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Shadowboxing
Draiman
Dr. Drai
This is my first experience with an RP fight. Also holy shit I love @Iosyne 
A large, writhing tentacle erupts from the ground, slithering in a corkscrew pattern around your body.
The tentacle slithers back in the depths of the earth, dragging you along with it.
------------Changed Area-------------- Now in (the Lair)
You are moved by a writhing tentacle.
The center of a complex network of tunnels.
A yawning maw emerges from the center of the pit to hang open and motionless. A smooth onyx dais
occupies the center of the pit. The four-armed Djeirani form of Iosyne, the Malevolent is here.
You see exits leading northeast, southeast, southwest, and northwest.
A large, writhing tentacle deposits you before retreating back underground.
Iosyne says, "Hello Enforcer."
You say, "Good morning, Malevolent."
Your enhanced senses inform you that Xenia has entered your current location.
A large, writhing tentacle deposits Xenia before retreating back underground.
You incline your head politely to Xenia.
Iosyne stalks barefoot across the yawning maw, ascending the black onyx dais in its center. She
lounges upon Her throne, one elbow resting a knee. "I've been wondering about something," the
Goddess muses.
Iosyne sits down on a smooth onyx dais.
The shadows wreathing Iosyne seem to settle as She seats Herself upon the onyx dais, Her insectoid
lower half shifting into a luxuriously comfortable position.
Isn't actually insectoid right now and the dais is a lie.
Xenia appears to have been mid-drink, the contents of her stein gleaming in the dim lighting over
chitinous exoskeleton armour. She casually wipes a hand across her jaw, unphased by the sudden
deposit. "What is that, Malevolent?"
You have emoted: Draiman gives a half smile at the sight of Xenia before turning his attention back
to Iosyne. "Yes, Malevolent?"
"Who is the most fearsome killer in My ranks?" Iosyne asks, Her three other elbows now settling upon
Her knees as well. Two of Her palms turn upward, Her face resting upon them, while the other two
dangle into space. "Is it My Bloodletter?"
Xenia's eyes lift upwards with thought. "I can not say I have much memories of Ilyon's prowess," she
admits to Iosyne. "I believe his bones began to settle shortly after I came of age."
You have emoted: Draiman shrugs casually, an arrogant smirk creeping into his features. "Can't
comment on Your current Bloodletter, Malevolent. He makes a fine statue, however."
Iosyne says, "Who, then?"
You say, "Me, Your Malevolence."
Iosyne arches an eyebrow at the declaration, though Her face betrays no other emotion.
Speaking up, Xenia asks, "If I may voice my opinion?"
(Congregation): Iosyne says, "Draiman believes he is the most fearsome in My ranks. Will any dispute
that?"
(Congregation): Nenelos says, "Well, I'm sure You could knock him down a peg or three. But presently
I am ill equipped to do so."
Xenia's eyes then flit to you, "If we were selecting purely on killing prowesss I would say Draiman.
" She remains silent for a beat of a second longer. "If it was based off of ones ability to cease
control and lead in the pressure of battle, I would have to say Trager." She then turns to look at
you, "Though I think he has the capability to do so and would make better calls than Trager."
"Trager and Draiman, what a -fearsome- duo I have at My disposal," Iosyne replies. Does Her voice
contain just the barest touch of sarcasm? "Though it is no Akara and Aishia, evidently," She
continues, words confirming that sarcasm.
You have emoted: Draiman shrugs again, attempting to play it off even though his eyes narrow
slightly. "Even a blind squirrel will find a nut every once in a while, Malevolent."
You say, "Those two would not have beaten us."
Iosyne rises from Her seat now, advancing to the far side of the maw. She beckons for you and Xenia
to follow.
You follow Iosyne to the east.
Overlooking a bowl-shaped pit.
Rimming the chamber is a crowd of shadowy forms, erratic and vaguely humanoid in outline.
You see a single exit leading west.
Staring forward, a single word escapes Iosyne's lips, "Battlefield." As Iosyne speaks the words of
passage, the cavern trembles and shudders. The bottom of the pit opens up, the ground falling away
to reveal a chasm of unfathomable depths. From it emerges the sounds of a deadly battle - the brutal
slice of limbs being severed, the screams of the fallen - and a red blood mist seeps from the pit's
entrance.
