Nero Kunivas

Some people just can't wait, or follow the rules. It happened to me and my class in primary school a few times, often the same person. All it took was one person who couldn't follow the rules or own up to something naughty and boom, fun for the class was over. This, is that feeling...about times 10? Yeah.

- Reksis Sahn, the Voidstalker - The Safe Haven, New Arrivals Sector - The young one known as Lukkel and the one in the know: Pang, introduced themselves and each gave the baffled Reksis a brief summation of what was going on and where they were. Reksis's Ghost meanwhile, kept close to the Eliksni in question and listened quietly. "Lukkel, Pang. My name is Reksis Sahn, of the House of Dusk." Reksis began, with a short bow of respect to those present, the smile of Lukkel in particular was one of youthful naivety and curiosity, while Pang's was welcoming, friendly, yet he also seemed to be in wonder, possibly eyeing Reksis's arms or perhaps astounded by the fact that he hadn't been sick, he couldn't know for sure. "And, Kaliks Prime is a lost, old god of my people. The machine went missing eons ago, but never mind him." He added, this tidbit he hoped would be received well by the young one. After the visitation of a strange girl called Uzumeashy, for some reason causing him irritation with the mere thought, Reksis walked with the group to the Training Arena; A coliseum devoid of battle damage, blood or even dust, remaining perfect for combat as if it were its first day. Whomever the cleaning staff were clearly proficient and highly compensated, surely. Ghost gave the ground a quick scan, looking to Reksis. "It is absolutely spotless, better than the Sweeper Frames back at the Tower! By the slightest of margins. Definitely the work of other machines, though." Ghost noted, fascinated by the technology of this Haven already, though Reksis held some interest in what he was saying, he was more interested in Pang and the Necromancer, referred to as Galla, preparing to engage in a Deathmatch. "To the death, you say? Yet with resurrection..." Began Reksis, tilting his head a little with curiosity, Ghost being quick to interject; "Reminds me of the Crucible. With less Shaxx...how dreadfully droll, but it'll do." Snark oozed from the Traveler-Born, who followed Reksis to the stands, wherein he would take a seat with the others and taking some water and a Cockatrice Drummer...or two, opening his helmet just a little bit, so his mouth was free, having a bite and quickly washing it down. Light-based Ether or not, despite his lack of vomiting, Reksis was famished from the rough transmat, generally having that effect on him regardless of its comfort. - Lucia Quinn, the Raging Tempest - The Safe Haven, The Coliseum - The sounds of a large group of onlookers and the distinctive noise of combat in the adjacent Training Arena proper perked Lucia's interest, who took one more swig of water and donned her helmet once more, sealing it and putting her hood up, leaving her seat and heading toward the doors. Keeping her distance from the current fight, Lucia simply leaned against the following archway and observed Pang facing off against Galla. The Necromancer versus the Warrior Monk. Not a fight Lucia ever tires of, really. (Sorry Lucia's one is small, didn't know what else to do right now. )

That, was actually hilarious. (Also, I thought Lucia was in the Arena/Training/Place of Fight? ;-; )

Reksis, the Ignored. lol I'm not especially bothered, really, but that poor little bugger.

- Reksis Sahn, the Voidstalker - The Safe Haven, Room 40 - Mere moments ago, Reksis Sahn was under the dark shade of the Black Forest deep within the EDZ, bathing in the Traveler's Light as per Boris-7's dying request, the late Hunter's Ghost by Reksis's side as he took the power into himself, becoming forever sustained by the Light as if it were Ether and gaining Void Light powers, the energies flowing through his body, yet not as freely as he'd like due to lack of mastery. But suddenly, he and the Ghost were overtaken by a strange light above and around them which seemed to consume the pair, as they had disappeared from the Black Forest entirely. -------------------------- Reemerging from what was seemingly a transmat system and a rough one at that, Reksis quickly fell to one knee within a small room, his newly acquired Ghost hovering alongside him as he suffered silently from nausea. "Just breathe. Reksis? Breathe slowly, deeply." The Ghost spoke reassuringly, in a deep, resounding voice, hovering next to Reksis's head, who followed the instructions as he suggested, controlling his ragged breathing as much as possible as to prevent vomiting, which would be an unimaginable mess with a full helmet on. "Much, obliged...I'm used to teleporters and rough Eliksni transmat, but that...ugh." Reksis spoke with a slight trill behind his words, less pronounced than most Fallen who attempt English, suggesting he was more accustomed to the language, like that scoundrel, The Spider. Soon, confusion and uncertainty was abundant, looking around. This wasn't the Black Forest, obviously, but Reksis had doubts that he was anywhere near The Last City, never mind within its walls. "Keep close, little light...argh, we've no idea what's behind this door, but, keeping you safe is what I promised Boris-7." Reksis warned, his Ghost following suit without a word, floating closely behind the Marauder as he turned the door's handle and pushed it open. Before the Eliksni, were many more rooms, numbered accordingly and many, many people of all different kinds wandering, all to his left, right and everywhere he looked. None were Guardians as far as he could tell, neither did they dress like the City-folk he was able to observe from afar during his time in the House of Kings. Soon, a particular gathering caught his eye for having some truly unique people, including a white-furred creature, having recently finished what appeared to be a lecture to a young kid. The Voidstalker frowned, noting that he knew next to nothing about this place, so anyone really was good enough to ask, but Reksis figured this group would be a safe bet, for they were travelling together, so he approached them urgently, raising a hand to get Pang's attention. "Sorry to bother you, stranger, but where in the name of Kaliks Prime am I?" He questioned bluntly, but not roughly, wanting only answers rather than trouble. - Lucia Quinn, the Raging Tempest - The Safe Haven, Training and Sparring Room - Not too far away from this commotion inside the Training Facility of the Safe Haven, someone was already physically and mentally prepping themselves for what was to come, having heard the news about the deaths of several great adventurers. If one listened closely behind the door, they would hear the crackle of the Arc, Lightning sparking and clapping from a bladed staff forged from the very power itself. The Raging Tempest, Lucia Quinn, was twirling said staff around her body expertly as she struck training dummies with a variety of moves: Twirls, stabs, arc-infused slams, crowd-controlling sweeps and agile dodges against phantom projectiles that could be thrown her way in battle, culminating in a running leap off of one of the dummies and slamming down from the air to the ground, Arc lightning emitting from the staff in an explosive fashion, the sound almost akin to a thunderclap with a more electrostatic buzz to it, knocking them away from her close position. Rising from the low position the finale left her in, Lucia rolled her shoulders, exhaling deeply as she dismissed her Arc Staff, which disappeared in a fizzle of blue electricity, turning to walk toward her bench, lowering her hood, deactivating the seals on her helmet before removing it and picking up her water bottle with her free hand, undoing the cap with her teeth and taking a serious swig of the refreshingly cold liquid. "Gah. That run-up could've been smoother. Next time." She thought to herself, sitting down upon the bench, silently hoping for sparring partners better than immobile training dummies.

