The 1st Light of Dawn Tournament | Labyrinth of Champions | Phase 1 | Entrant #7 - Zhekt Garasu

Elite Novice Posts : 42 Age : 35 Join date : 2016-05-22

Zhekt Garasu

HP: 84,919/100,000

It had been effective, but he’d left himself exposed again. Their clawed fingers click against their steel as every blade tries to bite him. The cone of sand shielded his upper body and the heavy spiral of sand eroded pieces of rotted flesh from their bodies, but it still wasn’t enough. Unphased as he passes between them, the demons reel toward him with horrid shouts that echo through the courtyard.

More sand bursts from the swath encasing his legs as the swords tear another layer from his body. More blood dots the bronzed skin under the cloth. More hunger fuels the demonic failures around him.

Zhekt braces his fall and rolls forward. Turning as he lands on the balls of his feet, he faces the monstrosities with his back to the courtyards centre. A few steps closer to the other side, but far from safe. With his wrists pressed together, still holding the same control over the grains with his fingers, he rolls each wrist and straightens his arms.

Zhekt’s pose is solid, patient, and composed. His face holds the same stoic, wide-eyed confidence, even if his heartrate betrayed any such feeling. Left fingers extend upward, thumb and forefinger pinched together – right hand clenches tight into a fist - perpendicular wrists hold firmly near his left shoulder. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he hears her--

No, that wasn’t her – someone else. Someone else’s champions have fallen here – how many people still walk through these halls, lost?

The eerie light fills him, halting his breath. Every sound becomes a distant memory and the winged demons freeze under the power of the light. The words ring through his ego, fulfilling his narcissistic desire to be chosen. An unknown power surges with the pulse of light, and his stoic expression breaks into a wide grin. The icy blue eyes of the sand bender fix on the demons as the light disappears.

You can’t touch me—
The jaws click above his head as the first descends.
You have wandered the wastelands-
Four blades sing toward Zhekt’s arm.
And you have become them.
The third demon lunges with its tail and aims both feet for Zhekt’s chest.

The power of the light guides his hand, the voice in his head guides the sand, and with a flash of movement his arms extend over his head and blur back toward the ground.

Thousand needles to free you.

The sand dispersing in all directions freezes. The cloud of debris left from Zhekt’s armour gathers into hundreds of needles, almost too fine to see in the dim light. The movements of his arms point them to their goal, the back of every creeping horror in front of him.

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :: 6

Attack Strength

Random number (1,10000) :: 5664

Defence

Random number (1,10) :: 5

Spoiler:

The Labyrinth of Champions

Guz'zan, The Gatekeeper Demons
Origin: Unknown
Motive: Unknown
Threat Level: High
Number: 3 Demons
Damage: 5,000
HP: 4,010/10,000
HP: 4,010/10,000
HP: 4,010/10,000

Spoiler:

The Guz'zan shriek horribly, the sound of their voice near deafening as they cry out in pain. They are wounded. Injured. Angry. The needles pierce their rotting flesh, slice their wings. They are bleeding, green and orange blood. Why different colours? Some parts leaking green, wings leaking orange. How...horrid. The blood smelled of death and decay, and rotting flesh and burning hair. The orange blood sizzled as it attempted to burn through the stone floors of the labyrinth.

Truly these were demons of another world. From another place. Of another land. They did not belong here. They were heralds of something wicked. If these beasts could be so wicked, only could only imagine what their masters were like. What their superiors could do. It was frightening, but you do not have time to be afraid, do you Champion? You must be strong, and brave.

Fear will not get you through this labyrinth, or Drak'Tharon Keep. Fear will get you shipped out of this Labyrinth in a body bag. So be brave, and dodge this next attack. Or don't. But you must defeat the Guz'zan and reach the centre. Either way, be brave. The creatures are coming at you, their howling, the runes on their wings glowing green. As the runes glow, the world shakes for you.

A portal opens up; and it shows you horrible things, horrible creatures. Vile monsters. There is an army on the other side of the portal. An army poised for invasion. A combination of corrupted and normal elementals, twisted elemental dragons, even...are those the Elemental Dragon Lords? Lord Magmaros is there too. It can only be one thing on the other end of the portal. The army of the Old Gods; they are preparing for invasion. But do not get distracted!