"Enter," Iosyne commands, walking to the edge of the pit. She does not turn back to either of you,
instead intent on watching the center of the pit.
You step through a bowl-shaped pit.
A bloody and chaotic battlefield.
You are at the center of a trampled and bloody battlefield, stretching out in every direction. There
is no horizon or distant scenery, only the stark whiteness of a thick fog that appears to wall this
battlefield in on all sides. The grass of the valley has been flattened beneath the traffic of many
creatures or people, brown and dead and ripped out of the ground in places. Though the battlefield
is empty, the roar of a battle involving hundreds of people is audible, but muted, just enough to be
a constant din above the silence. The evidence of war is scattered over the field - bloodied limbs,
unidentifiable piles of carnage and broken weapons. Dripping black ichor, a heaping skeleton of bone
creates a construct from the earth here. A red haze has been carried in on a faint breeze, coating
everything in a light mist of blood.
There are no obvious exits.
Xenia steps in through a bowl-shaped pit.
She is followed by a massive, shark-mutated warhound.
A black whip of shadow energy snakes into the room, slithering up into a corkscrew shape and falling
away to reveal the form of Iosyne.
"Do you know what this realm is?" Iosyne asks, Her eyes closing as She breathes in the scent of
blood and terror.
Xenia's nostrils flair to taste the air as she looks over the vast battlefield. "Slaughter?"
An astral storm rumbles loudly from the swirling sky high above your head.
You have emoted: Draiman doesn't respond immediately, instead carefully examining his surroundings.
His face and body are much calmer now than before. "Some might call this paradise."
Xenia smiles wryly at you.
Iosyne answers the responses with Her own smile. She tilts Her chin up, searching for something
unseen through the obscuring fog - and then it drops, crashing out of the sky with intense violence,
a smoking crater surrounding it. "Precisely. It is the Bloodletter's realm."
(the thing that crashed: "helmet###" the crested Helm of the Bloodletter.)
This black metallic helm covers the entirety of the wearer's head, an instrument of Pain and cruelty.
Oval eyeholes provide a glimpse into the darkness beyond, deeper than the blackest night, a
bottomless void impenetrable. Twin vertical slits stretch out in the gaps below and between the
eyeholes, curved slightly. The triangular chin plate is layered with cascading spikes, longest
towards the middle and fanning outwards, curved tips gleaming. Towers of spikes adorn the crown of
the helm, two thin spires directly above the eyeholes flanking a third, thicker and taller,
sprouting vertically from the forehead of the helm. An insignia is etched into this middle tower,
the immaculate lines depicting a pair of crossed fists, knuckles drenched in blood. Twin pillars
rise from the ear positions as well as as the back of the head, dwarfing those found between them,
edges curved inward towards the helm. Sprawling script covers these spikes, crude block letters
demonstrating the phrases "Pain" "Equality" "Power" on repeat.
Xenia lowers down to a squat to dip two fingers into the stomped and flattened earth. The dirt
stained and dampened with blood clings to her fingers as she draws them to her nose. "I can think of
no better for Your Bloodletter."
You have emoted: Draiman nods absently at Xenia's words, most of his attention focused on the
crested Helm of the Bloodletter that just crash landed.
Xenia cranes her head towards the crested Helm of the Bloodletter, "Who shall wear it?" she wonders
aloud.
Iosyne walks to the edge of the crater now, reaching a hand out towards the prize found in the
middle. A rolling shadow escapes the helm, connecting with Her palm before solidifying.
A shadow double of Borscin rolls forward, pointing a rapier at you. "The hearts were my thing bud,
you're a copier."
Xenia returns back to a stand, eyes now fixated upon the rolling shadow held within Iosyne's palm.
Stumbling through the fog, the hazy image of an armored and bloody foot soldier enters the clearing.
The stark details of his pale, shaken visage are incredibly clear despite the evidence that he is
some sort of image or phantasm. As he reaffirms his grip on his sword he unleashes a mighty,
soundless warcry, and plunges back into the fog.
