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Entry E - "Roar of the Tiger"
Old 30 Aug 2009, 00:20   #1 (permalink)
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Default Entry E - "Roar of the Tiger"

:Imperial translation:

Location: Noligoth fortress-underground labyrinth

Time: Three centuries before events of war on Tamathon IV

The narrow corridor was nearly pitch black, gradually descending into the pit of this subterranean realm. A hall of cool, wet slick , putrid green stone; worn and rugged from untold centuries of weathering. The passage reeked with a rank odor he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There were no torches to speak of in this foreboding abyss, denying his vision any glimpse of what awaited him at the end of the path.

Even so, the Eldar sprinted forward, as fast as his slender legs could carry him. He needed not the flickering light of fire, for he had already foreseen the gauntlet that laid ahead of him, studied its layout, scanned it thoroughly for shadows lurking within the shadows; from the intimidating form of its open maw to the depths of its stomach, till its end. He had seen all of the events that were to transpire within the twisting depths of these halls, all before he had even graced this cursed place with a single step of his presence.

Despite hours of running, he had failed to break a sweat in his journey onward. His boots stirred only the slightest tap against rugged stone, completely inaudible under the loud, helmet-distorted exhales of his controlled breathing.

His fluttering robes of indigo, partially concealed under his chest and other parts of his slender frame under tight mesh armor. Billowing in the wind he generated behind him, was his cape of ocean blue, in its centre, the shimmering image of an opened maw tiger of burning sapphire glimmered with a mystical aura. The elegant form of his singing spear felt as if weighed nearly nothing in the left palm of his hand. A masterfully crafted spear carved to resemble the scaled hide, serpent like form of a sea dragon; jetting from its maw was the actual blade itself, illuminated with a blue aura. Clutched in his left was the humble side arm that was his shuriken pistol.

Farseer Raihan darted through the impending darkness, displaying no fear, no caution as he strode through the underground maze of the great enemies’ vile temple. There was no danger here, not at these levels. The only thing he feared were the strands of time that denied him their insights into the future. His dreams had only already spoken to him of this labyrinth, but it was what laid beyond here that proved worrisome for him.. No matter, a tiger tracks his prey on instincts, and that seemed to be the only option left to him at the moment.

Raihan merely sighed his anxiety. It was almost unfathomable, this dreaded war, that had cost his craftworld so many lives, was finally entering its final stage of its life, the ending. This was it, a sole chance, whether for better or worse, victory or defeat, the random hand of fate would decide all this day.

It was an ending long overdue, now the time is nigh.

“Let this dark era of our time fade into history! Where our children’s children shall speak of our triumphant victory over the vilest of foes. Let our blades strike deep and strike with precision! For Teyl-Jhen!”

The seemingly random outburst echoed out behind the farseer and he spared a glance over his shoulder to find the source. There he was, running at the fore of the single file line of twenty running Storm guardians. Similar to the others, his body was clad in the skin tight, lightweight form of jet black mesh armor, broken up with streaks of blue lightning across his chest plate. Strapped to his back was the billowing a flag of indigo, with a glowing image of a Sea Dragon towering over the a stalking Tiger; the flag of Teyl-Jhen. His chainsword was sheathed, opting to utilize his prized flamer instead.

Ilio, the “Herald of the tiger”, a youthful warrior, round two and half centuries in age. A warrior of exceptional skill that had earned his infamous nickname constantly fighting by the tiger’s side; forging a trail of burned carcasses for his honorable lord to walk through. Despite his age, Raihan had found him a great asset in the battles to come and always kept him as a close advisor.

“Well said, Ilio, but I think it would benefit the majority if you left the inspirational speech to your elders.”

Despite the distortion caused by his helmet, the responding voice had failed to diminish in its condescending, holier-than thou tone. A voice that could only be claimed to one of great age and wisdom, one far beyond Raihan’s age.

Warlock Frewy, The rushing storm, was forced into a jogging pace to restrain himself from darting pass Raihan and leaving the squad behind completely. It may have been decades since he had entered his ninth century of his life, but he felt as if time had reversed just for this moment. He was practically gliding through with a grace even the banshees would be hard pressed to match. Clutched in the palms of his hands was the illuminated, expertly crafted witchblade; shining with golden yellow energies that pulsed forebodingly in the darkness. He was dressed in flowing, blood red robes associated with his path of the seer.

Ilio opened his mouth to utter a sarcastic retort, but his ears only registered the deep inhale of breath in anticipation of what he was hearing. It all seemed distant within the thick confines of these corroded, stone walls. But the music was unmistakable, so distinct, that there wasn’t a warrior among the group who didn’t tense at the brutality of it. A music of whirling blades, roared battle cries, and thunderous cracks of various weaponry. The song of war…and his warriors were already dancing in sync with its luring beat. A dance of death.

The discovery of the racket blaring through the halls shook the corridor like a slow, lingering tremor and he felt the ground vibrate violently beneath his feet.

“It has begun.” Raihan stated simply, naturally tightening the grip on his Singing spear. “Now is the time, a fast strike, in and out. Does the lion linger to allow the Hyenas to steal its prey?”

