Welcome to Gaia! ::

A gaunt figure parted the crowd around him as he made his way towards the southern arena entrance. Though of average height, his presence bled an aura of command that caused those around him to instinctively shrink away as he approached. Wind-tossed, tousled black hair contrasted sharply with an impeccably trimmed, severe goatee on his narrow face.

Robes of scarlet and violet silk swirled around his legs as he walked, boots of black leather appearing from underneath the hem with each purposeful stride. The sun glinted off rich golden embroidery that embellished the torso and sleeves in an intricate runic pattern. Normally, the several-layered garment would billow around him spectacularly when he walked, but he had secured the loose folds closely to his body with leather clasps, buckling them so they would not interfere with his movements or get caught unnecessarily at an inopportune moment. Precision of movement would be crucial in the arena. Leather bracers fixed to the forearms rounded out the look. A metal-bound hard leather scabbard for some straight-edged sword of considerable length hung from a belt around his waist, although the weapon itself was conspicuously absent.

'Fireside' soon arrived at the appointed waiting area outside the ring, and looked around him with mild distaste. He despised the constant need to hide his identity, although the prudence of doing so was certainly not lost on him. Revealing his true name and purpose before the appropriate time could have serious repercussions, so for now, he was simply a mage by the name of 'Fireside'. He was sure, somewhere, his patron, Aetyra, was dying of laughter right about now. She had suggested the name with a straight face, but he strongly suspected she was playing a joke on him. Noone could possibly take him seriously with such a name, but, resigned to the ignobility of such a farce, he contented himself with glaring daggers at anyone who dared to meet his gaze.

His resentment at Aetyra's joke inevitably quickly turned to a nagging loneliness. Despite her tendency to not take him seriously, and occasional streaks of utter cruelty, she was the closest thing to a friend he had. She was his lover, too, but that mostly served to reinforce her dominance over him. It was not a pairing of equals, but a tentative power balance, that as of yet, still tilted heavily in her favor. He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware that he might have been allowing his emotions to show. Steeling back into its former impassive mask, his face once again betrayed no emotion as he coaxed his thoughts away from his inner musings and back into a frame of mind suitable for the battle that would soon be upon him.

By stroke of luck or fate, Fireside had been automatically advanced into the second round of fights. While the reprieve of not having to endure the fatigue of a starting round was welcome, it also meant that he was not yet in the 'groove' of things, as one former colleague had put it. It was therefore all the more necessary for him to make sure he was ready, both mentally and physically.

He concentrated on a mote of dust that floated ever so slowly down past his eyes, as his mind reflexively reviewed each and every one of the incantations he had so painstakingly memorized through years of study. He probed his connections to the Aether, ensuring that the magic he needed to manifest would be ready exactly when he needed it. Satisfied that all was in place, he shifted his gaze to the platform in the center of the arena, waiting for his opponent to show themselves before entering the ring himself.

Even as his opponent's entrance was but midway through, Fireside moved forward with a swiftness that startled those who had been watching him simply standing there, unmoving like a statue, mere seconds beforehand. He strode straight into the ring with no pretension of fanfare or any pause to acknowledge the adulation or anticipation of the crowd. No, he was here to do one thing: win.

The moment both of his feet were inside the legal boundaries of the ring, his hands sprang into action, beginning to move in swift, precise, geometric gestures, with small lines of violet magical force coalescing between his fingertips. Fireside had done this thousands of times, and the invocation to shape the conjured skeins of magic easily rumbled forth from his throat with a timbre and volume unnattainable for any ordinary human.

"Salvorad Horadzim!" his voice boomed across the arena. Scarcely had the last syllable escaped his mouth however, than the intangible strands of magic in his hands flew apart to take the form of his intended spell: A dozen six-foot-long spears of fire materialized in an arc stretching from his right side to the other above him, their points all facing the opponent. Each measured about an inch and a half in diameter, and hung in the air, weightless, and waiting. But Fireside was not done yet.

