The Shattering

It had taken a long time to calm down. All these damn kids... all of them doing their best to infuriate him. It was vile, awful and, mostly, fatal for them. But, Gorandis had had a lot of practice with repressing his emotions in the past and it was doing well here. He'd managed to hold off on killing anyone... recently at least. But there was only so long things could be dammed up.

Still, he had some ways to calm himself down.

From his sitting position beneath one of the many, many trees that bordered New Alteros, Gorandis sat, toying with something. The dread aura of depravity that surrounded him was almost palpable as he held a black crystal up to the light. The first human to fall to him... There had been more since. But there was always something special about your first...

And this one warmed his heart whenever he listened to the trapped, anguished wailings. Someone who had been such a bother, reduced to nothing more than ornamental decoration. He wished he could do so to all of his bothers... well, he could, really... Perhaps in due time. But, for now, he could revel in past successes.

And block out current annoyances.
(Gorandis)

Not long after the end of his guard-duty shift, Mord ventured out of New Alteros carrying a rucksack and several volumes of books on loan from the library... all, if not most, were concerning topics one would do best not to bring up over dinner; occultism, depravity, and even the scholarly work on the Durendal. The last, he suspected was unfinished due to its severe lack of content.

It was thus when he chanced upon Gorandis, radiating an aura of dread, of depravity... a presence that reminded him of that woman, that so called servant of an imperfect, that had forcibly claimed the crown of New Alteros; and failed in obtaining it.

"Hello? Sir?" Mord approached Gorandis, a man that seemed to be sitting beneath a well-aged tree, one that positively registed on his 'don't disturb me' scale. But he was a foolhardy one, and most inquisitive too! Teenage mages are the best!

"You wouldn't happen to be a resident of New Alteros, would you? Never saw you befo'e..."
(Mord Thal'mon)

Ah... and so the annoyances began again. His hand gripped around the base of the crystal, causing it to creak and nearly crack as he continued to stare straight at it despite the intrusion. A few seconds passed before a heavy sigh parted his lips and the crystal was deposited somewhere within his robes where it clinked as if it collided with its duplicate.

Slowly, Gorandis looked over, baleful eyes staring out from the depths of his hood. This, well, boy hadn't been too rude so far. Yes, he was harassing him but at least he was doing so distantly and with some reverence. "No. I am not a residence of New Alteros. I doubt the Queen would be very keen on my presence within the town."

The reasoning behind this was not elaborated on as he shifted in his seat. "Mind telling me why you think you can bother me out here? Talking to strangers is bad for kids like you you know? You could run into all sorts of people who could do all sorts of things... So for your own safety, I suggest you either start explain tactfully or you clear off."
(Gorandis)

Mord's eyes narrowed at being addressed as such. The man did not want to be bothered, and he knew him to be in the right... but a lad such as him did not enjoy being insulted in that fashion, being addressed like some mangy pup and debased on account of his relative youth.

The books fall harmlessly upon the grass, his left fist balling and quivering with rage.

"I am of the Bulwark, if you must know, stranger... an' it's my business to question all who venture too close to the village itself!" He moved a few steps closer, and abruptly stopped as the ful brunt of the depravity hit him. "You're... like that woman who claimed to be the servant of the imperfect. You feel like her... smell like her... who are you?"

Mord's grip tightened upon his wooden staff. A poor implement for magic, but one suitable for his needs as a mage apprentice. He had suspicions, and wanted to verify them. He needed to verify them, and this man could just be the lead he needed to accomplish that.
(Mord Thal'mon)

"Smell like her? My word what an odd thing to say..." He smiled though there was no mirth to it. There was no warmth or kindness behind that grin. "Servant of the imperfect, eh? There are only a few women who I can think of that match up to that and I'm going to assume you mean the Malpercian, yes? Well, let me just tell you this."

"If you're thinking of getting violent you are going to need more backup..."

His fingers lightly grasped the shaft of his staff resting against the tree beside him and he carefully lay it across his lap. "If you believe this to be too close then you are quite mistaken... You are far enough away where your cries can be mistaken for the simple screeching of the Yokai population. Far enough away to just be a blob to the sharpest vision."

"Far enough away that no one would notice if you went missing... So do not hope to try and begin to threaten me. You are alone. A fish that has strayed too far from the school..." The grin faded and he took a pause. "So then, you're in the bulwark eh? Do you know Celeana? She's an old friend of mine. One of the first people I truly met after becoming a magi."

"Perhaps out of respect to her I might not go too far..." Gorandis remained seated. His staff almost disarmingly across his lap and a tired expression on his face.
(Gorandis)

Mord felt fear, a first since he got tangled up with that bitch Queen of Loranthis and her pack of rabid dogs. His hand trembled, the staff unstead even in his grip. But he did not back down... and he did not tuck his metaphorical tail between the legs and run, as he should have.

"I-I know of her, this Celeana... but she would not know of someone like me I reckon..." His face contorted briefly, revealing a cruel sneer that seemed to originate from his self-loathing and morbid sense of humor at this chance encounter. I'll have answers soon, Myirin, you'll see!

"And yes, she's... Malpercian. Although I'm not quite sure what they are, an' the books could only explain the bare basics about 'em... Are you a Malpercian too? Is that why you seem like her? Or are you one of them, like Myirin... do yo serve the Lich?"

The trembling intensified, his fear compounded by excitement. He lifts both hands above his head, but not before dropping the staff before him. "I won't do anythin' rash... I just need answers! I swear it!"


