Tournament Battle: Mortality versus Divinity

July 20, 2008, 11:27 PM

Combatants - Zephyrum Angelus Diamas and Haze (Julius Aurelius vs. Rene Skylar)

Arena – Earth: Wasteland Plains

Rolling hills as far as the eye could see, stones jutting out of the ground, and little more than grass for life. That was the wasteland plain. Gusts of wind blew across the grass, creating a rippling effect on the green wasteland.

To the north, there is a sparce beginning of a forest. The forest itself is visible, but it is several miles to the north, little more than eye-candy for the plains. Nevertheless, there are a few trees that are noticeable on the way north, growing more numerous as they extend towards the north. Only one sits in the near distance: a withering oak, more than six centuries old. Its branches are beginning to droop, and can hold less than a tenth of a ton, despite its great size and stature. It is indeed the father of the forest farther beyond.

To the east, little more than three miles away, there is a beach that stretches northward and southward as far as the eye can see. The sand stretches more than two miles before it becomes the Eastern Shore, littered with crabs and other such crustaceans. The occasional starfish appears on the rocks closer to the water, visible only during low tide. Rolling hills block the fighter's view of the beach, but nevertheless, it is there.

To the west, there are simply hills and the rare tree. The hills are low, high, and of mid-height, but are so numerous that it would take a man days to walk the distance from one end to another.

To the south, not ten miles away, there is a road. It is a small, simple dirt road, like the ones used in the early nineteenth-century, and it is not often that automobiles pass by here. Even so, the occasional motorbike or car drives by, more often than not with the latter being a family out for a Sunday drive. The former is seen more commonly than the cars, and sometimes a set of three bikers drive by, curiously enough with small tails.

And finally, the centre of the battlefield. It is angled, leading up and to the east where the hills block the view of the sand. To the north and south, there are small rocky outcrops, with the stones large enough for a child to hide behind.

In a blaze of fire, three creatures appeared in the epicentre of the land. The first was a young man, whom was easily observable as one with a horrific past. The second was also a man, pale, yet with a hint of divinity in his stature. The final figure floated high above the epicentral rock, wrapped in a fire-red robe emblazoned with the many shapes and forms of a flame.

“Mortals,” the floating man roared. “You have been selected from among the pathetic warriors in the world to fight a battle of pride. You fight for the chance to lead the worlds into peace and prosperity, the chance to start the worlds anew and give them the life that is being drained from them every second they exist. If you lose, you will be sent back to your world to die with it. If you die, you will be reborn on that world, condemned to suffer with it until it is saved. Win, and you battle another of your pathetic lot for this honour. Fight, and entertain me.”

“While you battle here, any abilities empowered by Wind will be amplified to twice their initial power. Make use of this wisely…”

“Remember: if you do not win, you will not be able to preserve what you hold dear. Let the battle begin!”

In a second flash of red light, accompanied by a sound rivalling a miniature supernova, the man disappeared. What would it take for him to be entertained?