You have emoted: Draiman opens his mouth in surprise, staring at the shadow double of Borscin in
disbelief. "You're literally a copy, shut it."
There is the metallic sound of clashing weaponry, followed by a visceral tearing of someone's
internal organs being shredded.
Xenia affords a shadow double of Borscin and you some space, settling back in a rather casual stance,
arms laced over her chest.
"Yeah well you have a stupid face," a shadow double of Borscin retorts, charging forward. His thick,
gnarly beard bobs with the force of the movement as the Infernal brings both swords forward - one
aims high, slashing at your head, while the other dips down in a jab at the torso.
You have emoted: Draiman instinctively crouches, raising his shield before forcefully slamming it
into the ground before him. His sword arm reacts just as quickly, raising his scimitar to meet the
shadow double of Borscin's high blow.
A shadow double of Borscin presses on, seemingly satisfied despite his attacks being parried.
Holding your attention, a whistle rings out from his lips, calling for his falcon.
Nothing happens.
"Oh **** Daskalos," a shadow double of Borscin says, lowering his weapons. "Know what, you can have
it. I hate all of you."
You have emoted: Draiman shoots another look of disbelief at the place the double was just at, still
holding his sword at the ready.
Iosyne's face is impassive, though She buries said face into all four palms for an instant. As She
finishes, you notice another shadow standing beside Her.
(Sorry I don't ql or l very often, you get the IH break down: "double280818" a shadow double of Ezalor.)
A spark of light blinks suddenly in front of your eyes then fades away into a subtle afterimage.
"Been a while, Malevolent," a shadow double of Ezalor says, blowing a kiss at the Goddess as he
walks by. "Hope You haven't been too lonely without me." He walks past now, offering Xenia a casual
salute on his way by before coming to a stop in front of you. "Ahh, my latest Childe. We're just
letting anyone challenge the position these days, huh Malevolent?" He calls back over his shoulder.
"Almost makes me want to rise from my slumber."
Xenia returns the salute with a two-fingered one of her own, smirking at the banter.
You have emoted: Draiman rips his shield from the ground, adjusting his grip slightly. He gives the
shadow double of Ezalor an appraising look as he tilts his head to the side, bones cracking audibly.
"I'd shove you back in that coffin so fast your head would spin, Sire."
A shadow double of Ezalor says, "Is that so? I wonder..."
You feel your blood acting against you as you are forced onto one knee. The hold lasts only a moment,
however, and you quickly spring back to your feet.
"Ha ha ha," a shadow double of Ezalor laughs, showing you a shit-eating grin. "Okay, let's get on
with it. See if you can last longer than five seconds now," he says. The Emperor warps - for a
moment, it appears he's holding a Templar warhammer - before it settles back into his trademark
scythe, the instrument bearing down on you. "Nah, let's at least pretend to keep this fair."
You have emoted: Draiman hesitates, the illusion of the warhammer seeming to have thrown him. His
reaction comes quick, but not quick enough to leave him unscathed from the attack. He steps back
away from the attack, the scythe grazing his cheek. He lets out a low growl as he raises his shield
and dives in for a counter attack, scimitar aimed at the shadow double of Ezalor 's neck.
A shadow double of Ezalor catches the scimitar on his neck with a grimace; he hisses, phantom blood
pulsing forth to seal the wound. Locking eyes with you, he utters unintelligable strings under his
breath. At the same time, a blood wisp flares to life, circling around the vampire's head for an
instant before lashing out at you.
Your head explodes with pain as you feel your mental reserves being sapped.
You have emoted: Draiman follows the motion through, ending up on he other side of the shadow double
of Ezalor after he breaks eye contact. He crouches again, turning towards his opponent as he quickly
dips his hand into the earth. Just as quickly as he removes his hand, the earth begins to part as a
blood webbed pillar rises behind him. He calls to his undead crossbowman and it moves towards the
shadow double of Ezalor as Draiman launches his own mental counter attack in unison with his
scimitar.
Hammered on both sides, a shadow double of Ezalor fades into the shadows, re-appearing at your flank.
