Graterras: A Clash of Fates {IC}

[Ragnar]

Wow this really is the land of the dead, these guys are no fun at all. Neville thought to himself as he sit lazily on his chair, resting his chin under his hand and keenly observing the people around him.

Such savagery and intense stares..it's almost as cold and unforgiving like my ice spells... they're like rabid animals ready to devour one another at a given chance. Luckily for me, the elements are at my command.. and just like the elder mage at my village once told me: the one who wields the elements can tame chaos. so I think i'll be just fine and i have nothing to worry about. the mage thought to himself and smiles.

"So.. being dead sucks amirite?" Neville said particularly to no one as he tries to break the tension inside the room and follows it with a hearty chuckle.

[Zephyrus the Priestess]

The starburst of colors hurt Ayla's eyes. What situation prompted anybody, no matter how rich, to throw pail after pail of assorted colors onto walls? Was there even a pattern or motif in the strange choices of color? A rich purple outside, black and white in the waiting room, all the feathers, and now these... these... paintings and scenes? Some resembled those she'd seen in books; others made absolutely no sense to her. In the end she paid no more heed to the strange pieces of... er, art, as she followed her suit of armor slowly.

Being the last one to enter gave Ayla the opportunity to glance over everybody who'd come before her. None of them gave her reason to relax... not that she'd expected a friendly face-- even then, the idea of a friendly face was foreign to her--

And then she saw the madwoman who slit her throat. Freezing in place, her blue eyes locked onto the woman. But... was it really her? The tunic she wore was spotless. It seemed too short to even be a dress, but somehow, just somehow, this person had made it to fit and wrap her body.

She was inviting her to sit beside her as though they had not both killed each other. It seemed to be the only seat remaining, but... Ayla stayed frozen in place, her body rigid, eyes wide as she stared.

[Code: PIRULUK]

Helen frowned a bit as the drow just stood and stared at her. Surely she didn't hold a grudge from Helen killing her, did she? After all, she had returned the favor, and Helen was perfectly happy to let bygones be bygones. After all, though Helen didn't want to admit it, the drow had saved her beloved from dying at Helen's hands.

Maybe she was just shy.

Helen widened her smile, flashing her perfect teeth, and waved more vigorously, using her left hand to beckon the drow over. In an exaggerated motion, she moved over her chair slightly to show she was creating more space for the newcomer.

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

"Please Milady, be seated, things will begin once you are." said the Messenger that represented Ayla. He gestured to her seat, the one next to the woman she was staring at after all. A row of seats were reserved at the front of the Audience Hall, where they each sat. It was clear that they were... some sort of guests of honor.

The yellow Victonari in the crimson overcoat now spoke. "Aye, sit down. Enjoy the show!!!" he said while raising his arms in the air. A flare for the dramatic this one had. It was readily apparent by the state of his dress and the instruments he carried. Mostly the trumpet though. "Can;t you hear the lovely music, oh how it make me sway to and fro. It is so beautiful I want to join in!" he said now twirling the trumpet around his finger, he began to play along with the orchestra. It was incessantly loud in the seats all of a sudden as the Victonari man blasted on his trumpet. The orchestra would have given the Yellow Victonari glares if they well... had faces, they were also suits of armour after all. However, one could tell by their body language... they weren't very happy about the "new addition" to their symphony.

The red Victonari, the one without any normal state of dress, snuffed loudly. It was clearly out of displeasure. "Can you believe the nerve of that one? Playing over top the orchestra. Any other hall the Lord would have the fool's head on a platter. Hell, as I knight I would have to snatch it from his shoulders." he snorted to Lady Asterlux. He clearly knew due to her state of dress she was some sort of nobility. He went back to be silent quickly. He wasn't one for chatter. But clearly that upset him enough to cause him to speak up. He glowered at the Yellow Victonari who blasted horrendous notes on his trumpet. It wouldn't have been bad on it's own... if it wasn't entirely disharmonious to the music the orchestra was already playing.

