two gleaming lengths of metal, red with his own blood, protruding from his thighs, only for them to be pulled free and join their fellows in a complicated orbit over and around the damned mage-assassin. Kelehedemon looked over to the enraged behemoth as he regained his footing, and smiled, an expression made more effective by the flesh coming away from his mask and spilling a small stream of blood over his chin. The nine swords, a pair reddened to two-thirds their length, continued their dance above his head. His arm came up, and pointed at the fighter.
“I’m going to enjoy this immensely.”
The nine blades whipped out...
Hello, soldiers, look at your mage, now back to me, now back at your mage, now back to me. Sadly, he isnt me, but if he stopped being an unascended mortal and switched to Sole Spice, he could smell like hes me. Look down, back up, where are you? Youre in a warren with the High Mage your cadre mage could smell like. Whats in your hand, back at me. I have it, its an acorn with two gates to that realm you love. Look again, the acorn is now otataral. Anything is possible when your mage smells like Sole Spice and not a Bole brother. Im on a quorl.
#66
Dolmen 2.0
- is probably lying
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- Group: Malazan Artist
- Posts: 2,692
- Joined: 04-September 05
- Location:Camorr
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Interests:Walks in the park.
Waiting till jean gets here.
Posted 19 January 2007 - 09:07 AM
Hades felt the attack rather than saw it, The pure desire to kill eminating from his opponent was here at last. and so the game begins...
Hades steped forward into the attack flowing into the blades he shifted from side to side, parrying the first waves of swords as he charged forward. The blood pumping out from the wounds in his legs bathed his lower body in his own blood yet hades did not slow down. To stop is to die. as he neared the mage assasin Hades spun and knocked the last floating blade swinging up his own sword, Hades closed the distance. the sudden blast burst out like thunder. Hades once more was flung back into the arena wall, all breath left him in an instant. "Damn."
Kelehedemon rose once more into Hades' blurred view. the singed hole in his chest obviously interfered with his control for though the swords hung steadily in the air sweat seemed to flow down the dust covered, human side of the mages face. Hades rose slowly, as he did so he felt three of his ribs snap under the weight of his body. as hades smiled more blood spilled from the side of his mouth. His lungs had filled with blood. when he finally found his feet it was clear he would drown in it. "you don't look to good" Kelehedemons voice seemed to swim about in Hades head. "I think you're dying. What a pity." The smile on the mage assasins face burned into Hades. yet as he tried to move Hades could feel more of his wounds tear and bleed under the stress.
"I've been careless. This battle should have been over ages ago, but people are watching and I didn't want to disappoint." Kelehedemons swords drew closer hovering in circles about Hades' neck, slowly drawing closer. "Times up though, you now how it is. I'm a Bussiness man and its time I closed the deal." kelehedemon clenched his fist once more this time entire pieces of the arena wall ripped away and hurtled towards hades. along with them came the nine shafts of steel. The sheer impact of the collateral debris sent a shock wave through the entire stadium. after which came a dead silence that rang in the ears of the crowd surrounding the stadium. In the centre of the killing field now hovered a cataclysmic mass of matter. as the rocks began to fuse about each other kelehedemons smile grew colder.
releasing his clenched fist the assasin watched the knewly made gravestone thud down into the earth. Now thats what I call a nail in the coffin. looking around subconsciously kele noticed the dead stares of the people that had heard him. "what? like you could do better?" allowing his feet to alight once again on the earth kelehedemon began to walk away "now lets see if I can find that lying son of a..." The rumble from the earth under his feet warned the mage as the rocky mass behind him started to glow. kelehedemon turned around "oh sh*t, not again"...
The rock slowly began to melt about Hades who, needless to say, was pissed. A grave? a Gods be damned GRAVE?!!! the anger within hades resonated as he drew power from his swords. the heat unleashed began to melt the rock around him and Hades clawed his way out from the Stone tomb with eyes blazing. As he stepped forward Hades felt his wounds fuse with the molten rock flowing about his now raw and charred flesh. The pain was excrutiating. drawing up to his full height Hades grinned
"Is that all you have?" Hades raised his arms "let me show you how its done."
Drawing the sword into one blade almost instantly hades swung the blade down sending a five metre high wave of burning stone rushing forth towards the decidedly unimpressed assasin.
"Why can't people just stay dead?"
