Graterras: A Clash of Fates {IC}

[Chevaleresse]

Silef didn't respond for a long while, leaving both of them in silence for a time. "So that means my name is lost," she stated simply afterward. Lost to the ash and dust of history, burned out of its pages over the scrap of land attributed to it. Those who didn't make the right choices in their life. . . I must have been able to do something better, but what, I do not know. "How long has it been, then? Since my . . . failure."

[Aurorix]

'The work of gods ey? Well I guess I should just believe him and focus on the one big glaring thing in his explanation.' Zagi thought to himself seeing how there's no real reason to continuing questioning his new body. If there's no way to recreate it, then there's really no reason to continue to delve into this subject any further. "Clash of Fates?" He asked not even going to bring up the body again. "What exactly is the Clash of Fates and what do I have to do?" Since this was the reason why he's here, might as well know at least what it is, since it'll probably what he'll be doing for a while.

[Noir]

"So it seems." Debronee uttered, silent as the falling rain.

Debronee felt his curiosity dissipate slightly. The inquisitive site of him shifted to a more philosophical, pondering state, knowing that his answers were now best given to him when the reached the halls....whenever they would reach the destination. The journey started to grow mildly tedious, but Debronee remained silent, and patient, occupying himself with thought.

I am a shadow of my former self, he wondered. Here to redeem something, given a purpose I do not know for now -- only ahead, in this unknown place, the Halls of Sorrow, and within the Clash of Fates -- would I find out.

"What belies in the halls we are to destine?" He finally succumbed and allowed his thoughts to be expressed through his lips and asked, perhaps the final question he would ask, throughout his strange, vague journey with the Lord. "The strife of battle and war? The epitome where the bitter sorrow of memories belie? And the Clash of Fates -- it appears I'm not the only one. At least, perhaps -- what a number of opponents, duel if I must, need I conquer to which this invitation has seemingly led me to?"

Perhaps words alone could not clarify him, as Debronee hoped that his answer would be awaited him soon ahead.

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

Ress'nok's Reckoning

"So this is what dying feels like." The Iridescent Red Victonari thought to himself. His scales bloomed like wildfire in the moonlight of his last moments. A blade resting itself in his chest. He slipped slowly out of this world and into the next feeling the cold talons drag his soul into the black inky abyss. "I wasn't fast enough this time it would seem. Forgive me Lady Wind for I have not used the gift of swiftness you have given me. And I let down my people." and with that final thought he perished from the world.

He faced the endless maelstrom of darkness now, it threatened to break apart the very being he had been. The cold black ripped him to flinders. He lost the memories of who he was, the things he had done... the things he fought for. They slipped away from his grasp as he tried to hold onto to them. Yet, they slipped through his fingers as if sand in a hourglass. There was nothing to grab them with, nothing he could get a grip with. Anger rose in his chest overwhelming his soul. "I WAS TO BE A KNIGHT!!! AND NOW YOU TRY TO TAKE WHO I WAS!?!? DAMN THEE TO HELL!!! EVEN IF THOU ARE HELL ITSELF I WILL BREAK YOU DARKNESS!!! FOR THOU CANNOT OWN MY SOUL!!! IT IS MINE AND MINE OWN!!!" It rose quickly to a heated haze. Ress'nok felt it wash over his soul like wildfire, as he was angered at the darkness for thinking it could try and destroy who he was. He accepted his death, but not being erased. This anger he know used to keep himself together. He used this as his grip, the thing that would keep him whole. However... he suddenly felt a white hot flash of power.

Then... he felt rain. In the darkness... he had no physical from. So this was a new sensation. Was he there anymore? As in Life he tried to open his eyes to see and found that his eyes responded now. Above him... a Purple starry sky that rained down the cold rain he was used to. He sat up crossing his legs, and he begin to meditate. He tried to dispel the anger he had felt in the void. It was not befitting a Knight, and he needed to rid himself of it now. The rain helped him focus his mind, and he honed the anger to a razor edge. Quickly he curbed it to nothingness, the rain serving as an amazing focus. He didn't even notice the Purple cloaked figure arriving due to this. He had no idea he was even there until he heard that fateful "I am the Lord in Violet, who may you be?"

This caused the seasoned warrior to jump... literally. He leaped 30 feet forward quickly from his sitting position as a quick response to the possible danger. Ress'nok wore no armour preferring to let his natural scales soak blows for him so that he could be as fast as possible. It also allowed him to jump huge distances. From a sitting position he pulled off this distance, if he was already standing he could have done so much better. But, it gave him the distance necessary. He whirled around his Harpoon, nearly as if it were an extension of himself. It was his instinct to draw the weapon, nearly as much as the instinct to jump was. He leveled the wicked fishing tool at the Purple-clad man, but... he didn't do so menacingly. He held it so that he knew that he was armed, but not so to impose he was about to attack or strike. "I am Ress'nok Redtail... I shalt ask thou, but one question...what is thine purpose?

"Hmmm, well Ress'nok... I have come to collect you. You have answered the invitation after all." the Purple man said.

