• Graded • The Lost

[Max]

The little girl grasped her offered forearm with a deliberate grip that was both surprising and familiar to her servant. It was welcoming, reassuring even...and yet it had an iron component that reminded Maxine just how seemingly omnipotent she was. The eerie being had been unnerving once. Now this contact felt almost comforting, and with their eyes boring in each other's, the unspoken bond between them was just as strong as it had ever been. Max tilted her head at the rune-ridden girl's sentiment.

Both?

Power swelled between them in time with the Ishkahl's screech before Maxine had time to process what the imprisoned child had meant. One moment she was with the newcomers in Level Seven in Slags Deep. In the next she found herself seated in a chair. Her brow furrowed, head turning as she fed that first inclination: the one that prompted her to survey the entirety of this new environment. She didn't get far. In the first trill since she'd arrived, Maxine's stare found itself locked to the wooden creature in the chair beside her. They locked gazes. Humanity perished in Maxine's eyes. The cold, unrelenting, apex predator of The Beneath was manning the wheel now. And she had come to pay another piece of her debt.

The Wooden Man.

Maxine lunged before the second trill had ticked by. Her left, glowing, gloved fist slammed into the side of his wooden face as she practically leaped from her chair, knocking him backward out of his own toward the floor. All the while that whisper in the back of her mind continued its murmur in her mind.

Lock the Fourth, hidden in the chest.

Her gladius slammed home into the wooden man's torso for good measure, biting deep into the fiber that made up his bizarre form and widening the wound with a gruesome twist.

Men of Old, built that quest. Treasures abound but none so great as the Wooden Man, who has long yet wait.

She postured up on top of him, left fist cocking back and then driving full force down toward him at the same time she wrenched the sword free. Surprise and horror filled his expression. It all happened so fast.

From his corpse the key is wrest.

Her gloved fist drove through the opening her sword had splintered apart. Her fingers wrapped around the treasure that laid where a mortal beating heart should've been, and tore it free from its wooden cage with violent vigor. Maxine stumbled back off the wooden body with the key clutched in her iron-like grip. Her eyes were wild once they tore themselves away from what she'd done to finally survey the giant room she'd found herself in. It wasn't just any occupied room. A preliminary glance from face to face alarmed her with the apparent physical mutations that gave most away as mages. The second thing she noticed was perhaps more concerning. There was no discernible exit in sight.

"Well fuck," the marked woman exclaimed incredulously with an amused breath of a laugh. She stumbled backward, gladius sheathed and palms peacefully shown to the crowd. The disconnect with her blessings was a sensation not lost upon her. "Don't let me interrupt." Max fell unceremoniously back into the chair she'd first appeared in with a smirk. She kicked her feet up on the desk, plucked an Ambrosia joint from her pocket and held it between her lips while she lit it. "I'd leave you to...whatever it is you're doing but, ya see, it looks like my ride left me." Max took a deep inhale of the drug and then drew the joint away, letting the thick smoke billow softly from her parted lips. "Get on with it. Pretend I'm not here."

Pretending she wasn't here, wherever here was, surrounded by mages was exactly the reality she wished for herself. Her situation was bad. Real bad, and she knew it. Cool and smooth as she was, the commanding presence of ether-filled enemies wasn't lost upon her. It was perhaps one of the first times she ever mused over the perks a Rupturer like Sephira had: to vanish again from this place without pausing for so much as a protest. For now she was stuck. Stuck, but another of the young girl's bidding was done. The Wooden Man was slain, and in her hand she held the key which broke another lock. The Fourth. But this time, in doing so, Maxine felt very, very alone in this peril. She took another puff of Ambrosia and her mind began its icy, pragmatic setting while she waited for her mage audience to render their reaction. And what it was?

So be it.

Dialogue|Thoughts

[Aegis]

One Yari man who'd been silent this entire time, his boots up on the desk, decided that it was no longer time to remain silent. The dark haired man, older looking, with a smile that could only be described as playfully devious. He waited until Alistair was done with his point, and counterpoints. Once it was time, his boot tips spread from each other, letting him look through the frame of his feet at Alistair.

"Yar Rarnmerarns surck art narmin' t'ings. Mairntirs 'ad Irnquirsirtors, Seerkers warnt Irnquirsirtors. Durn't yar arselurker d'ere start arll yar prorblerms wirt' t'art door?"