Hades steped forward into the attack flowing into the blades he shifted from side to side, parrying the first waves of swords as he charged forward. The blood pumping out from the wounds in his legs bathed his lower body in his own blood yet hades did not slow down. To stop is to die. as he neared the mage assasin Hades spun and knocked the last floating blade swinging up his own sword, Hades closed the distance. the sudden blast burst out like thunder. Hades once more was flung back into the arena wall, all breath left him in an instant. "Damn."
Kelehedemon rose once more into Hades' blurred view. the singed hole in his chest obviously interfered with his control for though the swords hung steadily in the air sweat seemed to flow down the dust covered, human side of the mages face. Hades rose slowly, as he did so he felt three of his ribs snap under the weight of his body. as hades smiled more blood spilled from the side of his mouth. His lungs had filled with blood. when he finally found his feet it was clear he would drown in it. "you don't look to good" Kelehedemons voice seemed to swim about in Hades head. "I think you're dying. What a pity." The smile on the mage assasins face burned into Hades. yet as he tried to move Hades could feel more of his wounds tear and bleed under the stress.
"I've been careless. This battle should have been over ages ago, but people are watching and I didn't want to disappoint." Kelehedemons swords drew closer hovering in circles about Hades' neck, slowly drawing closer. "Times up though, you now how it is. I'm a Bussiness man and its time I closed the deal." kelehedemon clenched his fist once more this time entire pieces of the arena wall ripped away and hurtled towards hades. along with them came the nine shafts of steel. The sheer impact of the collateral debris sent a shock wave through the entire stadium. after which came a dead silence that rang in the ears of the crowd surrounding the stadium. In the centre of the killing field now hovered a cataclysmic mass of matter. as the rocks began to fuse about each other kelehedemons smile grew colder.
releasing his clenched fist the assasin watched the knewly made gravestone thud down into the earth. Now thats what I call a nail in the coffin. looking around subconsciously kele noticed the dead stares of the people that had heard him. "what? like you could do better?" allowing his feet to alight once again on the earth kelehedemon began to walk away "now lets see if I can find that lying son of a..." The rumble from the earth under his feet warned the mage as the rocky mass behind him started to glow. kelehedemon turned around "oh sh*t, not again"...
The rock slowly began to melt about Hades who, needless to say, was pissed. A grave? a Gods be damned GRAVE?!!! the anger within hades resonated as he drew power from his swords. the heat unleashed began to melt the rock around him and Hades clawed his way out from the Stone tomb with eyes blazing. As he stepped forward Hades felt his wounds fuse with the molten rock flowing about his now raw and charred flesh. The pain was excrutiating. drawing up to his full height Hades grinned
"Is that all you have?" Hades raised his arms "let me show you how its done."
Drawing the sword into one blade almost instantly hades swung the blade down sending a five metre high wave of burning stone rushing forth towards the decidedly unimpressed assasin.
"Why can't people just stay dead?"
Behind this mask there is more than just flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea... and ideas are bulletproof Gas-Fireproof.
#67
Dolmen 2.0
- is probably lying
-
- Group: Malazan Artist
- Posts: 2,692
- Joined: 04-September 05
- Location:Camorr
-
Interests:Walks in the park.
Waiting till jean gets here.
Posted 13 July 2008 - 02:17 PM
This thread is so dead I think we should A) revive it or 
un-sticky it. just my opinion though...
un-sticky it. just my opinion though...
Behind this mask there is more than just flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea... and ideas are bulletproof Gas-Fireproof.
#68
Illuyankas
- Retro Classic
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- Group: The Hateocracy of Truth
- Posts: 7,254
- Joined: 28-September 04
- Will cluck you up
Posted 13 July 2008 - 08:31 PM
I was actually reminded of this at the BBQ, since I shamefully allowed to fall into disuse. I feel up to actually finishing and posting my last one in the next couple of days, even if you're the only one you reads it (since I think it sucks so far).
Hello, soldiers, look at your mage, now back to me, now back at your mage, now back to me. Sadly, he isnt me, but if he stopped being an unascended mortal and switched to Sole Spice, he could smell like hes me. Look down, back up, where are you? Youre in a warren with the High Mage your cadre mage could smell like. Whats in your hand, back at me. I have it, its an acorn with two gates to that realm you love. Look again, the acorn is now otataral. Anything is possible when your mage smells like Sole Spice and not a Bole brother. Im on a quorl.