- Character Sheet the Second - Name: Reksis Sahn, the Voidstalker Age: 134 Race: Fallen - True Species Name: Eliksni - Destiny Universe Appearance: Reksis stands at the average height for a Vandal or Marauder of 7 feet tall, with 3 inches to boot, with an agile, but tough build, marked by his silver-toned armour. He wears shoulder pads that are coated in several, tiny spikes, partial gauntlets, leg and foot armour and a chest plate underneath his dark purple scarf-cloak, slightly tattered and worn, but well looked after, bearing the Sigil for the House of Dusk upon it. Alongside this, Reksis wears a sash that extends into a flap over his groin and one parallel to that over his posterior, both purple and adorned with the same sigil. Unlike most Dusk Marauders, Resilient or otherwise, Reksis also bears some golden embroidery around his shoulder pads, cloak, helmet and some small semblance of fur around his neck-scarf, the former details are reminiscent of the House of Kings and the latter: The House of Wolves. His four, undocked and fully Eliksni arms adorned in clean cloth wraps are also different from the scrounged up scraps and usual cybernetics the House of Dusk often has to use, coloured a deep purple and his Dusk Sigils are golden like his embroideries, some Dregs referring to him as "Mithrax-Lite", for reasons explained later. His helmet is environmentally sealed, sturdy and bears eight purple-lit "eyes" upon the visor, typically they are blue but Reksis's are changed for a reason, acting as a warning that he isn't an ordinary Fallen Maraurder. Personality: Usually defying the expectations of those he meets, Reksis is incredibly open to discussion, understanding and speaking English almost perfectly, rather than being reserved or extremely focused on his missions. While he does take his jobs seriously, often seeming abrasive at times, Reksis relishes chatter and knowing those he works with, his allies or potential friends, though he's not hesitant to talk with his enemies should they strike up a monologue or two. In combat, he is extremely passionate, eager and boisterous, delighting in fighting as a Marauder should against groups: Taking advantage of the chaos and attacking those least prepared, even though he must be sneaky and invisible to begin his assault, he cannot deny the thrill of the hunt and its subsequent fight. Due to his need to know his foes, Reksis has a preference for scouting ahead, gathering Intel and relaying his findings to his allies or taking advantage of what's learned himself should it be necessary. Sometimes, this can lead to him being reckless, or ambitious depending on one's point of view, seeking to gain an early advantage for himself and his teammates by acting alone in much more drastic ways than even he expects to perform. But like all Fallen, Eliksni, whatever the weather, Reksis values his honour, never turning his back on a friend, never willing to kill one just so he can survive or be freed from incarceration and recently, no matter the species, he will stick his neck out for them any day. Biography: For many years, Reksis Sahn was just an unassuming Stealth Vandal for the elusive House of Kings within the Cosmodrome in the continent of Old Russia, pilfering Spinmetal, weapons, anything the House could get their hands upon as secretly as they could, as per the Kell of King's decree. However this simple life changed when Uldren Sov, Prince of the Awoken, was captured by said Kell, named Craask. Over the years, the Fallen as a whole had suffered defeat after defeat, many setbacks and uncountable losses to the Guardians of the Last City, the only remaining Human Stronghold on Planet Earth, who had utterly decimated the Fallen at every turn with surgical strikes, assassinations and even just overwhelming force. Craask was left to despair and angrily rant about all of this to said prisoner, who eventually convinced the Kell of Kings to willingly abdicate his throne, assuming command of all that remained. Reksis was already distressed about this, but when Fikrul, the Scorn Fanatic, viciously docked and subsequently murdered Craask for all to see, it was the final straw for a great many King's Fallen, who fled, burning their banners like the Devils before them, disappearing from the Cosmodrome seemingly once and for all. Resurfacing a year later, before the Red War that saw Guardians fleeing the Last City, Lightless and mortal, Reksis Sahn emerged from hiding along with the entirety of the newly christened House of Dusk, engaging in guerrilla warfare against the Red Legion and anyone else who stood in their way, the House as a whole acting more aggressively and boasting a larger host of Eliksni themselves, their Servitors and Walkers than all other Houses, making Dusk the largest and strongest Fallen House, but also the most desperate, burying old grudges and traditions and unifying under one banner for the sake of survival in wake of their countless losses. In doing so, Reksis became a Marauder, adopting more savage, aggressive techniques and utilizing stealth skillfully. Eliksni live as long as the Ether flows and at the time, Reksis had reached 134 years of age, yet he was no bigger than seven feet and his rations of Ether were middling at best recently, despite his being in the European Dead Zone, where Dusk-owned Ether flows best. Sensing potential for an Ether shortage, a desperate Reksis dove into the nearby Black Forest, seeking any sort of answer to save his people. It was during this venture that Reksis met a Hunter Guardian, who too was seeking answers from the Forest and new power, wishing to become a Nightstalker with power from the Shard of the Traveler, a piece of the great machine that the Eliksni had sought for so many years and it still held Light within it. Before any words could initially be exchanged, or gunshots, they were both cornered by a large gathering of Taken, an army of stolen souls corrupted by the Darkness, forcing them to work together in order to prevail. Relying on just his wits, a Shrapnel Launcher and his Shock Blades, Reksis kept pace with the Nightstalker Aspirant: Boris-7, an Exo Guardian, mechanical in body, Human at heart. As they neared the Traveler's Shard, they found time between the Taken onslaughts to talk, both of them speaking of what they desired from the Forest and coming to an agreement: To see this through to the end, claim what they sought and part ways in peace out of respect for one another. When the duo came upon the Shard, they were accosted by Iriviks, the Devoured; a Taken Fallen Archon standing at 12 feet tall and brimming with Darkness, standing in their way. Reksis and Boris-7 took on this giant and assaulted it without mercy; Rockets, Shrapnel, Bullets and Solar Fire rained upon the once mighty Archon, yet he refused to completely go down, feinting Boris-7 and landing a particularly terrible attack: One that drained Boris-7 of his Light and threw him to a horde of Taken Thrall who tore him to pieces. An angered Reksis impaled Iriviks's head with both Shock Blades while it was distracted and promptly relieved the Taken of its cranium; killing it, before rushing over to Boris-7 and chasing off the Thrall, killing several, but it was too late. Not even Boris's Ghost could resurrect him. Boris left Reksis with a simple request: Take his Ghost and to approach the Traveler's Shard, to claim the power it was to grant him, before the light faded from his mechanical eyes, Reksis swore to uphold his dying request, Ghost at his side, Reksis bathed in the Traveler's Light, granting him power over Void Light and negating his need for Ether, now the Light will forever sustain him as long as he lives. Having had no chance to learn of the Void powers he had been granted, Reksis has been unwillingly transported to the Safe Haven, Ghost included. But until he masters these powers, Boris's Ghost cannot resurrect him as a Guardian just yet, but he was fine with that for now. Because now, he was the Voidstalker and he intended to at least make right by his time in this strange world. Attributes: Invisibility via Eliksni Stealth Technology and Damage Resistance+. Abilities: Basic Void-Light Manipulation (Basically Void.), Void Aura (Akin to Magic Aura), Regeneration and Damage Resistance. Weapons: Ranged Weapon - Fallen Shrapnel Launcher: A medium-range scattershot rifle that hurls Solar Shrapnel from its quad barrels, its long range capabilities are severely limited, but it is very effective at close and the aforementioned medium ranges, seemingly limitless ammunition. Melee Weapon - Dual Shock Blades - Charged with Arc Lightning, these blades serve Reksis extremely well in close-quarters engagements, often causing a bit of extra damage compared to regular blades due to the Arc. Signature Move: Vortex Grenade - So far, Reksis's understanding of the Void is incredibly limited, so his most advanced technique so far is a Grenade forged from Void Light that explodes on impact, then creates a small, continuously damaging Vortex of Void Light that shreds weaker targets, making it an excellent crowd control tool. (Let me know if adjustments are needed, but here he be. I'll prove reference images for things at a later point, I am tired. lol)

- Nergal, the Queenslayer - Isopolis, Final Trial - Like all others, Nergal found himself within the boundless white abyss, Yevgeni nowhere to be seen, an elvish-inscribed door before him and before that; His perfect, flawless double, extending a hand after a brief congratulations and simply asking him to surrender that which he values most, asking of him no lies, for neither could avoid the truth of the matter. Seemingly, Nergal was shocked, appalled, holding a hand over his heart as he lay affronted, gasping, shaking his head at his duplicate. "You, would ask of me such a thing...? My reflection, from Isopolis riven. To give up that which is most precious, you fiend...?" Nergal's thoughts centered on Yevgeni, yet, he could not give him up. Without him, or Alastor, Nergal would be nowhere and he knew he lacked the power to even consider sacrificing the Stormbringer...so what then? His newfound life? His very reason for being the way he was now, never again would he view the world in a nihilistic, destructive way...would it be sufficient enough of a sacrifice to throw this away? Yet, as a smile curled upon Nergal's ashen lips, this was but pretense as he acted: He took out a dagger, scorched yet intact, the very blade he had attempted to end Jynn's life with and simply...scratched his free hand, holding it over his duplicate's extended hand and clenching it hard, forcing out a measly, singular drop, impacting and staining the forgery's glove. "No matter what that elf or that thunder lord has done for me...this blood, is mine. My most precious thing, Isopolis, is in your grasp. Accept my sacrifice and grant us power eternal, oh beholder mine." The reflection accepted his token, the technicality fulfilled as the replicated cadence of Nergal reciprocated his grin, apparently affected by his presence, or just happy to receive the offering as if it were as significant as all others given...and with that, Nergal was able to enter the Altar, appearing beside Yevgeni... --------------------------- - Isopolis: City of Isolation - Finally, Nergal and Yevgeni stood before their ultimate goal, the pinnacle of their journey together: The Source of All Life...and it wasn't quite as grand as Nergal had anticipated, yet its power was something he could feel and strongly so. He allowed his close companion to take hold of the beautiful crystal first, before their pursuers had emerged. Nergal faced them just as Yevgeni did, his expression soft and unfazed, though inside, he was intrigued for he spied a few familiar faces: The Sentinel who had failed to protect his Queen: Soren Monroe. The Dreadnought, his Darkness quelled yet he was no longer himself: Henry Hansees. Shiva's Retainer, now looking just a bit more pitiful: Eclaire Tonnerre. The Son of Shiva, Heir to the Throne and a sorry sight to behold: Jynn Venas. The Feline Bomber: Dawson, one of his obstacles to Jynn. The Last Cyph and a defiant endling to the very last moment: Typhon. Yet as he scanned, some were unfamiliar yet still interesting to witness: A strange girl who held the remnants of Thane's inspiring presence...who could she be? An energy being, borne of Lightning, danced and buzzed around as if trying to exist fully, yet he couldn't... The Human King, he presumed, who moved as if robbed of sight. A grand sword headed toward his head-- Nergal caught this and a few others attempting to take Yevgeni's life and swiftly acted: Deftly sliding out of the blades way, summoning his 'Holy Glaive', in a deft, smooth motion, separated his Glaive into two blades, ready to impale either of those attempting to slay his dear Yevgeni. "Yes indeed...don't be reckless, heroes." - Soren Monroe, The Sentinel Renewed - Isopolis: City of Isolation - The bereft Soren Monroe stood now with his comrades, all of them lacking something precious to them, just to face Nergal and Yevgeni, the Source of All Life seemingly claimed in the grasp of the latter, poised to unleash its spectacular power for their own gain. Yevgeni's intent was already clear to Yevgeni, but, the Queenslayer? He couldn't get even a slight read on his intentions...would be turn on his newfound elven friend? Stand with him till their ascension? What will he do? Well it became clear that he intended to keep at least the Source safe, for he poised to protect Yevgeni by impaling those charging with extreme prejudice... "Mariel! Eclaire! Stop!!" Soren called out, hoping she would be able to stop in time, before unnecessary blood was shed this day. - Meksis, the United, Armour of Twilight - FLASHBACK: Battle Between Brothers -