Nadia, didn't really react to the scene. She made no efforts to hide, or to talk to anyone. However, she took the moment to slide right in-between the two women at the end of the row. She ignored both of them sitting one seat over the one being gestured to. Her blade clanked heavily as she walked it being the only piece of metal on her person. She wore a somewhat more masculine style of the Shadowed Isles, a simple vest over top suit pants with a different coloured overall straps. Hers a solid black, with green embellishments to match her eyes. It wasn't an affront of green like anything in this castle, it was a true splash of an accent colour. It was expertly tailored as to not be overbearing. However, after pushing past Ayla and Helen, she mostly kept to herself, not trying to pay any attention to anyone else in the hall. She was here for one thing and one thing alone. Her mission was more important than a bit of idle small talk. She didn't much care the impression she gave the two women, let alone anyone else in the hall.

[Zephyrus the Priestess]

PRRRRRRRRRRRRT!

At least, that was what the blast of the trumpet sounded like to Ayla's sensitive ears; she cringed very visibly. Evidently the orchestra shared her dislike of this man. One didn't need to see their faces... or... lack thereof to observe their displeasure. Before she could turn to stare at the woman again, somebody pushed past her to take the only open seat away from the dangerous woman. The beginnings of a snarl had just barely begun to manifest when a thought occurred to Ayla: what did it matter where she sat, anyway? Who was she to say that any of these others were less of a threat or more insane than long-haired blonde human who was very clearly insisting that she sit beside her? To the Drow, the tension in the air was so thick that she could've rend it with her claws... but there was no other alternative.

With resignation and the hairs on her skin still standing on end, she took the seat by her murderer.

[Code: PIRULUK]

Helen clapped her hands happily as the drow woman finally sat down next to her.

"Hi! Nice to meet you! Well, though I suppose we have met before. Really, thank you so much for saving Erva, you don't know how much it means to me, like seriously. Oh, and sorry about the whole killing you thing, I wasn't really all too aware of myself back then. But then again, you killed me too, so I guess we could call it even? No hard feelings, I hope? I mean, I'm just so happy to see a familiar face here. I mean, this place is a nightmare. Have you seen the color scheme of this place? It's cringe-worthy. Plus the violet. All this violet. Why couldn't it be a nice, fashionable color, like white, or blue, or ash gray? Even lime green sticks out less than violet."

Helen slightly gasped and covered her mouth with her right hand as she realised something.

"Oh, no, where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Helen Lemercier. Call me Helen."

Helen beamed at the drow as she delivered her late self-introduction.

[Chevaleresse]

Silef looked at the Victonari next to her with more than a fair bit of surprise evident on her face. A knight, and knowing the manners of the court? Color me surprised, though his manner of dress - or lack thereof - is still rather offputting. Perhaps I can tolerate his presence. "He's probably some jumped-up minstrel who thinks his music was given by the gods themselves - as they all do, in my experience. They tended to live rather short lives from what I remember." Her voice was addressed to the man beside her, but pitched so that it was clearly audible to the obnoxious one with the brass. Or, at least, it would have been if not for his braying.

[Zephyrus the Priestess]

Instinct, from part of her being a black panther at heart, told her to either flee the place or to prime herself to fight. Reason told her that there was probably nowhere to run to and that everybody else might join arms against her should she attack the woman.

In any case she was puzzled as to why this woman was being so affable towards her. Yes, she remembered that Ayla saved the other girl-- Eva? Erva?-- but didn't she resent having her internal organs torn out? All right, true, they both ended up killing each other, and in a way Ayla could see the logic and how they were even... whatever the case, while her seatmate prattled on about colors or something of the sort, Ayla just frowned, sometimes raising an eyebrow white like a dove's down, fidgeted and craned her neck whenever reaching up to scratch behind her head vigorously, all while trying to comprehend this strange woman. Lord god Draven, what is happening? A growl of frustration escaped from her throat even as the tirade reached its end and the woman finally introduced herself-- Helen.

If at this moment anybody picked out the most confused being caught in what was essentially Limbo, they would choose Ayla. Dumbfounded, she almost forgot what little manners Drow Elf society had taught her and closed her mouth... not that it was open to begin with.

