OCT: Silver City Tournament: Lobby Tower [Always accepting new Arrivals]

[The Dark Legacy]

D.L. sat boredly atop his throne, overlooking the darkening wasteland before him, from the highest peak on the lands. With no one left to oppose him, either personally dealt with or in hiding, he began to grow rather weary of his newly acquired realm. Just as he thought this a piece of parchment appeared, floating down rather tauntingly past his face, that he caught in his hand; crushing it in the process, activating the automated message stored within. He raised a curious brow as the disembodied voice alerted him of the hour he had to prepare himself, looking down at his shadow; who merely shrugged it's shoulders at him, and laughed as he proceeded to cast the wad of paper off the mountain top.

D.L. began trying to make sense of the message, soon after realizing that he hadn't even bothered to read the actual piece of paper, before he was ripped from his throne in a flash of green light and found himself standing within the center of a massive white lobby. Looking around a bit confused he looked to a small group of assassins that seemed to occupy the room and growled, "You there! Are you responsible for removing me from my throne?" his shadow at his feet circling him wildly in it's own personal state of confusion.

[Commian]

Thick mists clung to the slums of an unarmed district, the thick sprawls residing within an unimportant town. Black figures obscured by the pea soup ran around spending as little time in the fog as possible. It was not known for this part of Ostland to ever have had this sort of natural fog. Plenty of raids from roaming vampires and chaotic magus had tempered the citizen’s usually ignorant attitude and even the simpletons realized this was a sign of foul magics. Every person within the slums was to spend the night wishing against the odds that they were not the target for the next magical encounter.

Well, nearly every person. Legio stalked through this fog, the unnatural mists seemed to boil and froth at his presence. A note hung from his gauntleted hand one that had intrigued and slightly disturbed him. No clear signs of magic or even activation of the foul energies had been summoned when the instruction was fulfilled but still a voice had declared from no apparent speaker, he had an hour to prepare before teleporting. Whatever teleporting was anyway.

But now, just as promised a stale fog had descended upon the town and was swathing everything in its grip. Most figures lurched away as Legio approached them, even in the fog it was easy to tell from the sounds that he was fully armoured, heavy plates hung from a series of straps that covered his body spreading the weight across his entire mass. He was close. So very close to the source of the magic, his muttering increased in volume and those that turned away from him, now did so at an increased pace.

It was sudden, one moment the fog and fleeing shapes surrounded him and then the world was turning and warping, clearly he had come across a powerful sorcerer for it to distort reality like this. Then, just as suddenly as it had started the surroundings changed and he found himself in a white room with his shield, mace and gauntlets gone, only his armour spikes remained. The sudden light of the surroundings blinded him and his sense of balance abandoned him.

Swinging a punch in a wide arc as he fell to the floor, blinking back tears as the light stung his eyes, his stomach retched but to no avail. He had been fasting for weeks now in the pursuit of magicians it is always beneficial to have a mind clear of the sluggishness caused by a full stomach. Landing with a loud clatter, the plates of his armour drew attention to not only his appearance but in-ability to now get up without assistance. Plate armour may provide the best protection but it weighed almost as much as the man wearing it. Thrashing around kicking out arms and legs in all directions unwilling to be at his captor mercy he felt a series of impacts as his lashing limbs connected with objects around the room shouting all the while…

“Heathen! Heretic! Show yourself and receive the forgiveness of the Tor!”

[Damon Luco]

The assassins remained silent, watching the room around them. There were guards and the stairway that lead up. Jace began to think of were the machine was that was draining there power. His thoughts were interrupted by a figured made of shadows. He spoke rash and demanding, like a tyrant use to giving orders and being feared for his whip. The ignored him, only Admos and Rachel looking up to study him for a brief moment, but while it seemed they took no real notice of the man, they all silently, with the skill of many years of training, prepared to defend themselves while still looking inattentive. The tension rose as the silence was draw out and was only broken by a man in armor, clearing mad with confusion and his senses crossed from the trip. Jace stood up, and cautiously walked over to the man, while staying out of reach. "Sir, you are not were you once were. Be calm and be steady, your senses will come back. You are safe, you wont be harmed" He tried to speak in a calming and reasoning voice, and hoped the man in armor would listen. The assassins continued to act as if the shadow being was not there.

[Tool]

The boy enveloped within The Ex-69 looked blankly upon the corpse of their most recent target, wiping the blood from the muzzle of their weapon, their featureless expression giving no sign of remorse nor pleasure. They began to turn, opening their coat and replacing the magnum within the inside pocket, ready to leave the area they had located their mark. As they prepared to make their way back towards the exit of the building, the sight of a unique piece of parchment caught their eye. It sat at the corner of their target's massive desk, bright and brand new, as if it were just placed there for them to see. They reached for the paper as curiosity got the better of the two, holding it up in front of their face; turning towards the door as they proceeded to exit the building, seemingly reading every word closely and carefully, having to step over many a bullet riddled and mutilated corpse to do so. Listening only half heartedly to the automated voice they thew the wadded up paper behind them, it relaying it's message to their back; too busy digging around in their coat pocket at the time, only hearing of the hour they had to prepare, as they took their leave.