- Soren Monroe, The Sentinel Renewed, Human Form - Isopolis: The Final Trial - After presenting the Gem as an offering, Soren too would find himself in a seemingly endless white void, a gateway laying ahead of him, Ancient Elvish inscribed upon its archway and...Soren? A perfect double of himself stood before the real Soren, congratulating him on making it this far...and extending his hand, giving Soren the terrible truth of what had to be done: "You must surrender to me what is most dear to you, and you mustn't lie: We both know what that is." Soren could only glare at his mirror, shaking his head at Isopolis itself. "You are a cruel mistress indeed...what can you take from a man who has little else?" Soren began, giving his duplicate pause. "I've cared about a great many people, but those who are dear to me...are all gone. Dead, missing, whatever. Queen Shiva. Ren Mordecai. Amon Monroe." He solemnly spoke, gesturing around the area and to himself where appropriate. "I've even lost my old honour and dignity, something I am slowly rebuilding...and--" Soren paused suddenly, his hand over his chest when he caught eye of something...slowly reaching into the chest plate's upper opening and fishing out the Sapphire Necklace he and Harrison made; Its engravings still clear as day: Shiva's name in Elvish on one side, Sentinel in Demonic upon the other. "...and this...this is my reminder. My last vestige of the Queen. The final remnant of my long since lost honour." Soren was overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions; Joy, Grief and anger, his eyes beginning to wet as he reminisced, grieved and reflected all at once, never once taking his eyes off of the brilliantly blue crystal. The Sentinel then looked slowly up to his double, who listened intently but his hand was still raised, beckoning. "I cannot forget my oath to her. To Raiden. To myself. You can never take that from me..." Soren almost growled in detest of his clone, seemingly about to refuse to sacrifice...until he clutched the necklace firmly and tore it from his neck, the chain still intact, but it had detached with a snap, Soren dangling it over his double's hand. "Take it. My final keepsake from yesteryear, reforged into my guiding blue light. Take her." He finished, dropping it into the other Soren's hand, albeit more hesitantly than his words and behaviour would suggest, his final words were shaken, almost tearful. Then Soren forced a smirk, its countenance false, yet it let him leave Isopolis's Illusion with one last comment. "Don't break it." (Though he hasn't sacrificed something within him, this trinket holds significant value to Soren. It is his only remnant of the Queen he so faithfully serves...now it is gone. And to him? Forever it shall be taken.)

- Soren Monroe, The Sentinel Renewed, Human Form - Isopolis, Post-Trial of Might - As fate would have it, Soren didn't need Typhon's assistance, nor did he even need to act, for they were blessed with a sharp-eyed Human King, who had found the item in question, plucked it from the Xeno'jiva's chest and offered it to Soren for assurance that it was of use. The Sentinel couldn't help but smile as he took hold of the heart-shaped Gem. "Heh. Very much so. Many thanks, your majesty." Soren spoke with a reserved joy, giving Alderon an additional gesture; A simple nod, as he eyed the Gem closely, then his gaze passed over to the pedestal the wall inscription spoke of. "Now, to provide the offering." He uttered while heading toward the table, coming to a stop and placing the Gem upon it gently, folding his arms in waiting. "Everyone? I ask that we all be prepared for what's coming!" Soren began, looking over his shoulder to the majority still talking and reeling from the battle. "For this was not the final trial, I'm afraid...and what's coming may be the most difficult. For all of us." He spoke clearly, but with an almost solemn tone. In truth, Soren didn't exactly know what was coming, for Isopolis tended to mix things up for every group that has ever pushed through its Trials, but he knew that the final test before the Source of All Life was always the hardest in some form or another. And he knew it'd be too much to hope for an exception as he eyed those present...they had all made it through alive thus far, this was true. But there is always a chance. And Soren would be there to take whatever is thrown their way. No one would die on his watch. Even if he had to to make it so. - Meksis, the United, Armour of Twilight - FLASHBACK: Battle Between Brothers -

- Character Sheet - Name: Lucia Quinn, the Raging Tempest Age: 26 Race: Human Appearance: Standing at a rare 6 feet tall yet light for her weight, Lucia bears light blue eyes, a slightly stronger facial structure than average, below ear-length styled hair, red as the setting sun, a small nose and a toned, lightly muscular body built for agility. Her clothing consists of a combat outfit, lightly armoured, with the heaviest centered around her torso, flexible to allow for full movement, colours consisting of a mix of blue highlights, predominantly white for the rest of the armour plating, the flexible material is grey and black and she usually wears an environmentally sealed helmet of the same colours as her armoured sections, which is a little angular, pointed at the front for instance, with a small 'visor' of a similar shade of blue as before. Lucia also wears a cloak, going down to just above her feet and with a hood, the entire cloak is a very dark blue in colour, with an abstract tree pattern, leaves included, superimposed along the entire cloak, ending before the hood, in white. Personality: Even outside of combat, Lucia prefers to remain focused, succinct and ever-ready, though she is not unwelcoming to those wishing to talk, as Lucia is always polite, attentive and as compassionate as she can. Some lessons she teaches are harsh, yet never is she cruel to those undeserving. With friends, she will loosen up just a little, but noticeably enough to enjoy their company and speak to them more casually. When fighting, Lucia is entirely focused on the fight, be it a 1v1 or one against many, she rarely speaks and never taunts, preferring to keep her guard up as much as she can, often switching between defensive and aggressive styles to keep her opponent, or opponents, guessing and on the fence. Confidence follows her in abundance, for she strives to be the best in her field and has proved herself to be time and again, seeking any and all ways to perfect her technique and even increase her power and its potency to secure this position. This can both be a boon and a failing, for she straddles the line of healthy belief in her own abilities and overconfidence bordering on arrogance. This has yet to cost her a battle or anything more serious, but there is always a chance. Her general personality and approach to most situations means that Lucia rarely gets angry and has tempered most of her emotions, only leaving her pride unchecked in the pursuit of perfection. History/Bio: Hailing from a distant, Mediterranean world, Lucia was initially raised by a loving family; Her mother, father and an older sister named Abigail Quinn. Their family was one of discipline, for their long-standing tradition was to teach their children combat skills, to provide the world with warriors and wise teachers for the future, be it for their children or others that come their way. It had been like this for five generations of the Quinn family and for Abigail and Lucia, it was no different, with Lucia studying the Staff of the Warrior and Abigail taking up the Maul of Ruin, the former mastering Arc-based Lightning and Abigail forging her own Maul in the Solar Flames. Both of them performed well in their duels against one another and in duties to their world once proven, yet even they could not stop what was to come. In the night, an assassin from a rival family, the Flynn's, jealous of the Quinn's status for many years holding a grudge that had not diminished, broke into their home with the sole intent on murdering every single one of them, in order to make way for the Flynn's to take their "rightful" place in history. The sisters woke upon the sound of floorboard's creaking and engaged the assassin in combat, who bore mastery over the Void, as most Flynn's did, though which one he was they couldn't say, for he was masked. The Flynn's had attempted to make the Quinn's lives miserable for so long, yet no one anticipated such a rash, vile action. This didn't matter to Abigail or Lucia, who fended off the assassin rather well at first, but when the parents woke from the commotion, the Flynn Assassin hurled a dart at the mother, coated in a potent poison, sending the father into an irrational spiral of rage, which the assassin was quick to exploit, distracting the Sisters with an explosion and turning the father's weight against him, hurling him through a window via his own enraged charge. This left the sisters alone with the experienced Flynn, who, in the middle of bragging, had his mask broken by Abigail's hammer, in an attempt to silence his taunts. All this resulted in was an angered Flynn unleashing his full power over the void in a massive explosion, obliterating their home, but the sisters were left with superficial wounds; Abigail had shielded Lucia and suffered more damage as a result, yet they were still alive. Taking advantage of the assassin's subsequent exhaustion, both sisters utterly brutalized him, mainly Abigail, but now they were left without a home and the rest of the Flynn family to contend with. Abigail swore revenge on the Flynn's, wanting to take the fight to them and kill them all, no matter the cost. Lucia's opposition to the plan came as a great surprise to her elder sister, who while initially angry, simply told Lucia to take her own path in that case and to never forget her, before disappearing into the night, her whereabouts still unknown to Lucia to this day. In the years that followed, Lucia sought to perfect her skills, as to not allow such dirty play by the Flynn's to ever happen again and made her long way toward the Safe Haven she had heard much about in her travels as a Nomad, dispensing justice where it was needed, just as she was taught. Part of the reason why she wanted to go there was because she secretly hoped that Abigail had come to her senses and gone there at some point as well...but Lucia's hopes were in vain, yet her purpose still stood in her mind: Focus. Fight. Win. Attribute: Double Speed and Heightened Senses as a result of her intense, lengthy training. Abilities: Arc Lightning, Piercing Weapon, Regeneration and Magic Aura. Weapons: Arc-Striding Staff - A bladed-staff forged from Arc Lightning itself, given a solid, physical form and imbued with the Arc, typically summoned in a flourishing twirl, flash of lightning and the sound of its power activating with an electrostatic buzz. The "Bengal-BNGL" Stalker - A robust, sturdy, 15-round DMR custom-built by Lucia herself, loaded with Arc-enhanced rounds that hit hard but fire slow. Weapon Appearances: Signature Move: Whirlwind Guard - While her Staff is summoned, Lucia can spin it in front of her, projecting a translucent field from the spinning force that can reflect projectiles thrown her way back at her opponent. This reflection is limited, as the strength of the field is depleted after many small projectiles like bullets, several medium projectiles like elemental orbs or a couple of powerful projectiles like someone's strongest move. She also cannot attack while spinning the staff and moves slowly as to keep focus. (And here is my first character. If Whirlwind Guard is too strong, I have another lined up to replace it. )