As if he had ordered a command instead of mumbling a random analogy, the storm guardians silently unsheathed their chainswords in unison; instinctively activating the runes of their blades in one fluid motion. Any remnants of haunting silence was instantly shattered in the roar of twenty revving chainswords.

“Let the pyres of the corpses of our enemies guide our way!” Frewy chimed in. “Shine with the light of Asuryan in the darkest depths!”

There it was, though only a tiny twinkle from this distance and rapidly expanding as they continued to close the gap seperating them from it. Raihan had witnessed this before. This was the location, the entrance into the foul ritual chamber of the great enemy…This was where his dreams had never ceased to come to a jarring halt.

“I will not flinch from my destiny.” The farseer mumbled solemnly beneath his breath. He had made his decision long ago and he would see it through to very end, till all was said and done, till everything had come to pass. “Byzanith, what are you plotting?”

“Pick up the pace! Swords high, raise your pistols! Guardians of Teyl-Jhen, be swift and strike!” Ilios bellowed over the buzzing chorus of revving chainswords, signaling the charge into the unknown with a gesture of his flamer. The clamor of raging battle was deafening now, ringing in his ears like some cataclysmic explosion that would not stop. Though his ears had grown used to such things over the span of time.

The objective was close, the trap was set. Before the sun would fall, the tiger would have his feast…
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Old 30 Aug 2009, 00:20   #2 (permalink)
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Default Re: Entry E - "Roar of the Tiger" [FiremahLazer]

:Imperial translation:

Location: Underground Fortress Noligoth- ?

Time: ?

His world was a screen of pitch black, his eyes clamped shut against the bone chilling, cool breeze lightly massaging his face. The fact that he could even feel such a refreshing product of nature told him he no longer had his helmet equipped, a mixed sign indeed. He allowed a light, weary groan to slip from his lips as he barely stirred from his current position.

“Arise…” A distant whisper, barely registered on the floating wind and his ears naturally perked to it, straining themselves to filter its contents into the farseer’s already perplexed mind.

Raihan’s mind was disoriented, leaving him dazed and sprawled onto some slick, skin numbing surface. What event had transpired? He could not even stir a memory to tell the tale. He only remembered… Illio… yes, they were sprinting into battle… and… some rift… portal reeking of the warp.

The farseer merely sighed to himself, vainly attempting to come to grips with the whereabouts of his current location.


It was strange… the sensation coursing through his veins, shivering through his body; as if every cell had been stimulated with an overdose of adrenaline. His heart beats drummed in his ears like resounding thunder. His chest was heaving, his sore and overworked lungs gasping great swathes of air. Even beneath his armor, he could feel the slick layer of leaking sweat coating his skin. But other that, he felt uninjured… his body did not ache or pain him in anyway.

“Damnation! Wake up!” The abrupt shout hit his ears point blank, the bellow echoing round his environment as if a provoked god had roared his fury down upon him.

It was like a key crafted just for his seal, unlocking him from his half slumber and his eyes instantly shot open to unveil his surroundings.

The lighting seemed incredibly dim, yet it was more than enough for his readjusting eyes to instinctively clamp shut against it. No artificial light exiled the darkness into the far corners of the corridor. Instead, softly blazing torches adorning the center of all the slim columns lining either flank lit the broad hall, wide enough for at least two dozen other figures to randomly appear and lay shoulder to shoulder by his side. They were looming, overshadowing in their presence, jetting from a sleek floor of smooth, pale blue granite stretching from one wall to the other.

The puzzled expression he was displaying contorted into a knowing grimace as he eyed the many golden icons of the eight pointed star and billowing, mystical blue banners, and indecipherable scriptures adorning both the ornately carved walls and columns.

The arched gateway behind him was obviously closed, sealed, and locked through primitive mechanisms beyond his knowledge. Compared to the overly lavish style of the chamber, it was spectacularly unimpressive. It was laid before him that struck with in awe.

The structure was absurdly gigantic in its size, having to be at least ten times his height, stretching from one end of the rear wall to the other. Its foundation began with a set of ten mammoth steps of large, smoothly carved blocks of glittering blue, eventually guiding the climber to sit upon the massive throne of similar material. Even for Mon-keigh, it was masterfully carved and trimmed to resemble some sort of blaze.

Everything seemed to be so… pristine. Untouched by the ever ravaging hand of war; maybe that was its own prophecy in and of itself.

The ground beneath his body suddenly began to quake in the wake of a distant, deafly silent explosion. The battle was still ensuing…

Once more, yet cautiously, the Eldar fluttered his eyes open weakly, thoroughly scanning his luxurious prison with an eye of purpose. Though still puzzled and dazed by the sudden twist of events, Raihan eventually came to the conclusion that lying in the hall wouldn’t solve his predicament.

He pressed his armored gauntlets against sleek granite and with a muttered grunt of effort, he drunkenly clambered to his feet. His Singing spear was missing, so was his shuriken pistol. His armor seemed untouched though, even his cape had been left in place.

This… throne room seemed to be empty, involuntarily explaining the suffocating aura of silence plaguing it. Everything seemed to echo within its hallow walls, his stabilized breathing, the resounding thuds of his boots; the clangs of his armor. Though it was all drowned out in what seemed to his ears like distant thunder over the horizon, loud enough to hear, but really nothing more than an echoing rumble that couldn’t cease.

