Rules of the Round HERE

Antes:

Lobotomizer has initiated a Hard Ante: By the end of your battle...Corvon must suffer a fatal demise...from Kalena's hand.
vs
Chamel has initiated a Medium Ante: Everytime you recieve an attack, you must suffer clothing damage as well.

Both have declared to trigger Bonus Conditions of Permanent Injury



Thread Rule Specifications:
- The lower seed (Chamel) shall make the first post to acknowledge. Declare if you will be going first or second. If you're going first, just post your fight straight away.
- The other competitor (Lobotomizer) will then have 3 days from whence the first battle post was made to respond. He can exceed this but he will be penalized for doing so. They will continue going at it until both have a total of 16 posts (8 on both sides) or two weeks has passed ***I will edit this post with the actual deadline when Chamel has made his post.
- When the battle ends, I will put the polls up in this thread and people can vote and cnc and stuff. Please, if you are a non-competitor in this thread, Do NOT post until the brawl is over.


Anytime you're ready, Chamel.

I guess I'm ready~

I'll let Lobo take first swing at this

The path continued on, twisting, winding, but never forking, reminisent of the a giant serpent's body. Nothing was around to indicate even a minute sense of progress, and save for the footsteps of the two, the labyrinth was in deathly silence. It almost felt like they were traversing through a lonely world, with only each other for comfort. The calm before the storm.

Corvon tilted his head, just barely enough to view his companion's visage. A complex expression was etched in her features, her brows furrowed, eyes narrowed and her lips pursed together, almost as if she were...vexed. Torn by the thoughts that swirled in her mind. He frowned, unsure of what he could possibly do. Could she, perhaps, still be wondering about what had happened in the past battle?

"Kalena?" He mustered, hoping he wouldn't be seen as intruding into her thoughts, "is there...something wrong?”

Her reply was not immediate. Rather, it took her a few seconds to register that Corvon was speaking to her at all.

“Purpose…” She murmured, her voice trailing off from that single word.

“Purpose?”

“No, it is nothing,” Kalena shook her head, as though attempting to clear her own mind, “the semi-finals are next, should we find our way out. A mere two more battles to be had.”

“...So it will be,” Corvon replied, glancing up at the cloudless skies. He wasn’t sure what she was trying to say, but nonetheless decided to follow on.

“Corvon…” she stopped abruptly, turning sharply to gaze at the mage, “our opponents...will only be stronger from here. You shoul-”

“If you wish for me to stand down, I’m afraid I cannot do that,” he cut in, returning her gaze squarely, his eyes sparking with determination, “I..I know I failed
before, but regardless, I cannot simply stand idly watching a friend suffer. Even if I end up becoming a burden.”
Her expression turned queer at those words, almost a look of confusion. For a moment she stood silently, considering what he had spoken. “Corvon,” she finally replied, “for all this time, what did you think was my reason for keeping you from my battles?”

“...I was under the impression that you believed I would only hinder you.”

His answer was met with a sad smile, “Is that what you think?”

She resumed walking, turning her eyes back to the path ahead of them. Corvon followed along, becoming more and more mystified by her words.

“Nor could you stoop to such levels as forcing a two to one fight, if you intended to teach your opponents a lesson,” he added, “that is what I think.”

“You may be right, but surely you should understand as well...that I do not wish for you to be injured.”

Corvon froze, unsure of how to respond. Kalena’s expression was perfectly serious; she truly meant what she had said.

“E-even so, that is of little concern. If I may take up the burden of some of your injuries, then I would gladly do so,” He responded with a slight stammer, choosing his words carefully.

Her eyes widened slightly at this, but nonetheless her lips curled back into a smile, this time a gratuitous one.

“Thank you.”
+++++
When the two came to, they were in what could only be described as a filthy, dank cell. Walls encompassed the room, slightly illuminated only by the scant lighting given by a small window at the top of one corner. Dried fluids stain both ground and walls, emitting a faint, yet foul rotting stench.

But their environment was not of Kalena’s concern. With a vexed, frustrated look her eyes were affixed to the floor, her fists shaking from what occurred just a few seconds prior.

“Kalena…” Corvon managed, but he was stopped the moment he began.

“Say no more, I implore you,” she murmurs, unsheathing the sword of truth once more. Already their opponent stood in front of them, perhaps adorned with the most inappropriate attire that anyone could possibly manage. She cared not for how he looked, what a person he was. For now, her only concern was to deal with the wretched man behind all this.

