TOA Final Four: Malevolence VS OceanEyes28

[psychosyd]

Well we are in the final four here folks, if you don't know the rules by now, its amazing you have made it this far. Good luck to both of you, nothing more to say here.

[Malevolence]

((OOC: Ocean, you'd better post. Blargh back to this shizz))

WOOSH!!

Before Taere had the chance to react, the blue light dropped from the sky and whisked him away. He was deposited in a dark room without a single light source. Taere sheathed the Malevolence and pulled his right gauntlet halfway forwards. He pulled out a pair of small sticks, and blew on them lightly. They immediately began to glow a bright pulsating yellow. They contained extremely small fireflies; which are sensitive to carbon dioxide in human breath. The light they cast was weak, but enough for Taere to see a few feet in front of his face. The floor beneath him was solid and tiled with precision to what he could only assume were complex mosaics. His small source of light soon served him no further, as 5 lights from somewhere in the ceiling descended to a dais in front of him. Under these lights were blank-faced human shapes, entirely unrecognizable in the whitewash of the sudden bright lights.

“Taere Flarion? That is your name, correct?”

“Who are you?”

“We will be the ones asking questions here. Answer.”

“Taere Flarion of Duran, yes.”

“And why do you think you are here?”

“No clue whatsoever. I was hiding behind a pile of logs, and suddenly I’m here. What’s going on here?”

Another shape spoke, apparently female, “We are the Tournament of Arms Judiciary Council. Now, as you seem to be rather inquisitive, we will answer any other trivial questions you have.”

“Alright,” Taere burst out, “then why am I here!?”

“Calm yourself,” a third shape said, “We will tell you if you really have no idea.”

The fourth shape spoke, saying, “Do you know someone named Alexia Iseldra Romanova?”

“Yes, but what does she have to do with all this?”

“Everything,” said the second female shape.

“When was the first time you started getting the notes from her?” the fifth shape inquested.

“What notes? The only ones I received were from the TOA staff. I have one right here.” Taere dug a piece of parchment out of the metal container on his gauntlet. “Here, it has your seal on it.”

The parchment floated out if his hand to the hands of the third middle judge. He passed it to the second, who proceeded to examine it closely – at least that’s what Taere could discern from how the shape moved. The judge seemed to come to a conclusion, and passed the note back to the middle judge.

“This seal seems authentic. We have a problem larger than what we thought. You may return to your room.”

The fourth shape spoke, “We may have an inside intruder. Institute lockdown. Close the enclave gates and lock the rooms. Move the entry and debarkation points inside the rooms. We will not have any more of this.”

“Agreed. Have all participants notified, and post guards in the tavern, the corridors, and the cloisters.”

The middle judge spoke again. “If you receive any more of these notes, contact Throm the attendant – immediately. We cannot have information of our competitors floating around.

“Right.”

WOOSH!!

Taere was immediately whisked off again, and once again deposited in front of his room. Not to his surprise, he found another note on his bedtable sealed with the same signet of the Tournament of Arms. He recognized the handwriting immediately; it was another note from Alexia. This time the note was longer.

Taere—
I have a small problem. They found me copying personal records out of the archives. I got as much information on your next opponent as possible, but I won’t be able to get information on your opponent for the final round if you get that far. Here’s what I got:
-Her name is Ouri
-She’s rather light, you could toss her around like a sack of potatoes
-She uses small bits of magic but still has a light, quick, slightly curved rapier and a small extra dagger on her leg.
-She only has armor on her chest and hardened leather on her calves. A blow to the legs would flatten her.
I haven’t got anything else, just be careful.

Taere tore up the note immediately and burned the pieces in an oil lamp near the door. Taere was ready for the blue flash this time, sword drawn and armor ready. It came right then.

WOOSH!!