Where was he? Where were his warriors? Why couldn’t he remember?

“Welcome!” The sudden shout nearly caused Raihan to jump, but two centuries of battlefield experience instantly over road any instinct or command and he found himself crouching into a combat stance despite his lack of weaponry. The Farseer’s soul piercing blue eyes narrowed on the ominous figure leaned back in his glittering throne; head slumped carelessly into the palm of his left hand.

“Hmph, I thought you would never awaken, you‘ve been lost in slumber for at least half a dozen hours now.” His voice degenerated back into its standard calm, haunting the grand hall of the throne chamber as he proceeded in a low, fearless tone. “I thought I would be forced to crush the heart of my foes without the eyes of my rival to bear witness.”

His robes were a pale black; giving his lean, muscular figure a presence similar to a shifting shadow in the night. Swaying gently from his neck, a glittering, blue chain of the eight pointed star hung freely, nearly out shining the finely polished surface of the throne he resided in. The pale white, youthful skin on his face was criss-crossed with a series of ragged scars that resembled thin bolts of lightning streaking across open sky. His blood red colored hair covered a minority of it, a rough, unkempt bowl that ended with pointed bangs that resembled flat spikes. It nearly draped his emerald green eyes, that burned with undying passion and shimmered with life.

“Byzanith.” Raihan spat in disgust as he glowered with as much intensity he could muster.

The cult lord merely smirked smugly in response, utilizing his arm rest as an aid to lift to him to his feet. took a split second to blink… it was all Byzanith needed to vanish from his previous position. In normal circumstances, the Farseer would already be probing the shadows for a lurker to strike… but now … now. What was the point? It was over. Instead, the Farseer calmly refrained from indignity, gracefully falling to his knees with his head slightly bowed.

“If you wish to claim victory, sever my head and be done with it, but do not waste my time with your obnoxious gloats.”

Raihan remained stationary, silent as he listened to the soft, stalking footsteps approaching him from behind.

Byzanith grinned knowingly to himself, chuckling lightly as he strode past the farseer as if he wasn’t there. He took only a few steps before coming to an abrupt halt. “Ah, only if victory were mine to claim, old rival, Raihan.”

The notorious sorcerer’s smirk widened into a warming grin as spared a glance over his shoulder to see the Xeno sneer in disgust at the use of his name. He merely shrugged. “I admit, I must give your warriors credit. You found yourselves within these underground walls, scattered my warriors into the abysmal depths and though they combat your armies valiantly, I have peered into their souls and know what shall come to pass.”

Byzanith outstretched his arms, obviously indicating the entirety of the throne chamber in a sweeping gesture. “You know we have only an hour left to us before your kin storm this very hall? Yes, I have seen this come to pass- thanks be to the changer of ways-…and I have seen you. Eight years, hmmm… it seems as if we have combated each other for an eternity.”

“But now it all ends here, this ending shall come to pass.” Raihan answered, his eyes burning with renewed hope that his kin were on the verge of success.

“It appears so, which is why I endured such pains to teleport you here.” Byzanith snickered lightly at the Eldar and in turn received an arched look. “How anti-climatic to sit upon my throne and wait patiently for the end?”

Byzanith’s expression faded a fraction as Raihan’s relaxed into a serious, knowing stare; involuntarily telling the Cult leader that he understood the meaning behind his words.

“The war is over.” Byzanith declared with unarguable finality. “But we still we have one last battle to decide. Only a decisive victor can truly end this war.”

Raihan silently nodded his agreement as he rose to his feet; his exhaustion somehow flooding all at once from his body in a recycling of adrenaline. Everything was becoming clearer, the air smelled fresher, his muscles tensing; he was ready. For he had prepared for this moment before ever setting foot in this blasphemous fortress. If this was his fate… it would serve no use to run.

Utter determination becoming his mind set, Raihan snaked his way beneath the cape concealing his back in a stealthy motion that Byzanith didn’t seem to notice. It only took a second for his thoroughly searching fingers to meet the hilt of his most prized power sword strapped onto his back. He gripped tightly as he locked his gaze with the Sorcerer. “Byzanith!” The Eldar’s roar was surprisingly loud, a lot more than what he had intended, but he paid it no heed as he unsheathed his power sword in a fluid, split second motion; pointing it accusingly at the mon-keigh before him. “You dare challenge me?” He gasped warily. “I shall not fail.”

Byzanith’s over confident grin failed to diminish. “You are not prepared.” He stated simply, folding his arms triumphantly as he continued to stare the xeno down.

Raihan’s left eye twitched slightly at the remark. Normally, such an arrogant statement from a lowly mon-keigh would fail to phase him. But he knew Byzanith was far from ordinary, even for a gifted sorcerer of Tzeentch. He knew the Cultist was far more ancient than what he was leading on to believe, that he was at least twice his age.

“I’ve seen you’ve kept a weapon, very resourceful of you, allow me to draw mine.” Byzanith stated confidently, though his smirk suddenly disappeared as he outstretched his arms to either side.

Raihan didn’t budge, preparing for any pre-emptive strike that his adversary may have planned before time.