“I assume you understand what we have to do,” Kalena spoke as she adjusted into a stance, her voice still shaking from rage, “let us begin.”

With a slight grunt of annoyance, Chance clutched at his side. He bit his lip and stood up straight, turning his body to the now awakened woman and her male companion. He kept a shaking hand pressed against his left side from within his front pocket of his white tailcoat. He could feel warm liquid dampen the material around his fingers. A flicker of memory passed through his mind; he remembered being gashed by a piece of shrapnel from the exploding speakers from the previous challenge, and the cut seemed to have reopened. Chance took a quick, yet excruciating, intake of breath before addressing his rather, abrasive female opponent.

"Of course I understand, Miss..." His words sounded strained, but he played it off to the best of his ability with a slight chuckle. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name girly; and it would be so very improper to engage with you without knowing your name. Especially in such a musty place such as this."

Another forced chuckle escaped his lips as he cringed inwardly, hoping that the low light of the cell would hide the small drops of sweat beginning to accumulate on his forehead.

I need to be careful with this wound... Maybe I can stall her long enough to heal this blasted thing... He thought to himself, smiling towards the woman who had taken a ready-for-action pose.



#I liked your opening Lobo, just thought I'd say that

Their opponent was injured, that was obvious enough. His heavy breathing, strained words, and the way he gripped his side. Even with what little light that shone into the room and the clumsy way in which he tried to hide it, Corvon could tell that he was not in the best condition for fighting, far from it.

“Kalena…he’s...” He muttered, his tone a hint of anxiousness, but the swordswoman paid no heed to his call. Driven by a deep, suppressed rage she could barely care for her opponent’s condition. Incapacitate the one in front of her; that was all that was in her mind.

“The name is Kalena Eirwen,” she replied coolly. If Chamel had hoped that she would wait for his introduction, he was sorely wrong. No sooner had she finished her answer did she close the distance between them, her movements so swift and sudden that it seemed almost a blur.

“Kalena!” Corvon shouted, gradually realising that his companion herself was unfit for battle as well. Surely, surely she would know that fighting with a clouded mind could only hasten her demise…!

But his words may as well be wind to her ears. Pivoting on her toes, she spun forward for a vicious, downward swing, bringing whatever momentum she had into her blade such that the air itself seemed to be sliced apart at its wake. Whatever defenses her opponent had would be cut through, and even if he wisely dodged her sword would impact the ground, sending forth an even bigger surprise. A merciless attack befitting of her current state of mind.

In an instant, Chance's opponent, whom he learned was named Kalena, shot forward with incredulous speed with blade raised high. Her swiftness was unparalleled as she appeared in front of him, already on a downward slice with her sword. Chance's reaction time was slowed by his injury, which had now stained his coat red; but he grit his teeth and snapped anyway. The blood that had spread throughout his clothing erupted from the cloth, tearing it to shreds as it met mid-swing with Kalena's blade. A single, thick line of blood was split in half by the sharp sword, with the wielder's sparking with an unknown fury. Luckily, Chance's weak counter had managed to slow the speed and force of teh sword just enough for him to sidestep to the left and away from the attack.

Chance's face contorted into a grimace as a cry of pain escaped his lips, his legs shaking as he struggled to remain standing. His pained gaze found its way to Kalena, who's sword had struck the ground.

Even as Chance avoided the first blow, Kalena continued to pursue him with untold ferocity. As her blade reached the end of its journey, sinking into the ground, the floor rumbled and shook, roaring with the same inner rage that boiled within her. At once, a giant earthen spike burst through from where the sword struck, aiming straight at Chance to impale him in the chest. It was clear now that she had no intention of caring whether or not her opponent survived.

But Corvon had other plans. Words would not stop his companion, and so he begun frantically circling his hands, drawing faint runes in the air with his fingers with blinding speed. But even as he did so he could feel a cold sweat drip down his forehead, reflecting the rising panic in his heart. For once, he had no idea how the battle would end. Would there even be a ‘good’ end to this chaos, even from his intervention? He did not know, but he could only hope to try his best, for the good of the two gladiators.