As quickly as he had cast the first spell, the second followed suit without pause.

"Xorbus Horadzim!"

Flames leapt from Fireside's outstretched hand to a spot on the ground about five feet in front of him, where they swirled and coalesced within seconds into a ball of flame the size of a beachball. It bulged and writhed, as if possessed by some inner chaos before finally settling down into a perfect sphere, slowly blackening the arena floor below it. It too, sat idle, awaiting the command of its conjuror.

Satisfied, Fireside allowed himself a slight smile. The execution had been flawless.

"Then I shall fight fire with fire."

He raised his gaze to the opponent, his expression betraying just the slightest hint of contempt, as he awaited their reaction.

((I apologize, my posting/rping style doesn't usually reveal the full effect of an attack until it has been confirmed to hit by my opponent, so I must wait until you confirm/deny the hit to describe the effect. I realize this sometimes causes retconning, but I find that preferable to the opponent picking and choosing which hits to take because of the meta-game knowledge of what the ability will do beforehand.))


Fireside's eyes narrowed as he watched his opponent's movement carefully, noting how each action was preceded by a clap, and the manifestations of fiery energy around the opponent's hands and the ring of fire behind it's back.

Seeing his adversary picking up speed to close the distance between them, Fireside continued to remain calm, even as he went about preparing for their clash.

"Arkamha!", he cried, while advancing steadily into the ring, away from the edge to prevent being pushed out by a lucky blow. In response, the ball of flame before him began to rotate, spinning up furiously in place before tearing forward 3 seconds later across the arena floor at 15 miles an hour, directly toward the onrushing opponent. It's speed was easily enough to match a person in a dead sprint, although in this case it's journey was shortened considerably by the supernatural speed of the approaching foe.

But even as the ball of flame was revving up, Fireside was tending to his defenses.

"Torizad Fulherai! Torizad Magusim!" echoed resoundingly off the stadium walls as Fireside's hands flew into a practiced web of gestures, the purple strands of arcane energy once again leaping to create his desired forms.

A torrent of reddish flames roared up around him, obscuring him from view for a moment before settling into an amorphously shifting aura of swirling, reddish translucent flames about 4 inches away from his body. Within it, still other strands of magical force crystallized into plates of pure energy, taking the form of familiar pieces of armor around his torso and legs. As they materialized, they became increasingly transparent until they were barely visible, even more so due to the rippling flames that enclosed them.

Fireside came to a halt 15 feet from the edge where he had entered, his wards now active and ready for his foe's onslaught, if indeed he ever got past the rolling ball of flames speeding towards him.

The ball of flame skidded past Griffin, leaving a blackened trail of soot behind it. However, as it shot past, it began to try and correct it's course, slowing down and spinning out in an arc before coming back around to zoom forward, straight at Griffin's back.

Fireside smiled, replying: "A true man elevates himself above the beasts by honing his mind to be a weapon! Adapt, or perish!"

As he spoke, Fireside held his ground, waiting until the ball was on its way back, and the distance between them was about 10 feet. He punctuated the statement by gesturing forcefully with his right hand, index finger pointed at his opponent. The fiery spears around him suddenly flared slightly before firing themselves in a salvo at the approaching man, twelve in all, one after the other in rapid succession. At this range, the six-foot spears already took up almost a third of the distance between them simply by existing, and did not have far to travel. The opponent would be hard pressed to dodge them, especially with the ball of flame coming around from behind for another pass!

The speed at which Griffin wielded such a cumbersome weapon as a kanabo was impressive indeed, but alas, his parrying would have little effect. The fiery spears had no mass, no substance with which the weapon could interact in a meaningful way. Thus, they continued on to their target largely unhindered, lighting anything possibly flammable on fire as the flame spear burned all its energy into the point of contact before vanishing. Cloth would alight, leather would be burned through, and if the spears burned through to, or touched flesh, they could easily inflict serious second degree burns.

