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

Defence

Random number (1,10) :: 3

Spoiler:

The Labyrinth of Champions

Third Shadow of I’m-kala, The Queen of Drak’Tharon
Origin: Cursed Queen of Drak'Tharon
Motive: Protect the Kingdom
Threat Level: Medium
Number: x1
Damage: 7500
HP: 15,000/15,000

Spoiler:

It was a good effort Champion, the but Queen is trickier than she look. 5000 years with wings has given her mastery over the air that few but the birds and master Air Benders enjoy. With a smile she dodges you attack with flare, spinning and twirling. She leads your homing sand attacks on a wild goose chase as she flies around the labyrinth courtyard spinning, and twirling and dodging. But above all laughing.

Cackling; evilly, wickedly. She's mocking you Champion; are you going to let that happen? Wait, dodge! I'm-kala swoops down, bringing your attack with her. She's hoping to hit you with your own attack. But thank goodness you're skilled enough. You stop the attack, ceasing it before it hits you and return the sand to your store, waiting for your next attack. I'm-kala laughs again. It's a laugh filled with the suffering of thousands of people...innocent people. But a bit more.

Suffering and...the enjoyment of watching the suffering. The Queen was a sick woman. Slowly you start to understand just how fervent she was about the dark magics and sacrifices that were supposed to make this kingdom massive, great; conquerors! You know that, of course, the promises were purposely empty yet...the residents of Drak'Tharon, the remaining soldiers and warriors who guarded this place from an imaginary enemy did not seem to see it that way.

They feel that they had achieved their power. But at what price? What cost? And where was there king? Probably in the keep. You realize that if his minions are this strong already, how strong will Zul'Drak? And who knows what else is in that bloody tower. Well, no time to worry about it. You better get back to fighting--unless you wish to join the bodies here.

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :: 9

Attack Strength

Random number (1,7500) :: 7330

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

Defense

Random number (1,10) :: 1

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

Zhekt Garasu

HP: 77,661/100,000

The Dark Queen commands the air in ways Zhekt can only adore. She wasn’t just trying to kill him and devour his soul while diving toward him over and over, nor was she simply coaxing his attacks with an array of dreamy movements through the air – she was dancing with him. This wasn’t just a battle, this was a calling – a culling. Everything in this place either wanted to be him or feed on him – somehow, this is the most comforting thought he’s had in this courtyard.

He’s laughing again.. Adeza warns him with a whisper. Zhekt can hear it – he can hear it over the wonderfully torrid shrieking above him. The man with the raspy, toneless voice was growling his hacking laughter once more.

Still far from gettin’ it - livin’ all this time with your head in the sand like a fuckin’ ostrich, listening to someone else tell you how special you are.

Zhekt shakes his head and Im-kala dives down with her arms spread wide. She sharply rises over the sandbender and he’s nearly pulled back by the strength of the air behind her. He could be fooled in many ways, but using his own sand was not one of them.

Stepping into the attack, he spreads his arms and looks up at the Queen. He’s grinning, maniacally, honestly – he was loving every moment of torment, supported by his egotistic belief that Adeza would not let him fail, no matter what that man said--

You idiot…

Both bullets slam into his chest where they’d left and the cloth drinks each grain hungrily.

She’s showin’ you over an’over but you’re listening to the fuckin’ fairytale instead of reading the story…

Frustration can manifest in many ways - every individual being the arbiter of their own emotions and rationale. For this fool, it’s guttural, soundless laughter. Hacking, wheezing, confident, defiant laughter. He doesn’t care if she’s louder – he knows she can feel his intent all the same. Zhekt licks his lips and looks up to the Queen, raising a brow. She’s already begun her next arc, growling through that persistent cackle.

Ever deceiving, she does not round the courtyard as she has so many times. A single flash of her wings and the Queen closes the distance between herself and Zhekt. Expecting another lunging attack, Zhekt braces, but she pulls upward at the last moment. Too fast to comprehend, she hits the opposite wall with both feet and uses the strength of her body and wings together to piston into Zhekt and pick him off the ground. Hurling his body with the force of her strength and the air at her command, she sends the blonde bender across the courtyard and into the furthest wall.