"SHIT!" Chance's heart raced with adrenaline as he jumped to the side, landing painfully into a roll to avoid the large spike. The point snagged its way into his trousers, ripping the bottom half completely off to be hung by the tip. Chance himself was struggling to stay focused on his opponent, whose eyes were sparking with a deranged anger. He clutched at his side, feeling the opening and the blood pouring out of it. It had soaked that small area of his coat thoroughly with thick, crimson liquid. With a grunt, Chance ripped off the rest of the over-coat, throwing it to the side while he gasped in between painful breaths.

His maroon eyes, red as he blinked back tears, darted between the two gladiators in front of him. His lips twisted into a snarl as anger boiled in the pit of his stomach. He hated being so defenseless against a woman; it was usually the other way around. Something unusual caught his eye however. Behind Kalena, her companion was waving his hands frantically through the air, small bits of light trailing behind his fingers.

"How odd..." Chance drew in a deep breath and stood up straight, facing his female opponent. He didn't hesitate as he brought his free hand up quickly to snap. The blood that had stained his coat, and the blood seeping through his fingers, shot away from him. It swirled around Chance, slowly creating a thin, yet opaque, crimson dome around him. The fleeting image of his forced smile vanished quickly as the barrier hardened, turning to a sturdy wall of dark red.

The blood red barrier formed around her opponent, thin, smooth like tinted glass, yet at the same time, seemingly hardier than stone itself. But even though to her sword, stone may as well be butter, she was not as tightly gripped by her emotions to come charging forward into a potential trap. Instead she swung her sword up and away from the ground it was stabbed into, flinging dirt and dust up into the air, and also sending forth another stone spike from below where Chance would be, effectively bypassing the barrier if he had neglected to shield himself from attacks from below.

"Lights, gather!" She barked almost immediately after, and at her words iridescent spheres begun winking into existence, grouping themselves about her arm in an almost elegant fashion to form a long, thin blade that shone and illuminated the room in its incandescence. She immediately readied both weapons, in anticipation of what would happen next.

At that same moment, the sword of truth quivered in her grip. So slight the movement was, that the swordswoman was too preoccupied to even notice.

As the small spherical lights gathered, the dome that surrounded Chance slowly crumbled away as a giant, earthen spike thrust its way through the top. Kalena stood at the ready, brandishing two blades as she watched the barrier fall. Piece by piece the shield fell away, soon giving the female warrior a clear view of Chance as he stood in front of the spike, but it didn't seem like him... A wide, almost fake-looking, grin was plastered to his face and his eyes seemed glazed over. As the rest of the barrier dispersed, something strange happened. More and more figures that resembled Chance appeared, all with the same expression. Several were hunched other, others were crouching, but all had the same creepy smile.

"Not bad girly... You're quite tough."

The real Chance stood in the midst of them; his waist coat was torn nearly in half and part of his waist was visible from where the earthen spike had ripped his clothing. His breaths were ragged and the collar of his shirt was soaked in sweat; one hand was clutched at his side where the gash was, his other shoulder was propping his body weight up against the spike. Blood dripped down his hand and soaked into his suit pants, making it stick to his skin. Despite all of this, a legitimate smile tugged at his lips, showing his perfectly white teeth.

"But how tough are you, girly?" Chance chuckled, the anger from before seeming to dissipate and replaced by amusement. He rose a shaky hand and snapped. The blood-clones of Chance all laughed in unison and surged towards Kalena and her magician friend, who seemed to have not halted his quick hand movements.

#Sorry, I had the misfortune of being busy. I'll repost now.

The clones surged forth roaring with mind numbing cries of bloodlust and rage, and though they bore only fisticuffs, the sheer amount of them was enough to worry about. Corvon widened his eyes at this sight, feeling the panic within his mind grow even stronger. He was utterly defenseless; the spell couldn’t possibly be stopped now, not when he was so close to completion, and yet he had no way to retaliate in his current state. He was almost compelled to give up then and there, but something flashed in his mind. A scene so long ago, yet all too familiar to him.

__________________

“Too slow, Corvon!”

The young mage winced as a gust of wind struck his body, sending him stumbling off the platform with the air knocked out of his lungs. He stood, coughing, until the shadow cast by the approaching grandmaster bore over him with an almost menacing air.

“You will never survive in a duel as you are, Corvon,” he snapped, brushing his cloak to one side, “you would be ashed long before you are finished.”

“Master Logan…” the mage winces, feeling almost intimidated by the stern expression on the man’s features, “I...I couldn’t be faster.”

“This despite speed being most critical to a mage's duel,” Logan replies with the same harshness in his tone, “power is secondary, Corvon, but it seems to me that that is all you know in casting destructive magics.”