Taere landed on another black field. There was no light, even moonlight to illuminate the battlefield. Taere assumed he was on a moonless field, until he felt the marble under him and heard the resounding echo of being inside a closed dome. He activated the Blacksun Filter in his eyes, and saw an enormous dome above him, and an entirely lightproof seal between every brick. A network of metal rods and stone arches that supported the ceiling gave the ceiling a look of a honeycomb. The ceiling was easily 200 feet in the air, and solid; nothing would get through it. Taere looked around the rest of the arena with the infrared imaging on his Blacksun Filter. He couldn’t see anything, so he threw a flashbang cartridge toward the center of the arena – as far as he could discern it. He switched to light imaging, and as the flash powder went off, he could see that the arena was entirely flat and over a mile wide. This battle was going to be interesting; no cover, but in complete blackness. This could prove to be extremely unfair.

Taere felt the pre-shocks of a dropping pillar of blue light, and closed his eyes so as not to be blinded. He waited for the shock to fade, and opened his eyes. It was still dark as anything.

“If you’re there, I’m ready.”

Taere activated his Blacksun Filter, and could see Ouri’s outline against a dark black background. He waited for her to move…

[OceanEyes28]

((OOC: Sorry this took so long, but you know I was busy. So I'm gonna back up a bit and write some intro before we fight. Me and my intros... we have a relationship, you know.))

“Damien.” His name brushed against her lips while she slept. She missed him. Where was he now? It had been several days since he had left her, so surely he was miles away by now. She hated that thought, and she hated dreaming about it. So she hated all the time, because she never ceased thinking about him. An obsession? No. No, she did not need him. She sat up in bed and looked to her window. She crawled to the edge of her bed and tilted her head back until she could see the radiant moon in the center of the sky. The stars… they were lovely. They swept across they sky in ribbons of glitter and dust. Water and milk running over a smooth black lacquer table, pouring off the edge into a world of unknown beauty. She pushed the window open and leaned out. His eyes were there, up there, in the sea of celestial bodies. They seemed to smile back at her, winking and blushing with light. She felt the wind comb his fingers through her hair and sigh against her cheek. She could smell the sour suggestion of sweat against skin. She stretched her out arm and found another hand against her palm. A touch on her forearm. A kiss on her neck. What was this? She recoiled at the familiarity, drawing back into the shadows and out of the enchanted moonlight. She stroked her arm protectively and gazed out the window, not wanting to expose herself anymore.

“If you can hear me… I’m sorry.” She could feel sadness pushing against her throat. “You’ve been everything to me for so long… and now you’re gone.” Her voice quivered and her eyes became warm with tears. “I don’t know how I can make it better again. I’m falling apart and I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared. What do I do? Please help me. Please, I need you so much.” Her fingernails dug into her arm and her anguish spilled out of her eyes like waterfalls. She was weary of crying. Her sinuses stung and her lungs ached, sore from all her sobbing. It was too much. She could not do this anymore. She could no longer stand in front of an audience and act confident. She did not want to face another opponent ever again. To have to stand in front of a person who was already sizing up her faults and weaknesses. To make her feel worthless. She stood up on her bed and grabbed a hold of the window frame. Then she stepped out onto the sill. A gust of wind toyed with her balance, and she stumbled, but clung to the wooden frame, splintering her hands. As she teetered between life and death, the wind began to pick up and howl in protest. “What?! Isn’t this what you want? Isn’t it?!” she screamed at the night air. “Why should I stay here? Why should I keep going? Why keep up this… charade? There isn’t a point!” A few lights flickered in windows, and some were opened to see what the matter was. There was that audience again, waiting for her to fall.

The ground that was so far down seemed to hypnotize her. She felt dizzy and swayed from side to side. Any second, she might plunge to her death, her freedom. All she had to do was let go. Just let go. Give up and fall. It would all be over in a moment. One moment. A single moment of pain, and a lifetime of it would be washed away in cold dead blood. Dead. She would be dead. She looked back to her sword and enemy. Was this sudden urge to die the doing of her possessor? Was she really in control? How could she know? She couldn’t. She could only hope. But death… was that not the end of hope? She remembered. That morning, she had been lost in hope, fighting the infection the sword had put in her heart. This was not right. This was fiction, this was not real. “No.”