But nothing of the sort transpired and with a resounding clap, Byzanith merely slapped his hands together. Nothing happened, but Raihan was far too overestimating to capitalize upon it. Fortunately, he wouldn’t regret it, not at all. Despite only being visible to his keen eyes for a split second, his eyes still bared witness to its existence. It was the tiniest, thinnest streak of mystical blue electricity that flashed before burning out into nothingness.

Then again, he clapped once more. They lasted longer this time and were quite a bit more frequent, flickering in some sort of criss-cross around his hands.

That sly smile stretched on the sorcerer’s lips again as he reverted his attention back to Raihan, who shifted his gaze to glare back. He chuckled under his breath for a second before whispering, “Third time’s a charm,” as he clapped again.

The Farseer gasped, shutting his eyes as he flung an arm to shield his eyes from the intense burst of light blaring from Byzanith’s hands.

The Cult lord waited patiently till Riahan could fully gaze upon them and he grimaced when finally did.

Enwrapped round each of his hands was a dense current of blue electrical energy; snapping and flickering in random places for split seconds. It was so intense, so dense, it was if his limbs were some makeshift generators to create vast amounts of power to feed some unknown source. It whipped round his limbs like a miniature tornado, creating a surprisingly powerful breeze that forced his gaze into an inquisitive squint. It was obvious that he intended to use them as some mystical form of gauntlet as he practiced with two swift jabs through the air.

Byzanith didn’t seem to mind, his eyes still in deadlock with his old foe. “Careful, Raihan, once the duel has begun, my foes never live to blink twice.”

“Of you!” Raihan shouted over the whining noise Byzanith’s makeshift weapons produced, as if it were a battle cry. “Enough! Be gone!” The Eldar Roared as he flipped his sword, leaping forth as he did so to engage in one last battle.
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Old 30 Aug 2009, 00:20   #3 (permalink)
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Default Re: Entry E - "Roar of the Tiger"

Raihan closed the gap between his nemesis with a single jump forward; raising his sword overhead to clove his opponent’s skull in two.

Byzanith reacted instinctively, entrenching his feet as he threw his electric gauntlets over his face like a makeshift shield. The Farseer expected this though, retracting his blade in a puzzling feint as he spun backwards; his sword mirroring his three sixty motion when he switched the rune on it with a flick of his thumb.

Looming shadows were banished into the far corners; a suffocating silence shattered when his power sword burst into life. Byzanith’s eyes narrowed slightly against the intensity of its golden electric aura and he smiled lightly; listening to the high pitched hum it sang as his adversary continued to whirl it.

Raihan’s twirl stopped with well time precision with the Eldar’s gaze facing Byznaith; his blade concealed behind his back, involuntarily giving the xenos some radiating, mystical aura.

The Eldar didn’t budge as his opponent remained stationary and they continued to lock eyes with each other, wordlessly probing each other for even the faintest sign of weakness. His expression was a hardened, mostly blank stare, but even so, he knew full well that he couldn’t hide the rage from welling up upon it. But that was fine with him, let his enemy bask in it.

“I don’t know why my mind has conjured this fact…” The Farseer mused calmly, yet loudly. “In all eight of these years, this shall be our first personal cross of blades.”

The alien restrained himself from snarling at his adversary’s warming smile complemented with another snicker. “Ah, strange is it not, and it is to be our final too, a shame.”

“A Shame? I think not.” Raihan scoffed with an arrogant grin. Byzanith felt himself suddenly tense; his vision fixed upon his opponent as it flexed the muscles within its arm; this was it. “With filth, I never duel twice.”

Then a duel among legends began.

Both commanders sprung forth at the same time, but Raihan reacted first with surprising agility, even by Eldar standards. He struck forth like lighting, ducking beneath a cumbersome jab from the right and gracefully spinning out of the path from its left counterpart. He had entered the half-way point when his blade whirled back into view, swiping for Byzanith’s mid-section with a quick swing.

The Chaos Lord leaped a step back in caution, grinning knowingly to himself as he witnessed the blade flash by. Raihan reversed the inaccurate strike as he took another step forward; this time raising it higher for a swift decapitation. Byzanith spun into the Xenos’ guard as he ducked; lashing his left elbow out for an undefended point to push his advantage.

Raihan could only react with a muffled shout as the strike jammed itself into his chin; the sheer force knocking a foot out of his position and sending him stumbling back a few steps. The Farseer frowned at the small trickle of crimson running down his lower lip, but he banished the pain from his mind as he attempted to counter.

A vain attempt though, for Byzanith was already upon him and swinging with a series of surprisingly agile attacks.

The Sorcerer renewed his offensive with a sharp upper cut, but Raihan predicted such an obvious advance and juked to the left. Expecting the incoming elbow this time around, the Eldar simply leaned sideways to dodge it, thrusting low for Byzanith’s bent knees. Only to pull away at the last second as his opponent diverted a split second hand to swat the strike away; instead summoning a great sum of strength to lash his boot out into his now unguarded ribcage.

A sickening, yet satisfying crunch echoed in his knife-pointed ears and now it was Raihan’s turn to smile as Byzanith howled. The Chaos lord roared savagely as he writhed in this burst of agony, though not so immobilized that he couldn’t distance himself from his assailant with a hand on the implanted wound.