- Soren Monroe, The Sentinel Renewed, Human Form - Isopolis, Post-Trial of Might - Despite Soren's offer of assistance, Xion completely ignored him, presumably out of pride or just a silent refusal, he might never know for sure. Nevertheless, the rest of the group did their parts, a cacophony of incredible power raining down upon the beast thanks to them all, particularly a super-powered Alastor and a...different Henry Hansees...but soon enough, the Xeno'jiva was mortally wounded, collapsing to the ground in defeat; One last taunt escaping its lips before death arrived, leaving the once mighty, cruel crystalline beast, cold and lifeless upon the equally shimmering, translucent ground beneath their feet. A collective sigh of relief was had, Soren's less so yet still he did, thankful that no one had died in this clearly arduous battle. Henry's development caught Soren's attention during the battle and now, Soren could sense his power had indeed changed. No longer did Henry bear an immense weight upon his shoulders, barely supported by Darkness and the Earth. Now? He too was renewed, more so than Soren, who's powers had not changed, but he knew that Henry held a rekindled purpose, just as he. Soren would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed, proud even, of the Human that was mightier than some Fey, in many ways more than just strength. "It's good to see you all made it in one piece!" Soren called out, approaching the greater proportion of the group, giving Odin a small smile and nod on the way, though he moved toward Helios, along with Rabiyu and Aura, as they read the words upon the wall aloud in ancient Draconic. Soren folded his arms as he listened. "The translation is correct enough, Rabiyu. Well done." He spoke, pleased yet subtly so, turning to Aura as she stated her hypothesis. "It would be far too easy indeed to simply break off a crystal from the beast and hope it works...as for inside..." Soren had an idea, sharply looking to their Cyph ally, recalling the potentially useful armblades of the Cyph as he did. "You! Typhon, was it?" He called out, then when his attention was grabbed, he gestured with his head toward the Dragon. "Care to help me out here with the...carving?" Soren offered with a light smile, though his eyebrows were slightly curled downward, suggesting at least a bit of eagerness to perform this task. (Meksis comes later, I am tired.)

- Soren Monroe, The Sentinel Renewed, Human Form - Isopolis, Trial of Great Strength: Xeno'jiva - A little later than most, Soren finally emerged into the crystalline caverns hosting everyone else who had lived through Isopolis thus far, his eyes immediately greeted with the sight of a grand scale conflict: A Xeno'jiva of all things, locked in battle with Fey, Humans and a Cyph, some of them clearly under the effects of Dragonblight, negating Soren's need to explain it, particularly the most recently affected; Xion, who was now weaponless and crawling away as the aura of the ailment settled around her. "I knew there were talks about a Xeno'jiva being used for the Great Strength trial, but I never thought it would be a reality...well, that's all doubts dissuaded." Soren thought to himself, eyeing his surroundings, the Fey unleashing their power upon the great dragon if they were able, the humans fighting valiantly and the Cyph, Typhon, was with Prince Jynn, who held out a dagger seemingly in offering and...now had wings? The dijinni lamp that Soren spotted on closer inspection would explain this development. Deciding to make good on his oath, Soren rushed over to Xion, his currently human features would likely do nothing to hide his nature as a Demon to the Queen of Lust, yet still he knelt down to her level and offered a hand. "Are you all right? What have I missed?" He asked with a tinge of urgency, though he also sought to comfort, if only a little, as to not be condescending, even in this hectic time, though it was also clear that he had missed a significant portion of this battle and whatever events that might entail. (It's a smaller one, to be sure, though here's hoping Xeno will notice dear old Soren's arrival.)