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

"I have a feeling that one isn't going to listen to you. He seems to be in his own little world right now. Also.... try not to look so surprised. I get that look way to often from nobles. Like they haven't seen a real warrior. Not all of us want to wear a giant tin can you know?" He huffed. Ress'nok really wasn't one for talking to people, even those of court. He'd rather keep quiet. He kept mulling it over in his head. But something was up with this whole Clash of Fates thing. He didn't rightly care much, but he couldn't help but wonder... if there was a reason all of them were seated in such close proximity. There was an entire room of chairs left and yet, each of the Messengers lead them to a seat in the very front row in front of the stage and orchestra pit. There had to be some reason. Hopefully this whole pre-show was over soon and the Lord of Sorrow got around to explaining what was going on. "The Name is Ress'Nok. Ress'nok Redtail. I was a knight of one of the royal families located in Solaruim. It was... needless to say an interesting time. Not many were used to Victonari in the kingdom."

[Flux]

Vayne subconsciously smiled beneath his hood as the Victonari began to play his trumpet. The minstrel's outspoken attitude and the horribly off-key notes he was playing lightened the tense atmosphere for Vayne. Perhaps this Victonari wasn't as bad as he had assumed.

The smile disappeared as soon as Vayne realized it was on his lips. He couldn't afford to be comfortable here and now. He still had no idea of what was about to happen. For all he knew, he might end up in combat with the Victonari. It wouldn't do to warm up to him.

He returned his gaze forward, hoping nobody had seen the smile. He didn't think so, but then again, he wasn't entirely sure how long it had been there...

[Felicity]

Varick grimaced at the terrible trumpeter as he played the godsawful music, not that anyone could see. He rested his covered head against a gauntleted hand, letting out a sigh. For now Varick would simply humour whoever wished for this indulgent introduction to what was evidently the most significant part of Varicks afterlife.

[Ragnar]

Finally some entertainment! Neville sway his index fingers to tune of the trumpets like he was contructing an orchestra as he indulge himself in the symphony of the playing band. But something was off.. some crazy yellow victornari join in the symphony. the sound that the lizard was producing was a bit 'unique' to say the least, but to him all it was still harmonous to his ears, even with the terrible trumpeting of the yellow victonari 'added' to their orhestra. I mean who am i to complain right? might as well enjoy the show. Neville took a glance and notice the orc seated beside him.

"What the matter my orchish friend?" Neville ask the discomforted Orc warrior(Varick). The man was twice his size and has heavy plating all over, clearly this guy built for battle. but it never really did bothered the well dressed mage as he continues to speak.

"Aren't you enjoying the show? I thought you orcs like unpleasant noises with your barbaric nature." the elven wizard added and unintentionally comes off a lil bit offensive on his last statement.

Edited July 5, 2015 by Ragnar

[Chevaleresse]

"Lady Silef of house Asterlux. I was the head of the house, until. . . well, the event that brought me here. It is good to meet you." It was still strange, to think she was dead. It wasn't pleasant, either. The thought stunk of failure. "Let me apologize for my staring; your, ah, manner of dress is not something I'm used to." She almost referred to her own armor, or lack thereof, but thought better. I might end up in combat with this man. It wouldn't be prudent to inform him of my strategy. Her face soured a bit, however, as the show continued. "You'd think they could just get to it," she grumped, mostly to herself.

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

"Hmmm, well Lady Asterlux, you should know better than any why this is going on." The red Victonari mused. He shifted forwards in his seat a bit. "Nobles have a way of... how should I put this? Oh, making Mountains out of Molehills. And that goes for every situation." The big guy chuckled. He had memories of the Lord he worked for... just as much a buffoon as this one. They had a particular love for over the top flair. They always did. "They always try to be the loudest, the most extravagant, to burn the brightest in everything they do. It as if they feel their light will go out if they don't strive to be the best at everything. It is rather sad to watch sometimes. Though I am sure you know." Ress'nok rubbed his chin. He wondered if he talked to much. He hadn't talked this freely in... well years. Not even to those he was employed by. He wondered if it was a good idea to converse with a possible enemy. But... if the enemy knew he as a person, it was that much harder for them to sheathe their sword in his abdomen. Well... for most people.

