Eschate

[Alistair]

Ashan 71, Arc 719

"I'll tell you all a tale,
of a love so impure,
let us all regale,
of Arsinos, and a woman demure,

This love was known by few,
and those few paid the price,
for the truth he must subdue,
a symbol of greed and vice,

Let us speak now of Morann,
a beauty to whom none compare,
the apple of the eye of every man,
yet had by none, for Arsinos would not share.

Absconded, she was, from the scene of heinous crime;
Pulled to the Inverse Realm, where she could only bide her time."

An intermission. It was brief, and within trills the star of the show - Darius Eschate - stepped forward through the curtain to snatch the simple ornaments used to represent each of the introduction's characters. He broke them, ripping them from their wooden poles and stomping the artistic renditions against the ground. All of them but Arsinos -- for to do so would have been blasphemy. And to the belief of some, he was in Arsinos' presence at the very moment.

"Gut Morann!" Darius yelled. He was tall and... robust; a Lotharro, clearly, even at first glance. Not only was he large and very muscular, but the man had a sort of ferality to him that the Noble - fond of his kind - immediately recognized. He had unkempt black hair and a darker olive complexion. Even by the Paragon's standards, the man was handsome. Yet what Alistair was more interested in was the legacy -- of what people claimed that he was. The greatest warrior of Hadrana; of all Helice. Not a legend, but a living hero, carved into statues across the land. Alistair had seen him before -- his face set into marble.

Darius was truly a sentinel of his people. And it was for that reason that the mage was glad to see him there. If he could acquire his loyalty, Agaperos would settle a great deal. To the people here, he was perhaps more influential than even the Argonis.

"Sod her soul; it was soiled from the moment it was constructed by the womb of a harlot and the seed of a usurer! The foolish audacity of Arsinos to seek her thus; it is an offense not only to I, but to all God-Kind. I have spoken to my brethren and they have agreed he must be reckoned with!" exclaimed the Lotharro, taking on the role of what appeared to be Adrius, God of Death. He was adorned in crimson colors, with markings of red upon his face.

"And so I have come to reckon with him now -- come, Arsinos. We must meet to discuss your dubious affair!"

And the man... pointed to him. To Alistair.

Of course he did. The public proclamation had been that Alistair, himself, was the God they had sought for so long; Light and Life, the Sun and its rays. It was a challenge . . . to face the tales, and perhaps it was more than that. An assassination attempt, putting him onto the stage with Darius Eschate. The only warrior that could even hold a candle to him, on all these Isles.

The mage's lips pressed together, looking on with a calculating glare. Blinking onto the stage in only a trill, Alistair's lips curved upwards into a faint smile.

"You are not Adrius," the Paragon stated, in a low and intimidating tone. "You do not have the right to compel me. But if you wish for a challenge, then so be it."

[Alistair]

...blood was everywhere upon the stage. Darius had been brutalized, before the eyes of a crowd whose stare had been monopolized by the performance of battle and gore. Yet, a stray few flickers from death, the man had been Renewed by the Paragon he'd challenged to face him. Alistair kept him from death's bitter embrace, healing him to a state identical to the one he'd met Alistair with. His injuries disappeared, blood returned to him and his face was yet again illustrated by colors and life.

He had been bested - ruthlessly, and within trills. The greatest warrior of their time... perhaps in all Helian history. Yet in the span of a few blinks, he had been battered to naught and then returned to fighting shape.

And he tried his luck. Shoved forward, sweeping his legs in an attempt to throw Alistair off his feet. The mage, too quickly for the eye to follow, jumped onto the flat of his palm and then sprung backwards to evade the sweeping kick. He followed forward with a blur of a movement, gripping the man by the neck and subduing him to the ground, before pummeling him with a flurry of rapacious punches.

Then - he was beaten.

This time, truly beaten. The Lotharro accepted the ungodly margin between them, and yielded as he laid in the thin pool of his own blood. He coughed, and his breaths sputtered. But he was alive, and would continue to be . . . so long as he remained humble in his defeat.

"I don't wish to kill you," said the mage. "Why did you challenge me?"

"Because I wanted to," Darius said. "I have met many creatures of myth, mundane and divine, yet never have I met you -- Arsinos. I wanted to know how I would fair. Not well, it seems."

The mage looked to him with a quirked brow; perplexed at the innocent intentions of the fallen man. Whether illogical to do so or not, Alistair believed him. There was no hint of deception in his tone, nor in his eyes.

"For a man, you are skilled," said the mage. Pulling back onto his feet, he offered the Lotharen warrior a grip so that he could rise to stand tall upon the stage. Accepting the offer, the burly man rose beside the golden-hued 'divine' and addressed the crowd with a bow.

"It appears, to my dismay, that I have lost; that I cannot convince my brother to withhold his affections. Tell me, my brother - what words do you have in reply to all the accusations that have gone your lover's way? How do you reconcile her adultery, her thievery, and the bellowing echoes of mothers whose children's deaths she did willingly commit? Not that I would mind such murderous indiscretions!" Darius yelled, and the crowd laughed.