Carefully, she lowered herself back inside. The entire dormitory seemed to exhale a breath of relief. Her knees felt weak, so she sat down on her bed. The realization that she had nearly killed herself was sinking in. A knock on the door startled her. She rose, still trembling, and went to answer it. As soon as she opened the door, the attendant burst inside and grabbed hold of her. “What were you doing?” he demanded.

“A lapse in my sanity. I apologize. Is that all?” She was determined to keep her dignity intact. He looked at her in disbelief. Was she serious? He shook his head and backed away.

“Just stay alive long enough to fight your next round, all right?” He handed her a small key. “Your fight is in a different arena than you’re used to. Get ready, then go to your opponent.” She nodded that she understood. As he turned to go, he paused and said, “You might want to bring some matches.”

She got dressed in silence, and found her sword. She left her room and made her way down the barely lit hallway. She took a torch from the wall and continued, looking for the name of the arena that was the same as her key. The dorms looked haunted at night, stones whispering to other stones. When she found the arena, she set the torch on the cool marble floor, not concerned for its value, and opened the door to the arena. “What?” Darkness. It was completely dark. Suddenly, a light at the other end, highlighting the curves of her shape. “I see. Well then…” She picked up the torch and threw it into the arena, lighting it a bit. It would be out in minutes, but this way, she could get a picture of what she was up against. The arena was empty except for her opponent. Fine. That was fine. She drew her sword, the narcotic effect engulfing her body. “You ready?”

[Malevolence]

((OOC: Pardon the absence, I hate rehearsals))

“If you're there, I'm ready.”

A torch flew out from the darkness, and landed a few yards in front of Taere. Sparks flew up as the burning oil-soaked cloth spattered on the ground, and the torch rolled across the stone floor of the arena to rest in front of Taere. The flame was already beginning to die, so Taere closed his eyes so as to not ruin his vision in the dark. A woman's voice called out:

“You ready?”

“Of course I am, Ouri. Mind if I start?”

“Not at all.”

“Good.”

Taere raised his blade over his right shoulder, with the crystal blade crossing just under his jaw. The blue crystal of the blade sent out sparking purple and deep red refracted beams of light through the arena away from the torch. The fire of the burning oil soon went out, smothered halfway by the floor and finally extinguished by the humid air inside the enclosed space of the dome. The air itself smelled old, as if they were in a long buried ruin or a room that had not been opened in ages. But this was a modern arena, so that could not make any sense…Taere thought no more on it, and prepared for his first attack. Switching his Blacksun Filter on again, as complete blackness had engulfed the arena again, the thermal image of Ouri showing up bright as day in his vision. At the same time as he readied the Malevolence, she drew her own sword. The slight curve of the rapier was more obvious on the etched thermal image magically projected into his eye, as the heat from her arm traveled up into the metal of the blade. The silver of the blade most certainly would have reflected marvelously in the light, but, there being none, there was no glimmer of light coming from it.

Taere, remembering to watch for any hidden moves she might pull on him, Readied his blade in front of him. A single light source in the room became visible on Taere’s blade, in the jewel encrusted into the hilt of the blade. A bit of red glowed within it, and slowly the red traveled up the blade of the sword into the blue crystals, turning them a deep shade of red. The light shone out onto the arena, illuminating the area directly around Taere. Taere then brought the blade up above his head with one hand, and began to swing it in an erratic circle on the left side of his body with the other. The fiery radiance inside the blade grew brighter, and soon became intense enough that Taere could see without his Blacksun Filter. He switched it off, and, as he predicted, the red light was refracted and reflected off of Ouri’s blade with great brilliance.