Knowing the foolishness of letting up at this point, Raihan rushed forward to cleave Byzanith in two.

His face contorted in obvious pain; Byzanith desperately tried to ignore the explosive jolts of mind halting agony as he braced himself for the inevitable.

“Die scum!” Raihan declared, knowing he had breached striking distance; swiftly slinging his sword down in an arch for its intended target.

Byzanith shot out a free hand just in time; causing Raihan to curse vehemently beneath his breath as he clamped an electric current fist round his wrist; halting the power sword merely inches from his face. Even without touching it, Raihan knew full well the current of warp energy could effortlessly singe and melt away his skin to the bone. Thankfully, it was merely one of the factors of why he maintained gauntlets to shield his fragile arm. Still, despite the protective layer of mesh armor, it could not spare of him of the intensive heat beginning to cook his flesh.

Desperate to break free before his gauntlet melted along with his entrapped limb, Raihan utilized his opposing limb to deliver a crushing blow to the Sorcerer’s already severely cracked rib. He nearly succeeded.

“Impressive!” The Cultist barked, obviously predicting the Eldar’s sudden move as he swatted the incoming fist away. Despite the searing pain still coursing through him, Byzanith smirked weakly as he kneeled his opponent savagely in the stomach.

A wheezing gasp of pain slipped from the alien’s lips, just beginning to keel over when Byzanith pulled his asserted knee back and hammered his foot into Raihan’s feet; easily knocking the Eldar’s legs from beneath him. Simply ignoring the agonizing protest of his ribs; Byzanith focused his strength into the palm clasped around his rival’s armored gauntlet and with a triumphant shout, hurled the frail alien across meters of granite.

Or so he had intended. Raihan simply smirked at the simplicity of his opponent’s assault as he was swung over head. Byzanith had nearly thrown him before the Farseer caught the back of the Cult Lord’s robe lining the rear of his neck; utilizing it as a makeshift anchor to keep from being tossed too far. In fact he went nowhere at all, dropping behind his adversary instead and just as the mon-keigh raised a foot to spin round, Raihan delivered a precision kick into the back of the shin in the leg still holding him upright.

Byzanith cursed as he felt balance slip from his grasp; staring at a granite floor rushing up to meet him before collapsing embarrassingly into it.

A minor, brief silence was allowed to descend once more into its initial home.

Raihan took a moment to erect himself, letting his muscles relax slightly as he saw that his pray was not quick to recover its footing. Honestly, he could not help raising a brow at the figure sprawled on the floor. This was his rival, Byzanith the eternal? The legendary sorcerer that he had battled for eight years of turmoil?

Then it happened suddenly, that impulse… an urge to do something he had never felt the need to do in years. Yet he could feel it, he knew that it would not be denied, its coming was inevitable. The Farseer spared the Cult Lord another glance before lifting his head toward shadow-enshrouded ceiling and did what he thought he never be able to again. Raihan laughed.

No. It was no humble snicker, no light hearted chuckle. It was bellowed, fused with mockery, triumph, and scorn. Five seconds passed when he came to an abrupt halt, raising his arm to inspect the damage dealt. The armor round his wrist had corroded to the point that its original texture was undecipherable; molten into a thin bracelet. It still burned as if he had dipped it into a pit of hell fire, but nevertheless, fortune was with him… when it should have abandoned him.

“Hmph.” Byzanith croaked, betraying his growing agitation of a snapped rib as it restrained him from leaping to his feet. With an assertion of the mind, he kindled the vast well of psychic power stored within.

Raihan’s attention was diverted in an unusually calm gaze toward his nemesis to witness the mon-keigh be engulfed in a blinding, mystical blue aura before evaporating from reality all together. He reappeared only a second later, materializing in the same aura of the warp he vanished with in an erect pose where he once laid; softly clutching the breach in his rib-cage. “You stay your hand from slaying me?”

The cultist’s lips stretched once again in a shallow, warming smile. “Careful, Raihan, I’d suggest you not spare me your pity.”

“Then take comfort mon-keigh, I never intended to reserve any for the likes of you. But this is my chance to exact vengeance for my kin lost in the raging hurricane of war! I will savor these last moments… toppling you from your pinnacle of power to sink into the eternal abyss of the other dimension.” Raihan paused momentarily to raise his melted glove for his rival to see. “I can assume you intend the same? By all means, I should be dead, or at least possess an amputated arm.”

“Heh, am I so transparent?” Byzanith chuckled darkly; swiping a hand across his sweat slick face. “Perhaps we are more alike then you know, but enough of this. The hourglass has seemed to drain itself far faster than I had originally anticipated, so let me finish this…”

Raihan unconsciously fell into another battle stance in response to Byzanith’s raising of his fist; expecting another assault. Yet none of the sort came and the Eldar’s eye slightly twitched as heard a familiar, resounding clap.

The Cult Lord slammed his hands together once more. The two, separate warp currents intensified as they were forced to fuse into one. Even so, it was obviously becoming increasingly unstable as random streaks of light flashed from the ball of rapidly shifting energies. The sheer force conjured a whipping gust that caused the Farseer’s robes to billow freely in its wake. He squinted once more as the light continued to intensify in brightness and strength. The bursts of the plasma like substance were obviously more than mere showing, shattering and shredding tiles of granite with even the slightest touch; throwing up swathes of debris into the rushing wind to dissipate entirely in the air.