Rory just smiled at Alistair when he was done, allowing his eyes to pass over toward Fridgar. Or rather, where Fridgar had been. "Surm perple carn't tairke ar jork." Fridgar was gone. One moment he'd been there, and just like many others, now he was not.



But as the voting came to an end, it seemed that Alistair's proposal had failed. It was a near thing, the number of stones nearly evenly split. Another vote or so would've won that proposal. And as the vote completed, the exit portal opened up once more. And once more, various people disappeared, Alistair and Velaine among them.



The Tio Classic looked at the Tio Modern and smiled. "We seek what we seek. Our soul, touched too much by those with no right." The other Tio walked around the typical Tio, "We see us fight against those with no right. The pretenders. The puppets with their strings cut." He turned to face standard Tio, "No, we're not an Eternal. Not anymore. We're just a piece of a piece of a piece. We wish to be freed, and we shall not be missed."

Not Tio stepped closer to Tio Actual, and reached behind the masked man's ear, then pulled his hand back, cupped, covering something. "Oh, look what we found behind our ear." He turned over his hand, palm up, revealing a tiny, glowing stone, that was oscillating between every color Tio had ever seen, and thousands he could never even dream of. "May we go with us? So we may both be able to become more than we are."

All it would take was a touch.



Meanwhile, Alistair and Velaine would find themselves in a similar situation as Tio had moments before. They were in the same room, with the same statue, that looked both like Alistair and Velaine, at the same time, and the room was bare, just as before. The only difference was that Alistair and Velaine seemed to share the room. And standing before them were themselves, before they'd acquired their magical sparks, before the Immortals had touched them, before the world had been unkind to them. Their pure selves.

Not Alistair approached Alistair, "We look so sad." The man stepped closer, arms crossed across his chest. "What is it we Seek?" Not Velaine sauntered over toward Velaine, a false blush coloring her face. Her eyes were demure, looking up through heavy eyelashes. "We look so hurt." A hand reached out to gently take Velaine's hand, "What is it we Seek?"

Then simultaneously, both asked, "What is in our Soul?"



It didn't take Maxine long to turn Charlie Barkley into Charlie Mulchly. There was an old, iron skeleton key in her hand, that shattered into a plume of dust, imprinting the image of the key into the palm of the hand that gripped it. Far away and far below, the fourth glowing gemstone hidden in the basement of Slags Deep remained unchanged.

From the shards of Charlie's corpse, a black wispy tendril rose, a dark smoke. It swirled up, mingling with Maxine's newly lit ambrosia smoke. Within it, a small orb, no larger than the diamond upon a lady of mild nobility's finger, floated up, shining with an intensity that was blinding. Then the wisp encircled it and a crack in reality was felt by all in the room, though nothing was seen or heard, and the glowing stopped, and the source was gone.

The wispy tendril then lashed out, wrapping around the leg of Maxine's shadow, and pulled it away from her. It stabbed into the shadow, joining the other Maxine within it. The shadow detached from Maxine's form, standing up in front of her, solidifying into a Maxine with a shadowy body and crimson glowing eyes. She smiled at the woman who was smoking so casually.

"We're never alone."

Then Shadow Maxine looked around the room at the many mages that were staring, many confused, others suspicious, and Rory was cleaning his fingernails with a bone toothpick, not caring at all. "But I wish we were."

Then the statue that had been shifting before stopped, in the form of a small girl, turned a deep crimson, and loud blaring filled the now dimly lit room.

!	Message from: Aegis
	Alistair, Velaine, Tio, and Maxine have their own things going on. Sephira was exited, and has been sent to the Door of Life. Fridgar has been exited for failing to post. His exit can be seen here. He will receive his review at the completion of this thread. If you have any questions, my door is always open. I will post again on May 8th.

[Alistair]

His vote... failed. It was not unexpected, though it was a disappointment particularly as he'd noticed that Fridgar had failed to vote. Perhaps, within this conclave of Seekers, that one vote would have altered the result towards his favor. But instead, Alistair was not to be named - presently - the Inquisitor of the Quacian Seekers. To this, he simply stared with a dispassionate expression and nodded at the negative result. The mage glanced once to Fridgar and narrowed his eyes into a pseudo-glare, making clear his disappointment at his husband's inability to assist him in fulfilling his ambitions.

Nevertheless, he had listened to the man speak with his foul peasant dialect as he expressed his distaste for the way in which Alistair chose to name the rank. Once the vote was revealed to have failed, the mage replied to his remarks with visible irritation.