He slings his scythe into his weaponbelt, transitioning into motion towards you. The Emperor uses
his momentum to seize the Prince in both hands, flinging you high up into the air.
A shadow double of Ezalor can't help but turn towards Xenia with a show-off flex before you fall
back to the ground.
Xenia's expressionless stare over the fight breaks, catching a shadow double of Ezalor sudden pose
she smirks, shakes her head and quickly flashes him a thuimb's up.
A metallic sheen on the ground flashes a stray beam of light across your eyes before the terrain
regains its more regular form.
You have emoted: There's an explosion of sound as Draiman hits the ground, thudding mixed with
violent cursing. "Gahhh" he bemoans as he stabs his scimitar in the ground. Grabbing the hilt, he
pulls himself up, shooting a venomous look at his undead crossbowman as if to say 'What the Pit?'.
Noticing the shadow double of Ezalor showing off, Draiman launches himself at him in a furious
assault, hoping to catch the Emperor with his back turned.
Caught showboating, a shadow double of Ezalor takes the blow on the back, falling onto his stomach
with a muffled "Oof." He quickly springs up to his feet, eyes narrowing at you. "Behold my secret
weapon. Artifacts!" the vampire exclaims, donning the blackened ring of the Bloodletter. Waves of
shadow haze roll off the ring, the burning insignia of a pair of crossed fists visible through the
fog. Bolstered by its power, the shadow double descends upon you with a vengeance, speed and
strength stretching the realms of possibility. His scythe a whirlwind of motion, sharp tongue
lashing out incantations of incredible power, the Emperor begins to force you backwards.
Conveniently right towards the crater.
Faced with that onslaught, the helm is looking mighty tempting right now. (how subtle)
The scream of a dying individual rises above the din, its source eerily familiar to someone you know.
You pick up the crested Helm of the Bloodletter.
You are now wearing the crested Helm of the Bloodletter.
The helm flares to life as it is donned, blood rising from the insignia of crossed fists stamped on
the forehead.
A shadow double of Ezalor pauses for a moment, staring back at Iosyne in confusion. "Hey wait a
second. I don't remember having that," he complains before pressing the attack upon you once more.
You have emoted: Draiman moves in to counter attack the Emperor, the crested Helm of the Bloodletter
giving him the power to match his attacks blow for blow. A manic laugh can be heard from underneath
the helm.
Though a shadow double of Ezalor stands against the onslaught for a time, his guard eventually slips
- the scimitar dips down, cleanly severing his left leg at the knee. The Emperor falls with a grunt,
struggling as he pushes himself up to hop on one foot. "Ahh just a minor wound," the shadow double
of Ezalor declares valiantly. After a moment of one-footed hopping, however, he concedes the fight,
letting his scythe dip back into his weaponbelt. "Alright fine. You did well, Childe," he says,
turning to shoot Iosyne one final kiss before dissipating.
A shadow double of Ilyon materializes, staring balefully at you.
Iosyne says, "Your final test, Enforcer."
A shadow double of Ilyon grunts at you noncommittally.
A shadow double of Ilyon concentrates, fading out of view as he returns to some shadow version of
the Bloodloch city portals.
You say, "Well, that was easy."
Xenia smirks.
A small smile appears on Iosyne's lips, Her head dipping in a nod to you. "You have earned your
trinket. For now."
The cacophony of war briefly fills the air as Draiman ascends to the position of Bloodletter.
You have emoted: Draiman gives Iosyne a bow. "Thank You, Malevolent. I shall not disappoint You."
Iosyne says to you, "It is powered by those hearts you so love to feed Me."
Iosyne warps out of perception, Her monstrous form separating into inky threads of shadow which
slither away in different directions.
A large, writhing tentacle erupts from the ground, slithering in a corkscrew pattern around your body.
The tentacle slithers back in the depths of the earth, dragging you along with it.
------------Changed Area-------------- Now in (the Lair)
You are moved by a writhing tentacle.
The center of a complex network of tunnels.