Here come the Guz'zan from above, their swords swinging, one spitting up his orange blood like a weapon, trying to dissolve you! Fight Champion! Fight!

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :: 2

Attack Strength: x3 Multiplier

Random number (1,5000) :: 4835

Elite Novice Posts : 42 Age : 35 Join date : 2016-05-22

Defense Roll

Random number (1,10) :: 4

Elite Novice Posts : 42 Age : 35 Join date : 2016-05-22

Zhekt Garasu

HP: 84,919/100,000

The shrill screeches of the Guz’zan echo in the small courtyard. The ear-shattering volume should have been painful, but the sound reaching Zhekt’s ears had to compete with the sound of his thudding heart. His lips pull into a wicked grin, teeth grinding steadily as the wild sandbender relishes the howl of their pain.

They’re horrified of you – they know that you’ve come to return them to the pit from which the crawled. Can you feel their fear? They won’t even turn their vacant eyes on you now.

A flap of once-stitched wing drips orange globs as it sags against the shoulder of its host. As the thick, slimy blood falls down the contours, the wings begin to radiate a sickly green hue. Blood pools on the stone floor and begins to smolder, wafting yet another disgusting scent into the musty air. The runes glow in the dim light, taking on light and life. They confuse and disorient Zhekt, and he throws out his hands as hard as he can. The lips pull wider, the grin becoming mad and furious. The corners of his eyes tense. Lines wrack his gentle face and add a sharpness that is usually absent to his features. Gritting, grinding teeth sound like he’s chewing sand, and his blue eyes glisten without blinking.

He’s screaming without a voice, hissing air through his throat. Stray sand gathers from the battlefield at a fraction of its former quantity. The portal opens, the sand gathers around his legs, and too many horrors continue to torment and excite him.

Bring them all – let me pass through and fight and fight—
She’s shaking his head, she’s clicking his tongue, she’s rolling his eyes – in his mind.

Zhekt recognizes these images as they pass, despite having never seen them. He knows names, can recall the spans of time that each Dragon seemed to hold dominion, and then he forgets everything except the harsh buzz in his ears, Adeza and her guidance, and the creeping horrors that still glow in the dark.

There was no time to process the vision – he would bombard his mind with questions when he wasn’t fighting for his life. The Guz’zan close in on him, but they’ve let him pass too far and aren’t as quick to follow. As they brace to leap toward him, blood flies from their wounds and spots the battlefield.

He could see what it did to the stone – he’d hate to test its effects on his own flesh, but there would be time to experiment when he finally puts them down. Zhekt follows their motion, bending his knees as they prepare to jump. Stomping one foot after the other, he calls the sand to pack under his bare feet. Throwing his arms over his head and springing upward, the sand thrusts him high into the air. Turning his body upside down as the Guz’zan descend, the blades sing through the air without touching him again. Feet toward the sky, he’s looking down on the fallen horrors with a madman’s glee.

Zhekt thumbs both skins open and takes a very deep breath. He’s reached the height of his arc, his body suspended for a single second of weightlessness, and he finds his centre.

I will find what’s hidden here – whatever you pathetic tools were supposed to find or protect. You’re messengers of something actually worth fighting. I hope you’ve enjoyed your taste of a true Champion.

With his wrists on his hips, he gathers the sand from the skins into a focused ball. The weightlessness breaks and he begins to spin wrathfully into his descent. The sand gains momentum, packing tighter and becoming harder as he freefalls toward the ground in the centre of the courtyard. His body becomes a blur of bronzed-skin, golden hair, and white cloth as the ring of sand compacts and breaks in half. As soon as the excess mass falls, Zhekt breaks the spin and hurls his left arm in a wide arc.

A wedge of sand sails down toward the huddled Guz’zan and its edge gleams with a thinly pressed point of glass. Zhekt hits the mass of sand left behind and slides a few feet before steadily standing his ground once more.