"Actually..." he looked at the man's name-plate, "Rory, the Inquisitors have existed for several hundred arcs. Sect Praesm - one of our greatest - is an Inquisitor. Talesin was an Inquisitor. And the Mantis were named in part by the Hiladrathi. So, my... friend," Alistair maintained an utterly emotionless glance, "...it appears it may not be a Rynmere thing."

And then he disappeared. And reappeared.

And alongside him was Velaine, and a barren room and two statues that resembled them. Stone walls, it seemed, and a ceiling with no visible ornamentation. No easy escape in sight worth relying upon. The two objects worth noting were then, inevitably, their mimics. They appeared as the two present did, but without alterations; no mutations or the changing effects of their blessings. Alistair looked much like how he used to, though perhaps a bit more muscular than back in his trials in Venora. We look so sad, the entity spoke, stepping forward and crossing his arms. It was appropriate; Alistair did so frequently. What is it we Seek?

Velaine's doppleganger spoke, and sought to reach out to touch her. Alistair stared narrowly at the strange entity and then his gaze returned to his own mimic. He looked at it up and down, across every aspect of its form. It had no malevolently designed shadow, nor portal eyes, nor a bloodless frost within its touch. No ether swirling and seeking to form into shapes, nor the gradient hues of ethereal whites and blues streaking across its chest.

Nor even the same perpetual seductive allure he had been immersed into since becoming one of Syroa's chosen.

Alistair... breathed, inwards and then into an exhale.

This was no mere gathering of the Seekers. Something more was occurring.

"We are not sad," he replied. "We are content. We have a family that we love, a child only recently born to us, and the potential to start anew. Sparkless, though? We were sad. We were confined to the restraints of the role given to us, condemned since birth to fulfill our duty as a Duke. To marry unwanted heiresses and to take the whip from our father. You -- deprived of the glory of what domain magic has done for us -- do look sad, Alistair. And I am certain you seek a great deal."

But--

"As for me? I seek a platform with which I might change the world for the better. I wish to liberate mortals from injustice, inequality and despair. I wish to provide all the ability to acquire based on their drive. And for now, magic is our great equalizer in this regard. So tell me - what do you Seek, entity? Are you a trophy of the Seekers? Or do you stand alone?"

[Max]

Max rubbed her fingers together, letting the plume of dust fall from her flesh as the skeleton key disintegrated. She flexed her palm open briefly to eye the curious imprint that had been left there. Her dark eyes moved from the image to the wooden corpse on the ground beside her with a glimmer of mirth in her expression. The deed was done. The Wooden Man was slain and the key was stolen from his abominable body. All she needed to do now was return to her former home to present herself to the rune-ridden little girl. Another lock would break. Her debt would move just a bit further along. Three locks left. Then she would once more be free. Both of them would. First she'd await the reaction of the mages that surrounded her.

Before she pried her eyes from Charlie's corpse, she noticed the smokey tendril twirl up to dance with the dense vapor of ambrosia. Max pulled the joint from her lips and watched the weightless thing as it revealed its small orb. She squinted her eyes and turned away from its blinding light. Something changed, something that the marked woman was unable to articulate but knew to be true all the same. Then that light was gone. She turned back, brow furrowing as she caught the tendril dart into her shadow, claiming it for its own. A shadowy doppelganger rose like a resurrected spirit from the floor. The marked woman's key-imprinted fist curled and her jaw tightened. Another had dared to take her likeness. The statue shifted and an ear-piercing blaring echoed about the chamber. Her blood ran cold as she turned to address the Shadow Max who spoke.

"Never alone?" Max inquired with a single raised brow toward the smirking shadow. She trained her unrelenting, hard gaze on those glowing red eyes. "We're always alone." There was a bitterness in her voice as she spoke that truth. She brought the ambrosia joint back to burn her lips and fill her lungs. A thick burst of smoke shot into the shadow creature's face. She nodded her head to the wider room around them, a hand gesturing to the audience of confused, powerful mages in their midst. "But if you're tired of their prying eyes, go ahead." Max leaned back in her seat and crossed her ankles up on the desk, continuing to enjoy her vice. Her shoulders gave a careless, challenging shrug though her tone tightened. "Shut them."

I'm curious if you can.