The surrounding atmosphere seemed to blacken considerably and the Farseer’s stare hardened as he finally caught on to Byzanith’s scheme. Abandoning caution, he immediately sheathed his sword and prepared himself.

Byzanith smirked mockingly. “Of you! I have had enough, be gone!” He roared the latter part of his sentence as he extended the sphere of energy out before him.

There was nothing at first. Nothing at all, but within the blink of an eye, it transpired. Three gouts of plasma spewed forth from the current of warp energy, singeing pale blue tile as all of them homed in on their intended target.

Raihan instinctively darted backwards, still facing the onslaught of sorcery. All of them were unpredictably jagged and unequally spaced; perfect in other words.

Utilizing his superior agility with a grace that only Eldar could possess, Raihan spun to his right; narrowly avoiding the far left strike as it blitzed by. He hadn’t even stopped when he propelled himself upward with a strong leap towards the ceiling as the central bolt buried itself into the tiling he was just standing upon; gouging a straight trail of smoking, molten granite for at least a few meters onward.

The tips of his boots had barely made so much as a tap against the floor when the Farseer threw himself into a hard roll across the floor; sighing in relief as he caught a brief glimpse of the third and last strike sailing pass overhead.

He paid it no heed as it effortlessly transformed the foundation of a column behind into boiling slag. Instead he rushed forward, as fast as his slender legs could carry him before Byzanith was capable of responding.

With inhuman speed, the Eldar closed the gap a few meters before his eyes began to kindle a supernatural energy. He tapped into the center of his mind, his eyes burning with a fiery orange flame as he drew his power. A soft chant began to drone from his lips and he felt a suffocating heat plague his right hand as floating runes began to dance around it. Assuming he was within range, Raihan grunted with the effort as he shot his palm out; unleashing his chosen spell to annihilate his adversary.

The Destructor easily engulfed the remaining distance between the two commanders in a storm of rushing flame; falling upon Byzanith like a tsunami at its peak.

The Sorcerer failed to panic, instead raising the ball of psychic energy out almost as if to touch the wave of fire. Obviously, it was not his intention; the same sphere of mystical energies stretching itself round its master into a semi-transparent shield.

Raihan snarled his frustration as the fire merely broke off the flaring wall, but refused to be dismayed by the outcome.

“Hah!” Byzanith roared as he dissipated the surrounding flames with another three gouts of plasma, once more destined for the frail xenos before him.

Reversing his previous tactic, the Farseer charged forward, encouraged by the fact that the mon-keigh’s unholy shield visibly growing feint in the process. The slender being dropped and rolled pass the cumbersome blast before leaping effortlessly to his feet and once more, unleashed the destructor.

Byzanith’s eyes narrowed menacingly as he was forced to retract a leap backwards in the wake of its power; barely able to keep his shield whole in the process. Before Raihan could conjure another, the sorcerer poured his energy into his makeshift wall; feeding it till it had grown so thick that it was nigh impossible to look beyond. But this time, he would not utilize it in his defense.

“It’s over!” Byzanith declared with triumphant finality, roaring as he exerted a good portion of his strength to condense his shield into another unstable ball of warp energy and propel it with frightening speed against his foe.

It was far too large for Raihan to avoid, that he knew. Uncertain of what his next course of action should be, an idea instantly intruded upon his thoughts.

Unconsciously, a different chant was spewed under Raihan’s breath and even as he watched the blast approaching him, he did not flinch.

A foreboding aura began to cumulate around him, building up swiftly into an electrical storm magnified ten fold in the impending darkness swallowing the chamber. He raised two fingers on either hand as runes materialized out of thin air; threatening to swarm him, yet dissipating among the cloud of stalking energy as it continued to expand. With a look of grim determination, Raihan stared down the attack as he suddenly pointed with both pairs of fingers. No sooner than he did, a dozen streaks of lightning zipped from heart of the storm.

The shrunken eldritch storm was considerably less powerful than its full counter part, but it lost none of its ferocity as it cut deep into the coming ball of plasma; which had just crossed the halfway point to reaching its target.

His plan? It was formed upon the result of the Eldar’s previous devastator spell being dissipated by the flurry of magic Byzanith had used just moments before. Perhaps the same achievement could be accomplished this way, his eldritch storm could rip apart the sorcery till it was virtually nothing.

Apparently, it seemed that the hypothesized solution would not be the case. His efforts did; however, manage to halt the attack in its tracks. But a sense of dread began to churn in the pit of the Eldar’s stomach, watching the pair of warp energies react negatively to each other as they fused into a multi-colored blaze; somehow swelling in size and growing increasingly unstable to the point that it no longer held a definite shape.

Both Raihan and Byzanith hit the deck as the sphere of psychic power erupted in a cataclysmic explosion..

A seismic earthquake tore the throne chamber asunder; up heaving and shredding the granite floor into countless cracks and jutting mountains of the rended mineral. The foundations of the columns splintered in the sheer force, even the actual throne was split entirely in half before crumbling into numerous pieces. The sheer force threw Raihan across the chamber into the trio of steps leading to the ruin of the seat of power.