"Invitation? I don't remember one... however I was clearly dead a moment ago and now I stand here with a new form." The hulking Victonari thought to himself. Ress'nok huffed loudly, this one was about to attack him. If he was... he would have been dead a second time already. Ress'nok remembered how he was taken by surprise during his meditation. The Purple man easily let his presence be known. So, either what he said was the truth and he was here to collect him for something... or he was really stupid and bad at killing. Ress'nok decided to go with the former scenario. It was the only logical one in his mind. "What for?" he asked quickly. Ress'nok wasn't much of one for a lot of words. Words could be left for down time and when there was nothing to do. Now was not such a time.

The Lord in Violet shifted his weight to one side... clearly looking the Victonari up and down. "So... he really is the Issh'garokk of The Greystone Tribe. He has the red scales that beam like holy fire in the light, and the eyes of purple mist like their legends say. This will be interesting. Though if he is here, he clearly never bloomed into what he was meant to be." The Lord in Violet thought to himself. "I seek to bring you to the Clash of Fates, for you have a claim in it. I can tell you more At my humble abode, The Halls of Sorrow." he said pointing towards the Keep on the hill.

Ress'nok nodded and without another word began to tread towards the Keep. He quickly outpaced the Lord in Violet. Not even waiting for the man to catch up.

Nadia's Manifestation

"Finally... Release." her final words as her body crashed to the floor. It was all she wanted from this world now... to be rid of it's darkness and evil. The shame that was her family's legacy. She was still angered that it ever could begin that she didn't stop it sooner before it hurt people... but she ended it now. And thus... there was nothing left for the Mistress of Black Blades in this life. And thus with her Sword Blank... she took her own life. "I am too broken to live among people now, this is for the best. I had to become a monster to stop a monster." Her own words before she ended her life.

And with the thud... only darkness. She felt at home, the darkness she was forced to embrace to end the wicked legacy of the Darke Family and the horrible things they did in the name of magic. They gave it bad name... stained it with the blood of thousands of innocents... in the name of "progress". It even stained Nadia's soul now as she floated into the afterlife. But the darkness didn't scare her. It was a part of her now after all. She embraced its wintery grasp, she wanted to disappear... to be gone. But... one thing kept her from doing so. She kept obsessing over what if she could have stopped it earlier? Could she have saved her brother.... and her Uncle? Could she have saved the thousands her Father murdered? If she could turn back time could she have stopped any of this from happening at all? If only she knew. It bothered her... it itched at the back of her mind. Her very heart burned with a fire that was the fetid concoction of grief, rage, and sorrow. While she was alive... she had no time to dwell on her feelings. All she had time for was murder and destroying the grim legacy her family had created. All the memories of her brother and her beloved Uncle hit her at once. They had lost their lives trying to protect her, keep her safe from her father's insane plans for immortality. It wasn't fair that they had to die. And she wasn't strong enough to protect herself so they had to lose their lives in her place. Her soul weeped pale tears... it wasn't right. She had let them down. By not being able to protect herself, they had lost their lives for nothing. She wouldn't accept that they did that for her. She wasn't worth saving. And yet they did. And she was forced to dismantle her family in their stead. It was too much for a young girl at the time... and even still it was too much for the young woman she was now. She did accomplish it... but at what cost? She had lost all of her sanity... and most of her humanity in the process. She paid the Iron Price for the power to destroy the vile establishment of her own family. And all she got in turn was suffering. Her soul screamed into the darkness and for awhile she could hear nothing. Until suddenly her own ears were full of her own horrid wails.

Suddenly she had a body with which to scream, unlike before in the darkness. It took nearly too long to register. Because she didn't want this... she didn't want to be alive... why was she back? She only realized it when the rain started to fall. It hit her shoulders and the top of her head... piercing her like daggers of frost. The chill made her realize just how alive she was... She found Blank yet again, the sword she had used in life. It found it's way to her hand. It was the perfect blade... balanced. It had perfect symmetry, and carried no embellishments or engravings. It would have looked like any other sword to the normal eye. However... it was not the case. It was so normal a sword it was anything but. It's beauty was in it's simplicity. She found it was pristine... not even stained with her blood or that filthy beast known as her father. Clearly... this was someplace else. Then she heard the footsteps. A Man in Violet approached. Nadia had but one thought on her mind. THis one had to be the one responsible for bringing her back. And as such she would end him so she could go back to the endless abyss.

She held Blank up above her head as pure dark shadows of the blade itself were summoned, each attached to her fingers by a sting of obsidian black. She cast them towards the approaching man, a torrent of bladed death.

He kept walking straight forward, not even attempting to dodge to either side. And every single blade missed him. He didn't even flinch. Nadia screamed out in anger as she wheeled the blades back around, this time forming a fan of blades. They whirled around as quick as her own heart was beating. And they were set to crash into the man. When a Violet aura surrounded him. The blades of Darkness shattered against the violet barrier. Her attack... nothing.

Who was this man? And what the hell did he want? In a great frustration... tears began to fall from the dark haired women's eyes. Clear diamonds falling from her eyes of emerald. She screamed at him "WHO ARE YOU!?!?!"