He waited for no response, turning on one heel to return to his post, stopping for just a brief moment to say one last sentence “think more, journeyman. The pathway to a spell is not necessarily the only one.”

__________________________

He froze for just a split second. Why did he have to halt his preparations? He only needed to alter how it worked, to perform a secondary effect during the ritual process. Everything all clicked into his mind, and with a triumphant smile his hands begun to wave a different, yet equally esoteric pattern, and within a mere two seconds he unleashed this ‘preparation spell’.

“Order, freeze!” He murmurs, and at his command, magic flowed through his fingers expanding a giant, barely visible sphere of influence that sent everyone but he and Kalena to a sudden paralysis. The effect was short lived, enough to buy time for Kalena to cut through the torso of one clone, before retreating back to defend the mage against the incoming horde. Her movements were harsher and more brutal in contrast to her typically graceful ones, spinning, thrusting, striking the clones with exaggerated force. But as quick her attacks were, the clones had the numerical advantage, bearing crude weapons fashioned from hardened blood. She winced as her arms were grazed by attacks she failed to parry in time, and her torso was cut a medium sized gash. With her mobility restricted by the fact that she had to guard Corvon as well, she was open to every swing of a blade, forcing her further into a corner.

“Kalena…!” Corvon shouted in between his ritual magic, cringing as he helplessly watched his companion slowly lose the battle, but then he saw her plunge her sword into the ground, drawing on the blade’s powers to generate a giant wave of stone that knocked away the berserking clones, if not outright destroying them. He emitted a sigh of relief, but that too was stopped short when she briefly turns around with a murderous look in her eyes.

And it was then that he noticed, that her left arm was splashed with her own blood, for the entirety of her forearm was gone. Sliced off by one lucky clone, now laying on the ground in a pool of crimson that grew in size as her wound bled freely. His eyes widened, and he could feel his stomach churning in nausea from the gruesome sight of it.

"Y-you..." he tried mustering himself to speak, but no words came out, save for a half choking noise. What could he possibly say in such a situation?

"Save it," she muttered, her voice cold and hard. Despite her severed arm she seemed only mildly afflicted by pain, her brow only furrowing in discomfort, but then such a wound rarely generated much pain to begin with. She turned back to the opponent, waiting not for another response before pulling her blade back in preparation.

“Wait, Kalena!” Corvon shouted after her, but it achieved nothing, not even eliciting a single response from the swordswoman. He couldn’t trust himself to believe what he was seeing. She had a severed arm; it would take her less than a minute to faint from blood loss, and yet...what drove her to press on forward with such a condition?

Corvon closed his eyes, grinding his teeth in frustration. For once, he felt utterly useless. He was watching his own companion slowly kill herself in the rage that she had been consumed by, yet he could only stand behind, making worthless hand gestures that mightn’t achieve a single thing. How was this any close to the help that he had hoped to provide?

"How brave..." Chance muttered, still clutching at his injured side. He watched, in admittance with a little twinge of jealousy, as Kalena expertly used her swords to defend herself and her mage-companion.

However, Chance wouldn't let her get by so easily. With a snap of his slim fingers, more clones erupted and took form from the remnants of the former replicas. Their hollow bodies regrouped in a large mass of clones, all laughing hysterically at one another. Another snap resnonated from the back of the room, and the clones hushed at once, in an eerie unison. They turned abruptly, back to face Kalena and Corvon. The swordswoman, whose forearm had been dismembered, had grown pale from loss of blood, and yet stood her ground .

Chance stood in the back, his breath becoming slightly ragged as the blood continued to slowly drip over his hand. He couldn't close the wound... Not yet... Instead, he sucked in a painful breath and snapped again, without saying anything.

The clones laughed again, in the same deranged unison as before, and surged back towards the duo. It was the same tactic as before, but now it was too predictable and Kalena no doubt had a way around it. This time however, something changed. A small group of clones, approximately ten, split off from the massive horde and ran towards Corvon. The remaining replicas continued their onslaught towards Kalena, whose face had grown pale from the loss of blood.

Chance's gaze found its way to her dismembered forearm, and he couldn't help but feel pity for the woman.

#Alright, here it is! Sorry for the delay~!

It was the same trick once more, but Corvon was no longer willing to let himself stand idly to hinder his companion. His movements steadily grew in speed as he neared the conclusion of his spell, leaving golden streaks of runes that shone one after another with blinding brilliance. Finally, a magic circle, inscribed with various esoteric symbols, burst from his fingers, accompanied by another wave of influence that washed over the room with almost blinding speed.