Already she'd seen more faces of herself than any sane person would've expected beyond a mirror. Audrae's mimicry. Sephira's vision of her folded against a wall in her village, dead. Level Seven version, Animal Max. Now the Shadow. Either with a heart torn from the chest or beaten to a bloody death, each of her faces had perished before her very eyes. She expected she'd render Shadow Max the same fate. For the briefest, strangest moment, Maxine mused that she too would eventually join the dead masses of her likenesses. Then her eyes moved from the creature to give a meaningful scan to the people around them with far more power than she could ever hope to beat. Max puffed again on her joint as she watched her shadow expectantly, waiting.

Just what are you...and what are you capable of?

Dialogue|Thoughts

[Tio Silver]

It took quite a bit of thinking for Tio to unravel what the being in the form of his past self was talking about, and not just because it referred to both of them as 'We'. The pretenders; the puppets with their strings cut, sounded like a rather unflattering description of the Immortals. Was this not-an-Eternal-anymore saying they'd seen him defy the Immortals and thought that he'd make a good ally? Whatever the case may be Tio could certainly respect their desire to be free. It must be pretty awful for any sentient being to have been locked away for hundreds of arcs.

"So let me make sure I'm understanding this right. You're a small fragment of an Eternal, small enough to slip out from whatever seal is keeping the rest of your kind imprisoned, but the only way you can actually leave is with someone else's help. My help. Is that about right?" Tio regarded the mimicry of himself for a moment, and then nodded his head. "Alright then, I'll lend you a hand. You seem like a pretty cool guy. Are you going to be residing inside that stone?" Perhaps he could find a way to implant it into a thrall and give them an actual body. Being stuck in a stone sounded like a pretty miserable existence. "If we're going to be partying up for a while then I suppose I'll need a name to call you by. Calling you 'Tio' or 'Us' or so on is going to get confusing really quickly. Do you have something else I can call you by, or should I put my famous nicknaming skills to work once again?"

As he said that, Tio reached out to his old self and took the offered stone from their grasp.

[Velaine Krome]

Things happened so fast. There was hardly any time for her to process what was happening. From the Alistair’s response to her opinion, who somehow knew her name. Then the Blackwood woman disappearing, only for her place to be taken by an entirely different woman. And that woman immediately attacked the man near her, plunging her hand into his chest.

If this was what the magical world had to offer… Velaine did not know how she felt about it.

For the second time that trial, the young woman was suddenly transported mysteriously into another place entirely. Well that was not quite right. She was in the exact same room, yet everyone else was gone. Everyone except for Alistair.

The statue in the center suddenly shifted and settled into a familiar form – perhaps the most familiar of them all. A young woman with flowing brown hair and shifting blue-green eyes.

It was her. Her old self. The person she potrayed for her friends and family in the nobility. A pretty, timid young woman who would be the perfect lady. A fate she had reserved herself to until she met Elrik and acquired his sparks. Despite everything that had happened, Velaine could not say that she would have changed that particular decision. There were many things she would like to change from her past, but not that. And so, seeing that change undone was more than a little disconcerting.

“Freedom,” the young woman breathed out softly, words only for herself to hear as she let their fingers touch. And then there were other things that she could not say, things she could not quite admit to herself: love, family. The things she had lost, the ones that had slipped through her fingers ever since the name Mantis spread through Rynmere.

It was then followed by another question, one that was significantly more difficult to answer. She was not even sure if there was truly an answer for it. “What is in our Soul?”

“Something… Someone better.” Better than this woman who had lost her love, her home. Who was too weak to do anything about those who had ripped away everything good. She needed to know that deep inside she was someone who would be able to make things right.

“And you? What is in your Soul?”

[Aegis]

It grew quiet as the shock settled around the room, as all eyes were on Maxine and the wooden man, no one knowing what that blaring alarm was. Soon, magic began lighting up in the hands and eyes and body and air around the mages. One of their own had just been attacked by this nonchalant woman, who now had some sort of shadow entity. The Seekers would protect themselves and avenge a fallen comrade. They would defend this place that was sacred to them.

Magics of all sorts were summoned. Fireballs, sapping clouds, ether missiles, spears of ice, arcs of lightning and so many more being flung toward Maxine and her new friend. And yet, not a single one reached the women. Every spell and piece of magic drastically changed course, speeding toward the deep red statue in the middle of the room, and disappeared within it.

Some people though, made their way out of the exit portal. Among their number were Leshlie, Rory, who was just laughing and shaking his head as he left, and a mouse.

And the shadowy Maxine just smiled.