#70
Illuyankas
- Retro Classic
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- Group: The Hateocracy of Truth
- Posts: 7,254
- Joined: 28-September 04
- Will cluck you up
Posted 22 July 2008 - 02:12 PM
Kelehedemon sighed. He danced in the air above his opponent, watching the fiend fling blasts of force into the sky after himself, and shook his head. He was dying, he knew. Too many mistakes, too much force in amending them. And a godling was not a foe to gift such errors. Still, he was not without a final card to play. He focused his will out among the crowds of watchers, sending it down into the bowels of the building, drifting with the dust. Searching for two particular heartbeats. Ah, there we go, at the first. “Wynn, this is what I need you to do…”
“By all our Lords… ” The acquirer murmured, watching the carnage unfold below. “My fellow acquirers have been very busy. I doubt this one had the balls to meet his target, or kept them if he did. But that damn ogre is taking forever to kill. Great news for the odds, eh?” he smiled, turning to Wynn as he did. The smile left. Wynn’s face was deathly white and drawn, and he stared into the distance. His lips quivered, then he turned to face the acquirer, who flinched.
“Oh, for the Peace of- What now, Wynn?”
“We need to go. Now.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“GET MOVING!”
“No, damn it, what is it? What is he going to do?!”
“Depends. Do you like your soul?”
“Ah.”
“Exactly.”
“Yes, wel- ME FIRST!”
“That was the point…” Wynn muttered wearily as they left their audience box, but turned back to look at the assassin flitting in between the searing whips of power flung at him, whispered, “Goodbye, you stupid bastard,” and fled after his companion.
The blasts were getting closer and closer, so Kelehedemon decided to try something a little less strenuous. Dropping down towards the ground, he brought out his flint and produced a flame, feeding oxygen into it to make it grow, then threw it at Hades. The ball of flame struck the giant warrior, splintered, and shot flaming shards in all directions. The shards ignited pockets of oxygen the assassin had begun forming beforehand, and combined in a sphere of fire around Hades, who started laughing uproariously. “Is this the best you can do, maggot? I think I’m getting frostbite! Really, have you so few weapons that you use fire again?! HOW WEAK DO YOU THINK I AM!?!” The blasts continued through the fiery sheet, but were now much more inaccurate.
“Are you outside and out of… reach?”
“Yes.”
“With both the people I asked you to get?”
“Yes! Or as close to I could.”
“Good enough. Til next time, my friend.”
“If there is one.”
Hades was ecstatic, exuberant, exultant. He screamed his joy to the stars as he released his great strength against all who would dare insult him with their presence. He felt he could kill suns, rend a galaxy in two. So when the spinning object burst through the fire hiding his opponent‘s devious schemes from him, he almost didn’t receive it with his blades. Almost, he thought, as a sword punched through the shape, revealing a flabby man in a silk outfit, surprise and dismay dying in his eyes as he bled out over the giant. As the flames lowered around him, he noted a vast cloud of wriggling specks out above the audience seating, then, as he focused on them, he heard the screams. A small voice spoke into his ear, drowning out the pleading for help and shrieks of outrage. “I always have enough weapons.” Hades grinned. “I think that I might call you friend, did I not hate you so.” “We’ll see how you feel after this,” Kelehedemon replied, as the audience members began their screaming descent towards him. The giant swung his swords, and began to sing.
[Paragraph of gratuitous violence and mass murder, sound effect of a blender]
The assassin, blurry-eyed with pain, ignored the limbs spinning off and wave-like noise of the blood crashing against the arena floor and started scratching at it with a sword, the eight others following his example spread out around Hades and his ongoing butchery. The thin trench being excavated quickly filled up with blood washing from the quickly-growing layer of corpses, yet never fully vanished under that gory veneer. As he worked, Kelehedemon ignored the sounds of screaming, singing, and slaughter, punctuated by the crunch of bones flattened under the giant’s trunk-like legs as he pulled them from the morass. All those innards must be slippery. Finishing the markings, he began checking the work done by the other blades, hobbling around and conserving his energies. Satisfied, he turned to see his opponent, then tilted his neck up. The assassin had thought he’d sent the poor, innocent spectators – hahahahahaha - at Hades at too great a rate, but the monster was killing them as fast as they came within reach. The cloud of victims had thinned immensely, dwindling at an astonishing speed as they spun towards the enormous hill of corpses and body parts Hades straddled. Kelehedemon shrugged, then waved his arm and the remaining audience members and staff spiralled inwards, enveloping the giant, forming a whirling multicoloured cocoon around him. It swiftly became stained with red and brown, shedding segments of person as it quickly deteriorated, then faded away entirely, and the giant turned to face the assassin. One last victim hung suspended on three of his sopping swords, before being flung away to join the pile, leaving a trail of red bubbling froth, piss and shit in her wake.