"I am the Lord in Violet... and clearly i don't have much time. I am here to offer you a chance to undo your mistakes... and save your brother and Uncle." The man clad in Violet said. He had no time... He clearly had hoped this spirit didn't answer the invitation. She had a claim and yet didn't want to be here at the same time. She had ended her own life. But... her regrets were so powerful that she answered the invitation completely by accident. The Lord in Violet was relieved she was the first spirit to arrive... otherwise things might have gotten much worse. Her anger and misunderstanding were boiling to a head. She didn't want this and she did at the same time. But, now that she was here there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't bother hiding the fact he knew things about them this time, he had no time for games. If he did he would lose her quickly, and he couldn't allow that. More dark blades clashed against his shield. The Wild green-eyed woman... no, demon kept sending more and more. "YOU LIE!!!" she screamed.

"No, I do not lie to you Nadia Darke... Lady of Misfortune, Mistress of the Black Blades. I know the plights you have gone through and the darkness you have seen. I know what Rodric and Gunnurd have done for you. They sacrificed themselves to keep your father from using you blood to try and find a false immortality. He tried to use the blood of the Black Dragon that swirls now within your veins. But they kept it form happening. I know this because I have seen with my own two eyes. I know you Nadia, and I know that this chance is something you need to put your soul at ease. And you know it to. You are the one that brought yourself here not me!" he didn't know what her response would be, the battered soul that stood before him was clearly and mostly broken beyond all recognition. She was hardly the girl she was early in her life. She was almost a demon((this figurative by the way... she isn't literally a demon.)) standing on the earth before him. Forced to do horrible things to bring an end to her torment. She could only end her suffering... by suffering more. And when she thought she could be finally free... she only got more in turn.

She spat on the ground in front of... Nadia didn't really know what else to do. Her mind ached... and the tears fell down her face despite any effort to stop them. There was no stop to them. She didn't believe this man. She couldn't... but he knew of Rodric her uncle... and of her brother Gunnurd. There had to be some truth. "Why?" was the only word she could choke out.

"Because... the Clash of Fates has chosen you to fight in it Lady of Darkness. It wishs you to be a champion in the bout. You answered that call, your desire to save the ones you loved dearly cause you to answer the invitation even if you didn't intend to. I am... sorry that this happened that way. If I had control I would have stopped the invitation and let you rest in peace. But, I cannot. It wanted you... and you answered. All I can do now is offer you the chance to save them. If you can win this Clash."

She sat silently there for at least an hour not making a motion or a word. It began to worry even the Lord in Violet. He didn't want another to come into this situation... and he knew it might be inevitable. She sat on the summoning platform still, shivering in panic and shock from the whole situation. He was afraid she might go berserk and kill the others that came through into the Land of Sorrow. He sat next to her, it was the only thing he could think of to do. At least something to comfort the broken soul that was sitting there. At least show her she wasn't entirely alone.

For another hour they sat there in complete silence.

But then... she spoke. "I'll do it."

Nadia had decided she would try and do anything that she could to undo the fate that befell her brother and Uncle. And with that... she was lead to the Keep of Sorrows without another word.

((I really just need to finish up Aodh's intro and we can get into this thing. So... please get that done. If it isn't done by June the 28th however... I am moving ahead without him.))

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

((Sorry for the Double Post ahead of time, but going to have to to get this bad boy moving again.))

The Hall of Sorrows, and the Convergence of Fate.

And with the ending of each meeting of the hero, The Lord of Sorrow as he was truly known... brought each to his forlorn keep. The one that sit eerily on the far cliff from the Summoning platform. It watched longingly form the hillside awaiting the return of the master. It's great Violet walls glistened with the damp of rain. A keep of this magnitude would normally inspire Awe in one looking upon it. Yet, the only emotion evoked here... was sadness. Sadness and the damp tinge of regret. It reminded each and every one that looked upon it... of why they stood here now. It was the clearest any of these souls had thought in a long time. It seemed to hone it, make them crystal clear. It was evident why they were there now and any doubts dispelled. It was probably some magic in the Halls itself that caused this to happen, to make those that came here know their own purpose in this Clash of Fates.

Each hero The Lord of Sorrow lead to a fancy room, lavish with the colours of black and a creamy white. It was much less bright then the Halls itself not a speck of violet to be seen. "Stay here, I will collect you all for when the Convergence of Fates begins. That is when I will tell you everything as with the rest of the souls that will arrive. The wait shouldn't be too long. Until then the servants shall keep you well entertained, fed and whatever you ask of them." The Lord of Sorrow ((he is the same person as the Lord in Violet... just so it is known.)) said. He gestured to what seemed to be suits of armour, but where clearly much more than that. Nothing resided within them and yet they still moved. They were the servants he spoke of, and the ones that would take care of the guests diligently until the time of the Convergence of Fates.

******************************************************

"Well, Helen Lemecier... We have arrived at my humble abode. Normally I would lead you to the guest quarters however... you have no need to wait. For today is the Convergence of Fates. Today, is the the day the Clash Begins. You were the final soul to arrive, and for that there is no need to wait. My servants shall summon each of the others along. I, the presiding Lord of Sorrow, shall lead you to the Audience Chamber where The Convergence shall take place. There you will learn everything that you need to know about the Clash. Each and every one of you will. So, I ask that you follow me to the Audience Chamber, hopefully that isn't too much trouble?" said the Lord in Amaranth to the Woman following him. Or perhaps... she would know him as the Lord of Sorrow now.