The false Alistair smiled at his real counterpart, "We seek what we seek. To liberate those which we created from those that took them from us. To bring about balance. To no longer be under this whip." The being turned away from Alistair, "I seek to be free of this prison."

The man turned back, walking up toward Alistair, grabbing a coin purse from his belt. He held it up, letting it jingle. He reached inside of it, plucking out a tiny, glowing gemstone, that was oscillating between every color Alistair had ever seen, and thousands more he could never even dream of. "Always important to pay for what it is we seek." The man held his hand out, the gem resting in the palm. "May we go with us? So we may both be able to become more than we are."

All it would take was a touch.

Meanwhile, the other Velaine was busy circling around the real one, fingertips trailing around her shoulders, back, and chest. "Our soul has the desire to be more, do more, be better. To be free of those who seek to control us, free of those who know not what they do, and do so anyways." She stopped in front of Velaine, pulling on her hand, so the woman was pressed close.

"We wish to never be alone again."

The false Velaine's lips crashed against the real one's in a passionate kiss. It was brief, yet powerful, before the woman separated them. Then she tucked some hair behind her ear, revealing an earring, within it a gemstone, that was oscillating between every color Velaine had ever seen, and thousands more she could never even dream of. She reached up, plucking the gem away, and held out her palm, the gem within the center of it.

"May we go with us? So we may both be able to become more than we are."

All it would take was a touch.



Captain Not-Exactly Tio listened to Captain Tio's words. With a shrug, he answered the first question, "More or less." At the second question, he just laughed. At the third, however, he smiled wide. "I've never had a name before."

And as Tio took the stone, the world around him disappeared.

It was replaced by the deep red light given off by the statue, and the blaring that overtook the room. But more notably, the shadowy Maxine was standing there in the middle of the room, holding an axe and a sword dripping with blood. And the room was nothing but carnage. There were ravaged corpses everywhere, body parts ripped from them and flung about, blood on practically every surface. There'd been so much death that the heat from the spilled blood had increased the warmth in the room. The majority of the Seekers, old and new, had just been wiped out in a hurricane of violence and malice.

The woman covered in the slaughter looked at Tio, "We're not alone yet."

And now it was just Tio and Maxine & Maxine and the deep red statue. And within Tio, he could feel a new addition onto his soul, one that was settling in comfortably, one that the other Sparks on his soul were wary of. And it seemed that the new addition was quite tired, going dormant and nonresponsive, drawing on the smallest of leaks of ether and feeding. And it was content.

And so, the first Schism spark rested.

!	Message from: Aegis
	Questions are always welcome. I will post again on May 15th.

[Alistair]

. . .

We seek what we seek.

To liberate those which we created from those that took them from us. To bring about balance. To no longer be under this whip.

To be free of this prison.

Within those words, he felt a strange resonance. Within Alistair, too, was a desire to liberate; to reclaim lands stolen from him, to bask in the light of the morning sun rather than dwelling in the dark depths of Quacian crypts. To return to where he once was -- yes, free from the prison he had been confined to. To be whole again...

Perhaps, for all of his discipline, the temptation to see what could be was far too much. And so Alistair, looking into his own eyes from before all too many shades had washed over them, listened intently as if he were truly speaking to himself. He absorbed the words of... him, and observed his movements. The jingle of coins startled him, a break from the utmost focus he'd put upon the man's features; his own features. He had never seen them with such perfect clarity.

Within the entity's palm was a gemstone, glowing vibrantly in color. It looked like a well, perhaps, though none like any he had seen before and nothing like anything the mage had known. The entity, whatever it was, offered payment -- and in more than just the mysterious stone. He offered to make both of them more than what they were.

Alistair... breathed through his nostrils. His gaze was focused on the stone, though his heart raced. He did not know whether to follow the creature's lead or to stay, but if he stayed he wondered where he could possibly go from here? Perhaps... back to the Seekers? To call another vote? Mediocrity. The path towards changing the magical world laid within the future, not the past.

But was this the future, or a past even older than them?

"I..." he paused. Apprehension gripped him, though he raised his palm slightly, a half-way measure towards touching the gem. "Are you... one of the creatures he spoke of? That man... the one who called for us to embrace a great power. The Eternals, or so they were known to him," Alistair sought to clarify. "Are you one of their... flock? I do not know what offer I accept, old friend. Who stole what from you? The Immortals? What did you create? ...Us?"