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

The Yellow Victonari's Messenger removed himself from line and began to talk to the fellow, it was... quite the spectacle.

"Lord Gradun, Please be seated, the Convergence is about to begin and we would prefer all of you be seated for the events that will transpire." it said.

There was no answer from the Apparent Lord Gradun.

THe Messenger repeated itself... and once more no answer. He merely kept playing his horn. Though after a few seconds he dropped it to his side and bowed to the messenger. "Clearly you are here to complement my amazing skills as a musician. But you should be telling it to those fine sirs." he said pointing to the Orchestra. The messenger audibly sighed. It was the first time really... anyone else had seen or heard one of the servants give a visible ((or audible)) sign of frustration. Which to be fair, was difficult as they didn't have facial features, but one could tell.that this messenger was none to happy. In fact what the others didn't know was that only Gradun had ever seen the servants as such, however he didn't notice it at all. It might has well have been the first time one of them ever acted this way. "Gradun, please take your seat." the Messenger nearly barked as an order. There was only a thread of politeness left.

"But why? The music is speaking to me! It's telling me to stand and frolic and sing!" Gradun replied. He spun gracefully around the aisle and in the middle bowed in front of of Ayla. " You look lovely this evening Milady." he said and then quickly vanished back to his previous conversation with the Messenger. "I was merely answering the call of the music I had to play you see! I simply had to!"

"Then do it from your seat please..." the messenger replied clearly working on one of his few unfrayed nerves.

"Hmm, but that makes the airflow all wrong. I simply cannot blow while sitting down. It jsut isn't right! You're not a Artist of Sound like I. You just don't understand the importance of standing tall and strong as you play your instrument!" Gradun triumphantly announced. He put his arm around the messenger and squeezed the suit of armour tight.

"Let... go... of... me..." the Messenger barely managed to choke out.

"You know... you really aren't all that fun. I'll sit. BUT I'LL PLAY MY LUTE INSTEAD!!! It doesn't matter if I sit and play that! I won't put stress on my diagram... or whatever that fancy word is for that air thingie that let's you sing. Well I will put stress on it... which is why I can't play my wonderful horn. I think the point is that It doesn't matter if I sit or stand to play my lute. That's probably what I was saying. It sounds like something I'd say." One had to wonder... if all of Gradun was there.

[Felicity]

Varick didn't even realise the mage next to him was talking to his armoured self. after a few moments Varick realised he would have to give a response to the crass jape that had crossed the mages lips. "That is why I am unhappy you see. We Orcs are, of course, connoisseurs of terrible music and this farce doesn't have enough mistimed crashing or piercing squeals for my taste." He said slowly, trying not to let the sarcasm leak into his voice.

[Ragnar]

is that sarcasm I hear? I never thought I would hear it from a brutish looking fellow. Neville was stun in a flat second as he can't help but to smile and was amused at the armored Orc's reply.

"I'm conflicted whether if you're half joking about the squealing part..i'm a bit stereotypical when it comes to races you see.. I call em what I see em, and you orcs have quite a reputation." Neville shrugs and leans on his armchair and gets comfortable with his position. "Anyways, the name's Neville, just a friendly chit-chat if you don't mind.. got a name Orc?" Neville asked as he looks at the warrior.

[Kurotsune]

Matthew observed the scene silently. Was the man a fool, or was he trying to lower the guard of his enemies by acting like one? Either way, he had to be observed. If he was merely a fool, he could be exploited. If he was not, then perhaps he could be manipulated, or become a potential ally.

The pirate lord smiled to himself. This was a very deceptive game. He'd wager the "clash of fates" had already begun; From the moment they stepped foot into this room, they created impressions that would certainly shape how they were seen in the tactics of their enemies. If the Bard was considered a fool, he would be discredited as one, but he could also become a target. Matthew wondered if he should case a similar scene, but opted against it; Should he be placed in a team, he needed them to trust him so that his plans would work; If they saw him as a fool, they'd brush him off.