*****************************************************************

All the others received a Messenger. A Suit of armour much like the other servants, but that wore a Violet and Black Tabard over top it's Steely suit. It arrived holding a missive sent from the Lord of Sorrow himself. "If you are to enter the Clash of Fates, please sign here on the line. This seals the Invitation and allows us to move forward. I shall take you to the Master, The Lord of Sorrow who brought you here, after you sign this missive. We will reach the Audience Hall where you will be told everything of the Clash of Fates and will participate in the Convergence of Fates. Is this clear?" The Messenger asked in a tinny voice. It seemingly echoed forth from is armour, much like the other Servants did. Either way, it was now offering a formal missive before it would take the heros anywhere. The Servants had to have the permission of that they were doing a service for to perform that service. So, even if sent by the Lord of Sorrow himself, they were still required to ask the hero if they would go with them. This is what was outlined in the Missive if the hero so chose to read it. It also went on to describe this as not a binding contract, and other legal jargon. It was a completely fair document, and clearly it showed that the Lord of Sorrow was treating them as guests.

((You may take this time to describe what was gong through your character's mind during the wait... how they interacted with the servants etc... However, to move on all you are required to do, is sign your name on the Missive. The servants will bring you to the Audience Chamber. With Acquie... yours is a bit different. As you are with the Lord of Sorrow already, all you need to do is agree to let him take you there. Once we get this done, I can get to the Convergence of Fates and we can begin this RP for real.))

[Felicity]

Varick had spent his time idling about the his room, using most of his time to keep an exercise regiment and filling the rest with his duties for the Lord of Earth. Death did not mean he could neglect his routine. In fact, his current state may have magnified the need for it all the more. It proved to be useful anyway as it distracted Varick from the unnerving presence of the strange servants and allowed him both to get to grips with his body once more and provided a small refuge of familiarity in this confounding place. Something he was sorely grateful for.

When the missive was presented to him Varick had to struggle to remember his literary skills. He had been given formal training for reading and writing of course, his father had seen to that so Varick could learn about the Order but aside from scant few letters and reports Varick had been charged with writing he had seldom found use for the written hand. Still, what fool can't remember how to write his name, no matter how long it had been? He scrawled his name on the parchment in large, blocky letters after reading it through and then stood waiting for the servant, gesturing for it to go on.

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

The being quickly tucked the Parchment into it's tabard. It took a shallow bow towards Varick. "Very, well. I shall lead you to the Master. Please follow me. We shall arrive there shortly." it said hastily. It turned quickly on it's heel as it turned to walk down the hall. It took a brisk pace as it headed towards the Audience Hall. Varick could see many similarly dressed messengers walking down the hall. However each had a different colour feather flowing from its helm. His had an Earthy brown feather. It probably wasn't the easiest thing to see at a distance, but it was certainly one of few that had an earth toned colour. It would be easy to keep track of in the storm of bright neon ones walking about.

[Flux]

Vayne was leaning against one of the walls when the messenger arrived. He had simply been watching, taking in whatever information he could. The suit of armor brought a missive, and after reading it, Vayne quickly gave his signature to the parchment. He had no time to waste. Every moment wasted here was one less moment he would have when he returned.

[Kurotsune]

Matthew sat in the room for what felt like hours. Then days. Then months. Then years. Did time truly pass oddly in this place, or was his infamous boredom simply making him lose track of it? In fact, how much time had passed since he had died? As these questions prodded at the back of his mind, Matthew attempted to brush them aside. The pirate sat in quiet contemplation of the events that had followed. In life, he had always sought the easy way out. The escape, the way that required "a special touch". That's not to say he was a coward - If there's one thing Matthew Corwil was not, was a coward.

But he wasn't an idiot either. Lords and gods be damned, if he was to live again, he had to win this. And if he had to win this, then may the odds be stacked in his favor.

With the silent contemplation worthy of a strategic mastermind, Matthew began drawing scenarios in his mind. Of who he might face, of how he might react. Several things started rushing through his mind at once. Would there be several battles, or simply a gigantic melee? If there were to be several battles, then that worked to his advantage. Time to study his foes. Time to replenish the poison in his sword. Time to create strategies.

If it was a single melee, then his best bet would be to just let them kill themselves first. If he could keep himself pristine - even against several opponents - he was confident in his ability to win. As long as it's three or four, it should be fine. Four weakened opponents would have difficulty bringing him down. He wouldn't. He would outsmart them. Outmaneuver them. As they tired from battle, he'd reposition and strike from the shadows. He'd win. He'd live.

The problem, he realized, would be in the case that teams were involved. Were he to be paired up with weaklings, then they would drag him down and surely to his defeat. However, were he to be paired with strong heroes, then what if only one person can claim the prize? The members of his team would have to battle amongst themselves. He'd have had time to study them, of course, but if one were to assume just one among his team to be his equal... To have studied him just as much... Then he would certainly become a target. And that would be a problem.

The torrential flood of thoughts that assaulted Matthew's mind constantly where brought to an abrupt stop as a new servant presented itself, parchment in hand, telling the man he had to sign to continue. Matthew didn't bother reading - The terms were simple enough for him. Win and live. Die and disappear. Disagree with the terms and disappear. It doesn't matter what's written there. Anyone would sign it.