But Griffin's plight was not confined to the spears. The ball of flame from behind also overtook him, and slammed into the back of his right leg. Upon contact, it detonated with the relative force of an antipersonnel mine, intense flames roiling out from the epicenter with a low roar. The flames burned yellow and fierce, although only for a few moments. It would be enough to flash-ignite anything the spears hadn't, however. The force of the explosion also lent to the ball's destructive power, capable of lifting an average sized man and throwing him prone, and possibly even breaking bone near the center of the effect, which extended out to 10 feet.

However, to his opponent's credit, Fireside had to deal with a heavy spiked club flying towards him. Absorbed in observing the effects of his own attacks, Fireside's window to react was small. He chose to use that time to press the advantage instead of bothering to defend himself actively, taking the impact of the weapon straight in the chest, trusting the magical armor plates to provide him with adequate protection.

The head of the kanabo flew through the outer layer of flames before impacting the central force plate with a sharp crack. The force of the collision was largely elastic, and the kanabo, not having been swung with an active blow, and therefore with no follow-through, could not force it's way through the armor plate. It rebounded sharply, and clattered to the stone arena floor, rolling a few feet away to the right even as the plate that had deflected it disintegrated into dust.

Moments later, as the edge of the flame ball's detonation buffeted him, Fireside sprang back into action. He quickly broke into a sideways jog, circling the opponent to Fireside's right in a wide arc. Endeavoring to reestablish some distance in this manner, Fireside also would use the time to evaluate the damage to his opponent and move himself closer to the center of the ring, a more advantageous position.

Now there is an iron will that I can appreciate, Fireside thought to himself. A pity that I shall have to break it.

Truly, Griffin was proving to be a most resolute and persevering adversary. Fireside watched in a mixture of amusement and disbelief as Griffin picked himself up out of the combined attacks with most of his clothes burned away but his body and limbs seemingly intact, if a bit worse for the wear.

Seeing Griffin amassing his power in the wake of the explosion, Fireside steeled himself. Fireside's advantage so far was that Griffin's powers appeared to require him to be in melee to be effective, which made maintaining distance of utmost importance. Moving backward to match the pace of his advancing opponent, Fireside resolved to hold the distance at about 15 feet, by retreating backward and to the side, continuing the circling path he had been taking, also giving time for his force armor to slowly repair itself by replacing the broken plate.

"Torrentus Horadzim!" Fireside's voice intoned in a rumbling bass. From his outstretched palm, a rushing gout of flames tore forward, aimed at Griffin's torso. As they continued to pour forth from his palm, the flames took on a bright red hue. Like a fire hose, Fireside blasted it in a continuous stream, seeking to hold the foe at bay, and ideally compound the burn wounds already inflicted.

"What do you know of justice, of courage, of love? Those can also be used to oppress!"

For the first time, Fireside was genuinely surprised, as Griffin stopped the stream of fire between his hands and began to forge forward even as they continued to rush forth from Fireside's outstretched palm.

Momentarily, Fireside considered simply continuing the assault, seeing if Griffin's defense would waver under the unending rush of flame, but quickly thought better of it. If his opponent valued stubborn resistance above all else, then it would take a less straightforward method to defeat him, as well as a clear mind, unclouded by passion.

Breaking off the gout of flame, Fireside moved quickly to capitalize on the remaining time before Griffin reached him, having decided to stand his ground.

"He who forges forward blindly is doomed to stumble into the Abyss! Xorbus Horadzim!"

Once again, flames leapt from Fireside's hand to form the ball of flames, appearing squarely between the two fighters who were now only 8 feet apart. Without pause, the second invocation boomed forth.

"Xorbus Chronodam Fulherai!"

A small, marble sized red bead shot out from Fireside's pointed finger to the ground directly between his feet and scarcely half a foot in front of him, where it pulsed gently brighter and then darker.

As it settled onto the ground, Fireside returned his hands and body to a state of readiness to meet the opponent who was now practically upon him.