- Soren Monroe, Servant of Shiva's Will - Isopolis, Slaying the Beast, Hall of Illusions - (Another Long Post.) ~ Soren, the Miscreated Bulwark ~ Only a short pause would ensue before the Phantom of Soren's corrupted self rose to a hunched over stance, rearing its head back into another screech as the beastly instincts utterly took over this monster once more, leaving Soren little choice but to draw his sword and prepare to fight. The tainted Soren then lunged with terrifying and unexpected speed at his past self, forcing a quick roll to the side from Soren as he transformed himself into his Demonic Form, feeling he'd need the extra resilience during this ordeal. The Bulwark snap-turned his head to the former Sentinel, drawing a ragged breath through his grotesquely elongated maw, uttering a slightly deeper, angrier screech as he moved toward Soren, swiping at him with his larger left arm, left to right, then a backhanded swipe followed up with a palm slam to the ground, releasing hellfire from the point of impact in an attempt to catch his former self off guard. Soren was able to dodge the monster's swipes, but had to block the area of effect flames with his sword. Soren then retaliated, with a stab toward the larger arm that had just impacted the ground, which would follow up with a few slashes and backstep, for the Bulwark had taken the stab to said arm and a few of the slashes, but the last two had missed and the tainted Soren tried to grab Soren in a rather telegraphed fashion, allowing him to dodge it. Irritated, the monstrous Soren growled as he tried another slam, Soren evading it easily, but couldn't avoid the diagonal upward swipe with his smaller arm, knocking him off balance, giving the Bulwark the time to wind up for a two-handed grab and execute it successfully; clasping at Soren, raising him above his antlers and smashing him into the ground as he released his grip. Soren would end up bouncing once upon impact, giving him a little distance from the mutated Soren but he had to pull himself from the dirt first. Though this didn't take long, his counterpart had begun a charge, his larger arm extended to his side as it was clearly about to swipe at him and swipe hard, bounding toward him in speedy fashion. The real Soren barely managed to duck under the creature, but was able to stab his greatsword upward into the monsters exposed ribs. This only caused superficial damage and a louder screech, suggesting to Soren that he had to move and so he did, running between the Bulwark's legs, giving a quick slash to Soren's leftmost option as he did and prepared to react to the other Soren's next move. The Miscreated Bulwark was seemingly about to roar as he faced the ex-Sentinel again, but then seemed to convulse, lowering its head with a muffled groan. The real Soren narrowed his eyes and remained still, but this left him unguarded against the Bulwark's next move; sharply raising his head toward Soren again, he screeched as a bellow of lava shot forth from his agape mouth like deadly bile. Soren's quick reaction spared him the brunt of the move, but it caught him on his arm and though he held an affinity for Hellfire and Lava, it still caused much pain, as did the residual heat from the Bulwark's continued stream that the monster kept trying to follow him with for a few seconds. Soren then hurled a fireball at his cursed reflection, in hopes of hitting it in the mouth, but alas, the Bulwark had finished its spew of lava, only taking the fireball directly to the face, then going for a full on punch at Soren and though it was evaded, it was followed up by several more, angrier smashes that followed Soren as he just turned tail and ran away, for dodges quickly showed they weren't going to cut it. The last punch summoned a raging, narrow torrent of fire and earth not unlike Soren's own attack that surprised the real Soren and knocked him over. Standing up again in short order, Soren stomped in place, creating several glowing cracks across the ground in a large area from where Soren stood as he readied his blade and attacked the Bulwark with several slashes, aimed at his face and arms, requiring Soren to reach up a little. But the Bulwark was unfazed, managing his own stomp that created bigger, brighter cracks of its own. The astonished Soren detonated his own attack early, causing minor damage to his counterpart, then finding a gap in the cracks to brace for the detonation, which shook the foundations of the cave with its underground-focused force and grazed Soren, but it was less minor than he had hoped, singeing his rocky pores. It was then that the Bulwark only seemed to get angrier, his flames glowing a little brighter than before, mostly around his left arm. Before Soren knew it, the corrupted Soren was swiping harder and in a more berserk state than before, with an extended range due to the flames and this managed to catch him off. It only got worse, for a vicious barrage ensued, trapping Soren in a hard-hitting five hit combination that juggled the helpless demon with each screech backed swipe. Once Soren was released from it, he crumpled to the ground, but before he could get up, the Bulwark finished off with a sixth hit; a slam that released an explosion of hellfire that threw Soren a short distance across the cavern. Soren's own rage fueled him, smashing the ground with his blade, the fires that lined the steel burning brighter and more furiously as he too roared at the monster bearing his name. A charge between the both of them ensued, Soren going for a hard, righteous slash while the Bulwark was prepared to smack him once more, flames enhancing his engorged left arm as he screeched to the high heavens before the moment... ...where everything stopped. The Bulwark was frozen. Then it all disappeared into the blue-white void Soren was in prior to this encounter, leaving him puzzled, yet more angry as his trial was seemingly interrupted, turning around sharply, his eyes met with the Isopolis-themed Infiltrator, whom Soren could tell was glaring at him, despite the mask. "Why do you interfere?! Don't you want me to be tested, Isopolis?!" Soren questioned loudly, his voice still roughened and distorted by his Demonic state, only serving to highlight his disdain. Though it was only met with the Infiltrator resting his right arm on a crossed left arm, his right hand over his mask, seemingly in frustration or disappointment, perhaps both. "I had to take you out. I couldn't allow you to keep fighting with those...thoughts in your head." Teshub-I spoke dully, as if his own frustration had mounted upon him too much, but this only puzzled Soren. "Thoughts? Explain!" He then demanded, pushing the Infiltrator over the edge, who snapped bitterly. "Ones you shouldn't be having! Ever!" He began, pacing to the left and right as he went on. "Ones that revolve around the past, but not those that are productive or healthy, no, the destructive thoughts of...of, of "What if?" or "Perhaps if I had..."--NO!" The Infiltrator ranted, his gestures highly animated and furious, his last word invoking a hard, dismissive swipe of his arm at the air. Soren soon found himself stricken with shame and of the kind he didn't want to admit. "I...I don't know, what you mean--" Soren couldn't finish, for he had royally annoyed Isopolis for having the audacity to attempt denial. "You KNOW of the thoughts I speak of! Do not dare to deny it! Observe...and do so closely..." The Infiltrator then gestured to his right, behind him. "See now...a more, ideal version of your past. What wracks your mind so frequently..." "Stop it..." "See! What if you did not kill your brother?" Lo and behold, as Isopolis spoke through the Infiltrator's veiled lips, a representation of what he spoke of played out where he gestured; Instead, the younger, shaken Soren escapes his brother Amon's grip and simply flees, leaving Amon alive, yet Balthazar still laughs at the youthful demon. The present Soren's anger began to build, so too did his shame, shaking his head. "Stop this." "Or maybe! If you had never turned your back on Shiva, or me, in the first place?!" Then, to Isopolis's left, Soren and the true Infiltrator's Phantom, where Soren considers the Infiltrator's offering...but growls and swipes his greatsword aside, vehemently refusing and preparing to fight once more, disgruntling Teshub's Phantom, who too readies himself, Soren's loyalty intact. "Enough, please!" "Or if you were there to protect Ren? Wouldn't you have liked that?!" As mockingly as he spoke, the blue-white void projected to the further left; an image of Soren defending the wounded Ren from the Defiled Meksis, then urging him to safety while he fought off the dark knight, saving the life of his former prisoner. "Please, just--!" “And dare I say...if you had intercepted the Assassin? Usurped the Queenslayer before he had even begun?!” To the further right, finally, was a representation of Soren tackling Nergal to the ground as he lunged for Shiva, the Feyslayer clattering to the ground as Shiva and Raiden, though surprised, surrounded the pair quickly, the life of the Frostbearer goes on… “Lo and behold, the past Soren Monroe wishes he ha--” “ENOUGH!” The gloating of the Infiltrator was accosted by the enraged bellow of the aforementioned Soren, who despite his shame, was more infuriated by the relentless mocking of Isopolis. “These...thoughts...they are my own. And...and they are not...I shouldn’t be thinking them.” Soren admitted in between sharp, hard breaths to contain his anger, electing to put aside his shame to admit to himself that these thoughts were unhealthy. “Indeed you shouldn’t.” The Isopolis-Infiltrator lowered his dramatically extended arms and spoke softly this time, walking forward a few steps as he went on. “These events, they are past. The past should strengthen your resolve, Soren. Not drag it down, face-first into the dirt, leaving you, unfocused and, and foolhardy!” He spoke harshly, not unlike Soren’s own lectures to those who needed them, keeping his gestures short and sharp to accentuate his point. “So, hear me when I tell you; Cease these thoughts, erase them from your mind, forget the pain...forget the--” Soren had been listening wordlessly up until this point, but something the Infiltrator spoke sparked a fury in his eyes, for he soon silently shoved Teshub aside, his greatsword’s flames spitting outward. “Soren?” Suddenly, Soren yelled angrily, swiping his sword at the still projected images of mockery, shattering the first memory immediately, charging for the one between himself and the Infiltrator, smashing downward and leaving it naught but dust, scraping the blade across the void “ground”, sending a small torrent of flame at the Ren Memory mockery, finally narrowing his eyes upon saving Shiva, dragging his blade behind him as he ran toward this pantomime, his yells became a dull roar as he brought the hammer down upon it, obliterating the figment in a geyser of hellflame. The surprise of the Isopolis-Infiltrator was met with a sharp turn from Soren to face him, hatred burning in his eyes. “These, foolish, fleeting dreams are gone! But the pain, the PAIN! The pain never leaves!” Soren bellowed, somehow causing echoes across the blue-white void, where there had been none previous. “Every day, every night, whenever I close my eyes, I will always see them! Amon, Ren, Shiva, everyone who has been lost under my watch, I can never forget them, nor the hole that they have left in my heart!” Soren borderline screamed at Isopolis, who stood there, watching, his thoughts unreadable, for his stance was now utterly neutral, compared to Soren’s feral fury, every gesture he made was sweeping and shaken. One sharp gasp later and Soren was reduced to shaking for a few moments, eyes firmly down to his feet, before rising his head to meet the Infiltrator’s gaze once more. “I’ve acted like a fool, a child, in the past few months. Always rushing to fulfil my dream, no matter the consequence, never facing it when it comes knocking, dragging me down to reality once more from my pedestal of naivety.” Soren resumed talking with a lower voice than before, his anger subsiding into a tranquil fury, yet realization as he began to clutch at the grip of his sword in hand harder than before, his stance straightening. “No more. I accept all that I have done, all that it implies and the judgements of my peers. But now...my past will be my strength, for it will pave the way to my future. Instead of dwelling on my failures, I will learn from them, to protect those who matter today, tomorrow and beyond…” Now, the Demon spoke with renewal, walking slowly toward the Isopolis-Infiltrator, who didn’t flinch or waver as Soren approached. “Betrayal, loss, pain...hope, vigour and valor. I feel it all. I know it all intimately...my passion fuels my flames and so long as I live, so long as I vow to protect my comrades, to fulfil my duty, they will never burn to embers, nor can any waters drown them.” “And if I must kill, destroy or die to protect them, to fight for what I believe in, then so be it. But others will always come before me.” Soren took a moment to look upon his Sapphire Necklace, the words seemed to glow before his eyes; “Shiva”. “Sentinel”. He clutched it fully before letting it hang behind his armour once more. “I am Soren Monroe. Soren the Immovable, Soren the Unrelenting, Soren the Unbreakable...Soren the sometimes Insufferable, but now! ...Soren the Sentinel. Their Sentinel.” Silence followed for a brief few moments, before the Isopolis Representation gave his reply: A slow clap, each one too echoed like Soren’s voice. “Well done, my former Sentinel.” It spoke with pride in its words, astonishing Soren a little. “You saw through my games all the way to the end...now, you are who you are meant to be, nay! Who you always were, from the beginning, Soren. When you took upon the role of Sentinel, this is who you were!” The Infiltrator-I allowed himself a small laugh before going on. “Yet now, you are that man, times ten. And that, is good.” With one more clap, more of a clasp of his hands together, Isopolis relented, the Miscreated Bulwark appeared once more, but it was placid, calmer as it too relented beside the Infiltrator, shrinking and disappearing into an orange glow, replaced by Amon, who simply folded his arms and gave his usual curt smile. “Thank you for testing me so, Isopolis…” Soren bowed in respect, but cut himself short, when he realized something; “But, might I ask, why the extra cruelty and bitterness? Don’t think I missed it.” Soren quizzed, with the Infiltrator shrugging a little. “Oh well, I treat everyone who ventures here equally, though I can’t say the same for those who leave during their shift.” A short pause followed, with Soren realizing that Isopolis can hold a grudge...and laugh, as he soon did, but in good spirits, with Ren waltzing from behind Teshub as he finished, he too smiled softly. “Ahh...of course. I-I am sorry, for that.” Soren spoke bashfully, with Isopolis brushing it off. “Worry not, I’m jesting...half so, anyway. Needless to say, you’ve learned much. Now go and take that knowledge to the rest of time, Soren. Be the noble Demon you were meant to be.” Isopolis spoke in a motivating tone to its former Sentinel, as from behind Amon strode out Shiva, who simply stood tall just as she always did, her smile was anything but frosty. “Hmph, let the legend come back to life, as it were?” Soren simply uttered, then finishing his bow as the wooden door behind him materialized. “Thy will be done.” He added, beginning to turn as Isopolis raised a hand. “Your will be done, Soren...farewell.” All present before Soren gave their own waves as he gave them a saluting wave, fully turning to the wooden door that would allow him to exit back to reality...giving one last sigh of relief, Soren had one final thought: “My word, that was sappy...I’m not a Demon, I’m one of those goddamn fairies…” With a little chuckle to himself, Soren turned the handle and shoved the doors open, stepping through with purpose. - Meksis, the United, Armour of Twilight - FLASHBACK: Battle Between Brothers - (Sorry I cannot post for Dragon, I've run out of time in my book. Please like. lol )