So he simply kept his watch, silently taking mental notes of all he could observe within the room.

[Felicity]

"There's hardly need for friendly chit-chat" Varick said bluntly to Neville, setting the name aside in his mind in the same place he would the recruits he had pegged to fall to the Orcs. This man was no different than most of Solaruim, aside from being far less scared. Varick would not begrudge him that but by no means would he force himself to suffer this mans company. Still it might serve to examine what other people were doing. A few conversations were sprouting... certainly between the two women sitting further away from him. There were as many who were quite silent, including a man who looked like quite the refined ruffian. Varick didn't like what he saw in that mans eyes. He had the same calculating look as the particularly ambitious soldiers Varick had met in his life.

Varick quickly averted his eyes from the man. No need to bring attention to himself. He wanted nothing to do with any potential scheming, Varick changed his mind about talking to Neville. It might help to try and chip away some information. "So I assume you aren't well travelled, if you haven't encountered one of my ilk. Where are you from... Neville?"

[Ragnar]

"I've seen most of your kind where i came from, and it's safe to say they are not in a talking mood like you are, You're a bit toleratable than I imagined." Neville said as his suspicions raise as he noticed the Orc's eyes was averting something from the distance. Not that it bothers Neville or anything. the elf continues to speak, giving out a vague information about himself.

"I live where the sun don't shine, the weather is always snowy, fighting for survival is always a must and pillaging is always common in most parts. I live somewhere in the Aurora if you must know. " the mage answered the unnamed Orc.

[Felicity]

"I wasn't aware that I was being talkative" Varick snorted in mirth. "I never really got the luxury of talking to the other half of my racial ancestry. Most were far keener to crack my skull than sit down for a chat. Still, it was a better life than being a frail little snow bunny."

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

An usher came forth dressed in a suit of black. "Everyone, please be seated we shall begin shortly." he said to all the heros. Giving another glance at Gradun specifically. The Yellow Victonari had finally sat down as he said he would and was now hanging onto his Lute. "And... be quiet, no instruments please." The Usher nearly commanded of Gradun. None of the servants seemed overly fond of the Victonari Bard. However, as before he seemed not to notice the hostility at all. It was like in his mind... he couldn't possibly have done any wrong. One was not sure if he was an idiot, or just was oblivious...or both. Probably both.

Now Servants were being seated in the back rows of the Amphitheatre. The Ushers lead them in, but most knew where to be seated and they quickly filed in. The Orchestra swelled now, coming to a crashing crescendo. They then left their music hanging for a second as the Fanfare begin again from the balconies. Trumpets blared out the arrival of what one would presume to be the Lord of Sorrow. Gradun added another Trumpet voice to the ensemble, but this time was rather unnoticed as the amount of trumpets concealed his. ((from everyone but those near him.)).

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

"Well then, time to get this show on the road then I suppose." The Lord of Sorrow mumbled to himself. He had done it many times, but was still jittery and nervous for some reason. He tried to shake the feeling. He partially accomplished his goal, but some still lingered in the back of his mind. Now was not the time for nervous willies however. He had to open the Convergence. It was time to begin the Clash.

"Bartis, get me my good staff. No, not that one you dolt... the one without all the gaudy bones and beads. I need the one that isn't for spellcasting. Well I can still use it for that but it is a lot less effective."

"Ah, sorry sir. Here it is." he handed the Lord of Sorrow a matte black cane with the head of a Umbranix on the end of it. As Sorrow made contact with the Cane, it lit up becoming a jet-black and losing its matte finish. It matched the rest of his new outfit, black like a mourner's garb. Nothing was overly excited colour -wise unlike his previous dress. He wore a simple gentleman's top hat which allowed his own helmet to be seen. It was a bright steely colour, though it was no natural material. All over ithe bottom was engraved motifs to look like tears running down from the visor of the helm. In the center of each droplet, a bright blue sapphire. It was clear now, or at least once the heros laid eyes on him again, that he was much like his servants. A suit of armour was his body and nothing remained in within. He placed a Long black overcoat over his vest rather than a jacket of a traditional suit. It was a common practice by those in Nevermore. It was usually done by Traveling merchants, but it became more and more popular amongst even those that lived in city as a sort of statement.