A yawning maw emerges from the center of the pit to hang open and motionless. A smooth onyx dais
occupies the center of the pit. The four-armed Djeirani form of Iosyne, the Malevolent is here.
You see exits leading northeast, southeast, southwest, and northwest.
A large, writhing tentacle deposits you before retreating back underground.
Iosyne says, "Hello Enforcer."
You say, "Good morning, Malevolent."
Your enhanced senses inform you that Xenia has entered your current location.
A large, writhing tentacle deposits Xenia before retreating back underground.
You incline your head politely to Xenia.
Iosyne stalks barefoot across the yawning maw, ascending the black onyx dais in its center. She
lounges upon Her throne, one elbow resting a knee. "I've been wondering about something," the
Goddess muses.
Iosyne sits down on a smooth onyx dais.
The shadows wreathing Iosyne seem to settle as She seats Herself upon the onyx dais, Her insectoid
lower half shifting into a luxuriously comfortable position.
Isn't actually insectoid right now and the dais is a lie.
Xenia appears to have been mid-drink, the contents of her stein gleaming in the dim lighting over
chitinous exoskeleton armour. She casually wipes a hand across her jaw, unphased by the sudden
deposit. "What is that, Malevolent?"
You have emoted: Draiman gives a half smile at the sight of Xenia before turning his attention back
to Iosyne. "Yes, Malevolent?"
"Who is the most fearsome killer in My ranks?" Iosyne asks, Her three other elbows now settling upon
Her knees as well. Two of Her palms turn upward, Her face resting upon them, while the other two
dangle into space. "Is it My Bloodletter?"
Xenia's eyes lift upwards with thought. "I can not say I have much memories of Ilyon's prowess," she
admits to Iosyne. "I believe his bones began to settle shortly after I came of age."
You have emoted: Draiman shrugs casually, an arrogant smirk creeping into his features. "Can't
comment on Your current Bloodletter, Malevolent. He makes a fine statue, however."
Iosyne says, "Who, then?"
You say, "Me, Your Malevolence."
Iosyne arches an eyebrow at the declaration, though Her face betrays no other emotion.
Speaking up, Xenia asks, "If I may voice my opinion?"
(Congregation): Iosyne says, "Draiman believes he is the most fearsome in My ranks. Will any dispute
that?"
(Congregation): Nenelos says, "Well, I'm sure You could knock him down a peg or three. But presently
I am ill equipped to do so."
Xenia's eyes then flit to you, "If we were selecting purely on killing prowesss I would say Draiman.
" She remains silent for a beat of a second longer. "If it was based off of ones ability to cease
control and lead in the pressure of battle, I would have to say Trager." She then turns to look at
you, "Though I think he has the capability to do so and would make better calls than Trager."
"Trager and Draiman, what a -fearsome- duo I have at My disposal," Iosyne replies. Does Her voice
contain just the barest touch of sarcasm? "Though it is no Akara and Aishia, evidently," She
continues, words confirming that sarcasm.
You have emoted: Draiman shrugs again, attempting to play it off even though his eyes narrow
slightly. "Even a blind squirrel will find a nut every once in a while, Malevolent."
You say, "Those two would not have beaten us."
Iosyne rises from Her seat now, advancing to the far side of the maw. She beckons for you and Xenia
to follow.
You follow Iosyne to the east.
Overlooking a bowl-shaped pit.
Rimming the chamber is a crowd of shadowy forms, erratic and vaguely humanoid in outline.
You see a single exit leading west.
Staring forward, a single word escapes Iosyne's lips, "Battlefield." As Iosyne speaks the words of
passage, the cavern trembles and shudders. The bottom of the pit opens up, the ground falling away
to reveal a chasm of unfathomable depths. From it emerges the sounds of a deadly battle - the brutal
slice of limbs being severed, the screams of the fallen - and a red blood mist seeps from the pit's
entrance.
"Enter," Iosyne commands, walking to the edge of the pit. She does not turn back to either of you,
instead intent on watching the center of the pit.
You step through a bowl-shaped pit.
A bloody and chaotic battlefield.