Sensing the right moment, Taere pulled back the blade, and flung its tip outwards toward the side of the arena—that is, he held onto the blade, but thrust it out leftwards. As he did so, the fiery aura left the blade, but traveled straight and fast towards the wall, where it struck a single torch mounted on a wall hook. Instantly it an other torches on the wall around it ignited, setting off a chain reaction through a network of oil lamps. The lamps lining the entire ceiling of the dome lit up instantly, casting warm, bright yellow light down on the entire arena. Taere’s hunch was right. The arena was the square of an old ruined underground city. There was no dome, there was a cave ceiling miles wide and a city beneath it. They were in the half-mile-by-half-mile town square of a ruined, stagnated, underground Dwarven city. This could get interesting.

“And ‘Let there be LIGHT!’”

Ouri cast a “You’re retarded” look at him.

“Ok, yeah, that was dumb. Anyway, back to fighting!”

Taere’s face became serious again as he prepared to fight. He again raised the Malevolence in front of him, but in this case, he snapped his fingers. Instantly another light source began to glow from the hilt jewel of the blade, but this time, the color was a deep green. The green again moved up the blade and along the crystals, but this time, instead of staying within the blade, the green eked out of the crystal onto its surface. The glow began to solidify into globules of green liquid, which began to steam in contact with the particles in the old stagnant air. Taere whipped the blade around once, flinging off particles of the green fluid. As they hit the ground, the droplets instantly began to sizzle and burn the stone tiles. It was acid. The extremely caustic substance was concentrated earth element, which contains the domain of acidity. Taere, moving forward with this new addition to his arsenal, swung the blade back behind his head, and made a slash out toward Ouri’s chest. At the last moment, he pulled the blade away, and made a long horizontal slash at her back as he quickly darted past her on her right side. He then, using his momentum, pushed back on his feet, made a short armless cartwheel, and landed in a defensive position behind where he had made his strikes at Ouri…

[OceanEyes28]

The sound of simmering flesh crackled and snapped in her ears. A few moments into the battle, and already she had made a mistake. She had seen the first strike coming. Pivoting on her left foot, she watched the first acidic spike fly past. That was close… he's really fast, she thought to herself. Then she sensed something coming from behind. Thinking it was Taere, she turned, sword ready, only to find another liquid green spear being hurled at her. "Shit!" she screamed, trying to scurry out of the way. She failed, and the attack hit her between her shoulder blades, driving into her spine. She fell to her knees and tried to catch her breath. Her lungs expanded impulsively, soaking up too much stale and dusty air in their spongy tissue. She coughed and spat, her muscles flexing and causing more pain to the wound on her back. But there was no blood. The burnt skin would not bleed, and her demon remained in check. Oh, but it longed to be set free. It pressed against her eyes and ears, and she could smell the familiar stench of blood. A swirling madness raging inside her head, drowning her reason and self-control. She could not let that happen. Goddamnit, Ouri, you have got to focus!

She thought back to her last battle. A powerful demon soaked with desire to regain her lost honor. Ouri had felt sure she would lose. And for a while, it looked as though she would. Her opponent had the advantage of experience and that of a cause. And what of Ouri? Trained by a friend and… what was she fighting for? It was not honor. All that had been stripped from her already, and she had forgotten how to care. It was not love, for Damien was far away, and it would not matter to him if she won or lost. It was not for the joy of winning. No, all that meant was that she would have to fight again. What, then, had saved her? The will to live? What life? Did she even have a soul anymore? Looking at herself through a microscope, all she would see was an empty shell, she was sure of that. An ugly, disgusting, vile attempt at humanity with the foolish delusion of hope. Despite her lack of cause, she still had hope that she would find one. There had to be something. Perhaps that could be her cause. She was fighting to find something to fight for.

Ouri looked to her opponent who was watching her anxiously, waiting to see how effective his attack had been. He had managed to burn a hole through her clothing, that was for sure. "Interesting attack," she said. "But I assure you, it won't work twice. Anyway, I am interested to see what else you have in store for me." She got to her feet and tossed her head, letting her red hair catch the glowing firelight as it fell behind her. The black blade ached in her hand, begging as a child would to have its fun. She closed her grip around the hilt, and took a step toward Taere. "I suppose it's my turn." Whatever confidence she had, she was putting it forth now. She stood as tall as she could, back straight, with her sword in front of her in a protective, yet strong tilt. Her sharp olive gaze was a startling contrast to her soft features, and a beautiful one, though she would never recognize it herself.