The Arkham Series in general is a high one for me, an overall excellent series, even with the flaws all entries possess. (Asylum being a little crude nowadays, City's DLC being needed to fully understand the story, Origins being rough around the edges and an excess of the Tankmobile in Knight.) Knight however, for me, is the definitive Batman experience, only lacking a Batcave which Asylum kinda had but only Origins actually allowed players to go to the original. A superb rendition of Scarecrow, the best horror elements of the series, the smoothest and most refined version of the gameplay that made the series so popular, the Batmobile was enjoyable for me personally though even I can see the repetitive nature of the missions, but I just love it. Recently completed it again, but now I've got to do what I've not even seriously tried yet: Completing every single Riddle in Knight...which is about 243 Riddles... I'm going to enjoy putting Edward Nigma in the GCPD Holding Cell.

- Soren Monroe, Servant of Shiva's Will - Isopolis, Personal Trial, Hall of Illusions - (Long Post Ahead.) Darkness overtook Soren's sight quickly, as he, Henry and Helios were seemingly taken away by Isopolis itself, deposited elsewhere. For only a few moments, Soren still couldn't see as he called out. "Helios? Henry?!" His voice echoed across the vast, dark expanse, until a small light illuminated across the hall, allowing Soren to press forward, but he noted that his surroundings became narrow, claustrophobic even and...rocky? As he was still in his Demonic Form, the glowing cracks along his brimstone pores dimly lit the rock faces around the oddly familiar tunnel he was navigating. The air flowing to his face told him he was nearing its end, but suddenly, a figure appeared at the "exit", one he knew all too well as it extended a flat hand, indicating he should stop. "...you're, the Infiltrator?" Soren uttered softly, his disbelief was at a minimum, for he knew Isopolis would begin testing him eventually. The Infiltrator simply nodded, then he snapped a finger, the cave around them lighting up yet there was no light source that was doing this. More unsettling was the eerie tone the lighting held as Soren reverted to Human Form and exited the tunnel, the Infiltrator stepping back to allow him passage. "Do you remember this place like I do, Soren?" The man unknown to Soren as Teshub quizzed, the former squinting his eyes, internally admitting his familiarity first as he gave a quick scan of the rocks before looking to the masked man. "The Caverns below Isopolis...where I first met you." Soren replied, with the Infiltrator seeming pleased that he did, yet after his reaction, occurred the stranger thing: Behind the Infiltrator, Phantoms of Soren and himself were fighting, clear as day, just as they did many months prior. The "real" Infiltrator moved to Soren's left as they both watched the conflict take place, blow after blow, hellfire meeting furious lightning and the speedy spy versus the demonic juggernaut, in a bout that would end...with a discussion. Negotiation would ensue and before Isopolis itself knew it, its once illustrious Sentinel, blessed with one of the highest honours any Overworlder could earn, was turning traitor at the behest of a silver tongue and his own fleeting dream. "Strange..." The demon uttered, prompting a "Hmm?" from Teshub, leading Soren to explain with crossed arms. "Only now do I realize that...you, ahh, the Infiltrator, held a familiar aura. But it was only so when Raiden emerged from his secret room, or whatever that was. Panic room for all I know, bearing a similar one." He noted, shaking his head afterward. "I don't think anything of it now, why should I? He's my friend and a man I promised to return to. Why doubt him for a smell, right?" The Infiltrator had to stifle a hearty laugh upon hearing Soren's words of irrelevance, yet fascination. "What's so funny?" "Oh, nothing...I'm, forbidden to say anyway." "It's, best to find some things out yourself, correct?" The Infiltrator posed, Soren nodding in agreement, but soon enough he was frowning. "Why show me this, anyway?" He asked with a deep hum of concern for what came next. "I've much more for you to see, Soren. Moments of your life and more...and you'll find that a lot of it holds a common...theme." The Infiltrator went on to say, gesturing a little all the while at Soren and all around. The ex-Sentinel couldn't help but think the theme was frustration for a moment, for seeing his Phantom agree to Teshub's proposition irritated him. "Oh, it's only going to get worse, my friend...behold!" The Infiltrator declared, moving ahead of Soren for a few steps, seemingly reading his mind as he snapped his fingers once more. This time, their entire surroundings transformed quickly and dramatically, into a vicious warzone across a large open field, two armies, one of pure Fey and the other bearing differing banners and a mix of Fey and Human, clashing with one another. "The Second War Between Worlds in a thousand years...?!" A surprised Soren almost shouted, not only because of this, but because deep down, he knew exactly what was coming up, his thoughts derailed as he avoided a hurled body during the chaos. "Oh relax, Soren, they're only Phantoms, dear friend!" The Infiltrator spoke, but not in the comforting tone such words should accompany, hell, he didn't even sound the same at all...a puzzled Soren relaxed but glared at his company, who stepped forward a little before slipping off his mask, revealing a different face to what he was expecting. "Just like me, but what can you do when faced with the shadows of your mind?" The face of Ren Mordecai spoke in an unusually taunting manner, though Soren, while listening, was taken aback by this sudden shift. "Ren...?" "Not me! The one over there!" Ren said, strangely, in a teasing fashion as he pointed with his mask at a Phantom of Wind Drake Ren fighting off a recently transformed Meksis, the Defiled, who was laughing maniacally and repeatedly outwitting and wounding the Drake!Ren. "No...!" Soren's breathing became ragged and angered as he looked upon the sight, helpless as the other Ren patted his shoulder insistently. "Soreeeen?" "Phantoms...I know. It's just...hard actually seeing this..." Soren wanted to look away, but Ren gestured with his mask, while looking around Soren, behind the fight between the Drake and the Defiled. "Maybe that will be easier? No?" He spoke as he pointed to a distant, yet clear shot of Soren, kneeling to Shiva in despair. "It isn't..." "Oh, I'm so sorry. I should've known it'd be hard to witness you prostrating yourself before the Queen? So willing to die, weren't you~?" Ren was seemingly on a quest to mock Soren relentlessly as he walked around him, though he suddenly snapped and grabbed Soren by the collar, the Demon barely reacting. "But I wasn't!!" As quickly as he snapped, Ren calmed down, releasing Soren and beginning to act a bit more...reserved. "Perhaps another?" Ren uttered, snapping his fingers once more, their surroundings becoming darker, the scent of lake water was in the air, as the immediately obvious pair of Phantoms stood nearby. "Lake Kresnek..." Soren whispered in shock, clenching his fists, his eyes initially focused squarely on Shiva and Raiden, discussing the future of the Overworld and Humanity, one that they hoped to see together, hand in hand. It was then that Ren stood at Soren's side, throwing off his hood with a flourish, revealing now he held the countenance of the late Queen herself. "The day we were supposed to meet together and come to a decision...you, wanted to ensure Shiva's safety, didn't you?" Shiva spoke firmly as ever, seeming very like herself, offering Soren the minimum of relief. "But it seems...that you should've had your eye, elsewhere. For as much as you wanted her favour, my forgiveness, you simply failed to see." "Silence! I know..." Shiva and Soren spoke, the former's attitude already differing as a Phantom of Nergal lunged forth from the shadows, brutalizing the Phantom Shiva just as Soren remembered it, every vivid, horrifying detail captured by Isopolis's dark magics. Each stab made Soren wince, though he couldn't take his eyes away, for his seething hate for Nergal drew his gaze to the ashen-skinned Queenslayer. "Such merciless regicide is hard to witness...harder when you think you could've stopped it, is it not, Soren?" Soren remained silent in reply as he watched the Phantoms of Raiden and himself attempt to stop Nergal, but were met with only a brief duel, a taunt and swift departure, all the while his perfectly replicated laughter echoed, like that of a delighted, malicious child, yet it soon devolved into purely maniacal laughter as he grew distant, leaving the Phantom Soren only able to roar in rage. Having to relive Shiva's untimely death forced Soren to choke back his grief, only able to say a few words, lest he weep again. "What more must I see?!" "Enough for you to learn something." This face-shifting apparition's mannerisms always shifted, always changed, yet the finger snap was always the same; Quick, formal and loud, as their surroundings changed once more, to something Soren thought he'd never see again, somewhere he hadn't been for three thousand years... "The Valleys of Tartarus...my people's underground homeland...Isopolis...you are cruel." The constantly back-lit by hellfire underground expanses and caverns soon surrounded the pair, a place for Demons and other such dark beings deep below ground, even lower than the Caverns of Isopolis. Their immediate surroundings were that of a burning village, one that housed former Nomads who had migrated to Tartarus from other parts of the Overworld, perhaps seeking new life or just somewhere that was away from it all. It was then that Shiva threw off the cloak entirely, revealing she now held the cadence and physique of a male Demon much like Soren's Demonic Form, but more organic in form and bearing different lower-half covering clothing, along with shorter horns and a slightly more human face. The Demon extended his claws and flexed his still extended hand as he looked upon Soren. "Cruel to be kind I would hope...recognize this face?" He spoke with a hiss to his words, yet with a strangely gentlemanly tone, that was all too familiar, with near to no deviation from the personality he knew. "How could I forget? ...Amon. My...my elder brother's face is what you wear, shade." The, thing, posing as Amon simply smiled devilishly as events resumed motion around them, with a large party of various kinds of Demon moving through the Nomadic Village, burning, crushing, smashing and killing all they could see. It was during this time that a younger, also more organic looking Soren emerged, having yet to spill any blood here, for this was part of his lengthy, arduous initiation, to succeed his father's status in their society. The youthful Soren broke down the door of an already burning house, having heard screams, soon coming face to face with a little girl, remarkably unscathed despite her home being on fire and her parents...well, they were to be