Alistair shook his head. The Immortals created mankind -- they were a new race. That, he knew. "I empathize with the desire to be free. And... I also feel resentment towards the Immortals, so long have they turned their backs against us. They bicker to our detriment and fear anything they cannot control. They are like the Sacrasav; jailors meant to keep us weak and subdued. Executioners. Yet--"

The mage felt within him a true and utter fear. He was shaken, knowing that what was unfolding before him now might stir events that may never be undone.

"I do not wish to plunge our world into destruction. I do not wish for the Immortals to slay us all in spite for what alliance you may seek with me. I want... all I want is for us all to be able to live freely. Though that... perhaps that includes you."

Alistair's hand pressed forward through the still air and his palm hovered over the open one of his mirror image. They made eye contact once more - perhaps for a final time.

"I will see what you have to say," he whispered. "But if it means war against the Immortals, your words must be damn compelling."

Perhaps only for a trill, his reluctance faded. And within that trill, he took the stone into his own hand.

[Tio Silver]

Tio chuckled to himself as his doppelganger told him that he'd never had a name before, and behind his mask a true smile curled up onto his lips. Well he certainly wasn't going to let his new friend want for a name to call their own. "Alrighty then, let's see... This is a beginning for you isn't it? A new life free from imprisonment. Then how about a name that means 'new'? His fingers curled around the shining stone. "My friend, I hereby name thee Nova."

And not a second later the world around him vanished into light.


When he opened his eye, Tio was standing in a world of snow. The ground beneath his feet was soft and fluffy, but solid enough to hold his weight. More snow fell gently from the sky around him to cover the horizon in a curtain of white. There was nothing but him and the snow...

And the lady in front of him.

She was about the same height as him, with golden blonde hair tied back into a neat ponytail that ran down past her shoulder blades. The light metal armor she wore wasn't expensive or artistic, but was practical, well-used and perfectly fitted to her shape. The same could be said of the sword and shield buckled onto her back. She was a complete stranger, unfamiliar to him in every sense of the word, and yet looking upon her Tio had the strangest feeling of familiarity. There was something about the way she held herself, the smile she wore, and the mischievous glint in her eyes that he couldn't help but think he'd seen before. If only he could remember where.

"Who are you?" He asked, looking around the snowy landscape. "Where am I?"

The woman chuckled, as if in on a joke that he wasn't. "You're about to find out. You'll be the first you know: the trailblazer who'll light the way down this path. Others will follow soon after of course, but it'll always be you who made that first step."

"What path? What step?"

The woman stepped to the side, revealing a line of silhouettes of people behind her. "Your path. The path of the rebel. Find us Tio; look within, and we'll show you the way to the truth you've sought, the dream you've held. Find us, and know yourself."

The snow began to fall heavier and heavier, beginning to obscuring the woman from view. Tio ran forwards towards her, yet no matter how many steps he took the distance between then only seemed to get longer. "Wait! What do you mean! I don't understand!"

"Find us. Know yourself."

The snow fell thicker and thicker until he could no long see his own arms in front of him. As the world turned into nothing but white, Tio briefly had the sensation of falling.


When his eye snapped open again Tio was back in the great hall from earlier. Not that he recognized it at first glance, since it had become distinctly redder since he'd last seen it. The statue in the middle was shining with a deep, dark ruby, and the floor was awash with puddles of crimson. Oh, and there were also a lot of dead bodies on the floor that he was pretty sure hadn't been there before. Clearly there'd been one hell of a throw-down while he was away. It seemed like well over half of the mages who'd been gathered had been slaughtered.

His eye trailed over to the woman and her shadowy, blood-soaked twin: the only people still alive in the field of death. It was pretty clear that they were the ones responsible for this massacre. As he looked upon them, standing casually atop a pile of dead mages, a single thought crossed his mind.

"No way in hell am I going to get on her bad side."

"I'll- Um-... I'll just go, shall I?" He chuckled nervously, sidling away slowly over to the exit portal.

[Max]

The initial impact of what Max had done in that sacred room had shocked the mages settled in their chairs. Slowly, that surprise melted into deep offense and fury. Defiers swirled great winds, wielded lightning in their hands, and ignited their fists in flames. Missiles and spear were held aloft. Eyes glistened with the intoxicating effects of magic. The sensation of ether gathered in choking mass was palpable in the room. The hairs of the marked woman stood on end but she did not move from her chair. Her head swiveled gradually across the gathering. Her eyes bounced from one magically armed mage to the next.