"Order...Stillness!"

The voice of the mage reverberated throughout the room, strong and commanding in contrast to his normal demeanor. And with those two words, the entirety of the area was sent into a state of mass paralysis, save for Kalena and Corvon himself. The clones, once provoked into a bloodthirsty rage, were forced into a sudden halt that could not broken. Nothing moved, and even the air was forced into an unnatural state of staleness. A fearsome area encompassing spell that could only be resisted given great willpower, and then only partially, its potency reflected in the mage's prodigious magical strength and the elaborate ritual that the spell was based upon.

Finally, with a single flourish of his finger he brought upon the lingering essence of magic, gathering them at a single point to close off the bleeding from Kalena's severed arm. Crude, but it would buy her enough time before she could be given proper aid. But then he felt strength escape from his limbs in that final effort, only managing to catch himself from collapsing at the final moment. He had run out of energy, save for the small residue at his index finger. The spell...took more out of him that he had thought, to the extent that even his own physical strength had been sapped away.

"Kalena!" He shouted, his words slightly slurred as he fought against his weakening constitution. There was no need for additional words, for Kalena would not let the efforts of her companion go to waste. The swordswoman sprang forth into action, ignoring the frozen clones as she lunged forward with her sword bared to bring the battle to its conclusion.

Doubtlessly, her opponent's will to live would snap him from his chains quick enough for him to provide some resistance. But even if he managed to defend himself, there would be no clone to hide behind, no barrier to protect his person. It was to be a straightforward duel, blade against blood.

“Order...Stillness!”

The shout reverberated throughout the small cell; the force behind it sending shivers down Chance’s spine as his body froze in place. Even his multitude of clones froze in their spot, all with their deranged smiles in a mid-laugh. If Chance could bite his lip in frustration he would, but all he could no now was watch.

Corvon, who had cast his little spell, fell to his knees in exhaustion; his last bit of magic essence arching towards Kalena as it healed her wound. Now the swordswoman sped through the crowd of blood replicas, making her way towards him.

Chance cringed inwardly as his mind screamed at his body to run. His wound however had not frozen, and was steadily dripping blood down his leg, causing an uncomfortable feeling.

"Shit! Move damn it, move!" His jaw clenched as his brain fired command after command to his muscles, trying desperately to move from the line of assault.

"Wait… My jaw clenched..!?" A surge of excitement mixed with desperate hope flooded his body as he could slowly feel control seeping into his muscles.

Come on![i] His arms felt as if they were chained to the ground, but he couldn’t stop; or she would kill him.
Chance’s eyes darted up and locked on Kalena, who was rapidly approaching with deadly ferocity blazing throughout her very aura. Fear was now battling with hope, and his heart pounded in his chest. Ever so slowly, he regained movement in his arms; he never took his eyes off the swordswoman who was dangerously close now. Sweat dripped down his face as he struggled to bring his middle finger to press against his thumb.

I have to do it now! His inward yell of desperation was the final push he needed.

Time slowed as Kalena charged him, her teeth gritted together as she began to realize how dire the situation was becoming. One swing of her sword would end the fight, but if Chance could move fast enough, he could save himself. Fortunately, it was the latter that happened.

Chance’s middle finger and thumb slammed together; they pushed past each other fast enough to create an audible noise. Chance’s heart leapt for joy as the command did its work. Blood leapt from the ground and his clothing as Kalena brought her sword down on him. The collection of crimson liquid solidified before their eyes and took the form of a red broadsword. Steel clashed with hardened blood as Chance just barely managed to protect himself; the edge of his own blade scraping his his cheek. His clones leapt back into action and fell on Corvon, grabbing at his arms and legs, clothing, hair, anything they could get a hold of.

A sly grin slowly took place on Chance's lips as he stared up at Kalena, her eyes blazing with anger. His eyes darted over her sweat-stricken face as he struggled to hold his ground against the experienced swordswoman. The muscles in his arms screamed with a burning ache while the gash in his side continued to seep blood due to all the recent movement. Yet, this didn't stop his usual libido attitude.

"Your move beautiful." He winked and blew a soft kiss towards her direction as he pushed the pain in his side out of his thoughts, just to focus on the woman before him.

#I apologize for my tardiness. There is no excuse other than school work.