You are at the center of a trampled and bloody battlefield, stretching out in every direction. There
is no horizon or distant scenery, only the stark whiteness of a thick fog that appears to wall this
battlefield in on all sides. The grass of the valley has been flattened beneath the traffic of many
creatures or people, brown and dead and ripped out of the ground in places. Though the battlefield
is empty, the roar of a battle involving hundreds of people is audible, but muted, just enough to be
a constant din above the silence. The evidence of war is scattered over the field - bloodied limbs,
unidentifiable piles of carnage and broken weapons. Dripping black ichor, a heaping skeleton of bone
creates a construct from the earth here. A red haze has been carried in on a faint breeze, coating
everything in a light mist of blood.
There are no obvious exits.
Xenia steps in through a bowl-shaped pit.
She is followed by a massive, shark-mutated warhound.
A black whip of shadow energy snakes into the room, slithering up into a corkscrew shape and falling
away to reveal the form of Iosyne.
"Do you know what this realm is?" Iosyne asks, Her eyes closing as She breathes in the scent of
blood and terror.
Xenia's nostrils flair to taste the air as she looks over the vast battlefield. "Slaughter?"
An astral storm rumbles loudly from the swirling sky high above your head.
You have emoted: Draiman doesn't respond immediately, instead carefully examining his surroundings.
His face and body are much calmer now than before. "Some might call this paradise."
Xenia smiles wryly at you.
Iosyne answers the responses with Her own smile. She tilts Her chin up, searching for something
unseen through the obscuring fog - and then it drops, crashing out of the sky with intense violence,
a smoking crater surrounding it. "Precisely. It is the Bloodletter's realm."
(the thing that crashed: "helmet###" the crested Helm of the Bloodletter.)
This black metallic helm covers the entirety of the wearer's head, an instrument of Pain and cruelty.
Oval eyeholes provide a glimpse into the darkness beyond, deeper than the blackest night, a
bottomless void impenetrable. Twin vertical slits stretch out in the gaps below and between the
eyeholes, curved slightly. The triangular chin plate is layered with cascading spikes, longest
towards the middle and fanning outwards, curved tips gleaming. Towers of spikes adorn the crown of
the helm, two thin spires directly above the eyeholes flanking a third, thicker and taller,
sprouting vertically from the forehead of the helm. An insignia is etched into this middle tower,
the immaculate lines depicting a pair of crossed fists, knuckles drenched in blood. Twin pillars
rise from the ear positions as well as as the back of the head, dwarfing those found between them,
edges curved inward towards the helm. Sprawling script covers these spikes, crude block letters
demonstrating the phrases "Pain" "Equality" "Power" on repeat.
Xenia lowers down to a squat to dip two fingers into the stomped and flattened earth. The dirt
stained and dampened with blood clings to her fingers as she draws them to her nose. "I can think of
no better for Your Bloodletter."
You have emoted: Draiman nods absently at Xenia's words, most of his attention focused on the
crested Helm of the Bloodletter that just crash landed.
Xenia cranes her head towards the crested Helm of the Bloodletter, "Who shall wear it?" she wonders
aloud.
Iosyne walks to the edge of the crater now, reaching a hand out towards the prize found in the
middle. A rolling shadow escapes the helm, connecting with Her palm before solidifying.
A shadow double of Borscin rolls forward, pointing a rapier at you. "The hearts were my thing bud,
you're a copier."
Xenia returns back to a stand, eyes now fixated upon the rolling shadow held within Iosyne's palm.
Stumbling through the fog, the hazy image of an armored and bloody foot soldier enters the clearing.
The stark details of his pale, shaken visage are incredibly clear despite the evidence that he is
some sort of image or phantasm. As he reaffirms his grip on his sword he unleashes a mighty,
soundless warcry, and plunges back into the fog.
You have emoted: Draiman opens his mouth in surprise, staring at the shadow double of Borscin in
disbelief. "You're literally a copy, shut it."
There is the metallic sound of clashing weaponry, followed by a visceral tearing of someone's
internal organs being shredded.
Xenia affords a shadow double of Borscin and you some space, settling back in a rather casual stance,
arms laced over her chest.