(Mord Thal'mon)

"It's good that you know your place... Come, sit with me and we'll have a talk... it's about time someone managed to speak with me without managing to annoy me." He waved his hand out, his magic rolling out with the motion to engulf a small patch of grass i na thick sheet of crimson lightning. Charring away the grass and leaving a dry, dead patch of land.

"Sit."

He gestured again before leaning back against the tree. "I'm not a Malpercian. Neither am I an undead nor do I serve the Lich... I'm just a human being. Though perhaps I may have... done things to elevate myself above that status..." His hands tap lightly at the wood to his staff and he seems to pause as if in thought, his eyes look longways towards Mord.

"Tell me your name, boy. Perhaps I might tell you mine in return. Or perhaps I might tell you something more interesting. I wont kill you... for now at least. Not unless you manage to upset me. If you want to know why I feel like a Malpercian, or like an undead. Then you'll have to ask more directly. but, I do warn you. you might not like the answer."
(Gorandis)

You know that feeling when you're about to do something and your brain seems to leap out of your skull, and scream at you because that is such a terrible idea? Mord felt like that. There was a potent struggle, a push and a pull of sorts... and he knew that by accepting the man's offer, there might not be any going back for him.

He sighed in relief at the man's words, and then deliberately walked towards the charred grass and sat cross legged. His staff remained largely forgotten from where he stood before...

"My name is Mord Thal'mon of the Forsaken Bulwark, I am nothin', I am nobody. I am a mere servant of Azrael, an' no mo'e."

He bowed his head, and awaited the man's response. He was a picture of meekness, surrender, but inside his heart was racing with excitement. The result? You have the image of a perfect supplicant, compliant in all aspects, save for the look of madness within his deep-set eyes.
(Mord Thal'mon)

"You know I did say you'll need to ask me more directly... being all submissive like this. That's not what I asked for. Not at all... That's one strike, Mord. One strike against you. I don't deal with nobodies. So you'd better start making yourself something." His face was set in a dour manner, one that radiated displeasure. A thin lipped frown was all that could be seen beneath the shadows of his hood.

"If you don't want me to dispose of you like you're nothing, then you;d better start soon."

His hand came up abruptly. "But, let me show you something first. Something you might find... interesting. For it's the answer to your worries. Oh, you didn't ask directly, but this will be your punishment." His hand went into his robes, getting lost within their depths before pulling out a shimmering crimson crystal, one the same shade as his hellstorm magic.

The crystal was rather large, the base easily filling his hand and extending out for more than a foot. "Do you have any idea what this is? Here, come in and listen why don't you?" He offered the crystal out in his firm grip and, if Mord focused on it, he would be able to hear the distant echoes of tortured screams. "Do you hear that?"

"That's the sounds of the last man I killed. His spirit forever warped, tortured and trapped within my possession... Why don't you get a closer look. After all, you never know how you might end up." Gorandis grinned in a sickly way as his arm remained outstretched, but still firmly in possession of the crystal.
(Gorandis)

Mord stiffened at the man's rebuke. His posture became visibly more relaxed as he sat up and revealed a face that was etched with a cruel sneer. "My apologies, I didn't think it through... I shall err no mo'e." Bravado spurred him on to continue the exchange.

But before he got to ask his questions, or say his piece, the man had a little show-and-tell first. Upon hearing his words, Mord's sneer disapperead, his expression became a frown, and his hands grew cold. It was impossible! Surely being able to trap a man's soul in an object like that could not be accomplished by a mere human!

"I thank you, fo' showin' me your trinket, but I'll have to decline an' focus instead on my questions. First, your name. I haven't heard it yet, an' I should very much like to learn who am I speakin' too... Second, your allegiance. You claim to be human, but why do you give off the same presence as a Malpercian? I reckon that has somethin' to do with yer magic?"
(Mord Thal'mon)

"What, is what I'm trying to tell you not good enough for you?" His voice raised in volume and gained a sharpened edge to it. Once again, his fingers tightened around the base of the crystals to the point of almost cracking it. "When I am talking and when I am trying to show you something you will listen to what I am saying and you will pay attention!"

"Strike two."

His hand twitched, sending a thick arced ring of hellstorm to advance along the length of the crystal, causing the wailing to convert to screaming. "You will get nothing from me until you start to show me the proper respect. You most certainly wont get me name. But as for my allegiance. I work for myself. And myself alone."

"I do similar things to the Malpercians. They sacrifice human souls to their parasite, giving them strength... I take the spirits of those I kill and keep them on my person. Collecting them to give me strength. That is why we feel similar to one another... And if you ever reach your third strike then you'll find out first hand what it's like to join them."

"Do I make myself clear, Mord? Or are you going to 'err' yet again?"
(Gorandis)

Every rebuke, every criticism felt like a hammer's blow. Mord knew that his life hung by the edge of a very sharp knife, and that this man proved to be a very harsh master, difficult to please and easy to anger! "Again, my apologies."

What little else he had to say in his defense was soon drowned by the sound of wailing coming from that accursed crystal, prompting Mord to commit an involuntary act of swallowing his saliva.

He slowly raised his hand and pointed at the crystal. "You seem to be usin' lightnin', but it feels off. I'm guessin' you imbue it with Occultism. Now what I'd like to ask, if yer willin' to humor me, is how do you keep an ethereal thin', like spirits an' all... and trap 'em in that corporeal object. A crystal."

His eyes never left the man's form this time. Not even when that creepy goat head seemed to stare back at him... It was very unnerving, to say the least.


(Mord Thal'mon)

As Revan exited the city the magi near the entrance could feel Depravity comming from his body, not likely that Gorandis would mind, but Mord would be suprised at least to see that level of corruption comming from someone he knew far too well.

"Hahahahahahaha..."