[/Paragraph of gratuitous violence and mass murder, sound effect of a blender]
Hades stood on the sprawling mound of body parts and laughed. Inundated with blood, he shook his head and snorted to clear his face of the clotting ichor, and asked the assassin, and only living thing left in the stadium, “Well now, I appreciate the bath, even though your plan to drown me worked as well as your plan to burn me. What was the point of that, anyway?” Kelehedemon swayed where he stood, holding his side and coughing sprays of red to add to the arena floor. He looked up, and said, “Haven’t you ever heard of the concept of sacrifice?” Straightening, he flung his arms out to his sides and his swords flashed around him, then eight whipped out and stabbed into the matching apexes of a vast and intricate symbol, etched in the ground surrounding the giant and his grisly platform. One stayed, orbiting him, a lone sentinel in case Hades decided to act, but he was more interested in querying the pattern the other blades had highlighted.
“What the fuck have you done? Drawn in the dirt with a stick?”
“Pay attention and I’ll tell you. Only the once, though, so focus.”
“What?! I’ll-“
“I’m already dying and don’t have much time, so feel free to kill me afterwards, but humour me for now, alright?”
“Hmph. Very well. Since you’ve been so entertaining. But include making your peace, for you won’t get to afterwards.”
“Sure. Anyway. Now, souls have power, right? It’s the basis behind abilities such as ours. Through practice, theft or otherwise, we have souls capable of managing, handling and withstanding these immense strengths, and you have the ability to make the flesh match this, unlike me. Probably the godling you devoured. But anyway, there’s a limit to what one soul can achieve and have its body survive.”
“And?”
“One soul,” Kelehedemon smiled beatifically, as the sun grew in the sky tenfold and the temperature rose immensely throughout the arena. As the blood drying on his shoulders blackened, then started smoking, Hades stared at the assassin’s bedraggled figure through the haze, a terrible certainty in his mind. The giant bellowed, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” then, glancing at the pile of bodies he stood on, flames covering the bits with clothes not too blood-soaked, “WHAT HAVE YOU MADE ME DO?!”
“Nothing, yet. You see, the people here are weak. Feeble. Only usable in quantity. And not yet enough for what I have planned. It needs one more powerful soul to work. Who do you think might be in the vicinity and qualify?” Kelehedemon asked, putting a smouldering finger to his blistered lips and looking thoughtful. “I can’t think who.” The finger moved to the temple of his obsidian mask, and, in his normal voice, and with what seemed like regret in his bloodshot eye, spoke.
“Boom.”
The last sword smashed into the opposing temple and rebounded off, the head – and rest - of the assassin still impaled on it, leaving the mask floating motionless in the air. The sword shook off the corpse and flew off, its eight matching blades joining it as it left the arena. The burning body of Kelehedemon lay on the floor, hair aflame, contorting as the heat tightened muscles and tendons. The exposed brain sizzled as it cooked in the half a skull the assassin left behind. The mask seemed to glance at it , then turn its attention to Hades. Composure restored, he sneered at the mask and barked, “Well, then, let’s see what you have left! What you left in reserve that’s so horrible you killed yourself for it!” He made to step forward, extremities ablaze and blood literally boiling, when the mask rose into the sky and his gaze followed it. In the moment before his eyes burnt out, the giant saw a sky that burned from horizon to horizon. Great arching tendrils of sunstuff plunged past into the ground around him, and specks of black on the surface were the only things marring his vision. Specks, and the mask. Hades tried to speak from a mouth frozen in a grimace from drying tendons.
“Whurr, whurr…”
What have I done? So repetitive. I killed myself, obviously.
“Dnn mock mrr!”
Why ever not? What have you done to deserve my respect? You sat there with your great power and you squandered it away, spent it on childish rages and slaughter. You fool. Oh? I think I’ll take that sizzle as your agreement.
He thought he could sense the mask in front of him, drawing nearer.