Attack Accuracy
[ran]10[/ran]

Attack Strength
[ran]10000[/ran]

Elite Novice Posts : 42 Age : 35 Join date : 2016-05-22

Zhekt Garasu

HP: 84,919/100,000

The shrill screeches of the Guz’zan echo in the small courtyard. The ear-shattering volume should have been painful, but the sound reaching Zhekt’s ears had to compete with the sound of his thudding heart. His lips pull into a wicked grin, teeth grinding steadily as the wild sandbender relishes the howl of their pain.

They’re horrified of you – they know that you’ve come to return them to the pit from which the crawled. Can you feel their fear? They won’t even turn their vacant eyes on you now.

A flap of once-stitched wing drips orange globs as it sags against the shoulder of its host. As the thick, slimy blood falls down the contours, the wings begin to radiate a sickly green hue. Blood pools on the stone floor and begins to smolder, wafting yet another disgusting scent into the musty air. The runes glow in the dim light, taking on light and life. They confuse and disorient Zhekt, and he throws out his hands as hard as he can. The lips pull wider, the grin becoming mad and furious. The corners of his eyes tense. Lines wrack his gentle face and add a sharpness that is usually absent to his features. Gritting, grinding teeth sound like he’s chewing sand, and his blue eyes glisten without blinking.

He’s screaming without a voice, hissing air through his throat. Stray sand gathers from the battlefield at a fraction of its former quantity. The portal opens, the sand gathers around his legs, and too many horrors continue to torment and excite him.

Bring them all – let me pass through and fight and fight—
She’s shaking his head, she’s clicking his tongue, she’s rolling his eyes – in his mind.

Zhekt recognizes these images as they pass, despite having never seen them. He knows names, can recall the spans of time that each Dragon seemed to hold dominion, and then he forgets everything except the harsh buzz in his ears, Adeza and her guidance, and the creeping horrors that still glow in the dark.

There was no time to process the vision – he would bombard his mind with questions when he wasn’t fighting for his life. The Guz’zan close in on him, but they’ve let him pass too far and aren’t as quick to follow. As they brace to leap toward him, blood flies from their wounds and spots the battlefield.

He could see what it did to the stone – he’d hate to test its effects on his own flesh, but there would be time to experiment when he finally puts them down. Zhekt follows their motion, bending his knees as they prepare to jump. Stomping one foot after the other, he calls the sand to pack under his bare feet. Throwing his arms over his head and springing upward, the sand thrusts him high into the air. Turning his body upside down as the Guz’zan descend, the blades sing through the air without touching him again. Feet toward the sky, he’s looking down on the fallen horrors with a madman’s glee.

Zhekt thumbs both skins open and takes a very deep breath. He’s reached the height of his arc, his body suspended for a single second of weightlessness, and he finds his centre.

I will find what’s hidden here – whatever you pathetic tools were supposed to find or protect. You’re messengers of something actually worth fighting. I hope you’ve enjoyed your taste of a true Champion.

With his wrists on his hips, he gathers the sand from the skins into a focused ball. The weightlessness breaks and he begins to spin wrathfully into his descent. The sand gains momentum, packing tighter and becoming harder as he freefalls toward the ground in the centre of the courtyard. His body becomes a blur of bronzed-skin, golden hair, and white cloth as the ring of sand compacts and breaks in half. As soon as the excess mass falls, Zhekt breaks the spin and hurls his left arm in a wide arc.

A wedge of sand sails down toward the huddled Guz’zan and its edge gleams with a thinly pressed point of glass. Zhekt hits the mass of sand left behind and slides a few feet before steadily standing his ground once more.

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :: 5

Attack Strength

Random number (1,10000) :: 6567

Defence

Random number (1,10) :: 3

Spoiler:

The Labyrinth of Champions

Guz'zan, The Gatekeeper Demons
Origin: Unknown
Motive: Unknown
Threat Level: High
Number: 3 Demons
Damage: 5,000
HP: 0/10,000
HP: 0/10,000
HP: 0/10,000

Spoiler:

The Guz'zan cry out as they die. They screech; loud, long and high. Ears normally bleed under these frequencies. People lose their hearing. It's a horrible, twisted sound. As they die, they turn to dust and ooze green and orange blood. They throw fits. The portal collapses. Just as a demon attempts to cross through from the other side. Its arm is cut off. You can't see its face, you just know that a few seconds longer and you would've had company.