Revan was passing by not noticing Mord or his master.
(Revan)

"The spirits are not trapped within the crystal. They are the crystal. Ethereal turned corporeal directly. I'm not stranger to turning spirits into physical beings... for example." He held his hand out and the air beside him began to cloy and dampen. Tick, wet strings began to hang in the air. Morphing colours throughout the spectrum before settling on a deep brown.

It all ran together into a vaguely wolf-like shape before it wetly slapped to the ground. The wet outer layer broke like a membrane and the creature inside tore itself through. It could possibly be mistaken for a dog at a distance... a very far distance that is. It's body was a deep red and covered in thick, bristling fur, more matted and spiky than normal.

It's head was a long maw, over a foot long. The upper half which was covered in eyes. Hundreds of lolling unfocused things that twist and turned independently about the place. "This, is a creature brought from the spirit realm. A lesser Nethradin. Or, a demon if you want to be crude about it. He is entirely physical as his jaws can attest."

"The same principal can be done to any spirit and any form... though crystals are the easiest to create and the easiest to manage... " His eyes shift over to the other laughing man but they didn't linger long. "A friend of yours perhaps? No matter... If you want I can show you how it's done first hand. But I warn you, it's not for the faint hearted."
(Gorandis)

Mord fought off the urge to tuck-tail and run. Hard to do when you're a spineless opportunist like Mord, but he knew better than to do so and incur his 'third strike'. So he continued to sit there, trembling and his hads growing sweaty by the passing seconds.

"Yes, I know him... but we are hardly friends... anymore." Mord swallowed the urge to tell Revan off, to yell at him to leave before he too can be in the same plight as Mord was. But if he did that, well, Gorandis might just hold true to his earlier threats.

Damn it, Revan... don't be an idiot and just leave! Idle thoughts, feeble hope.

"If I may, I could invite him over... if you're willin'." He briefly turns and examined the Nethrandim while waiting for the man's response. "An' that creature, the Nethandim.. does it maintain it's physical form even if you were say, to fall asleep? I've had difficulty maintainin' the shape of my magic if I were not focusin' on it..."
(Mord Thal'mon)

Revan was walking by the entarnce of New Alteros in the search of adventure to train and become stronger using his newfound Darkness, the power was intoxicating, but by the use of time the Madness could be put in check, but the Time Magi wondered: "For how long?".

Then Revan heard Mords voice, he was talking with someone, someone unfamiliar to the Time Magi, but of course he would walk on their general direction and then Mord could see that his friend's eyes were a bright yellow, representative of creatures that dwelled into dark magic far too powerful.

"Well... If it isnt Mord... Nice to see your old friend... Who's your other friend? Maybe a strong Occultist or something?"
(Revan)

"Do you have difficulty maintaining your form when you go to sleep? Because this creature is as real and as living as you are." His hand came to rest on the creature's back, gently petting it to the betterment of no one. Just idle action. "And it seems that you didn't need to invite him over. It looks like we're being interrupted either way..."

The thin lipped frown on his face thickened into a grimace as Revan spoke. He hed up his hand towards Mord, two fingers being extended and, slowly, a third one came up to join them. "Such a shame. Perhaps if you kept better company I might have been able to make something out of you... I know!" He snapped his fingers.

"If you want to rescind your third strike. All you have to do is remove this boy. Get rid of him quickly and with no mercy. Only then will I let you off about this transgression. If you fail to do so?" His other hand gripped onto the fur of the Nethradin right as it lunged, barely holding it back. "Then you'll get to see just how physical my little pet here is."
(Gorandis)

And just like that, Mord saw the situation take a turn for the worse. Aghast, and desperately afraid of becoming the demon-wolf's chew toy, Mord turned to face Revan a little too quickly. But the man's resolve was not there, far from it, he was afraid of what was about to transpire.

"I... wish to take up yer offer, an' do what I can to rescind my third shortcomin'. I wish to prove my worth." Mord sighed, desperation slowly seeping into his voice as he addressed his friend and peer. "Revan, you shouldn't 'ave come. Now he wants me to hurt you."

Slowly, he walks towards his staff and picked it up with a trembling hand. "Now I must get rid of you. I'm truly sorry..." With his other hand, he withrew three vials of blood from his coat, and emptied their contents upon the ground. As he did this, the staff he held began to fill with mana, and caused the drops of blood to rise and solidify into a multitude of droplets floating midair.

"Forgive me?"
(Mord Thal'mon)

As seeing that even Mord was against him Revan's smile strangely just grew, the sadness was replaced by happiness, strange for the most part, specially for Mord that knew Revan's feelings toward something he could call "Betrayal"

"I see... You seek to betray me as well... But no matter, i have been researching the weakness of your Blood Magic for almost a year now, the body of the yokai you have seen me drag out of the Library was used for me to discover your weakness... And here it is"

When Revan finished his speech he would point his staff at the blood Mord had and use his Acceleration power forcing the blood to rot.

"When the former Revan seen how much you loved to dwell in the old magic of blood he developed a way to keep himself away from such magic, but only to use in ways to keep you from hurting him, i'm using this way now... So stand down... Or face me hahahaha..."
(Revan)

Mord's eyes narrowed at this affront... To think that his friend, peer, and ally should prepare for this eventuality. He felt duped... tricked... and betrayed! His trembling ceased, the calm and collected demeanor coming into fore as his resolve hardened.

"Fool! I wanted to save you, keep ya protected... an' you repay me with this? You're a fool Revan. I wanted to merely remove you from his presence... to ease his displeasure, but now I have to make sure you cause me no further problems. Disappointin', very disappointin'."