And then it struck him. Anyone would sign it. Maybe others didn't give the parchment much thought, maybe there was something here to exploit, to take advantage of. He carefully studied the paper, asking the servant for a second as he read each line several times. Nothing.

He signed the paper with a sigh. Guess it's time to improvise.

[Aurorix]

Zagi waited for Violet to come back to continue this whole situation he found himself in. Once again, everything is coming a little fast, but seeing as it looks like he's stuck here for a while he might as well do something instead of just standing and doing nothing. After a while, some armored person, most likely a servant, explained he'd had to sign a missive to go meet Violet. "If you don't mind, I'm going to spend a little time reading this before I sigh this." He said taking the paper and began reading it. After closely reading 2 or 3 times he then felt confident about signing it. Zagi then sighed the missive and handed it back to the servant, "Alright, I sighed it, so now you're supposed to bring to Lord Violet, correct?" He asked waiting for the person to lead him to the location.

[Zephyrus the Priestess]

She sat and stared at the suits of armor warily. True, they posed no threat to her; somehow, she was assured of that; that didn't mean she could simply just let her guard down completely. Even then, at some point, just watching the stationary knights bored her. This "clash of fates" made little sense to her as she hadn't even bothered asking the Lord of Sorrow (definitely not an alias of the Heartless One, at least in her memory anyway) what it was, and therefore disturbed her little.

Now that she remembered why she was caught in between being alive and dead in the first place, however, her grievance was with the Lord Draven. Just what had she done to deserve such a petty manner of death? Had somebody observed her, they would have seen how she paced the room, not only walking on the floor but climbing up and down and sometimes even knocking down whatever furniture held place in the room. Sometimes she snarled much like a leopard would, her countenance uncannily resembling that of the wild feline's.

... In fact, when the messenger arrived, it took much restraint to not knock over and wrestle with the seemingly-sentient armor. It wouldn't do to be without peace of mind; Ayla closed her eyes, held a hand to the bridge of her nose, and let loose a long sigh. To release her fury- literally- would give her the benefit of being able to think clearly, but she knew it would act on its own accord and most likely interfere and attack the messenger. Instead she read the parchment. It was fair, at the very least. Is this your will for me, o god Draven? Truth be told, she didn't expect an answer. Since her death, she received no sign or message from the deity of strife, and perhaps she would continue not to. Perhaps if she signed it, she would find out.

And sign she did.

[Code: PIRULUK]

Helen had never felt so much apprehension in her turmoil-filled life.

The prospect of walking into a building which was coated in violet was a supremely terrifying thought. She could not help but feel that she would be forever soiled if she were to step foot into such a construct.

Nonetheless, she diligently followed the Lord in Amaranth across the threshold, closing her eyes until she was within the building. Cautiously opening her eyes, she was relieved to note that the interior was not violet. It was far from a fashionable interior, but it was still barely tolerable.

The Lord in Amaranth re-introduced himself as the Lord of Sorrows. Helen was somewhat annoyed with how he kept renaming himself - though the first time was for her benefit. As he proposed for her to follow him, she decided to comply; she had, after all, just become aware of her purpose here.

"Most certainly, dear Lord With Questionable Taste Who Cannot Decide Upon A Name. Lead the way."

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

Each messenger did as they had for Varick before. They each stashed the filed paperwork into their tabard. Each turned on their heel as they spoke to the others. "Very well, I shall lead you to the Master. Please follow me, we shall arrive shortly."

Each person's Messenger had a different coloured feather in his helmet. Vayne's had a deep emerald green feather. Matthew's a Navy Blue, with Zagi's Messenger having a scarlet red feather. Ayla's was a Jet Black.

The Messengers didn't seem too chatty, but probably could be pressed fro some information. The other servants readily answered any question given to them as long as they knew the answer.

****************************************

"Hmmm, just so you know... I acquired this keep. Violet... not exactly a colour I like either. But, might as well fit the part. Violet for some reason was chosen as the Lord of Sorrow's Colour. You'd have to take it up with the first Lord of Sorrow, it was his decision." Sorrow said, his staff clanking as he begin to walk towards the Audience Hall. "I'd have changed it by now... but the powers that be get really upset when I do, so I just leave the decorum alone. It's like I am a guest in my own keep sometimes." he said clearly a bit upset. It was hard to tell with a man so covered up that it was impossible to see his face and well... most of his body. There was the clacking of beads and bones as well; Even his slightest movement caused the cascade of beads to sway wildly. The walking made it worse of course as there was even more clacking making it tougher still to read him. But his voice betrayed him clearly having a tone of emotion. For some otherworldly entity, he sure did talk a lot. "I'd probably have it changed in a jiff to something less... gaudy. Look at this place Lady Helen, it looks like a King shat gold all over my walls and a vile cacophony of colours... simply too much going on in here. I would have things be... much simpler if I could have my way. But nooooooooo. Got to keep with the tradition. Eh... screw tradition if it looks like a Dragon vomited in my living room." He stopped there for a moment before dusting off the front of his coat. "Hmmm, I do apologize milady, it is rather rude of me to complain like this in front of you. I do hope you forgive me, for I am terribly sorry. A good host should never do such. Even if his predecessors had a knack for putting everything and anything they could think of to assault the eyes in the same room. I do hate how eccentric whoever built this halls tastes were... Oh sorry again." He cut himself off early this time hastening his pace towards the Audience Hall.