seen. As burnt husks around her. Soren caught direct eye contact with her and quicker than he could raise his arm to prepare to deliver the only blow he'd need, his heart sank, the naive and fledgling demon could barely focus on what he was taught anymore, because all he could see now was a little girl, crying among the charred husks of her mother and father. The initiate Soren lowered his arm, it dangling at his side as he shooed her away. "Just go! ...GO!" The girl took the hint, finding a spot where the flames briefly subsided to escape the building and run away to safety. Having soon emerged from where he came, his brother came into view, a fair few demons anxiously waiting behind Amon as he gestured to the fleeing girl. "Brother, you're letting one get away!" He called out, beaming away as he prepared a fireball. "No matter, I'll clean up for you!" Before he could react, Soren had slapped his arm downward, the fireball impacting the ground between the bemused Amon and a practically shivering Soren. "Dear brother, surely this is a joke? It's a funny one, I'll admit, but come now~" Amon jested, hoping that Soren hadn't lost his marbles in his eyes. Soren simply shook his head aggressively at Amon. "I cannot do this, Amon...I can't!" He growled, fighting back his anger and despair, practically a teenager in Demon Years, releasing Amon's arm who was positively taken aback by this. "Soren, Soren, Soren! This is our nature!! We are Demons, we cannot take pity or offer mercy, not even to little girls! Are you, feeling okay?" Amon declared flamboyantly, clearly taking pride in his heritage, gesturing around to all Demons and other malcontents present, before displaying concern to his little brother, who continued moving erratically as his voice broke repeatedly. "N-No! No I am not, I cannot do any of this! Burning down a village of travelers? Murdering a defenseless little girl who can do nothing but kneel amidst her parents barely recognizable corpses?! This is madness! It's, it's not how I want to live!!" "Sha'ir er bo ka do! Ge de eerir!" A Demon behind Amon bellowed in their native tongue, before roaring at Soren and preparing to charge. "Hold your tongue, Hokar! You are addressing one of Mephisto's twin sons! He simply needs reaffirming of his destiny...stand down." Amon spoke softly, but it was a tranquil fury, briefly masked by a dramatic flair regarding their parentage, as he was offended by Hokar's words against Soren, the former doing as asked and retreated behind Amon, who looked to Soren, slowly approaching, hands raised. "Little brother, do not strain yourself. It is indeed a lot to take in, I know...but you must remember, this destiny is one we share! This burden can be spread between us, no? You won't disappoint father, not under my watch, Soren. If that's what you're worried about~?" Soren's older brother proved his position as he attempted to calm Soren, who was still brimming with a fire of mixed, passionate feelings. "No, brother...I-I just, I just can't live this way" Amon then frowned, quizzically tilting his head a little. "You know of the Land Above already, don't you?" Soren didn't answer, but his telltale look away of shame told Amon all he needed to know. "Their morals, their ways of living, the prestige one can earn...it is nothing compared to what I can give you, what we can all give you! This IS your life!" "NO. I'm sorry, Amon, but it's not!!" Soren bellowed in response, attempting to turn tail and run, as Amon lunged, attempting to stop his brother from fleeing. "No, Brother, please listen--!" "Let go of me!" "Soren, just stop!" Amon could not say anymore than this, for Soren had turned to face him once more, his eyes now glowing a telltale orange; the shade of Demonic Instincts taking over as he clasped at his brother's neck tightly, bending him backward as Amon barely fought against him, instead desperately trying to tell Soren to stop, but unable to actually say it. The instinct-consumed Soren growled as he wished to silence the constant tapping on his arms, deciding to wring Amon's neck backward, a sickening snap sounded as Amon's thrashing ceased, Soren tossing his corpse to the brigade of surprised Demons as he glared at them, huffing and puffing with bloodlust...slowly regaining his senses, Soren quickly realized what had just happened, only able to look at his hands, terrified and about ready to run once more. Hokar looked up at Soren from the distance as he roared once more. "Kinslayer!!" Another Demon, more straightened up than Hokar, stood forth, seemingly shocked as he lightly pointed to Amon's body. "Yo...you, broke your pact!" This was bad enough, but what horrified the young Soren more was when said demon began to laugh out loud, genuinely amused as he gestured outward. "You have succeeded your brother! Now you are the prodigal son, Soren! You truly cannot escape your fate now..." This Demon was called Balthazar and he couldn't help but be outspoken, charisma coming naturally to the Demon who had always frequently reminded Soren and others like him of their fates, proclivities and actions, ensuring they stay on course. Soren wasn't having any more of this, turning tail and sprinting away. "You cannot simply run!!" Balthazar called out, but was cut off when Soren summoned a wall of hellfire to halt him as he made his escape. Balthazar eventually parted the flames and pointed furiously at Soren. "You may run, Soren! But you will never run faaaar enough!!" Following this, was mocking laughter from Balthazar, as the tearful youth speared off into the unknown, desperate to outrun his fate and all of his kind, wanting a different future where his instincts as a Demon would never rule him again... The true, present day Soren was almost as tearful himself, with the representation of his brother and Isopolis looking onward at the scene ahead, soon focusing on the real thing, who's heart still ached over Amon's death. "You two were so different...so why do you mourn him?" 'Amon' asked Soren, who's head turned slowly to face him, tears still streaming. "He was still my brother...and he only wanted to help me. It was not the life I wanted, I couldn't bear the senseless destruction or pain, not since my trials began and especially not then...but Amon didn't have to die! Not for me to escape, for anything..." Soren spoke dully, sounding almost broken by the sight, his voice only raising when Amon was directly mentioned, but falling back down to a saddened droll. Soren had closed his eyes to fight back the tears, but when they opened, he found himself in a strange, endless blue-white void of swirling energies, with 'Amon' taking the visage of the Infiltrator again, but it was altered, for any sigils of Mystras or whatever he bore were replaced with ancient, undecipherable words and letters that strewed Isopolis's halls and his mask was more similar to Nergal's than anything else. As this truer representation of Isopolis's Hall of Illusions stood before Soren, he sighed deeply at the Demon. "See the pattern yet?" "Of course. You've shown me my greatest failures. But, one wasn't like the other at all." "How so, pray tell?" "Amon's death was due to, instinct taking over and my desire to change my fate. But my betrayal, Ren's death and Shiva's murder...all were due to some kind of weakness on my part...weakness of will or a failure to protect, to be there..." "And you felt your strength lacking. You felt that if you were blessed with greater fortitude, foresight or just more power, you could prevent them, is that about right?!" "...perhaps, if I were stronger, or more prepared, I could--" "Enough! Soren...allow me to show you, where that path takes you. For as a Demon, you have clearly forgotten!" The bitter voice of Teshub, now strangely serious about what he was saying, was followed by one more finger snap, which would once more take them to Isopolis's Caverns, but it too was altered by scorch marks, melted rocks and a general dark aura as the two of them turned to its center and moved forward, seeing a light ahead of them that was quickly illuminated by the same eerie source-less light as before, revealing something disturbing indeed. A grotesquely large monster, laying across a throne made from rocks and random scraps, the creature itself was vaguely demonic, but its horns resembled deformed antlers, its body was oddly proportioned, the legs being lean and mean but the upper body was burly, particularly the oversized left arm and hand, dangling upon the floor as the nearly faceless creature slumbered, embers lit across its straggly, large "hairs" that lined its body. Soren and the Infiltrator would feel great strength from the body before them, yet it wasn't...right. Their surroundings matched this feeling, as words were carved into rocks or written in blood desperately, a broken Greatsword still lit with flames as the day it was forged, a tossed aside sapphire amulet still engraved with its words and glowing faintly, discarded and battle-damaged demonic armour littered the area and upon the monsters abdomen, was an oversized version of Soren's abdominal Amulet, that always manifested in his demonic form. "...it, it cannot be--" Soren began, choking on shock as the Infiltrator looked on scornfully as he stepped aside. "Oh but it is...this, monster...is your fate. Demons who hopelessly pursue power are almost always consumed by it! Driven by instinct as their sapient minds can only watch in horror, as the Beast roams...and now it comes, for you." The Infiltrator concluded as he suddenly vanished before the flames of the Corrupted Soren began to stir, allowing him to begin rising from his 'throne', albeit stiffly at first. Soren could only stare in awe for a while, an awe that stemmed on just what "he" had become, the Corrupted Soren all the while had flames igniting more across his body, giving him a vibrant ember-fueled glow, but as he rose to a seated stance, Soren clutched his head seemingly in pain with his smaller right hand, groaning all the while. But the groan wasn't like the real Soren, Demonic or otherwise. It was distorted, higher-pitched and beastly, now falling to a knee as he attempted to get off of his throne, seeing Soren with its sunken, glowing eyes and desperately reaching for him with his free hand, still grasping his head in pain. Soren recoiled and stepped back from his beastly apparition, mostly out of horror rather than disgust, as his corrupted self lowered his left hand a little, shaking his head slowly...before staring right at his unsullied self, clutching at his skull still as he let out a full-on, protracted and otherworldly shriek, his mouth completely aglow and having no discernible features, as Soren could've sworn he was hearing this projection of himself screaming endlessly as he was directed by nothing more than base instinct, corrupted by dark powers, fully reaching out for Soren this time, almost begging for Soren to come back to him, to help him...or to kill him. (Part 2 coming soon! Reference video for the last moments below, starts at 20 seconds.) (Meksis coming later as well.) (And Nergal? Not yet, Snake. )