Mord calmly reached for his back, appearing to be fumbling from beneath his cloak, only to reveal that he was actualy ripping off the bandage from that wound he incurred in Loranthis... the bleeding renewed, his life blood gurgling from a half-healed injury.

Newly formed droplets rejoin those that have been dispelled... blood from him, and water from the earth will be his medium. And Revan his canvass...

"Today I get to tell my friend, an' a time mage... that his time is up."
(Mord Thal'mon)

Revan would smile even more hearing the negative feelings Mord spilled out after finding out about his researches.

"Well... Isn't that cute... You believed that your obsesion for blood did not scare the old Revan, it did, but not for his safety, but for your own, for one day if you even imagined to use Blood Magic beyond it's limits, to the limit of killing you he would be there to jam your magic and save you, but since you made sure to kill the old Revan for me i can use his research to defend myself against your Blood Magic..."

At the sight of the wound Mord had Revan seemed a little displeased, like that could counter his measures.

"You really dont know when to give up dont you? Always like this... A bottomless foolishness, a Bottomless sea... To accept all there is and can be"

(Revan)

Words, more words... Like fuel added to the fires, Mord took all that Revan had to say and bottled it up, like a raging bonfire that grew with the passing seconds. "Well, you know what they say about us farmhand Revan, we could be quite stubborn, like a Mule."

He lashed out, bullets of blood raced towards his dear Friend... probably the only real one that he's made during his stay in New Alteros. While doing so, water began to swirl around his staff, like a maelstrom on earth, there was a torrent forthcoming, and Mord was cooking it behind that initial attack.

Myirin, can you see me now? Can you see what I've become? Does this please you?! I gotta... I gotta... I just gotta. I don't wanna die yet...

There was a hint of madness upon that face of his, and the sound of his psyche breaking was heard by no one.
(Mord Thal'mon)

It was a battle worth a song or two... one where no protagist could be clearly identified, and one where the greatest tragedy was borne out of a duel between friends.

As Mord lashed out, bullets of blood riddled his target, but dealt very little injury... Revan had his time-magic to thank for that. And though he could see his attacks connect, they seemed to grind into an abrupt halt, or a slow before they struck, dampening the overall impact and lessening injury.

This, however, only served to enrage the Blood and Water magi even further... more and more projectiles of blood and water manifested around him, and they seemed to be growing in strength and potency as the fight ground on.

Before long the outcome has been set... Mord's magic seemed to siphon Revan's strength, stealing his life force in the process. The Time Mage, while starting out as a blur of speed, would slow down and become increasingly vulnerable in the process.

When all the dust had settled down, Mord could be seen holding Revan down upon the ground, pinned by the vampiric weight of his blood cloak and constricted from moving by the many tendrils of water at his command.

"Stranger, shall I end him? What is your pleasure?"
(Mord Thal'mon)

The battle was not going his way, he was losing it, not even darkness could boost his time magic to defeat a simple enemy like Mord, why was that? why he could not defeat a single farmer boy? why Revan had to lose to a stupid boy that dwelled in Blood Magic so early? why he could not be powerful like Malchior? that wasnt fair, that just wasnt fair.
(Revan)

Gorandis lay back, gently petting his creature. The fight was... disinteresting all the same. And that didn't help his mood. It was a one sided victory and they were never too entertaining to watch... Though he would admit to finding a certain amount of pleasure in being the victor in those scenarios himself. But this... this bored him.

"Do what you will. But know that I will judge you for what you do. And depending on your choice that third strike can come rushing back... And along with it will come my wrath. Are you prepared for that? To get it wrong and to suffer for it? Because I am very close to being very angry indeed. And once I am very angry, you'll find that there wont be any way of calming me down."

His scarlet covered hand descended onto the summoned Nethradin, gripping around the back of it's neck. The red arcs flew out, stifling the creature's whimper as it was instantly killed by his magic. Gorandis' hand seemed to shake as it gripped perhaps too hard into the now scorched and dead flesh. "Do not disappoint me, Mord!"
(Gorandis)

A difficult master... a difficult task. And the fate of his friend within his own power. This took a toll, a heavy one, even to a poor excuse for a human such as Mord Thal'mon. He turned away from Gorandis so he wouldn't see the tears streaming down his face, and knelt before Revan.

"I'm...I'm sorry... I don't wanna die! Revan, please... Forgive me!" He was shaking and whispering, a raspy voice that conveyed conflicting feelings: Anger at his friend's seeming betrayal, fear at this stranger's strength, and desparation at the thought of failing Myirin.

He cupped his fiend's face, and though the tears continued to fall, Mord's magic gave no sign of waning. He was humming now... a lullaby for children, a song to help them sleep and to keep the Yokai from coming out of their closets and eating them.

"Sleep... sleep my friend... My sweet, sweet friend..." Revan was slowly becoming pale, his life was leaving him, just as blood began oozing out of his pores... his eyes... his mouth... and every crevice in his body...

The grass began to grow crimson red while Mord Thal'mon sang. He sang until every drop of blood from Revan's body, his marrows, every drop had been extracted. The blood would then begin to swirl, and spin around the crying farmhand, and began to gather in his hands.

As he stood up, he turned to face Gorandis, and in his hand was nestled the grapefruit sized crystal of such vibrant crimson... In it was Revan's lifeforce... maybe even his soul...

"I offer this to you... may your anger diminish, and may you deem me worthy."
(Mord Thal'mon)

"Ah, Mord! Good to see you again!"
The elderly man still supported himself with his cane, it seemed the man had listened to earlier advice, and got himself out of the simpletons rags.

"Listen, I went over some of the basics of .."