[Noir]

[Dear me, I'm late for this....]

Debronee surveyed the new vicinity around him. Entering first to a place where only violet quilted his surroundings, he was led to a very nicely furnished room of black and white. Helmeted, armor-clad servants stood near the door -- Debronee knew they would obey any command he desired within reason, but at this point of time, he wanted to find out on his own. There was a slight wavering in that his servants inevitably would know what was to come, but there was only silence for endless moments in his room. Time passed as if it was stationary -- his mind was empty for that moment, and after mingling amidst the maze of doubt under the unknown, dimensional journey, he needed his rest and relaxation; nor was his mind impatient for things to proceed quickly, knowing that his very existence and presence in this place was enough to quell his restlessness and save his answers to his unusually insatiable curiosity to experience.

His first thought as his empty mind formed thoughts and philosophies after deep meditation was that the Lord of Violet had turned out to be the Lord of Sorrows himself. It didn't exactly take the half-elf by surprise, as he wondered only of whether violet itself was the best color to symbolize the very meaning of melancholy, the meaning of the halls themselves, akin to the colour the cloaked figure wore as he first met him, akin to his first sight in these halls.

One servant suddenly approached Debronee with a missive, opting him to sign it. Apparently, he needed to if he wanted to continue. Debronee took a slight glance at the suit of armor -- an empty shell that moved and obeyed -- before he proceeded to read the contents silently, his eyes slowly examining every word and comprehending whatever was written on it. Was there a price? A trap? Something he couldn't go back to? His cautious instinct continued to linger even in this equanimous place. Yet nothing on it had any meaning he wanted -- it was as simple as to do or die, nothing more, or less. As his eyes and mind synced and absorbed the final details of the missive, his caution melted into what seemed to be a surrendering flag to his current circumstances, as he finalized his decision, placing his signature on where the space was prepared for it.

This best be good for me, his mind sighed.

Edited July 3, 2015 by YagamiNoir4896

[Ragnar]

What other souls? you mean there are others just like me? Neville thought to himself and was stunned as he tries to digest the sudden announcement. The young wizard keenly observes the armored servant with his wondering eyes. Neville's mind drifts off and was filled with uncertainty as he was handed the invitation.

what kind of invitation is this? this doesn't make any sense.. they sent an invitation before announcing what the actual event is all about? are the Gods toying with us? what lies beyond this contract? Neville ponders as he stares at the piece of paper in hands that could sealed his fate.

Eh, fuck it..the elements are with me! I say bring it, challenges of this realm! the elven wizard thought to himself as Neville strongly believes in the power of his magic and has come to a conclusion.

"Tell this lord of sorrow I accept his request." The wizard said as he heats up the tip of his index finger and brands his name in flames at the missive and hands it to the armored servant.

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

And for this two Men, The messengers did the same. Each tucked the Missive into their tabard, and then turned on their heel. And then they spoke the message they did each other time as well "Very well, I shall lead you to the Master. Please follow me, we shall arrive shortly."

Debronee's Messenger had a Silver feather, While Neville's had a Light blue one.

With that most of the souls were being lead to the Audience Hall. They could see the others being lead by their messengers pass through the halls. It was quite the spectacle. The bustle was made worse by all the other similarly dressed servants running about doing other tasks and things. The Halls of Sorrow were labyrinthine, and seemed to sprawl on for miles. One would probably get hopefully lost if it were not for the servants leading them to their destination. Soon they would all file into the Audience chamber and the Convergence would begin.

****************************************************

"We are here Milady." said Sorrow to Helen as they arrived to ammuch... different part of the keep. It seemed like a timeless addition and wasn't like much of the other parts of the keep. It looked like something out of a fine Graterrain opera house. The decorum was much more low-key using other small tricks to be pleasant on the eyes and not overwhelm those looking upon it. I was probably to not distract from the performances that might have been held there, but to still be a lovely work of art in and of itself. There was nary a trace of gold anywhere, a lesson probably learned from the rest of the garish design in the rest of the Keep. Mixtures of deep reds and blues, and other darker colours complemented each other much more than the clashing effects elsewhere.

He lead her through a double door, embellished with the shapes of stories around the doorframes, those of war, those of love, all sorts of timeless things etched carefully into surrounding frame and into the doors themselves. Down a long dark tunnel they went until they arrived at the bottom of a massive Amphitheatre. It was gigantic. It looked like tens of thousands could be seated for a single performance. How on Graterras this fit into a keep... was beyond any mortal mind. But, it did. It was a simple design of a solid deep red, as to not take eyes away from the performance on the giant stage. Elegant and simple. Just the way this Lord of Sorrow liked it. If there was any place in this Keep he liked the way it was, it was the Audience hall and Amphitheatre. Besides having a bit of a soft spot for plays and musicals, it was the least offensive room in the castle, in fact it was one of few that didn't exude the First's horrible taste in colour and decorum. Not a scrap of Violet, nor a tinge of gold embellishment was anywhere to be seen. It was lovely the way it was. "Take a seat then Lady Helen. The Convergence shall begin soon. Just as soon as the others arrive. They should be here shortly."