#Apologies for the incredibly late post. I've been having some...personal issues that I'd rather not say.


Their plan was shattered the moment the spell’s influence was overcome by the sheer will of their opponent. Shattered, with no hope of a reprieve. The supposed final blow never made contact; by some witchery or another, Chance had the opportunity to form a weapon and parry her swing within the mere moments he was afforded. He was foolish to meet her attack head on. Foolish not to have simply gotten out of the way in the face of her blade that was sharp enough to cut through the most defensive of bulwarks. And yet he stood unscathed, as if afforded some divine protection of a god or another, taunting her with seemingly little care in the world.

Perhaps, if she were in normal condition, she would simply pull back for another opportunity to fell her opponent; with such arrogance, such carelessness, even at a disadvantaged state she would have no problem holding her own for such an opportunity to arise once more. But her mind then was a thick haze, driven by countless of flaring emotions that blocked out any and all rational thought. Met with such a situation, she only felt a surge of frustration Was she to simply sit idly for him to mock her, mocked by a man undeserving of even a sliver of respect? She could not, and she would not. By tooth or nail, she would show him his place, to strike him where he stood with all the strength she could muster in her limbs.

She disengaged her blade, pulling it back for a swing. But when she did commit it, the blade barely grazed her opponent, instead aiming straight for the ground beneath them. Nothing could have stopped her, even if he had seen through the uncharacteristically shoddy feint of hers. The sword of truth began to shine with a dim radiance as it struck the earth, taking in all her strength that she could muster, that she could fuel with all the hatred, the anger that boiled within her.

Gaia’s Fury, came the whisper.

And at once, the earth erupted into a plethora of spikes and pillars, discriminating neither friend nor foe as they pierced through the air with a giant roar that reverberated throughout the entire cell, as if reflecting the limitless rage that their summoner bore. Rage that had gone far beyond the limit. There was nowhere to hide, and little in the way of defending against the onslaught. The only one that would be left untouched was the swordswoman herself. It was the final and most brutal technique that was available to her, one that sapped virtually all of her strength, and would leave her in a barely functioning state, physically and mentally.

++++++++++++++++++++

Seconds before, Corvon could only watch helplessly as his spell, one of the highest order that he had been able to muster at his current level, unravel with seemingly little difficulty. How long had it worked for? A second. two? Did he fail to channel his magic properly? Perhaps their enemy might be compelled to release himself by sheer willpower, but how could the effects be undone so easily, such that he had time to fully prepare for Kalena’s attack, and for his clones to jump back into the fray as well?

Nothing made sense to him.

But even as he antagonised over the cruel decision of fate, he was forced to face the many clones that surrounded him, cackling with a blood curdling insanity that seemed almost out of this world. He could only briefly glance at his hands, glistening with a steadily fading white. His eyes flashed from shock, confusion, to that of a steeled determination. There was no question as to what he should do. He spread his arms wide, his fingers curled, locking air and vapour with order to form a crystallised rod that resembled vaguely like a quarterstaff. He held it as such, and once the onslaught came, he struck back against the clones, back pedalling as he swung his makeshift weapon against each of his attackers in order to avoid getting surrounded. He had only basic training in staves, and his mental exhaustion had not left his person, but still he forced himself to hold on, parrying one attack after the other as he exchanged quick blows in return.

All of that happened in mere seconds. Mere seconds, before the ground began rumbling, shaking as if it were echoing the beginnings of a localised earthquake. He lurched, a sense of dread rising within him as the tremors continued. He had already known then, the direct cause of the quaking, but as much as he wanted to shout, to stop the person from worsening the situation, he had no time to even open his mouth; He felt something pierce though his back, cold and merciless. At the same moment, spikes and pillars of stone erupted around him, giving each and every clone and equal fate.

In his dimming moments, his eyes travelled to his hands, the tiniest of sparks winking out of existence around them, and then to the quarterstaff that had dropped to the ground, gradually melting as the fuel that had formed its existence petered out. Strange, he thought dully, how the lady of fate had abandoned them so quickly. That final spark of magic he had left...he had originally intended to refrain his companion should the need arise. Ironic, that he would squander it for himself, only for the very scenario he had dreaded to take place.

His vision faded to darkness, made murky by the tears that found their way in his eyes. His last feelings were not of anger, of disappointment, but of regret.

Regret that despite his promise to help Kalena...he had failed her once again.