I won't win using just my sword techniques. He's too powerful for that. He's obviously fast, and I bet he has a lot of strength in his swing as well. And as much as I hate to do what that demon wants, it seems as though I need magic for this one. As soon as the thought entered her mind, her pulse quickened, and her sword began to glow a hopeful indigo. The pressure against her temples increased, and the hair on the back of her neck prickled with a rush of adrenaline. It felt wonderful and terrible all at the same time. It would be very easy to let the sword take over. She knew she would be more powerful that way. For as long she was suppressing that bloody temptress beneath her skin, she was fighting two opponents. And yet, while she became more powerful, she became equally more dangerous to her opponent and to herself. It didn't matter whose blood it was, for the demon was only a parasite, and her body could be disposed of as soon as it stopped serving its purpose. Either way… I need to attack with something.

Then she thought of it. Her eyelids slid shut, and she let herself plunge into her own abyss of emotions. Her heart cried out as she forced it to remember the day she killed her father. When she realized he was dead, and that she could never truly leave that memory behind, an overwhelming flood of guilt swam over her. It rose to cover her head with a sea of regret, choking her and pushing itself down her throat, killing her screams. The knowledge that she had done the unthinkable and could not take it back no matter how much she pined for forgiveness. This was the emotion she chose to attack with. All of her attacks were her own emotions made tangible. None were lethal, because an emotion, no matter how intense, cannot kill unless the person with the emotion wills it to. By giving up and letting that emotion that is only one part of themselves take hold of their body and have the body purge itself of its own life. Ouri had yet to accept that defeat, and the dark urge to leave the world behind was one emotion she could not bring herself to attack with.

Taking this feeling of guilt that still haunted her, she focused it within her sword. With the introduction of this new energy, it took on a scarlet haze. She aimed it at Taere, and felt a sudden yearning to apologize for what she was about to do. Her lip quivered with this increased feeling of guilt, and her whole body was trembling beneath the weight of the energy being pumped through her veins. But she stood firm, and the sword surged with power. Then--her voice sinister and in an odd way plagued with sadness--she gave the name of the attack, and signaled the energy to move. "Crimson Tears."

An attack that aimed for the eyes, it seeped past the surface and went behind. It found the brain and planted the seed of guilt. It then stabbed at the eyes from beneath, activating the tear ducts. The target would shed tears mixed with blood, giving the attack its name. The pain that had been hers would become his as well.

And as she watched the attack slice through the air to find its victim, she was further weighed down. Because for a moment, as the heavy emotion left her, she had felt relieved. Release at the pain of others. Now, more than ever, she hated herself completely.

[Malevolence]

((OOC: Yay an opportunity to write a novel! This could take a while, so don't be surprised if I put an "I'll finish this later" at the bottom of this post. Blah))

Taere was pleased with his attacks. The first partially feigned attack, as he expected missed entirely, as Ouri was expecting it full on. She easily dodged the spike of acid, but turned too late to intercept or avoid the second. The barb of acid struck her squarely between her deltoids, pressing hard with its caustic burning into her spinal column. The skin on her back began to boil, and turn a deep purple from sub-dermal bleeding and instant bruising as her capillaries collapsed and liquefied. As the acid burnt into her spinal column, her nerves came into contact with the mordant liquid. She instantly began to seize and convulse as her reflex neurons fired off signals to inhale. Instantly her lungs filled with stale air and dust, and a thousand different dead microbes from the old Dwarven air. Her coughing only got worse as the dust irritated her alveoli, turning the porous tissue of her lungs a dark brown covered in years and years of soot. Taere turned away; he could not bear so see such pain. This was not what he wanted to cause in people, this was—

NO

A sharp pang in his arm clued him into a problem. The pain immediately ran up his arm, and assaulted his mind. But the pain was not his. It came from Ouri. This was different, and he knew it. There was something lost, something old, and a loss of hope. There was something utterly wrong happening in Ouri’s mind, and Taere had done something to cause it. This was wrong.