They were sitting atop a large building when the bright green light erupted around them, raising a detonator up before them; setting off a rather large explosion at their most recent target's location, before being teleported away to the tournament grounds, and appearing in an uncomfortably blinding room. Reaching into their pocket, they began to transition from the murderous Ex-69 into the sweet and innocent boy known as Zorion; appearing as if unfolding itself in layers, pulling forth a green apple flavored sucker and popping it into their mouth as he appeared.

Zorion looked out across the white room, spotting a wide variety of vending machines; and those who occupied it, eyes lighting up. Walking directly past every occupant in the room, the rather large being that seemed to reek of death, the four calm yet; very apparently, deadly assassins and one other who shouted very amusing things from his back, paying them generally no mind. He soon realized that the buttons were just out of his reach upon arriving at the machines, an incredibly pouty look crossing his face followed closely by a series of tendrils exploding from his tiny frame; making a few rapid selections, causing the boy to break into a smile. "Thank you Daddy!" he exclaimed reaching for his snacks, a few juice boxes and a couple of sandwiches, shoving all but one juice box into his inner coat pocket. He turned to face any of the occupants that were put off by the image of a child walking past them, stabbed the straw into his juice box; putting the straw to his lips, and tipped his hat to them, before being whisked away by the green light once more.

[Shoryu]

The man in white had gotten a sense, the kind that comes from a warning, and from someone having unknowingly brought themselves to the tournament "Lovely, there's always one or 2 like that, best defuse this before havoc breaks out." Of course as he returned to the lobby, trailing by his person guard mechs, he paused on the third story balcony overlooking the mass of stairs, leaning over and watching very closely at what was going on "hmmm, perhaps i shant, this could be a nice bit of enertainment before the regulator catches hold of him..." Though he wasn't especially noticeable because of the height, and the far more noticeable and immediate threat to the others or those nearby, If one looked up, they'd see the man, long silver hair and bright red eyes, dressed in a perfectly clean pressed white suit watching with experienced eyes.

[The Dark Legacy]

D.L.'s shadow slowly crept towards the four assassins, ready to put them in their place if they dared mouth off to it's master, while awaiting their response. Suddenly a green flash of light and a loud clatter drew his attention away from the small group, his shadow pointing in the direction of the disturbance; causing him to take note of a frail old man upon his back, it's shoulders rising up and down as if laughing hysterically, assuming that they were too afraid to respond to him. Turning his attention towards another similar flash of green light, another new arrival; it having no features upon it's face, catching him by surprise as it began to take shape of a little boy, watching as he strode past the lot of them without a worry in the world. He watched slack jawed as the little boy let loose a barrage of tendrils to make his selection at the vending machine, shaking his head vigorously as the boy dispersed, looking around at everybody within the room to see if anyone other than he had witnessed this spectacle, even meeting gazes with the man in white, before turning his attention back to the old man upon his back.

[Commian]

"Sir, you are not were you once were. Be calm and be steady, your senses will come back. You are safe, you wont be harmed."

The voice was authorative and certain with a soothing tone, this did nothing to improve Legio's mood. He was on his back somewhere against his will and a dark blob had started to form in his vision, obscured as he blinked rapidly, tears forming as his sight slowly returned. Putting two and two together he jumped upon the first conclusion that presented itself, the speaker was a sourcerer and one begging to be purged

"Safe maybe in the hands of my Lord, blessed be his name, but not in thine talons, servant of chaos! I shall not bow to thee lest I show my back to all those ye do so corrupt willingly. I shall have thy head from your shoulders, I shall quarter thy corpse and offer thy remains to Tor and if he so chooses, bless your accursed remains."

Pausing for breath, Legio felt his hand hit a solid object on the oppostie side of him, closing around what felt like a chair leg, though peculiarly mettalic. Lifting the metal chair into the air he swung it around towards the silhoutted figure in both an attempt to harm what he reasoned was the speaker and to right himself with the counter weight.

The blow was a clumsy one though and would clearly miss but it would allow Legio to roll onto his front and stand up quickly, swaying slightly as his balance came back slowly with his sight. He would hold the chair in a menacing manner yelling. "Thou shalt not have me so easily killed, demon, thou may think to have bested me. I am more than a match for thee even in a state such as this!" More figures would come into view as he looked around quickly, five more shadows came into view one taller than the rest and another the size of a child.