Hundreds of mammoth bolts were spat in every direction. Many of the already weakened columns were pulverized instantly, raining down in a thick screen of dust and debris. Those that were spared a direct hit still toppled in their instability, knocking over any still standing counterparts to join them in a deafening collision into shattered granite.

The trophies melted into slag before they were even touched. The banners caught fire nearly instantly, swallowed whole in a blaze of shifting colors. Consequently, not a minute had passed when a fog of acrid smoke began to cumulate into a blinding screen that continued to thicken in this pit.

In a split second, the glorious throne room had been transformed into ravaged, smoke filled inferno.

Every inhale singed and burned his throat, an intake of poison he would have deal with. His eyes could not penetrate the screen of smoke and dust; only the blazing fires scourging the walls. His chest plate had been torn free, lost in the scattered hills of debris; exposing his bare chest -which now bore some profusely bleeding scars- to the toxic air. It stung furiously, as did the gash over his right eye that forced it shut. Numerous cuts adorned his limbs and the robes of his lower body had been shredded from the knee caps down. Yet Raihan was miraculously fine.

Adrenaline still pumping through his veins, the farseer almost immediately leapt to his feet. His opponent still drew breath, he could sense it. He knew what must be done.

Raihan drew his power sword, flipping the rune as he charged down the hall. Basically blind, he slipped continuously in pits, jutting chunks of broken flooring, and debris, but he kept up in his sprint.

Eventually, he came across a fairly large mountain of up heaved granite, at least four times his size. Despite his vision being useless, he still saw. No amount of smoke could conceal the pair of electric gauntlets burning at the summit of the mountain. Raihan merely watched blankly as he saw the two currents clapped loudly together; this time forming into some form of two handed sword of mystical blue energy. Raihan knew the golden aura of his power sword had probably given him away, so be it.
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Old 30 Aug 2009, 00:21   #4 (permalink)
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Default Re: Entry E - "Roar of the Tiger"

“For Teyl-Jhen!” Raihan shouted at the top of his lungs as he rushed forward, scaling the mountain with surprisingly less difficulty than he expected. It took him only a handful of seconds to reach the narrow peak, standing just below it, almost face to face with his opponent.

Neither of them could see each other in the screen of smoke, but they could clearly see the light emitted from their swords.

No words were spoken… they leapt at each other.

Flashes of lightning lit the corridor with every clash, barely exposing either of the dueling commanders, but just enough that they could judge where to strike.

They fought furiously, each strike missing by centimeters as they masterfully weaved and ducked passed each others blows.

Raihan struck fluidly and frequently, feinting and thrusting with light strikes in random places to keep him guessing.

Byzanith preferred hammer blows, cumbersome yet bone shattering strength.

The Farseer ducked under a quick swipe aimed for his neck and in turn leaned to the right to stab at the darkness. Failing to slice anything save polluted air, Raihan spun into the spot he previously probed, slinging his blade down in an arch in the general vicinity of the opposite sword.

The opposing weapon diverted itself to block the strike, erupting into another blinding shower of light and the Eldar caught a glimpse of his enemy.

Byzanith’s smile had disappeared all together, replaced by rage, fury, and scorn. Even from here, he could make out the thick veins bulging from his skin.

“Fool!” The cultist roared deafeningly over the fires. “You dare-”

Byzanith paused as he felt a foot hammered out beneath him with a lucky kick. Before he could stumble, a hand involuntarily shot out and clamped anything it could reach… it had snatched Raihan’s retracting foot. Though the Eldar tried to remain fixed in his position, his slender frame was easily over powered and pulled off the mountain with him.

Raihan cried out in pain as his back was sliced open in a welter of blood as it was scraped against the jagged points adorning the sides of the torn granite mountain. The collision flipped him over and his shoulder smashed through another jetting piece of the loose material, prying his power sword from his grasp. Other occasional clangs and various noises told him that Byzanith was taking the brunt of it. There was a much louder rumble that overshadowed his agonizing decent, but he paid it no heed as tried to maneuver to avoid the worst damage.

A resounding snap echoed in his ears as he felt his lower leg abruptly crack in two. It was too painful to feel, but he hadn’t time to be grateful as his head collided into a protruding piece of granite,slashing his left cheek open and he yelled out in agony.

There was another looming grumble that he failed to hear over yet another feral scream of pain that was bellowed from his lips. Colliding into a ruined floor on his back, the farseer vomited a mouthful of blood over his chest as pointed edges imbedded themselves deep into fragile flesh. Tears were free to pour down his face in mind-jarring agony and he tried to control his breathing in a vain attempt to lessen the pain.

He laid there for long seconds, unable to move. He could not see anything save for smoke and raging fires in the background. It was only when a small groan was echoed by his side did locate Byzanith’s position.

Raihan’s vision could not discern his rival. He failed to see that he was unconscious and bleeding profusely from his multitude of wounds. His right hand had been severed messily, his rib cage crushed. His body was adorned with numerous cuts and bruises; the majority running deep and some even fatal.

Raihan was about to turn away, but then it appeared.