He had to physically do a double take, the situation looked dire, and not good, he muttered his defencive Words, unfortunately in this world they seemed of little to no effect, if anything they calmed his head.

He slowly looked over at the others, smiling brightly.

"Why hello there young ones, you seem chipper!"
('Arpee')

Revan did not feel despair or something along those lines when he felt the blood pouring out of his body, before he knew it the body he once called his was bathed in his own blood, even his eyes dryed after such a spell, had he not prepared something before the death blow he would be dead, and would never be able to change the world.

As the Time Magi's body fell to the ground Mord would see the lifeless body just break, like glass, he didnt know what it was, only Malchior experienced such magic before his eyes, Revan had grasped his body from the past before the fight started and placed it on the present time, not just healing his injuries as the body before the fight was not hurt at all.

After that happened they would not be able to trace the real Revan, as the man would run from the place brining Arpee along with him taking the old man away from the danger that Mord's master represented.

"We will meet again Mord"

Mord would hear the voice of Revan telling him that, but also he could notice it was not the corrupt Time Magi, but the one that helped him reach the Grand Library, the one that wished to protect him, the one that in some way cared deeply for his friend, maybe by the way he altered his time, he also was able to force the Corruption back into his heart, but for how long? That was a mistery to Mord.
(Revan)

Gorandis frowned. "Mord." The word came out eerily calm, punctuated by a crack of crimson lightning as the tree behind him was lanced with his power, shattering the trunk in an instant... an apparently casual instance. His shaking hands gripped at his staff as he got to his feet. The tree falling back behind him, crashing down to the ground.

"You have managed to exceptionally fail me... Not only did you manage to completely fail to defeat him, but you were mocked while doing so, your opponent still considering you his friend." Again, Gorandis' tone was eerily soft as he slowly advanced towards Mord, the air around I'm shattering with thunder under his advancing magic.

"You have failed me and you have insulted me... You offered me his body and his spirit and then you let it slip from your grasp..." The tip of his staff came out and prodded Mord in the stomach, the crimson lightning just barely avoiding contact with him, just barely avoiding damage. "Tell me, how are you going to repay me for this? How are you going to fix this situation?"

"Because I can only see one way in which you can fix this." A single bolt of the crimson struck lightly at his torso, causing immense pain but no real damage. "And it involves a good amount of torture..."
(Gorandis)

He was a fool, and not just any fool, but possibly the greatest one that ever walked these parts. He was too careless, too absorbed in his preparation of the offering that he failed to check Revan's body for contingencies. And time mages were quite notorious for those!

The crystal he held shattered, ceasing to exist, and he was left there gaping. His face had shock and anger writ all over... but that did not last long. As the lightning struck him, Mord fell on the ground and doubled over from the immense pain... For a split second, he could swear he felt his heart skip a beat!

"I'm sorry! Forgive me!..." He began to crawl away, like the spineless worm that he was. "I swear... I swear fealty... I'll do everything you want! Just... Just spare me! Please! I cannot die... I have to kill that Ookami bitch... please!" He was crying again, and continued to speak between spasms. Such a pathetic specimen.

"The Queen... the bitch Queen... revenge... please..."
(Mord Thal'mon)

"Don't grovel before me you pathetic creature." Gorandis' boot came into Mord's side, booting him onto his back. "I don't want you to cower like a worm before me. Show some backbone for once!" Another series of shocks came out, wrapping themselves around Mord's body and causing his entire body to cramp and spasm under the onslaught.

"You wish to get revenge on Nahele do you? You can't even stand up to me. You can't even have your words match mine, what makes you think you could possibly assault someone as heavily fortified as she is." His boot came down on Mord's sternum and slid up to his throat, threatening to crush his windpipe under Gorandis' weight.

"Let me tell you something about Queens. Your own Queen, Valeria. She has tasted my wrath before. When Loranthis fell, I was there, performing my own ritual. She interrupted me... and she fell to my power. I broke her, I... crushed her. And I sent her away. But it's no surprise she hasn't spoken about it since... But you... how would you ever hope to stand up to anything?"

His foot removed he instead grasped at the boy's throat with his hands, lifting him to his feet. "Answer me! What makes you think you even have a chance!?"
(Gorandis)

Mord stopped groveling... but only because he was in too much pain already. Pain and anguish. The stranger before him was far too strong, and by extension those currents that struck the farmhand-turned-magi repeatedly became too much for his body to bear. So he just kept still, his face a contorted knot that showed resolve, anger, and a touch of madness.

"I...I'll become stronger... An' as she ages, she'll become weaker." He was beginning to recover some of that composure of his, and gradually sat back up he leaned upon his good arm for support. "I may not be much right now... but I know how to hurt people, hurt 'em where it matters. I will learn, and grow. NOTHING will deny me my revenge!"

He was still shaky, and could not get back up to his feet. Heck, those zapping made them tingle and hurt, he could barely even feel his limbs. "Myirin said I'll be strong someday, do what other mortals could not...I'll get there, I swear it. If you'd only give me a chance..."


(Mord Thal'mon)

"You think you know anything about vengeance? About going against people in power?" His grip around Mord's throat tightened, the veins on the back of his hand bulging with the apparent effort. "YOU THINK YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE BETRAYED AND PUT DOWN AND SPAT ON!?" His fingers curled, digging into the man's flesh and drawing blood.

"I CAN DENY YOU YOUR REVENGE RIGHT HERE! I CAN TURN YOU INTO NOTHING MORE THAN AN OBJECT! YOU THINK YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN ME!? YOU THINK THAT YOUR REVENGE COULD POSSIBLY BE BETTER THAN MY OWN AGAINST THAT MANGY WHORE!?" He threw Mord away, threw him to the grass before him.