You know it.

I'll get around to my post for Soren's Personal Trial and the Meksis v.s Maxis Flashback soon. How soon? I, honestly don't know, but it won't be beyond this week, I will make sure of that.

Get your fingers readied up, my friend, it's time for revelations! ------------- I've got a few things in mind myself for ol' Soren. (Though if I use Shiva, I have little faith I'd do her justice, as she'd be more faithful to the genuine article, less of a trick than she was with poor Jynn with what I have in mind. lol.)

- Soren Monroe, Servant of Shiva's Will - Isopolis, Labyrinth, Crates - "Same to you, Hybrid. And thank you." Soren replied with a small smile to Henry as the Cobra perished, followed up by a collective sigh of relief and, to Soren and Henry's irritation; more flirting, with Helios giving an affectionate forehead press to Aura and Everyth blatantly brushing up against Henry as she walked on by. "I'm with you there, Henry...does that make me a fourth wheel?" He quizzed to the dreadnought, a tad of snark was upon his tongue. During this, a few crates were destroyed and Henry created some stairs out of Earth. "Come along, we can all have a good flirt later!" Soren called out, clearly with some annoyance, though he imagined there was truth to his words. Once some had passed the crates, it was suggested that they split up to cover more ground and as Henry and Helios were headed left, Soren elected to follow them. "You can count me in on that as well, Helios." Soren uttered to the shapeshifter as he waltzed up to the pair of them, then looking back to the others. "Good luck, everyone. Those going straight, if anything goes wrong, shout as loud as you can, we'll try to come back for you!" Soren then announced as he, Helios and Henry went down the left passage. At least now, as he had overheard Helios, Soren was now sure that the Hybrid was named Henry, for the Demon was a little bad with names at times, the only names he never forgot even once were his own, of course, along with Shiva. (Scrap, I might've missed something, but it be your turn for the flashback fight, I think.)

I wonder what they'd RP about? Bots taking over the world? A trip to the world of Bots? Bots attempting to dethrone a tyrannical robotic despot?

Was that a bot posting on OUR sign-ups?? How rude! At least he was taken to Bot Prison swiftly.

I mean, with a giant cobra dying painfully, a displeased Demon who cannot abide random romantic moments, a shapeshifter under said demon's technical tutelage, tutorship, I dunno, he learned from him, along with a human-fey hybrid mightier than Zeus himself and countless broken crates... I think Mikhail's enhanced hearing will do him wonders. lol

Soren: I could always bake you all something. Or perhaps that could be afterward. *Folds arms* Don't think I've taken an interest in cakes for nothing, friends. Meksis: *Backstage, cleaning up* If I had a stomach, I would relish in that opportunity, Soren!

Beautiful and all, but you know Soren's just like: Soren: Are you firetrucking kidding me?! Giant snake, trying to eat us and you're having a moment?!

- Soren Monroe, Servant of Shiva's Will - Isopolis, The Second Trial: Cobra Attack - There was little time to think as, suddenly, the wall ahead gave way, revealing itself to be yet more crates as a humongous cobra came crashing through it, an equally large white basilisk being the perpetrator which, considering the emergence of Eclaire, Arthur and Princess Athena, had to be Helios attacking his prey. The monstrous reptile then hurled Basilisk!Helios across the room with fury, baring its fangs as it began an open-mouthed charge toward Soren, threatening to consume him whole. "Spread out!!" Soren bellowed, not wanting anyone else in the Cobra's path as he took a sizable backstep, then rolled to the right side and would attempt to stab the Cobra in its left eye, kicking against the beast with great force as to knock it off balance and delivering a slash to the soft underbelly should it be exposed. Soon after, Soren would wreathe himself in hellfire and transform into his Demonic Form, his claymore becoming engulfed in flame and his skin now hard as rock with blood of magma once again. "I hate to interrupt, lovebirds, but we have more pressing matters at hand!! Arthur, keep the Princess safe!" Soren ordered in a deeper, demonic voice, hurling a fireball at the Cobra's face as he did. "We're not about to let King Alderon down now!" He added, positioning himself to defend those who needed it. "Henry?! You still with us?!"