Of course, I don’t die. Oh, the host does, but he lives on in me. In us. It’s a simple contract; some light disfigurement, a very painful meshing of spirits and a promise of an early death in return for what everyone wants – life eternal, and power. I liked this host, though. He reminded me of my creator. My master. My love. AND I HAD TO WASTE HIM ON YOU!
The pain arrived with the thought and smashed into him, knocking Hades to his back on the burning pyre of corpses he’d once stood atop, fearless and proud. Not anymore.
He’ll have a proper send-off, though, for this isn’t going to end here. Not yet. You might survive anything less. If you only could see what we’ve done for you… I drew the atmosphere from all over the planet. I’ve scourged the oceans, burnt the very seas for more air. This world will see storms for generations. It will be scarred and reduced to desert. And it deserves it, frankly, for what I’ve lost. Now, focus…
He lost anything else the floating knickknack said to him as his skin finally lost all sensation, and he was reduced to his most innermost thoughts. To that terrible beat from his very core. That promise of vengeance. Hades settled against it and began to wait.
It got hotter.
And this is goodbye.
The mass of varying gases that the mask had summoned coalesced into one vast, swelling blob over the stadium. It stretched into space over the ravaged surface of the planet, then beyond. Lives on the surface burst into incandescence, then sputtered out, adding their meagre souls to the mass hundreds at a time. Then thousands. The mass began spinning, reaching a recognisable form over hundreds of miles in the newly formed void above the stadium and the mask. A lens. One unimaginably gargantuan lens between the planet and the sun. It started to warp. It started to focus. And the world started to burn…
“By all our Lords… ” The acquirer murmured, watching the carnage unfold below. “My fellow acquirers have been very busy. I doubt this one had the balls to meet his target, or kept them if he did. But that damn ogre is taking forever to kill. Great news for the odds, eh?” he smiled, turning to Wynn as he did. The smile left. Wynn’s face was deathly white and drawn, and he stared into the distance. His lips quivered, then he turned to face the acquirer, who flinched.
“Oh, for the Peace of- What now, Wynn?”
“We need to go. Now.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“GET MOVING!”
“No, damn it, what is it? What is he going to do?!”
“Depends. Do you like your soul?”
“Ah.”
“Exactly.”
“Yes, wel- ME FIRST!”
“That was the point…” Wynn muttered wearily as they left their audience box, but turned back to look at the assassin flitting in between the searing whips of power flung at him, whispered, “Goodbye, you stupid bastard,” and fled after his companion.
The blasts were getting closer and closer, so Kelehedemon decided to try something a little less strenuous. Dropping down towards the ground, he brought out his flint and produced a flame, feeding oxygen into it to make it grow, then threw it at Hades. The ball of flame struck the giant warrior, splintered, and shot flaming shards in all directions. The shards ignited pockets of oxygen the assassin had begun forming beforehand, and combined in a sphere of fire around Hades, who started laughing uproariously. “Is this the best you can do, maggot? I think I’m getting frostbite! Really, have you so few weapons that you use fire again?! HOW WEAK DO YOU THINK I AM!?!” The blasts continued through the fiery sheet, but were now much more inaccurate.
“Are you outside and out of… reach?”
“Yes.”
“With both the people I asked you to get?”
“Yes! Or as close to I could.”
“Good enough. Til next time, my friend.”
“If there is one.”
Hades was ecstatic, exuberant, exultant. He screamed his joy to the stars as he released his great strength against all who would dare insult him with their presence. He felt he could kill suns, rend a galaxy in two. So when the spinning object burst through the fire hiding his opponent‘s devious schemes from him, he almost didn’t receive it with his blades. Almost, he thought, as a sword punched through the shape, revealing a flabby man in a silk outfit, surprise and dismay dying in his eyes as he bled out over the giant. As the flames lowered around him, he noted a vast cloud of wriggling specks out above the audience seating, then, as he focused on them, he heard the screams. A small voice spoke into his ear, drowning out the pleading for help and shrieks of outrage. “I always have enough weapons.” Hades grinned. “I think that I might call you friend, did I not hate you so.” “We’ll see how you feel after this,” Kelehedemon replied, as the audience members began their screaming descent towards him. The giant swung his swords, and began to sing.