Taere’s senses came back to him. His vision returned to normal, from the swirling inferno of thought it had been moments before. Ouri regained her composure as well, and turned towards Taere, rubbing under the hole in her back softly.

“Interesting attack,” she said. “But I assure you, it won't work twice. Anyway, I am interested to see what else you have in store for me.” As she rose, her hair cascaded down her shoulders, unmarred by the scathing acid that had torn into her vertebrae. The red copper hues caught the soft light of the oil lamps, and gave Ouri a new attractiveness that Taere had not noticed before. He immediately shook off the feeling – he was fighting her after all! She again raised the black blade, but this time, hesitantly, as if she was not going to actually use the blade to do battle. Her voice, still wavering, showed a fake sort of confidence in her sword, one that Taere easily saw through.

“I suppose it’s my turn.”

So it is… Taere thought to himself. What he didn’t think or conceive was what Ouri was about to conjure up from her subconscious. At first it seemed that Ouri, too, was to give in to the magic qualities of her blade. Taere readied himself, as a deep indigo glow started emanating from the blade and quillions. Taere’s thought process was simple – Indigo is blue but green with a but of red, so…earth and sky and a bit of fire. This is going to be a sandstorm. With this easy thought in his head, Taere prepared for a barrage of heat and wind by pulling his coat sleeve over his face and closing his eyes, but when the storm did not come, He slowly opened his eyes again. There was no sandstorm. This was something different. The hair on Ouri’s head and neck began to stand on end, as the energy inside her grew. The immense proportions of potential energy stored inside her and her blade was growing exponentially to terrifying levels, yet Taere could not take his eyes off of her. He was enthralled entirely. The Blacksun Filter sent him aural warnings and optical inputs, but Taere disregarded them, shoving them off without a moment’s thought. He was enthralled by this power, almost in love with it…

But this emotion quickly changed. A film washed over Ouri’s eyes as the power began to grow more. Taere’s vision flashed red from the Blacksun Filter’s warnings, as the power was actually physically seeping from Ouri’s body into the ground. Cracks formed beneath her feet as the raw energy seeped out of her. Taere’s thoughts changed slowly from a thrall to a sort of frightened trance. The energy’s color on Ouri’s blade then began to change, becoming first a deep purple, then almost a solid black, and finally regaining color to a bright but deep vermilion red. Taere then finally became truly scared of what he was seeing. This energy was not a true attack or fire of any sort, but an emotion. It could not kill, but it could drive a man mad to the point of suicide. Taere was beyond terrified, he was petrified with the fear of insanity. He had seen what is done with the insane; how they were treated. He did not want to end up this way any less than he was afraid of death, if not more so. His mind was open to Ouri, as hers was to his, and in the psychic channel, he felt one emotion. Guilt.

Suddenly, Taere’s mind was assaulted again, but this time by Ouri herself. This feeling of guilt, at first a simple theme of a psychic channel, now formed itself into a spear and lashed out at Taere through the back of his mind. As he felt this stabbing pain slash at the back of his skull, he heard two words uttered from Ouri’s mouth: “Crimson Tears.” He immediately knew what this meant. He felt it coming up in the back of his cerebrum, moving forward to his optic nerves, through his retinas, and into his eyes. His tear ducts started as the guilt overwhelmed him, but he immediately noticed something. His vision became clouded and red. Blood seeped from his tear ducts, and slowly began to run down his face. Thoughts rushed through his mind: Am I blind? Where am I bleeding from? Blood tears? am I a vampire? How is this happening? Will I bleed until I die? Why did you do this to me? Why did I do this to you? WHY DO I DESERVE THIS? Taere sank to his knees, crying to himself as the red tears tolled down his cheeks, face and neck. They stained his armor red, as the shining silver plates were marred with his own blood.