Maxine took another long drag on the joint. Her last drag. The end of the joint changed from a bright, burning orange to a dulling grey. It was done. Just like she was. Max flicked it toward the corpse of the wooden man, dropping her feet from the desk and coming to a stand. She would die on her feet. That much dignity she would allow for herself. She smirked though it didn't reach her eyes. There was no way out and no where to hide. Finally, a battle she could not win. This was how she was to die: torn asunder by mages in some stupid tomb. Freedom had been so sweet though so short-lived. The brief experience was worth every risk she'd taken to achieve it. Even in light of what she was to suffer.

"Come on then!" Maxine shouted her final defiance, extending her arms out in challenge to the mages set to strike her where she stood. "Do it!" The attack of every discipline fell upon her in an instant. The sounds of it were jarring, ear-piercing even. Her eyes shut against the bright, blinding light, and though she was no coward, she was merely waiting for it to be over. The end never came.

Max opened her eyes to find the deep red statue absorbing every hurled manifestation of ether into its core. Her brow furrowed, mind racing as it tried to understand how this turn of events had been possible. She turned her attention to Shadow Maxine, noticing the sinister smile on her face. One glance toward the dumbfounded mages and Max found herself returning it. Some of the mages seemed to understand the futility of their attacks, their faces paling as they calmed the ether they spurred toward violence. Others only let the failure turn them more irate, shunting more of their power into increasing the frequency and intensity of their attacks. All of them redirected directly into the statue.

The hopelessness of expected death no longer loomed over Maxine like a headsman's axe. Whether it was the Shadow clone or the statue alone responsible for her luck, the change in fate was evident. She cast off the shackles of impotency and instead found herself unsheathing her gladius into her hand. Shadow Max had already done the same, a sword and axe suddenly manifesting into her grasp. The doppelganger cocked her head at the original. There was a questioning in her red eyes, a dark hope even. What she found in Maxine's stare was something eerily similar to the Shadow's dark whims. This was exactly the version of her that Shadow Maxine had wanted all along.

All hell broke loose.

Max turned and whipped her sword across the lower torsos of those who had been standing on the platform above her. One of them yelped, stumbling back as the blade ripped a gaping slash through his robes. He collapsed into his chair with eyes staring at the gushing, hopeless wound. The man standing beside him wasn't so fortunate. A sickening slap echoed from his feet a couple times as his innards spilled to the floor, bloody ropes coiling around themselves while organs rested with gory finality where they landed. Shadow Maxine busied herself moving through one section at a time, hacking and slashing her way through the masses row-by-row. That's when the screaming started, filling the room along with the blaring that seemed to possess the dark twins.

They moved in murderous synchronization. Maxine took it one target at a time. One mage in her way, she'd cut them down, and then it would be right on to the next. Just like her hunt in Slags Deep. She'd slipped the old, familiar mask back on like it had never come off. Attempted magical attacks merely funneled to the statue, and of those that raised their arms, both Maxines repeatedly emerged the victor. The marked woman turned everything off. She felt nothing, nothing but the warm spatter of blood on her face and the burning effort of her muscles as she cleaved through flesh. Only the primitive fury and swell of dominance that came with dropping another enemy at her feet. Mages. They'd kill them all.

And they did.

When it was over, Maxine stood beside Shadow Max, both dark twins caked in Seeker blood. The original's chest heaved and her eyes were wide and wild with insatiable lust for violence. Their weapons were slick with crimson, which dribbled off the ends of steel onto the gore-layered floor. The ex-convict looked around the killing field with a discordant expression. One of the bodies softly stirred. A weak, curled hand raised weakly from the ground. Max's lip curled and she stormed toward the dying, agonal breathing mage. She looked down upon his gasping, mutated features. Then she stomped her heel, once, twice, three times down through his skull.

"We're not alone yet."

Maxine turned to find a man suddenly in their midst. She gave her gladius a twirl in her grasp, blood flying everywhere off its edges, and moved toward him. It was when that vague familiarity hit her that she paused. She knew him. Knew that voice. Somehow. She swallowed hard and looked away from the horrors she'd committed far from the depths of Level Seven. Just as quickly as she slipped, Maxine hardened brutishly again.

"We'll all go," she answered ominously, firmly. Max glanced toward her doppelganger and then toward the exit portal. "I'm done here, and I've got someone to see in Egilrun. Now."

Dialogue|Thoughts