"Yeah well you have a stupid face," a shadow double of Borscin retorts, charging forward. His thick,
gnarly beard bobs with the force of the movement as the Infernal brings both swords forward - one
aims high, slashing at your head, while the other dips down in a jab at the torso.
You have emoted: Draiman instinctively crouches, raising his shield before forcefully slamming it
into the ground before him. His sword arm reacts just as quickly, raising his scimitar to meet the
shadow double of Borscin's high blow.
A shadow double of Borscin presses on, seemingly satisfied despite his attacks being parried.
Holding your attention, a whistle rings out from his lips, calling for his falcon.
Nothing happens.
"Oh **** Daskalos," a shadow double of Borscin says, lowering his weapons. "Know what, you can have
it. I hate all of you."
You have emoted: Draiman shoots another look of disbelief at the place the double was just at, still
holding his sword at the ready.
Iosyne's face is impassive, though She buries said face into all four palms for an instant. As She
finishes, you notice another shadow standing beside Her.
(Sorry I don't ql or l very often, you get the IH break down: "double280818" a shadow double of Ezalor.)
A spark of light blinks suddenly in front of your eyes then fades away into a subtle afterimage.
"Been a while, Malevolent," a shadow double of Ezalor says, blowing a kiss at the Goddess as he
walks by. "Hope You haven't been too lonely without me." He walks past now, offering Xenia a casual
salute on his way by before coming to a stop in front of you. "Ahh, my latest Childe. We're just
letting anyone challenge the position these days, huh Malevolent?" He calls back over his shoulder.
"Almost makes me want to rise from my slumber."
Xenia returns the salute with a two-fingered one of her own, smirking at the banter.
You have emoted: Draiman rips his shield from the ground, adjusting his grip slightly. He gives the
shadow double of Ezalor an appraising look as he tilts his head to the side, bones cracking audibly.
"I'd shove you back in that coffin so fast your head would spin, Sire."
A shadow double of Ezalor says, "Is that so? I wonder..."
You feel your blood acting against you as you are forced onto one knee. The hold lasts only a moment,
however, and you quickly spring back to your feet.
"Ha ha ha," a shadow double of Ezalor laughs, showing you a shit-eating grin. "Okay, let's get on
with it. See if you can last longer than five seconds now," he says. The Emperor warps - for a
moment, it appears he's holding a Templar warhammer - before it settles back into his trademark
scythe, the instrument bearing down on you. "Nah, let's at least pretend to keep this fair."
You have emoted: Draiman hesitates, the illusion of the warhammer seeming to have thrown him. His
reaction comes quick, but not quick enough to leave him unscathed from the attack. He steps back
away from the attack, the scythe grazing his cheek. He lets out a low growl as he raises his shield
and dives in for a counter attack, scimitar aimed at the shadow double of Ezalor 's neck.
A shadow double of Ezalor catches the scimitar on his neck with a grimace; he hisses, phantom blood
pulsing forth to seal the wound. Locking eyes with you, he utters unintelligable strings under his
breath. At the same time, a blood wisp flares to life, circling around the vampire's head for an
instant before lashing out at you.
Your head explodes with pain as you feel your mental reserves being sapped.
You have emoted: Draiman follows the motion through, ending up on he other side of the shadow double
of Ezalor after he breaks eye contact. He crouches again, turning towards his opponent as he quickly
dips his hand into the earth. Just as quickly as he removes his hand, the earth begins to part as a
blood webbed pillar rises behind him. He calls to his undead crossbowman and it moves towards the
shadow double of Ezalor as Draiman launches his own mental counter attack in unison with his
scimitar.
Hammered on both sides, a shadow double of Ezalor fades into the shadows, re-appearing at your flank.
He slings his scythe into his weaponbelt, transitioning into motion towards you. The Emperor uses
his momentum to seize the Prince in both hands, flinging you high up into the air.
A shadow double of Ezalor can't help but turn towards Xenia with a show-off flex before you fall
back to the ground.
Xenia's expressionless stare over the fight breaks, catching a shadow double of Ezalor sudden pose
she smirks, shakes her head and quickly flashes him a thuimb's up.