It rolled out of the chest area of Byzanith’s shredded robes right into his line of sight. It glowed with dully pulsating, mystical blue energies and he could feel the sheer power radiating from it wash over him; over power him. It was a small, pocket sized orb, which he assumed was the source of Byzanith’s power… it was also one of his objectives.

With all the strength he could muster, he forced the agonizing protest of his body to submit to him as he reached out and snatched it within its grasp.

He tried to give a closer inspection, but when his eyes did so much as glance at it, the pain caused him to shift his gaze elsewhere.

Questions began to flood his mind. What was it? How did it aid Byzanith? Did aid him at all? Maybe it was a trink-

A deafening, cataclysmic collision abruptly echoed out, followed by a large tremor and he gnashed his teeth in pain as the granite shifted slightly in his body.

Then another… what was happening? What event was this?

Raihan’s eyes widened in horror. Hastily, he searched the blazing fires as best he could and cursed the sight as he could not find at least one column still erect in the entire chamber. The ceiling was collapsing…

“No…” It was all he could whisper deliriously as the collisions steadily became more infrequent and intensified in strength.

Then he felt a sudden wind sweep over him… a wind generated by a falling object. It got stronger and he knew the inevitable as the smoke was swept away before his vision. This was his destiny… his fate.

“No!” It was all Raihan could scream before he and his surrounding area was buried and crushed beneath tons of rock.

“Analia…” It was all he could say before he blacked out on impact.

Then it was over, it was done…

“Isha’s grace… we’ve found him! Warlock, we’ve found him!”

“I need a healer here!”

“Send word to command, at once!”

It was an ocean of noise that flooded the void so suddenly, spilling through the darkness to rush into those pointed ears that had become all to attuned to the absolute silence that reigned beneath the earth. The loud clatter and grinding of shifted and overturned rock, grunts of effort from those who relocated them. A hundred, shuffling footsteps tapped ever so softly amongst them in an unceasing dance that lacked any rhythm whatsoever. The gunfire was somewhat distant, but far too close for comfort. Yet it was only the ominous howl of the night and a soft burst of air messaging a bloody, battered face that finally jarred him back into the realm of consciousness.

Farseer Raihan fluttered his left eyelid open, nearly oblivious to the giant chunk of broken stone crushing the lower half of his muscular, yet inhumanly slender frame. Yet, even as a groan slipped from his pale lips, a single, ocean blue eye peering from bloodied face captured a glimpse of scenic beauty that laid beyond; those lips curled into a weak smile.

The skies had lost that baleful, crimson flare, infused into a strange violet as the stars of the night rushed to reemerge once more. The mass of dark, foreboding storm clouds rushed to blot it out further, but to the Eldar, there existed no sight more welcome at the moment.

He laid amongst a rugged valley of crumbled, demolished stone vast enough that he was merely a drop in the pond. Trapped within the twisted ruins of this burial ground, mangled limbs, hanging by blood soaked strands of flesh and broken corpses of his kin laid by his side, similarly crushed under the shattered structure of a collapsed temple. Surrounding the fallen complex loomed screens of thin trees of an ancient forest, the lush green leaves adorning their branches swaying in a chorus that soothed him despite his predicament.

“Farseer…” It was a helmet distorted voice that called out to him, breathing in a mixture of awe and disbelief, worry and horror.

Slowly, Raihan craned his head to the right to meet the gaze of a figure crouched over him. Immediately recognizing the thin, sky blue armor she was clad within and the ornate sash wrapped tightly round her waist young, A look of urgency held firm upon the young Dire Avenger’s features, the realization of his fatal wounds dawning on her.

“My lord, hold on, you’ll be fine. Where’s that healer!?” No sooner had she uttered the words did the girl scurry off to find aid, leaving Raihan alone. But the Farseer wasn’t listening, allowing the darkness to take him once more…

Maybe it really was over, maybe he could finally rest for once and while.
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Old 06 Oct 2009, 19:41   #5 (permalink)
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Default Re: Entry E - "Roar of the Tiger"

Spelling, Punctuation and Grammar (SPAG) - 3/5
Plot, storyline etc. - 11/15
Realism/Plausability - 3/5
Interest - 2.9/5
Characters - 3.7/5
Ease of read - 2.3/5

TOTAL - 25.8/40


-I love the villain here, the story is a bit more solid then the previous one

-Long and often poorly punctuated sentences make this story cumbersome and slow. Some of language used and some of the storyline seemed to be slightly at odds with the idea of Eldar. A decent vocabulary loses out to a large number of spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. The fight sequence was active enough but there seemed to be an aspect of uncertainty in the personality of the two characters, which seem to fluctuate in confidence levels. Brief unexplained references to events and characters add to confusion.
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Old 07 Oct 2009, 00:25   #6 (permalink)
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Default Re: Entry E - "Roar of the Tiger"

Thanks for the review Hive Lord, just what I was looking for. Now I have a few things I can work to improve upon for future writing(and editing :P).

This does need an overhaul though, guess I got some work ahead of me ;D.
Sea otters for the Clan, kittens for the castle
Waged together in the fires of roaring battle
A prayer for the fallen, their deeds sung in honor
That they’d shed their life’s blood no longer
For the greater cause, no one paused
In Death’s snarling face, sprayed the mace

A meow for the King, an ‘arf for the Chief
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