[Chevaleresse]

Silef waited the barest amount of time, only long enough to be on the edge of politeness, before ordering a hearty meal. Going into battle on an empty stomach was tantamount to suicide, and this "Clash of Fates" didn't exactly sound like a peaceable discussion. She focused her mind intently on the task ahead, trying to mentally prepare herself for a variety of situations. Would she be leading troops? Fighting duels? Would small squad-based combat predominate? Each one had its own set of tactics and sorceries; mantling oneself in flame, for example, tended to earn one the distaste of one's comrades in close quarters. The messenger entered the room to the noblewoman devouring an unfortunate leg of chicken in a decidedly unladylike manner. She froze momentarily, then set the food down and stood.

After hurriedly cleaning herself with a napkin, she quickly skimmed the sheet. It seemed basic enough; simply requesting that she allow the servant to bring her to this place. She signed her name with a slight flourish, then gestured at the servant to lead her forward.

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

And with that... the Final Missive was signed. The Convergence... would begin. Silef's Messenger did as the others before and tucked the missive into his tabard. He quickly turned on his heel, but not before saying " Very well. I shall take you to the Master. We shall be there shortly." Silef only needed follow the Yellow Feather tucked into the Messenger's helm.

*******************************************************************

The Beginning of the End.

One by one the heros found themselves at the Great Audience Hall of Halls of Sorrow. They took in the lavish scenes as they each followed suit of their Messenger. Many coloured feathers swayed as they fell into line as each entered the Mighty doors that lie in front of the hall. From the inside already, Helen could see many other servants traipsing about tidying the Hall and others getting ready a bunch of instruments... as to what end she couldn't be certain, but it was clear they intended to play in the occasion. The Overlying Balconies were filled to the brim with servants holding trumpets. And down in the orchestral pit for musicals and plays resided the Orchestra. They crashed through a few pieces quickly making it clear this was to be some grand event. They set up many instruments... it was to be a show. A servant with a tabard like the messengers ((though this time, it was Amaranth instead of Violet... hmm, I wonder why?)) approached Helen. In his cap he wore a feather of pure white. Why was anyone's guess considering his tabard was a different colour already. "Milady, I will be your Messenger for the eve. I will lead you to the Convergence." with this he took a quick bow as he went and took a positon down in front of the Orchestra. He stood completely at attention.

*****************************************

With the preparations finished it was time for the other heros to be shown in one by one. The entrance of each was accompanied by a mighty fanfare of trumpets from the upper balconies. First a Messengers with a feather of Ruby Red, tailed by a giant hulking Victonari, came through. The Victonari wore next to no armour and instead wore a simple loincloth. He had rippling muscles everywhere and moved with purpose. His dress might have seem uncivilized, but one couldn't call him a savage. He exuded an air of nobility and honour, he was a Warrior and seeing him it was obvious. The messenger split off from the Victonari man as he showed him to his seat right in the front. He filed into position next to a messenger much like him, but in a differently coloured tabard. They both stood at attention in front of the Orchestra.

Next came a messenger with a Feather of Yellow. Behind him Lady Silef Asterlux. The messenger lead her to her set next to the mighty Victonari that came in before. "Your Seat Milady. I shall wait for you to bring you to the Convergence. Until then, be seated here." said the messenger to Lady Asterlux. He took a curt bow, before making an about face and marching off. He stood in line with the rest of the messengers.

Next entered a Messenger with an feather of emerald green. He led in the man Vayne, and sat him next to Lady Asterlux, and then took his place down in front of the orchestra. This cycle continued until every hero was seated. Next was a strange golden feathered messenger followed by another Victonari. It was very rare to see even one outside of Pandora, let alone two of them. This one however was more foppish in his dress, wearing bells and beads in a frond on the back of his neck. He wore heavy leather boots along with a great crimson overcoat. He carried with him a lute and what appeared to be another trumpet. He played the fanfare along with the servants as he came in. He was seated right next to Vayne. Next one with an Earthen brown feather. Behind him the Half-Orc, Varick. Next arrived a Servant with a Light Blue feather. WIth him was Neville. Next a servant with Navy Blue, and a certain pirate lord in tow. Next one with a Feather of Silver. Behind him the boy Debronee. Next one with a feather of Scarlet Red. Behind him the man named Zagi.

Next... came one with a feather of Slate Grey. Behind him... a terrifying woman. While normally one wouldn't have expected much... something as off about this one. It wasn't apparent what, but something... something wasn't right. Her hair a jet black and her eyes emerald green. a dark air emanated from her, not one of evil exactly, but one of great torment and pain. She bore it on her shoulders more heavily than anyone else there. Next, a feather of jet black followed by the faithful of Draven, Ayla Ryssel. With that... things were about to begin. The orchestra started to play. They played a powerful tune to signify the beginning of the Convergence.

((here you have a chance to react to everything going on before I move the story ahead. I probably will only wait a day or two at max and certainly am not waiting for everyone unless you all make a post before then.))