Sorrow fastened on his gloves over his metal hands. and then looked back at his servants. "Wish me luck. This group... is very different than the others. I don't know how the Divines will react to some of them." he said with a sigh. He was worried. Never before was he given such a group of volatile characters. They had such sordid pasts, not entirely of their own faults in some situations. The Divines... weren't kind judges however. He remembered how Lady Ashford cut down one of participants the first day of the Clash. What it was for he couldn't remember. It wasn't his place. He cracked his neck and went forth. His cane clacking against the floor and the sound of his heavy steps. Now, his armour clearly clanked. He wasn't wearing so much cloth as that it hid the sound any more, or at least... hid it enough that it wasn't noticeable. Not having his Caster's Staff helped too, as the bones and beads didn't rattle. But he kept moving; this was no time for idle thought. It was time for the Convergence.

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

The orchestra swelled once more quietly and then the fanfare rolled out. This time Gradun didn't play, but one could see a respectful look on his face. He could hear the importance in this tune, or at least... he would put it that way. And so he remained quiet. As the music got louder and reached it climax, The Lord of Sorrow approached. He marched in from the stage. He was followed by a legion of Servants, all dressed in Black like he was. It seemed like the world had slowed down as they walked towards the end of the stage. Almost as if time was hung up on the situation and didn't want to move forward at all. Like it wanted the moment to last forever. But, it merely slowed it down to savor it as long as it could. They each stopped at the end of the Stage right as the piece the Orchestra was playing ended.

Sorrow Looked out over the crowd and more importantly at the Heros in the front row. He pulled something from the left breast-pocket in his best. He help it up above his head for a moment and then began to speak. "In my hand I hold this piece of paper. It might seem insignificant, worthless, or just plain useless. But, we all were like that once. We all started from nothing, a blank slate. Something that is blank can become anything. Like these." He gestured behind himself to which... 4 goblets appeared. Each crystal clear and filled with a coloured liquid. One had red. One had Cyan. One had a deep cerulean blue; The last, a rich burnt sienna. The paper in his hand then blew out to four pieces of paper. "We are each stained by that which is most important to us, or that which guides us in life. Our Soul" he said placing a paper into the Red goblet. "Our Mind" he placed the next into the Cyan Goblet. "Our Knowledge." he said as he placed one into the deep blue goblet. "And lastly, but most certainly no lesser than the others, Our Body." and with that he dropped the last paper into the final goblet. He then removed each paper. It went for a crisp white, and became fully dyed with the final colour. "Things in our life change us... and remove the purity from our slates. They become coloured with all manner of constructs, ideals, and other such concepts as our lives progress."

"This, This Clash of Fates is what remembers what we once were. Us in our purest form, and yet it must take into account our new selves as well. It gives us a chance to go back before one strayed from the path. But, as we did fail, it cannot hand it to us on a silver platter. It must test us, see our true mettle and if we are worthy of a second chance. This is what the Clash of Fates is. It is the test to receive that Second Chance."

He took a deep breath and paced for a while. It was probably around two minutes, but it would feel like an eternity. His cane the only source of noise in the entire room. It echoed throughout, sounding like a sinister clock ticking away. He spoke once more breaking the ominous silence. "Heros, each of you was given an invitation for a reason. You failed to do something, and you regret it entirely. It is for this reason, The Sorrow's Stone reached out for you and plucked you into this dimension. You answered its call and told it, you wanted to take your claim in its battle. Each of you will champion your own cause now, but you must also shoulder that of others. Each of you shall be coloured by your life's experience and each of you will learn of your place in the Clash. Who you will stand next to, and who you will Mentor you in the great battle ahead. If you are having any regrets... go now. For once the Convergence begins... there is no turning back. There is only winning, or death."

He paused here for awhile. In case anyone decided they did want to leave, or if they had anything they wished to say.

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

((Sorry for the double Post... but would rather this not stagnant lol.))