A metallic sheen on the ground flashes a stray beam of light across your eyes before the terrain
regains its more regular form.
You have emoted: There's an explosion of sound as Draiman hits the ground, thudding mixed with
violent cursing. "Gahhh" he bemoans as he stabs his scimitar in the ground. Grabbing the hilt, he
pulls himself up, shooting a venomous look at his undead crossbowman as if to say 'What the Pit?'.
Noticing the shadow double of Ezalor showing off, Draiman launches himself at him in a furious
assault, hoping to catch the Emperor with his back turned.
Caught showboating, a shadow double of Ezalor takes the blow on the back, falling onto his stomach
with a muffled "Oof." He quickly springs up to his feet, eyes narrowing at you. "Behold my secret
weapon. Artifacts!" the vampire exclaims, donning the blackened ring of the Bloodletter. Waves of
shadow haze roll off the ring, the burning insignia of a pair of crossed fists visible through the
fog. Bolstered by its power, the shadow double descends upon you with a vengeance, speed and
strength stretching the realms of possibility. His scythe a whirlwind of motion, sharp tongue
lashing out incantations of incredible power, the Emperor begins to force you backwards.
Conveniently right towards the crater.
Faced with that onslaught, the helm is looking mighty tempting right now. (how subtle)
The scream of a dying individual rises above the din, its source eerily familiar to someone you know.
You pick up the crested Helm of the Bloodletter.
You are now wearing the crested Helm of the Bloodletter.
The helm flares to life as it is donned, blood rising from the insignia of crossed fists stamped on
the forehead.
A shadow double of Ezalor pauses for a moment, staring back at Iosyne in confusion. "Hey wait a
second. I don't remember having that," he complains before pressing the attack upon you once more.
You have emoted: Draiman moves in to counter attack the Emperor, the crested Helm of the Bloodletter
giving him the power to match his attacks blow for blow. A manic laugh can be heard from underneath
the helm.
Though a shadow double of Ezalor stands against the onslaught for a time, his guard eventually slips
- the scimitar dips down, cleanly severing his left leg at the knee. The Emperor falls with a grunt,
struggling as he pushes himself up to hop on one foot. "Ahh just a minor wound," the shadow double
of Ezalor declares valiantly. After a moment of one-footed hopping, however, he concedes the fight,
letting his scythe dip back into his weaponbelt. "Alright fine. You did well, Childe," he says,
turning to shoot Iosyne one final kiss before dissipating.
A shadow double of Ilyon materializes, staring balefully at you.
Iosyne says, "Your final test, Enforcer."
A shadow double of Ilyon grunts at you noncommittally.
A shadow double of Ilyon concentrates, fading out of view as he returns to some shadow version of
the Bloodloch city portals.
You say, "Well, that was easy."
Xenia smirks.
A small smile appears on Iosyne's lips, Her head dipping in a nod to you. "You have earned your
trinket. For now."
The cacophony of war briefly fills the air as Draiman ascends to the position of Bloodletter.
You have emoted: Draiman gives Iosyne a bow. "Thank You, Malevolent. I shall not disappoint You."
Iosyne says to you, "It is powered by those hearts you so love to feed Me."
Iosyne warps out of perception, Her monstrous form separating into inky threads of shadow which
slither away in different directions.
"You ever been divided by zero?" Nia asks you with a squint.
13
Comments
"The smell of dusty fur, sweet smoke, waiting and patience, a thing that time cannot kill. The moth that candles won't burn."
>uses Bloodborn
Oh the irony.
Anyway this has some inside-ish jokes, so to explain and ruin them:
@Akara and @Aishia won the Celebration of the Stars 2v2v2v2, @Trager and @Draiman were the Bloodloch team.
@Borscin used to be an Infernal and loved the class, when the Carnifex revamp came out he didn't switch over, staying Infernal. One day in a fight @Daskalos bashed his falcon to death and, due to the class being a legacy one, Borsc was unable to get another one.
Daskalos also bashed @Draiman to death in about 5 seconds during a FFA with warhammer Templar, hence the above quote.
@Ilyon likes grunting and the city portals. They're his two favourite things.