[Code: PIRULUK]

Helen looked around her, taking in the grandeur with relative apathy. It was an explosion of colors. Explosions of colors were rarely pretty beyond the first few. Too many unsuitable colors; evidently someone had forgotten to study his color wheel. As a myriad of people were seated at the table alongside her, she carefully observed each and every one of them, paying special attention to their style of dress. She was disappointed that none of them seemed to stand out much, aside from that one Victonari with an over-the-top crimson overcoat. If ridiculous was the look he was going for, he had pulled it off pretty well.

One by one the people sat at her table. As the Victonari in a loincloth approached, she inched away slightly. She had nothing against Victonari, but loincloths haven't been fashionable for centuries.

Then the last Messenger, with a black feather, walked into the Hall, leading behind him a Drow with white hair and blue eyes, that looked awfully familiar...

Ah!

It was the woman that killed her! It was nice to see a familiar face.

She raised her right hand and waved jovially at the approaching Drow, patting the spot next to her.

[Chevaleresse]

Silef looked at the whole hall with a raised eyebrow. The whole display was rather ostentatious, but she was used to such gratuitous displays of wealth and power. (Well, other than the servants being suits of armor, and perhaps the overall scale of the thing.) The other guests, however, were not exactly what she was expecting. It was a veritable menagerie, with people of every sort of shape and size present and all of them rather uncouth-looking. Notably so were the people she was seated next to. Some sort of barbarian chief, from his look, on her left and a common hunter on her right. She said nothing to either, but her displeasure at being surrounded by such people was clearly evident in her posture and face.

[Flux]

Vayne was uncomfortable in the hall, to say the least. The place was highly decorated, and the whole experience was very foreign to him. He was a man of the forests, yet here he was, seated in this regal hall next to two equally regal guests. To his left was a woman who obviously had a superiority complex. Her distaste was practically written on her face. He guessed that she must be of high class in society -- not that it mattered to him. Vayne had only lived in the city for the last two years of his life, and even then the majority of his time was spent in the forests for military training. He was very unfamiliar with the customs of urban civilization and class structures.

To his right was a Victonari, of similar bearing to the woman. He was well-dressed, his crimson coat giving him a regal bearing. He carried an instrument of some sort, though Vayne did not know its name. It didn't matter anyway. He glanced away, pulling his hood farther forward. He had nothing to say to either of them. They would likely take offense if someone as "common" as himself spoke to them anyway, from what he had heard about nobles. He would just wait for further explanation of this "Clash of Fates."

[Felicity]

So these are the people I'm going to compete with. Varick noted, looking around at each of the people around. There was a silence in the room so far and he felt no inclination to break it. Instead he settled back into his uncomfortably comfortable seat and stared dead ahead, sparing only a moment to pity the poor sod stuck between the two apparent nobles.

[Aurorix]

Zagi felt honored and a little uncomfortable with this whole situation. Just for them having an Orchestra for this occasion and him being a part of it made him feel a little honored. But the people around him made him feel uneasy. They were definitely not servants so he kept a watchful eye, though to anyone looking at him he was just sitting in his chair smiling and looking around just to kinda blend in with the crowd.

[Kurotsune]

As Matthew arrived to the scene, he took a moment to take notice of all who had arrived before him.

He took a moment to observe each of them carefully as he made his way to his seat.

Too many people for an all-out melee. A tournament, or we will be divided into teams. Question is, do I get to choose?

As the thoughts ran through the pirate's mind, he sat himself down onto a chair at the back end of the room, and continued to observe those who entered and moved about.

He recognized that some of those enemies could be easily beaten; Others, not so much. Tactics would play a vital role in this. And an idiot doesn't get to be called a pirate lord. Or at least this idiot didn't get the title by being brainless. He would have to come up with something, and he'd have to succeed.

There was no greater cause to win here, merely salvation or non. Thus, there was no reason for Matthew to worry about playing by the rules; It didn't matter whether they were split into teams or fought alone, he had a plan rolling around his mind already, though the explanation of the events may grow to hinder or assist with it. But now, all there was to do, was to wait.

[Noir]

At long last, things were about to begin.

Debronee briefly counted the amount of contestants in his mind, wondering for a moment if "contestants" was the most appropriate term to address those that would partake in this alongside him. There were about seven to eight of them in the hall, but would there be more? They weren't allies -- rivals, rather, people he needed to fight, perhaps -- to earn his answers, his clarity. Beneath each differing exterior belied skill, pasts and capability of a varying essence -- above all, they were people who, like him, chose this path somehow, and the silver-haired boy recognized that, in a way -- they were all special.

Debronee swiveled his eyes at the ones beside him. Debronee wasn't one to judge people under such a circumstance, but he couldn't help but wonder how they felt as they were here -- calm faces, like his own, could hide excitement, uneasiness, disgust or any other emotion they could only relate to their lives and stories, that of which only they and perhaps the Lord of Sorrows know of. Debronee himself didn't facade any emotion behind his own face, though, apart from his curiosity, which inevitably everyone in the hall had to some extent.

And for moments he decided not to ponder on or count he seated himself and waited unblinkingly in his chair.

Edited July 3, 2015 by YagamiNoir4896