"WELL COME ON THEN! PROVE IT! SHOW ME YOU COULD EVER POSSIBLY OUTDO ME!" The land around him churned and burned underneath the pressure of his hellstorm magic. "I WILL KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND! I WILL GRIND YOUR BODY TO THE GROUND AND I WONT EVEN LET YOU ESCAPE TORMENT EVEN IN DEATH!"

"If you're not strong now then there's no point to it all." He finished his tirade eerily softly. But His limbs shook with the rage and his magic shook the very world itself along with it.
(Gorandis)

He was tossed and turned like a rag-doll, and Mord was quite unsure how he managed to continue talking despite the repeated blows aimed at his throat and torso. Maybe his voice was beginning to break. He prayed to Azrael that it would not... at least not until he managed to absolve himself from the man that could very well be Death-Incarnate before him.

"W-wait! Just... I don't want to... I can't fight you. Please! Take me into your service... I could maybe... I could help! We could take care of her. Maybe we can make her an' her allies fight each other. She is just one person! I've seen it, the discontent in her midst! We can use that against her!"

Mord grew paler as he saw the grass burnt and disintegrated from the constant bursts of hellstrom. "You 'ave nothin' to lose if you spare me, so just please... Mark me if you want! I will serve you! Just don't let me die!" He held up his hands as if in desparation, and then clasped them together, truly repentent.
(Mord Thal'mon)

"I do not deal with snivelling underhanded cowards. You have nothing to offer me, nothing... Your spirit is worth more to me than you are. I'll simply take your strength instead of taking you..." His hands, no, his whole body still shook as he spoke. The indignant rage just pouring through him, unfettered, unfaltering. Ready to lash out all at once.

"If you don't want to die then you can fight for your life!" The air ruptured beside him and once more another creature, another Nethradin was birthed into existence. This one, once more looked like a mutant dog but it's marking set it apart from the one that still lay as a charred corpse some feet away. A charred corpse that the new creature noticed with some hesitation.

"If I spare you I lose out on your spirit, I don't care to mark you, I don't care to have you work under me as you are. If you truly wish to live then you have to show me that you have some worth while you're alive. You have to prove it with more than just desperate words." His staff came around and a wreath of lightning coalesced at the tip of it.

"SHOW ME YOU ARE WORTH SPARING!"
(Gorandis)

He tried getting up, not without great effort. The man before just refused to listen to his pleading... and seemed to have a jolly good time of manhandling him, and now he wants him to fight? You've done it now Mord... you've really outdone yourself on this one.

That look of anguish upon his face slowly contorted, the look of despair became a cruel sneer. For someone so young, he truly was mad! "F-Fine! You want me to suffer, don'tya? So be it! I was hopin' to worm out some of your knowledge, but I guess experiencin' it first hand even as your test subject is just as good!"

He cackled as the blood from his earlier injury began to gravitate once more. The fertile field around them gave him aple supply of water for ammunition, and his wounds and scratches? Of blood. The man before him was a master of the Occult and the deprave, and Mord could feel it too... the seductive magic presented by either.

"I'm learnin'... Somehow... AND I DON'T WANNA DIE!"
(Mord Thal'mon)

Why was it always children these days? Perhaps Gorandis was just getting old, but it always seemed to be children he was punishing. Some far harsher than other mind you but still... The thought of them being children did nothing to sway him, regardless. Once he got riled up, once that switch was flipped, it was sort of like releasing a dam, there was no real way to stop it.

Perhaps it was due to him trying to hold back his occultism when he was younger, perhaps it was due to the demons he consorted with or perhaps it was due to him just not being a very nice man but Gorandis never seemed to hold much mercy. And even now that didn't seem to be the case. But while he rarely showed mercy. He always was one that enjoyed listening to himself speak.

The fight had been over, well, quickly. Gorandis had toyed with him, watched him flail with his magics pitifully before striking out, getting him to run, to flee from him. It was a delightful sight. But it could only last for so long and Gorandis was feeling particularly impatient this time. A roll of the red storm arced out and plastered the fleeing boy to the ground.

"Your actions have failed you. your words have failed you. There's not much left available to you now. Nothing to avoid your fate... You can try of course. THat's always entertaining... to a degree. But if you do anything to insult me further you won't even be given another heartbeat to live, do you hear me?" He walked over, standing a single foot away from him, towering over.

"One final chance, you could say."
(Gorandis)

Mord simply cackled at this, and then choked on some of his own blood, which resulted in him having a fit of coughing. He may have even lost a tooth in the process... still, the irony of a blood magi choking on his own blood was not lost to him. Amused, and plastered on the ground, his heavy breathing was only punctuated by fits of coughing.

"Y-yes, I won't insult you, ever." He tried to get up, and failed. So he continued to lie on the ground and rested a little bit whilst raggedly breathing. "B-but... thank you, for the chance. T-thank you for showin' me what Occultism can be, and how strong you become from it."

He reached out, and try as he might, he could not even reach the man's foot as he towered above him. "Yer... yer name... I didn't even know... you never said..." He was fading, on the brink of losing his consciousness. But some immeasurable force seemed to hold him there. "...your name."

(Mord Thal'mon)

A literal tear in the life stream- The magic of Gorandis had not gone unnoticed, for a character of his strength to display his prowess so close to a city? It had disturbed the Redeemer who now sought out the source of the disturbance- Who would have thought it was her old acquaintance, Gorandis? Of course, such a thing was well hidden behind his hood and... Well his rather changed appearance as a whole! Not only was he no longer an useless Occultist on the brink of madness, he had also attained quite the powerful magic.