The Guz'zan are Gatekeepers; they herald an invasion. They are heralds of the end; stewards of the Old Gods. Field Marshals that command the invasion portals. You're lucky, Champion. You got them before they got you. The citizens of Drak'Tharon were not so lucky.

As the Guz'zan die in an explosion of acidic blood, light and ash, the doors slide open with the sound of stone grinding on stone. Two doors open. The way you came, heading back west. The other door is on the north side of the room, facing up towards the centre maze. So choose, Champion, go forward, or go back. But remember, whatever you choose, you will not be able to take back until you defeat your next boss. So choose well, choose wisely, and be prepared to face the consequences.

Elite Novice Posts : 42 Age : 35 Join date : 2016-05-22

Zhekt Garasu

HP(+50% of damage taken): 92,459/100,000

Zhekt’s stance breaks and he slips on the sand as soon as the shrieking fills his ears. Sitting with a soft thump into the cushion below him, he presses his palms to his ears as hard as he can. His vision waivers and the writhing monsters become entangled with the pulsating portal. The blinding flash of light and tufts of ash that fill the air cause him to hoarsely hack air from his chest.

This isn’t madness, you naïve fledgling, this is clarity. You’re seeing it but you aren’t looking – stop thinking about how much it hurts-- She scathes with frustration as the edges begin to close on the black-green window glimpsing the other realm.

It was true – he hurt. Only an hour into the maze, and he hurt. She was right to scathe him – he should have been able to walk through untouched. He was Adeza’s chosen, he was the Champion of his fate. As if to taunt his surety, long black talons rake the floor at his feet. The hungering maw of an abysmal demon threatens to follow and Zhekt bares his teeth in kind. Snapping his jaw, he drops his hands from his ears. Zhekt’s heart skips as the talons extend and score the stone, gargantuan muscles flexing massive finger-like appendages to brace against the closing portal. It severs the horrible creature’s flesh and flops the arm onto the stone. Looking around, he shurgs.

Guess that’s our only trophy.

The Guz’zan continue to bubble and hiss into pools, sending tendrils of thick smoke wafting into the air. Zhekt had smelled things in his life that sickened him – Bison feces, boiling garbage in a vat of urine, decaying sandworm maggots – but this was worse. He dry-heaves once and claps his hand over his mouth and shakes his head once.

Forcing himself to stand was difficult with the gash in his right leg, but plenty of cloth spots the battlefield and he walks to retrieve as many strands as he can. Giving the pool that had been three creatures several feet of distance, he assembles a few long strands by tying smaller ones together. The cloth wraps around his arms and legs as best it can. Knotted, strained, and not as protective, the cloth was still glistening white as he stomps his right foot. The concussion causes the grains to vibrate, making them easier to feel. Zhekt bends his knees and exhales slowly. With a few sharp and deliberate motions of his arms, he calls a few small clouds to rise from the battlefield.

Zhekt balls his hands into fists as his left foot slams onto the stone floor. The sands whisk quickly through the air and batters his body. Sticking to the cloth as it slams into him from all angles, the white is stained a lighter brown than it had before.

As he turns to the centre of the courtyard, two doors open, and he smirks to himself. Making sure to cover any open wounds before he sets forth, he shakes his head.

Why would I do anything except move forward? Back is not an option. What else does this place have for me?

Taking a talon with his right hand as he passes, he struts toward the next doorway and drags the rotted hunk of meat along with him.

Spoiler:

The Labyrinth of Champions

You walk down the corridor towards the next courtyard. You feel your heart rate pick up, your heart is pounding out of your chest. Who knows what to expect after what you just fought. Things could only get worse from here on out, right? Well...maybe. You enter the room and realize there is no boss. The doors don't slam shut behind you and the doors leading forward are open as well.

Then you realize why. Whatever was in this courtyard left...who knows where, but it left a warning. A pile of fresh corpses in a pool of blood, and on top....three infants, none older than 6 months, impaled upon a spear, still screaming for their mothers. Their faces frozen forever in fear. From the spear flew a flag that said but one thing.

"LEAVE!"

The warning is written in the blood of the victims, and you cannot help but feel uneasy when you see it. These demons must be stopped. But now you have another choice to make. Back south from where you came, east, north or west. So where to Champion?