"It is not for me to die today demons, I shall deilver ye accursed souls to the Lord Tor himself, bane of all magics, even if my soul is thy escort. Come taste thy own blood ye corrupted sourcerers, thine foul magic dust stain the air I share with thee!"

Such a long speech was uncommon with Legio but his anger at showing even a smidgeon of weakness towards his enemies was a shame even worse than death. He would prepare himself for any attack to come, spinning the cair in lazy circles trying to get a porper grip on the improvised weapon.

[Damon Luco]

Jace calmly backed away from the clueless man. Admos stood, strapping the bomb back to his chest; he was not one for stupidity and not very patience. He grabbed the chair and slammed it to the ground, breaking it to a thousand pieces. "You need to gather your mind first before you start to shout accusations. So I suggest you sit down" Admos stood in front of the man, looking as fierce and violent as he could. He was surely twice the size of the little man. "He's just shocked, leave him alone and let him breath. He's sanity will come back; if anything, bring him some food." Brok's voice was steady and calm, never even opened his eyes. No one move, in till Rachel sighed and walked over to the vending machine, grabbing a few strips of meat in a plastic wrapping and some kind of juice she assume and walked over to the man, slowly and as non-hostile as she could. "Here, regain your strength. You'll need it later. “He voice was almost child like but have a tone of experience in it.

[Commian]

The chair that Legio had been so recently holding was renched out of his withered hands, muscles straining as he fought to keep his weapon. Unfortunatly it was over in a matter of moments and the chair was roughly torn asunder, Legio could clearly hear the thousands of metal shards skittering across the floor. Yet he was not daunted, he had trained and fought for centuries against horrors of warped flesh, shapeshifting-half-forms that spouted maddening gibberish. This was just another task to over come.

"You need to gather your mind first before you start to shout accusations. So I suggest you sit down."

"Bah accusations only if not based upon the truth. My word is taken as law and my weapon is the judgement, a bear of a man ye may be, no-one is shadowed from the light and trials of Tor. I have faced horrors ye could not imagine so ye may think to intimidate me, now think carefully, not matter how hard it must be for ye."

His body, whilst old and not what it once was was still in fighting action, he was fated to die upon a blade but he had survived longer than any other chaplain of Tor preceeding him through his skill at arms. He was more than certain that he could take on this brute despite his lack of convetional weapons, but he had trained to use his armour spikes as much as his shield and mace. He was about to launch himself towards the ignorant fool when he heard another voice, stalling himself for the moment he listened.

"He's just shocked, leave him alone and let him breath. He's sanity will come back; if anything, bring him some food."

They thought him insane. They were the ones daring to threaten Legio Mortuorum, bane of magicians and the fifteenth disciple of Tor and thought to scare him like some whelp. His mind screamed in outrage, he did not need to suffer this from them, he had helped defened the known world against threats not matter how large or small, the only man alive invulnerable to the corruption of magic. Save maybe for his apprentice, who even now would be hunting him down to slay him and take up the mantle of chaplain of Tor.

Another figure approached him, slowly and seemingly innocent, but as his sight returned he saw the figure for whom she really was, a foul mixture of cat and woman a corruption of magic for sure. Mutation of an innocent soul and the bending of its will was his first thoughts. The mutant moved with a certain grace, uncharacteristic of the spanw he normally faced. She proffered a hand carefully, offering him some strips of what seemed to be meat and a box.

"Here, regain your strength. You'll need it later."

Throwing his hand out wide he would send the food flying if his hand connected with hers, his skin would feel deathly cold and the golden sigils on his armour would spark once with a faint golden light before fading. He would then say, "I need not thy pity, though yet ye seem to need mine. These abominations have corrupted ye and for that there can be no mercy. Thine soul, if deemed pure, shall enter paradise and no longer troubled by the torment of thy flesh."

He readied his stance once more, thick bracers pointing towards the numerous targets around him, small barbed spikes sticking from the deep black metal. The golden writing surrounding them burning flatly with tamed malevolance.

[The Dark Legacy]

D.L. began to grow weary of the crazy old codger and his insistent obscurities, watching as he sent the food flying from the female assassin's hand. Having seen and heard enough from the old fool, D.L. approached the group; towering above the lot of them, his cold blood-red eyes looking down upon the man with an intense level of distaste. The closer he got to the old man the larger his shadow became, it instinctively making its way to the base of the man's feet, it too growing weary of the once hysterical old man. "You've become a bore and have shown that you are incapable of rational thought." he grinned, his shadow slowly creeping its way into the man's own, "I've grown weary of your foolishness." and at that his shadow would attempt to take control of the old man's body, forcing him to his knees as D.L. would summon a spike from both his and the old man's shadow; in an attempt to impale him through the skull to end his pathetic life.