He had immediately returned to character. And so, Alistair tried to do the same, though he supposed he only needed to act as he truly was.

"I am no lover of this Morann, you d'wit. Our romance itself is an allegation -- one of which I thoroughly disapprove!"

And the crowd laughed louder yet - though only after they roared in their shock. It was, supposedly, the plot twist... unplanned though it was. The show had quickly become a comedy.

"Now," Alistair improvised, his lips raising yet again to a grin, "...return to murdering fat old men and women who can't withhold self-defecation, and leave me to my ordeals. I am not here in Agaperos to abide your stench, after all."

And again - they roared, and jeered at 'Adrius', and with those words the theatrics briefly concluded - and then for good.

[Alistair]

Later into the trial, after all performances had concluded, the two men sat upon the highest point of a cliff-side amphitheater that overlooked the ocean.

The two had not spoken much, after the improvised play and their decision to retreat to the Agaperian shores. But now, feet hanging off the ledge and the two men sitting side-by-side in the illuminating aura of Alistair's golden glow, Darius parted his lips to share a fragment of his thoughts.

"I have never met a warrior like you," said the man. "But - I don't truly believe that you are Arsinos, as you say. I don't truly believe any of the stories that I tell the people around me; of the six headed beasts and the colossus that I have felled in my quest for... whatever it may be in the current trial. Often, a venture to find my father -- Adrius, I've called him. Like the role I played today."

"And you don't believe that either?" Alistair questioned. He was... intrigued by the other, for his openness and also for the audacity in claiming that Alistair was not what he claimed to be. For a moment, he almost wished to admit it - and then decided to remain silent.

"No," Darius replied. "My father left before I was even born. Died, some say. I was always very strong, though, and some claimed my father was taken by Adrius so the God could claim my parentage; infect the womb of my mother with his influence. Because I was meant for special things - as I have demonstrated now, or so I've thought. But losing to you, a foreign man... it is humbling. You are akin to what I wish I myself could be; if I were only, truly, the son of such a being. Instead, however - I am this. A fallen, lost warrior. A mundane man. I am... inelegant, as the Argonis would say."

The Paragon lightly elbowed the other man's shoulder, looking to him with a calm expression as he stared out to the ocean with his amber glare. Ever since he revealed, Alistair had not seen night the same way. The shroud of darkness was lit by an imbued veil; a golden cloak of glimmering beads. It was as if the moon was the sun, and all was still bright.

"Compared to nearly all men I've ever met, you are certainly not inelegant or mundane. Why don't you join me, Darius? I could offer you insight to become what you wish to be; a warrior beyond what you are even now. If that is the extent of your desire."

"It is not," he stated, turning to face Alistair directly. "There is much more I seek than power. Familiar though it is and easy it may be to request, I am not drawn so enthrallingly by its whispers. It is a distraction; a game I must partake in as I roam these isles. What I wish for, Lord Alistair Venora - Arsinos as you call yourself - is freedom. The ability to leave Helice. To see the world as you must have done, for I have heard of your ventures outward. I have longed for them, jealousy, since word came as you first arrived. And as the great stone fell from the sky at your behest and struck this place... I have envied what great things you must have learned in that outside world. Take me, Alistair. With you -- anywhere you might go. If there is one thing I may wish for, it is the ability to go free."

Free. Like he had wished, for the longest time. The freedom to be a mage; to be untethered to any house, to go where he wished to go. Darius... sought the same.

"I intend to leave soon," he whispered back. "Not forever - but for a time. When I go, I will cut across the sea. Would you mind such a long and restrictive journey?" he asked.

"I would not," replied the man. "Would you mind my absurd, too oft abrasive company?" Darius questioned. Alistair noted that he spoke rather poetically.

"I would not," he said in return. "If only you would refrain from judgment at my own, inconsiderate state of mind."

[Nursia]

Solid story. Beating the everliving senses out of a man, in order to get his allegiance seemes to be such a Lotharren thing to do, in all honesty. But if that's how you get one's loyalty, you do what you gotta do. A bit surprised at the show of 'mercy' with using his spark to keep the man alive, though. If I had anything to comment on, constructively, it would be simply writing out the fight. Your writing style is too good to keep to yourself, in that regard, and I'd be curious to see the meat of the fight, with Alistair not carrying any intent to kill.

But overall, this was a good read. Your rewards are much deserved.
Alistair

Rewards

Knowledges:
Acting: Improvisation
Acting: Jumping into a role
Acting: Being called on-stage
Acting: Playing a character
Acting: Remaining cohesive within a role's boundaries
Deception: Pretending to be something you're not
Wealth:
NA
Renown:
+5
EXP:
+10

Feedback

Understand that all criticisms are done in good faith. It would be a greater disrespect to not say anything in the face of problems. Please contact me through this account's inbox if you wish to further communicate on the matter of improvement, or if you feel as though anything is unduly harsh.