The Convergence Begins.

"Good to see all are sure of their participation here. It makes my job easier." Sorrow said looking at the heros. There had been years where some did want to leave. It wasn't pretty then. And it certainly didn't instill confidence in the others participating watching one of the other participants be... "removed" form this plane of existence. However, that wasn't a concern now.

"As I've said you must learn to also shoulder the burdens of others as their's, will become yours. These Goblets are for much more than show, my little heros. They will decide your fate. Each of you shall be assigned a Mentor, a leader for this Clash. Each Goblet represents that individual, one of the Divine Knights. Perhaps, you have heard of them? ((which spoiler... you have. Everyone in Graterras that knows anything... knows who the Divine Knights.)) I am sure you know which Goblet belongs to which Knight. However, you shall be sorted by whic Ideal the Universe believes you uphold best or hold most dear. Also, don't get angry wit me if the Universe decides one for you that you don't like I have no control over it." He then tapped on his pocket that he removed the white card from before. And out he pulled yet another White card. However, on this one was clearly written a name. It read Helen Lemercier. "Helen Lemercier... The Fates will decide yours now. Who will stand as your Mentor? What is the colour of your soul?" He threw the Card into the air now, clearly under normal circumstances it would have fell directly at his feet as he threw it straight up. However, something magic took it. It fluttered gracefully and around in a room in a manner that was clearly magic. How this happened was unknown. Sorrow looked forward not even at the goblets waiting for the sound of the card hitting the Water in the goblet. *Plink* The sound of the card hitting the glass and then... a soft sploosh as it settled into the water. It had landed in the Cerulean Blue water, the aforementioned Goblet of Knowledge. Helen's Messenger approached her, and bowed. "I shall take you to the Cerulean Gate Milady. We will await the other selections to be finished there."

[Code: PIRULUK]

Helen clapped her hands together.

"Ooh, cerulean. That's a nice color."

She turned to the drow woman whose name she still knew not.

"Well, I'd really like to stay and get to know you better, but I suppose you could say that, fate is calling? Well, in any case, it was nice seeing you again. I hope we're on the same team!"

With that, Helen turned and followed the Servant, turning to grin and wave at her killer excitedly as she left.

[Raindrop Valkyrie]

Sorrow picked another card from his pocket, and made sure those in the audience could see it. Yet another name. This time it read Ress'nok Redtail. The Red Victonari's servant moved up towards him now, and waited for the result. Yet again the paper fluttered gently into one of the goblets. THis time it feel into the Goblet of brown, the Goblet of Body. Ress'nok only nodded in response. He followed his servant.

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

Helen found herself in a room back behind the stage. It was mostly empty aside from four vibrantly coloured doors. Each matched one of the goblets out on the stage that the Lord of Sorrow had prepared. She could still hear the Lord form back here as well. This would be the staging area before the real event began... the Clash.

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

Sorrow didn't wait very long this time taking out another card immediately. "Matthew Corwil. You fate will now be decided." he threw the card into the air, and the magic caused it to land in the Cyan coloured goblet, or the Goblet of Mind.

He drew another card "Lord Roderick Gradun. Your fate will now be decided." Gradun's card gently floated into the Crimson Goblet or the Goblet of Spirit.

One member of each team had now been decided. One wondered if this trend would continue.

[Kurotsune]

Matthew chuckled heartily, shooting the Lord of Sorrows an incredulous look mixed with amusement and an odd sense of satisfaction.

Still laughing softly, the man removed a skin from his pouch and uncorked it, the foul stench of stale rum and lime flooded the air as he took a large swig.

Rubbing the remnants off his mouth with his sleeve, Matthew glanced up to the Lord of Sorrows.

"Aye, aye! Aye can' begin to understand how ye fancy spell could figure a man like meself ta be focused on the mind, but ah guess ah'm a pretty smart lad now, ain' aye?" He chuckled again, turned to his servant. "Take me to mah cabin then, my lad! Aye gotta wait eagerly for my fellow mind-mateys!"

Giving another chuckle, Matthew followed the man to his room, his expression as joyful as one could be.