[Paragraph of gratuitous violence and mass murder, sound effect of a blender]
The assassin, blurry-eyed with pain, ignored the limbs spinning off and wave-like noise of the blood crashing against the arena floor and started scratching at it with a sword, the eight others following his example spread out around Hades and his ongoing butchery. The thin trench being excavated quickly filled up with blood washing from the quickly-growing layer of corpses, yet never fully vanished under that gory veneer. As he worked, Kelehedemon ignored the sounds of screaming, singing, and slaughter, punctuated by the crunch of bones flattened under the giant’s trunk-like legs as he pulled them from the morass. All those innards must be slippery. Finishing the markings, he began checking the work done by the other blades, hobbling around and conserving his energies. Satisfied, he turned to see his opponent, then tilted his neck up. The assassin had thought he’d sent the poor, innocent spectators – hahahahahaha - at Hades at too great a rate, but the monster was killing them as fast as they came within reach. The cloud of victims had thinned immensely, dwindling at an astonishing speed as they spun towards the enormous hill of corpses and body parts Hades straddled. Kelehedemon shrugged, then waved his arm and the remaining audience members and staff spiralled inwards, enveloping the giant, forming a whirling multicoloured cocoon around him. It swiftly became stained with red and brown, shedding segments of person as it quickly deteriorated, then faded away entirely, and the giant turned to face the assassin. One last victim hung suspended on three of his sopping swords, before being flung away to join the pile, leaving a trail of red bubbling froth, piss and shit in her wake.
[/Paragraph of gratuitous violence and mass murder, sound effect of a blender]
Hades stood on the sprawling mound of body parts and laughed. Inundated with blood, he shook his head and snorted to clear his face of the clotting ichor, and asked the assassin, and only living thing left in the stadium, “Well now, I appreciate the bath, even though your plan to drown me worked as well as your plan to burn me. What was the point of that, anyway?” Kelehedemon swayed where he stood, holding his side and coughing sprays of red to add to the arena floor. He looked up, and said, “Haven’t you ever heard of the concept of sacrifice?” Straightening, he flung his arms out to his sides and his swords flashed around him, then eight whipped out and stabbed into the matching apexes of a vast and intricate symbol, etched in the ground surrounding the giant and his grisly platform. One stayed, orbiting him, a lone sentinel in case Hades decided to act, but he was more interested in querying the pattern the other blades had highlighted.
“What the fuck have you done? Drawn in the dirt with a stick?”
“Pay attention and I’ll tell you. Only the once, though, so focus.”
“What?! I’ll-“
“I’m already dying and don’t have much time, so feel free to kill me afterwards, but humour me for now, alright?”
“Hmph. Very well. Since you’ve been so entertaining. But include making your peace, for you won’t get to afterwards.”
“Sure. Anyway. Now, souls have power, right? It’s the basis behind abilities such as ours. Through practice, theft or otherwise, we have souls capable of managing, handling and withstanding these immense strengths, and you have the ability to make the flesh match this, unlike me. Probably the godling you devoured. But anyway, there’s a limit to what one soul can achieve and have its body survive.”
“And?”
“One soul,” Kelehedemon smiled beatifically, as the sun grew in the sky tenfold and the temperature rose immensely throughout the arena. As the blood drying on his shoulders blackened, then started smoking, Hades stared at the assassin’s bedraggled figure through the haze, a terrible certainty in his mind. The giant bellowed, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” then, glancing at the pile of bodies he stood on, flames covering the bits with clothes not too blood-soaked, “WHAT HAVE YOU MADE ME DO?!”
“Nothing, yet. You see, the people here are weak. Feeble. Only usable in quantity. And not yet enough for what I have planned. It needs one more powerful soul to work. Who do you think might be in the vicinity and qualify?” Kelehedemon asked, putting a smouldering finger to his blistered lips and looking thoughtful. “I can’t think who.” The finger moved to the temple of his obsidian mask, and, in his normal voice, and with what seemed like regret in his bloodshot eye, spoke.
“Boom.”
The last sword smashed into the opposing temple and rebounded off, the head – and rest - of the assassin still impaled on it, leaving the mask floating motionless in the air. The sword shook off the corpse and flew off, its eight matching blades joining it as it left the arena. The burning body of Kelehedemon lay on the floor, hair aflame, contorting as the heat tightened muscles and tendons. The exposed brain sizzled as it cooked in the half a skull the assassin left behind. The mask seemed to glance at it , then turn its attention to Hades. Composure restored, he sneered at the mask and barked, “Well, then, let’s see what you have left! What you left in reserve that’s so horrible you killed yourself for it!” He made to step forward, extremities ablaze and blood literally boiling, when the mask rose into the sky and his gaze followed it. In the moment before his eyes burnt out, the giant saw a sky that burned from horizon to horizon. Great arching tendrils of sunstuff plunged past into the ground around him, and specks of black on the surface were the only things marring his vision. Specks, and the mask. Hades tried to speak from a mouth frozen in a grimace from drying tendons.
