The 1st Light of Dawn Tournament | Labyrinth of Champions | Phase 1 | Entrant #4 - Alyssandra Ezofuji-no-Tsukuyomi

Lor’em-thaçar cries out in pain for the first time since you've met him. He kneels down after the electric shock dies down, heaving, breathing like a ragged dog. He looks up at you, smirking. He's proud of your skills. He's got more honour than the entire Kingdom no doubt. You almost feel bad for hurting him and having to kill him like this. But of course, you know business is business and if you don't kill him he'll kill you.

Such is the way the world turns, you suppose. And Lor’em-thaçar knows this. He rushes at you again, top speed, unimpeded by his heavy armour and axe, running like a whirlwind, he reaches you and slams the axe down over you, aiming to cleave you in half. He's fast for an old dead thing in cumbersome armour.

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :

4

Attack Strength

Random number (1,7500) :

2930

Alyssandra saw the axe come down near her head.  She did not dodge or roll out of the way.  Merely she struck at an opportune time.  She waited until the last minute to cover her hand in electricity, and pierced the warrior, Lor’em-thaçar, through his chest with her electrified hand.  Luckily he was already dead; well lucky for him.  If he had been living it would've been the end of the fight and Alyssandra could move on.  Even if she would feel bad about it.

The counter had worked and Lor’em-thaçar froze in pain, staggered a bit, and gave Alyssandra the chance to get behind him.  She drew a dagger, and slipped it in between his ribs, in a place where his armour was light.  Right between two plats of metal.  Hopefully he wouldn't turn or move, or twist and throw the knife off course.  Alyssandra wanted to win; more importantly she wanted his axe.

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :

7

Attack Strength

Random number (1,10000) :

7731

Between your counter and your attack Lor’em-thaçar is finally close to seeing his final moments of undeath. Your hand pierced his chest, which brought him to a near halt forever. The electricity only worsened the damage. As he recovered you were already a step ahead of him and a knife found its way into his flesh, sinking into his spinal joint. Lor’em-thaçar knew the end was near, but he was not to give in until the end.

He was here not because he was cursed of his own volition, but for his dedication to the Crown. When Lor’em-thaçar knew what I'm-kala and Zul'Drak were doing. How they had made a deal with demons, and how they had been corrupted by Verimethras and Zim'gar-gul. When Lor’em-thaçar had come to know it all, he rebelled. He backed the Crown Prince. Not because he wanted power, but for the safety of the people.

The King and Queen had sworn to protect the people they had started slaughtering for blood magic. Lor’em-thaçar would not have it. Once their oath was broken, they ceased to be his rulers, at least in the old knight's eyes. This meant that Lor’em-thaçar was freed of his oath to protect them, and sought to move against them. To protect everyone in the Kingdom. Lor’em-thaçar did not know, however, that the Crown Prince he supported was to stab him in the back.

Lor’em-thaçar staged the uprising. It was too easy, he should've known. He had captured the Keep, and had the King and Queen ready to abdicate when...he remembered it now. The Crown Prince put a knife in his jugular. Lor’em-thaçar was dead before he hit the ground. He was brought back by the Dark Enchanter, Zim'gar-gul later on, to continue to serve the house in death.

The Death Knight. That is what they called him. At the time, it chilled Lor’em-thaçar to the core. Then the apathy sank in, and he ceased to care what he was called. He rebelled again, in his own way. He did his job, but he waited for the day to pass on his axe to a worthy foe, and let them carry on his quest to purge the Kingdom of Drak'Tharon of the dark magics that plagued it.

This girl was the one. But if she wanted his axe; if she wanted his boon--to inherit his legacy, she would need yet to defeat him. With a roar, Lor’em-thaçar charged at Alyssandra and swung his massive blade. He was not dead yet.

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :

4

Attack Strength

Random number (1,7500) :

5820

Alyssandra just barely dodged the axe as Lor’em-thaçar attacked her again.  He was close to the end, and Alyssandra could sense it.  But he was not giving up yet; and Alyssandra would not expect him to.  She would do the same.  Most of her family would; it was the Ezofuji way.  Ayssandra wanted that axe still, and she sensed that Lor’em-thaçar would be willing to grant it to her, provided she could prove herself worthy.  Was this what they meant by my sword will wield for me?

Not really a sword was it?  Unless...this wasn't it?  Oh well.  Alyssandra wanted the axe regardless and she was about to get it.  As she sidestepped the axe swing, she raised a flaming leg, and aimed a nice, strong kick right to the chest of Lor’em-thaçar.  Hopefully that'd be enough to bring the old knight down.  Hopefully.

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :

10

Attack Strength

Random number (1,10000) :

5884

Lor’em-thaçar falls, hitting one knee. He looks up at you and...smiles. He looks at you and holds out his axe. As you grab it from his hands, you feel the power from the axe transfer from him to you. The axe accepts you as its new master. "You are...one of the humans from the continent aren't you?" asks Lor’em-thaçar. He continues as you answer. "The world is yours now then...we...we of Drak'Tharon have no place here. We are aberrations. Demons. We are twisted deviants. We do not belong. We do not deserve."

His voice sounds like ice and snow and death. It sounds like he's speaking to you through a tube in an ice storm. It's raspy, yet rough and low. He smiles at you again. "I have waited too long for another to come and take up my axe. I cannot fight against my King anymore...not now that I am cursed and dead..." Lor’em-thaçar looks at you with sadness in his eyes and sighs. "Take up my mantle. Defeat the King of Drak'Tharon, and his sorcerer, and any other demons he may have protecting him in that tower."

"Give this kingdom peace. Give it rest. I leave it to you now Champion..." And with that, Lor’em-thaçar falls over and dies. His body turns to ash, and blows away into the wind. His final words ring in your head as you hold his axe in your hands. It's a big two handed axe. You smile as you hold it, and promise to do as Lor’em-thaçar asked of you. You place the axe on your shoulder and watch as the doors north and west open. And also a portal. A small circle of blue light right where the body of Lor’em-thaçar fell.

Which do you choose Champion? Choose wisely.

As Lor’em-thaçar fell, he spoke to Alyssandra, and beseeched to her what his dying request was. Alyssandra, naturally, and with the promise of getting more loot, acquiesced. But also because she believed the knight had the best for the Kingdom in mind. A thought that had died long before he had. Lor’em-thaçar was a rarity, and Alyssandra would not let his valour go to waste. She had seen much in her seemingly short lifetime. She'd seen kingdoms burn and fall. She'd seen brave heroes die in vain. She would not allowed the same to happen to Lor’em-thaçar.

Alyssandra took Lor’em-thaçar's axe, and held it a lot proudly. It was a large thing, forged from death and ice and steel. Or so it felt. Heavy and two-handed, Alyssandra smiled at Lor’em-thaçar as she reassured him that she would never let this axe go. He gave it a name. Ash'kalon. The Ashbringer. Funny how similar some words in Drakkari were similar to Modern Common. Alyssandra held Ashbringer tight in her hands, and walked towards the blue light that replaced the corpse of Lor’em-thaçar.

As she entered, she felt the world around her spin. She had taken a chance, and hoped to god that she had chosen right and that this wasn't a portal to some otherworldly death maze. Hopefully she would survive to reach Drak'Tharon.