Old stone slabs crunch and rupture as Zhekt hits the wall. A rain of debris follows his limp body as he falls lifelessly to the floor. A sea of decrepit bodies breaks his fall, all of which were in different stages of decomposition and consumption. Zhekt is almost thankful not to be able to breathe as he shoves a sticky mass of something out of his way to roll onto the cold stone and find his feet.

Breathing was going to be painful, but at least he knows he still can. His arms ache heavily and his body feels weighted and broken but he’s still grinning. Blood colours his teeth an ugly reddish brown and his eyes are wide and sharp – relentless so long as he still lived, and living relentlessly.

Taunting him from the distance of the courtyard, the witch is cackling madly and sailing back and forth, disappearing between shadows before threatening to charge. The feints were short but still exemplified her incredible speed.

What does EVERYTHING seeking power crave?!
The man is hoarsely scolding, harshly drying his throat by the sound of the effort.
More power…
She affirms, confiding her strength in Zhekt once more.

He loosens his stance, no longer rigid and waiting – no longer threatening or intent. Watching the endless dance of wing and whispering glances, listening to the emerald serenade of threatening and beautiful laughter, Zhekt reaches over his shoulder, crossing his arm over his chest. Pressing his palm to the edge of his chakram, he lets the glass tenderly rend a line across the centre.

He bows, slowly.
Now you’re gettin’ it…
Raising the bloodied hand, keeping his head bent low, he closes his eyes.
Focus, Champion – hide your eyes and open your ears and follow the raven…
Dropping to one knee, his free hand cups the opening of the sand-skin on his hip.
Submission and betrayal – play’er own hand back at’er.

Focusing on the air against his face, Zhekt remembers the moment before she’d hit – the rush of wind that accompanies each swift movement. Counting in his head, ignoring the two voices directing him, Zhekt waits. Blood tints the air with its alluring scent, he kneels meekly, and very gently opens the skin.

It was a gamble – a painful gamble – but as the air changes in front of his face he closes his hand into a fist, cracking every knuckle in his fingers.

Sand explodes from the skin on his hip, shaping itself into the bulky and razor-taloned arm he’d been dragging. Long sand-talons protrude from the heart of a meaty sand-palm. If he was fast enough, if he’d read her correctly, this could turn the tables for the madman.

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

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :: 9

Attack Strength

Random number (1,10000) :: 1265

Defence

Random number (1,10) :: 1

Spoiler:

The Labyrinth of Champions

Third Shadow of I’m-kala, The Queen of Drak’Tharon
Origin: Cursed Queen of Drak'Tharon
Motive: Protect the Kingdom
Threat Level: Medium
Number: x1
Damage: 7500
HP: 13,835/15,000

Spoiler:

Moments ago, I'm-kala soared like a bird. Free and fleeting and taunting anything on the ground. Now she is a cripple. Two broken wings and a face contorted in twisting rage. Once more she lashes out at you, but this time with her mind. She shows you something. Dark and twisting. It is a large soldier, meaty and muscled. He looks like the Champion of Drak'Tharon. He is covered in scars and finely crafted and very heavy armour. In both hands he carries a massive axe.

He is holding it up, his soldiers behind him, the entire army of Drak'Tharon. Beside him, what the queen shows you is the former Crown Prince. "You have brought dark magics to this Kingdom, sorcerer!" speaks the massive Champion. "You curse this land!" cries another soldier behind him. "Demon!" cries another. Zul'Drak sits upon the throne, covered his shadow, nothing shows but his glowing red eyes. He has already been corrupted. "You dare take up arms against your king? You are a traitor, Lor'em-thaçar!" replies Queen I'm-kala. In life she was the image of beauty.

"What I do," replies the knight, "I do FOR my King, and my country! I am here to overthrow you my Lord. You have grown blind...I must replace you with your son. No longer are you fit to rule your people, even as you sit there slaughtering them." Again, Zul'Drak says nothing, his glowing red eyes peering at what unfolds before him. The twisted green-skinned sorcerer, hunched over and deformed by his own magics looks at the King for a command. The King waves his hand.