“Whurr, whurr…”
What have I done? So repetitive. I killed myself, obviously.
“Dnn mock mrr!”
Why ever not? What have you done to deserve my respect? You sat there with your great power and you squandered it away, spent it on childish rages and slaughter. You fool. Oh? I think I’ll take that sizzle as your agreement.
He thought he could sense the mask in front of him, drawing nearer.
Of course, I don’t die. Oh, the host does, but he lives on in me. In us. It’s a simple contract; some light disfigurement, a very painful meshing of spirits and a promise of an early death in return for what everyone wants – life eternal, and power. I liked this host, though. He reminded me of my creator. My master. My love. AND I HAD TO WASTE HIM ON YOU!
The pain arrived with the thought and smashed into him, knocking Hades to his back on the burning pyre of corpses he’d once stood atop, fearless and proud. Not anymore.
He’ll have a proper send-off, though, for this isn’t going to end here. Not yet. You might survive anything less. If you only could see what we’ve done for you… I drew the atmosphere from all over the planet. I’ve scourged the oceans, burnt the very seas for more air. This world will see storms for generations. It will be scarred and reduced to desert. And it deserves it, frankly, for what I’ve lost. Now, focus…
He lost anything else the floating knickknack said to him as his skin finally lost all sensation, and he was reduced to his most innermost thoughts. To that terrible beat from his very core. That promise of vengeance. Hades settled against it and began to wait.
It got hotter.
And this is goodbye.
The mass of varying gases that the mask had summoned coalesced into one vast, swelling blob over the stadium. It stretched into space over the ravaged surface of the planet, then beyond. Lives on the surface burst into incandescence, then sputtered out, adding their meagre souls to the mass hundreds at a time. Then thousands. The mass began spinning, reaching a recognisable form over hundreds of miles in the newly formed void above the stadium and the mask. A lens. One unimaginably gargantuan lens between the planet and the sun. It started to warp. It started to focus. And the world started to burn…
Hello, soldiers, look at your mage, now back to me, now back at your mage, now back to me. Sadly, he isnt me, but if he stopped being an unascended mortal and switched to Sole Spice, he could smell like hes me. Look down, back up, where are you? Youre in a warren with the High Mage your cadre mage could smell like. Whats in your hand, back at me. I have it, its an acorn with two gates to that realm you love. Look again, the acorn is now otataral. Anything is possible when your mage smells like Sole Spice and not a Bole brother. Im on a quorl.
#71
Dolmen 2.0
- is probably lying
-
- Group: Malazan Artist
- Posts: 2,692
- Joined: 04-September 05
- Location:Camorr
-
Interests:Walks in the park.
Waiting till jean gets here.
Posted 15 April 2009 - 06:46 PM
Wow. that was pretty epic Illy. hats off to you for finishing at last. deserves a gold star (on account I can't offer more since thats all I have on me 
) 
)
Behind this mask there is more than just flesh. Beneath this mask there is an idea... and ideas are bulletproof Gas-Fireproof.
#72
Illuyankas
- Retro Classic
-
- Group: The Hateocracy of Truth
- Posts: 7,254
- Joined: 28-September 04
- Will cluck you up
Posted 22 April 2009 - 12:34 PM
Thanks, man. The delay was entirely due to the challenge of shoehorning an orbital laser into a medieval fantasy battle. Definitely not me being lazy. Oh no.
This post has been edited by Illuyankas: 22 April 2009 - 12:34 PM
Hello, soldiers, look at your mage, now back to me, now back at your mage, now back to me. Sadly, he isnt me, but if he stopped being an unascended mortal and switched to Sole Spice, he could smell like hes me. Look down, back up, where are you? Youre in a warren with the High Mage your cadre mage could smell like. Whats in your hand, back at me. I have it, its an acorn with two gates to that realm you love. Look again, the acorn is now otataral. Anything is possible when your mage smells like Sole Spice and not a Bole brother. Im on a quorl.