The tear oozed depravity, a rift in reality itself being torn open for a lonely woman to step out from- Celeana. The sapphire blue gaze was laid upon the duo, though quick to dismiss Mord despite his apparent armour. He was part of the Bulwark, but given the situation at hand, whoever was before him certainly wouldn't just let go of him, no? Otherwise, why would he beat him down in the first place?

"How intriguing- Care to explain?" She finally spoke after allowing her eyes to rest upon them both for but a moment, her voice unusually soft yet filled with a sense of superiority. "Have I seen you before?" Eyes eventually settled on Gorandis.
(Celeana Feuer)

"You say you wont insult me and yet you continue to laugh madly at me. Cackling like an imbecile at something you can't even fathom..." His hand, sheathed in the crimson cascade reach out to the man, intent on grabbing his face. To scar, to maim, to put him properly in his place... But he was interrupted, by magic very few people were known to possess.

"Celeana..." The red arc jolted to the floor harmlessly as he turned to face her, the fallen body of Mord mostly being forgotten. "Don't take that tone with me, girl." He was still highly strung, still wound up from the apparent transgressions that had gone against him. He didn't have the patience to properly show Celeana any true tact here.

"I'll answer the pair of you at the same time then... I am Gorandis... And yes, we have met before, Celeana... And you'd take care to not try to hold yourself over me as you once did... I'm not the same snivelling magi you first met." The hellstorm that surround him arced off, smiting down his summoned creature, the literal demon under his command.

The hellstorm turned it to nothing more than ash.
(Gorandis)

There was no pleasing the man, Mord realized this. He could find fault in everything you did, no matter what you did, when you held no apparent importance to him. A most dangerous man. But then again, he's known that for quite a while now... several kicks and arcs of lightning ago, in fact.

"Gorandis..." He had what he came for, and for that decided it would be better to rest elsewhere. So he forced himself up, or thought he did, but still had considerable trouble getting up. Closer scrutiny would reveal that Mord was not being idle. What little energy he had left, was being spent on closing off the wounds and dampening his many injuries.

He was on his feet before long, and was limping considerably. If unhindered, he would limp towards Celeana's direction and attempt to bow- which he would do, quite poorly. "G-good day... Miss Celeana..." Was she here to confer with the monster? Perhaps.
(Mord Thal'mon)

Would Mord even be allowed to do as much as to stand up and begin to take his leave? Who knew- Gorandis seemed to have grown into the type of man who would deny such a thing. Violently. But alas, that was not truly for Celeana to care about. Here he was, a man once useless having grown into someone far more powerful!

Was he beyond her? No... No one was- Not even the Lich King was above the Oscuri anymore. She held the rank of Redeemer, in this day and age that was akin to the rank of Vindicator. Something she too would soon enough seek out, however that would be on hold until the Imperfect had fallen. There were other plans she had to see through first too- The Oracle of Azrael... Such an appealing title was certainly something she couldn't help but to wish to aim for.

"Gorandis? Gorandis!" A little laugh escaped her lips and she marched forward- Had Mord been allowed to do as he pleased, then she would simply pass him with little to no response outside a small bow of her head in return, an acknowledgement of his presence was all he deserved. For now. Perhaps in the future he would become more useful? Until then... Respect had to be earned.

"It has been many, many years." Sounded her voice, the woman soon enough taking a stand but a few meters away from the hooded Warlock- "Ahh... Hold myself above you? I do apologize, I tend to get that a lot. It is but a bad habit to speak that way, please pay it no mind." Eyes gazed over to the demon who had been turned into nothing but ash- What an odd being, "I see you have attained magic even more interesting than my own..."

Attention returned to the man, "I see your ritual was successful? You never called upon me, so I could only assume the worst- But it seems you have managed the best?"
(Celeana Feuer)

Mord was ignored for now. He could shamble off, licking his wounds for all Gorandis cared. Something more... pressing had come up. A new target apparently. For when Celeana's laugh reached his ears, he twitched. Not some small, facial thing, no. No this was something far more noticeable. His whole body had jerked along with a sharp intake of breath.

"Yes, it has been some years... I see the years have been languid to you... You barely seem to have grown at all. And yet you seem to think you can laugh at me, that you can talk down to me. To think that I could not possibly succeed without your help." His fists curled up tight, nails digging into flesh almost to the point of drawing blood.

He remained quiet for a moment, simply breathing. Breathing on the verge of growling as his body shook. His eyes were closed and his face was screwed up in concentration as he tried to calm himself down... It never really worked. He had always been unable to fight against his urges, even from the very beginning. And now these urges were telling him to lash out.

With a strained voice he spoke again. To Celeana it would likely remind her of when they had first met, the state he was in then. Though now it certainly seemed like he had far more power brewing behind it all. "Perhaps, you should apologise a bit more sincerely to me..."
(Gorandis)

The head of the Oscuri tilted, her sapphire blue gaze laid upon him with indifference- He was once so useless and now with but a small gain in power, he started to act superior. He was the one who had sought out her help and now he loathed it? Well pardon her, but wasn't that entirely his fault then? But alas, she could see the madness brewing behind him. He was no longer himself, the scared little man who wished to harm not even a fly. He had changed far beyond becoming a little more mature.

"Talk down to you?" A hand rose and it was placed upon the hilt of Tyrfing- His temper was bad? Hers wasn't the best either. He wanted a sincere apology? He would have to grovel for it.