Finally he speaks. "You, Lor'em-thaçar, are a traitor to the realm! THAT is what I see," said the King in a dark, commanding voice. "Zim'gar-gul, finish this traitor!" cries the Queen. She has already begun to be twisted by the magic of the sorcerer. "Gladly..." he saids calmly, as he hobbles towards Lor'em-thaçar. The two size each other up. They are ready to fight. The old knight tells his men to charge, Zim'gar-gul prepares his magic and then....everything freezes.

Lor'em-thaçar is betrayed! Stabbed by the howling, cackling Crown Prince who feigned loyalty to the Kingdom and support of Lor'em-thaçar's betrayal. Lor'em-thaçar dies, a knife in his spine, horrified at what has happened, as his failure to the Kingdom, and at what comes next. Zim'gar-gul makes short work of the remaining soldiers. He impales them upon massive spikes of stone that erupt from the floor. He then goes around with a magically produced goblet, collecting their blood. For his stores, he says. The rebellion is over. No one left to stop the mad king...no one. No one...

You return to reality, and are faced with an onslaught of crows and other deadly birds of carrion. I'm-kala has turned the creatures of the skies, the creatures that feed upon the dead of Drak'Tharon against you. Fight hard Champion. Slaughter them, do not falter them because you feel they are innocent. Slaughter them as they try to do to you! Do what must be done!

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :: 9

Attack Strength

Random number (1,7500) :: 2764

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

Defense

Random number (1,10) :: 1

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

Zhekt Garasu

HP: 74,897/100,000

This contortion of reality should madden him, cause his concentration to break and his motivation to fail, but these flashes feed him. Zhekt stays kneeled with glazed eyes, watching the Queen writhe against his sand-crafted demonic arm. He listens to the banshee wail as her wings fold in on themselves, crippled by the talon’s graze. Fury pulls the beautifully deadly smile into a hideous scowl, and the world melts away once more.

Zhekt can feel his fist held high over his head, his fingers wrapping the opening of the waterskin, and his knee on the stone, but the reality he knows ends there. The world tears violently away from the courtyard, rearranging broken pillars and lost formations of stone – this was a meeting hall, a battleground. This is where debts were settled.

Visions act as a play, empowering him with the knowledge he would need. These were all pieces of the puzzle that made these halls. He didn’t need to find center – that was becoming more clear – he only needed to find those that were left behind to protect these truths. With enough truth, one could destroy armies without lifting a hand. The sand had taught him patience – the long game.

The walls melt into their dishevelled true selves and the sun that brightened the courtyard of the past disappears. The Dark Queen had retreated slightly, nursing her wings and screeching in pain. It was obvious that she was as deadly on the ground as she confidently draws her longsword. The grimace twists into a vicious sneer and she thrusts it once into the air.

Wings explode from the night sky – black, varying from small to massive, and diving to rend the sandbender’s flesh.

You think you’re worthy of wings? You think you’re righteous in this place? The dark man laughs and Zhekt can’t help but feel his own chest hack and wheeze.
You think your pitiful whelps can take me down for you?! Excitement surges through is body – even the dark man knew the truth.

You are my chosen, my Champion – the only one worthy of my armies and graces.

Rising in spite the danger, Zhekt lets the cloud of ravenous creatures envelop him. Beaks, claws, talons – the beasts use everything they have to try and break through his cloth, to taste the blood he’s used to scent the air. Pain flickers from several places as they begin to break skin, slamming their bodies into his and breaking their fragile bones, necks, and wings. The larger creatures swing to rend with large talons on their feet, but more often decimate the smaller of the mad flock.

Zhekt hisses through his teeth and lowers the fist from over his head. Slowly dropping the fist with his elbow locked straight, he points it directly at Im’kala once more. Bats rake his skin with their claws, something gnaws the back of his neck. It was infuriating, horrendously disorienting and painful – fuel for the fury.
Exhaling sharply through his nose, Zhekt’s fist explodes into flayed fingers and slings back with some unknown recoil. The sand-made arm bursts as his fist opens and sand seems to hurl in every direction, focused greatly in two places – the area around Zhekt, and where Im’kala helplessly stands. One long finger, talon’s razor glimmering in the torch light, sails directly toward her, aiming to impale the shrieking Queen.

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

Attack Accuracy

Random number (1,10) :: 6

Attack Strength

Random number (1,10000) :: 6282