The tears slowly slowed, as Ouri’s mental assault was concluded. Taere’s mind was in shambles, and he couldn’t seem to regain his composure. He lightly held his sword, and stumbled with it towards Ouri. He made a slow swing at her, which Ouri easily sidestepped. Taere then tripped from his own momentum and fell flat on his face. The blood caked on his face held dust from the stone floor as he pulled himself up to his feet again, and stood with slightly more composure as his mind slowly began to reconstitute itself. His eyes’ red color faded as the blood was washed out with his real tears, and finally Taere was himself again. But this overwhelming emotion of guilt had affected him more than Ouri could have imagined. Taere’s idea of fighting suddenly changed from winning to just ending this fight. Ouri was tiresome, and needed to be removed. His mind moved from guilt to rage that such emotions had been involuntarily awakened in him, and Taere’s eyes glazed over red once again, but this was his own kind of red, his sigil’s red. The scarlet pigment of the Red Dragon.

Taere’s blade suddenly changed. A strong red fire ignited in the hilted jewel of the Malevolence, and the Red Dragon etched into the blue topaz glowed brightly amidst the flamed. The blade of the Malevolence melted itself, extending the end point into a straight blade, and shrinking the jagged edges closer to the hilt. The blade suddenly looked to be the most balanced weapon ever held by any human hand. The blade was a straight, single edged sword, similar to a no-dachi but twice as long as any normally seen blade of the type. The blade heated up from the flame in the hilt, and megan to sear the air itself, lighting the small microbes and dust prticles on contact, and cast off plumes of smoke as Taere slowly swung the blade around in his hand. Knowing he may need the final reserves of this power later, though, Taere held back his rage, keeping the last pieces of his attack from manifesting themselves upon Ouri. An end was enough, overkill was a dishonor he did not wish to engage in. With this heated blade, and red glow to his eyes, Taere spoke:

“That was pathetic. Your ‘Crimson Tears’ are a disgrace to the very color you named. By using this, you have disgraced my family’s sigil and me. My mind was assaulted; my emotions were toyed with like so many small sticks in the hands of a fidgety child. I cannot allow you to toy with the minds of men with your demonic trickery. If I cannot flush out the demon inside you, I will have to take the whole of you out of existence.”

Taere, with his blade scorching and his eyes burning, rushed towards Ouri. He was a blur of red light as he closed in on her form, and as he did so, raised his blade above his head. There was no question that Taere was enraged. But it was not so much his emotions that fueled him. It was those of Ouri, pushed into his mind and reacting with his, that caused this rage. This was her fault, and Taere, with his searing blade, intended to cleave her from this plane of existence and put her in a place where her mind and her demons could harm no one. That place was oblivion. As his blade descended upon Ouri, Taere was finally satisfied that he would have done some good in the world by ridding it of this mental witch, and torturer of souls. A sense of peace overcame him as his blade descended. Then, suddenly a new emotion overwhelmed him. Hope. This one had nothing to do with Ouri. This one was from within his own mind. His hope for life and the reclaiming of a lost soul; this emotion now controlled his actions. Regaining sense from his zealous state, he saw his blade inches from Ouri.

With a slight movement, the blade changed its course. The burning crystal struck the stone tiling inches from Ouri’s left foot. Taere landed stooped next to her static form, as his entire thought process and movement had taken place over the course of less than a second. He looked up at her, and stared into her blue eyes, suddenly noticing a green ring around her pupils thinly blended into her irises. These were not the eyes of a killer. Taere could not do anything to her. He simply stood in silence, and stared into her eyes. Not killer’s eyes, not witch’s eyes. They were eyes of a girl, lost within the demons of her own mind. Taere could do nothing to her…

((OOC: Wow, I just pulled that out of my ass. Gives a new meaning to deep. Or something like that.
.
.
.
Jeez that’s long. How’d I do that in an hour?

Have fun judging Spike!))

[psychosyd]

Sorry... due to the fact this post was made on Sunday... it won't be counted as time has expired... judgement will take place this week