"I said... I apologize if you thought I were speaking down to you; it cannot become more sincere than that." Her head tilted once more, the gaze remaining stead fast on his being. "Laughing is a sign of happiness, my friend, it is a natural response when you see someone you like."
(Celeana Feuer)

If Celeana had come earlier, then maybe her words could have made a difference. But this anger, this storm, had been brewing ever since he had started speaking with Mord. Bit by bit, it had grown, incremented in size. His anger had built up from something so very minor and yet now it was about to crash out, crash down onto the pair of them.

He could feel a piece of himself wanting to accept Celeana's words. To pardon himself, to abate the tide. But there was so much more of him that wanted to press this, that wanted to right this injustice. It showed on him, the warring parts of his mind. Mercy and kindness flared up for just a moment and he looked at her with clear and rather sad eyes.

But that part of him was soon dragged back down into the depths of anger again. "Why must you be like the others? All those that talk down to me, that admonish me, that see me as nothing. I've met countless like you and I have punished those that I can.. but there are always ones that I can't touch, no matter how much I want to..."

Blood began to trickle through the spaces between his fingers. "And that only infuriates me ever FURTHER... I want to bring these people down, to crush them and let them know their true place... but they just... You too! You're just like them... but you don't have anything to stop me from teaching you a lesson..." He clutched at his staff with bloody hands and pointed the tip towards her.
(Gorandis)

He was so... Similar to herself- The past hatred she held towards all those who looked down upon her. A children's tournament, yet everyone cheered for her opponent? Not a single being was even remotely neutral- Hauk's noble had been the favourite and she? A mere orphan? A thief? She had been completely dismissed- Crushed. And when she required help? Nobody cared!

However she had risen above them all- Cedric who was a blessed prodigy? Now but a mere peasant. The Fildegarde whose name she could not even recall at this point? Killed for treason by her own father. Celeana however? She had become a Redeemer- The life stream itself bend to her will, there was no place she could not go.

Yet despite this... Children and the like had the audacity to sometimes think themselves as equals? Those without power dared to stand equal to her? When she had done so much to attain what she has? She had to risk her life throughout the entire journey, yet those who sat in comfort at home thinks themselves as her equal?

Gorandis was like herself... He had been looked down upon by everyone. Even when he beat Lasswell, Nahele looked down upon him. Even when he has proven himself through time and time again, his efforts were not recognised by others. A slight difference was however present... He was a tad more insane than herself!

"I see... I was a fool- Through time I had turned into those I loath myself." A hand inched up to her chest, namely the hand not placed on the hilt of her weapon, "I am always looked down upon as well- Even whilst being able to tear apart the life stream, people think themselves as superior. Even whilst having ascended to the rank of Redeemer, people think of themselves as superior..."

The fist clenched, "But I have grown into the same type of person towards others- Like you, I have worked hard and now I have the power to look down upon others; so I do."

"It was wrong of me, so I do apologise." The hilt of her weapon only tightened- Gorandis had fallen into madness, her words mattered little... Probably! A fight was nigh inevitable. "But I must ask, if you hate it that much, why do you do it yourself?"
(Celeana Feuer)

Those words. They were designed to soothe him and they would have, they really would have... had he not already gone over the brink. That's all that was left to him now, was this seething hatred. He understood her, he truly did, he even agreed with her. But, he just couldn't move past his anger. He just couldn't see through the red mist.

"I'm... Sorry..." The strained words barely made it passed his lips as he closed his eyes, his whole upper body heaving and shaking as he leant on his staff. Trying just anything to relieve himself of this anguish, the raw scrapings of rage. Red lightning cascaded around him, the air burned and split by its power. The very ground around them blackening into death.

But no matter how much he thrashed like a child in a tantrum, nothing shifted, nothing quelled and it only seemed to climb further. It only seemed to swell and twist and grow and mutate like one of his vile demonic summons. His strained voice returned, it had a snarling, rabid edge to it. "Go! Just!.. GO! Before I do something i truly regret..."
(Gorandis)

He truly had succumbed to madness... Even in this moment of 'salvation' where he had returned to his senses, it was but brief. He told her to go before he could no longer hold himself back- For a moment, even if but a moment, it would almost feel like she had feelings for him, for she hesitated. But... Hesitation was not truly a luxury she could afford in this day and age. Gorandis had grown powerful, whilst not truly at her level, in her own opinion, he could still put up quite the fight.

There was no need to test her luck, especially whilst wearing but a Kimono- No armour meant she was vulnerable to move than simply his corrupt lightning. Eyes remained on him, however she did begin to take her leave. With but a simple turn on her heel, she would begin to march back towards the town of New Alteros- Rifting was a possibility, but it would take her nearly fifteen seconds, something she felt Gorandis had perhaps lost his patience for.

With that, she would vanish into the shadows of the forest in silence, never truly receiving an answer to her question outside of what she could guess- He had lost control over himself.
(Celeana Feuer)

From the gaps in his bloody fingers did he watch her leave. It took everything, truly everything of himself to not lunge out. And Celeana would find that the hellish lightning would nip at her heels as she left but no more than that. And, as soon as she left, Gorandis fell to his knees in the grass, his staff clattering away as his hands clutched at his face.

And, finally, he let out his emotions as much as he could. The retreating Celeana would hear his yell, his primal scream of pure fury as the crimson magic exploded out from him. Scarring the landscape in his own self-destructive release of anguish. He poured and poured himself into this, into this wanton destruction all that was around him.

But no matter how much was poured out, just as much, if not more, surged froth to replace it. He tried to let go, tried to shake that thick, cloying rage that had it's grip over his mind and chest. But it just kept tightening, just kept tormenting him in a vicious self feeding cycle. His screams turned to wailing and into sobs as he pounded at the grass with his bare, bloody hands.
(Gorandis)