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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 4861919" data-attributes="member: 2323">[PLAIN][Realms #477] Trial by Sword and Spell[/PLAIN]"The rules of the trial are simple," Perragourp sneered at Morier and Saelus. "The fight is to the death. The survivor goes free with all his possessions. You may use any means within your power, but if any githyanki are harmed during this trial then you will feel the full weight of our power and both of your lives are forfeit."As the githyanki commander drifted out of the arena, Morier looked over at Saelus and saw the curious mix of emotions that he himself felt reflected in his one-time companion's face. A sort of grim resolve predominated, but conflicting glimpses of uncertainty and anger flickered briefly in the man's mustachioed features. The albino was about to offer some words of understanding when the Gisir barked out a command of some sort in his harsh, alien tongue and a roar of approval went up from the assembled githyanki. They began to clash their weapons together in a cacophonous rhythm that both urged the two combatants to fight and spoke of the fate that awaited them if they did anything but.Morier looked up at the warriors lining the walls of this spherical chamber and grimaced; there were dozens of them, perhaps as many as a hundred. If the Gisir didn't honor his end of this arrangement, whoever was left after the trial would most certainly be killed here. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he missed the fact that the trial had started until Saelus hit him with a Quickened Rainbow Blast.The waves of energy struck him square in the chest, sizzling with destructive power. But the albino's innate spell resistance saved him from damage; the beam struck him and dissipated harmlessly. Morier looked over at the war mage as the man followed up his first spell with one that Morier recognized at once: True Strike. That meant that Saelus was going to go hand-to-hand and the eldritch warrior again cursed Akerman for the theft of his bastard sword.Morier called on the Heart, imbuing himself with Owl's Wisdom as he watched the colonel charge forward quick-drawing the Unity Blade as he came. The albino tried to avoid the attack, but guided by magic, Colonel Saelus Struck True, opening a wound in Morier's left arm. The Heart protected him not at all from the blow, and he felt his limb go numb as the sabre bit through his flesh and into the bone of his upper arm. The pain and shock of it was enough to break his concentration and he felt the Sunbeam spell he'd been coaxing out of the Heart go awry, fizzling out before it could fully coalesce. Dimly, from a long way off it seemed, he could hear the githyanki cheering their approval as his blood erupted around him in a cloud.Even without the benefit of magic Saelus was a skilled swordsman, and he pressed his momentary advantage with a blow to Morier's midsection. The impact drove the albino back, but failed to cause any damage as Morier's mail protected him from injury. Saelus withdrew from the melee, then, setting himself up for another devastating charge attack if Morier didn't prevent it.With an apology in his own heart, the eldritch warrior cast Finger of Death and with a gesture caused Saelus to jerk backward, his face twisted in a rictus of agony as tendrils of negative energy worked their way through his body. Although the spell failed to kill him outright, the damage done to his already weakened body by the sudden influx of negative energy did. He sagged backward, his limp body gone ashen from Morier's attack.Another cheer went up all around him as soon as Saelus' death became evident, but Morier felt no elation at his victory, only a moment's relief that he might well be able to achieve his destiny after all. It didn't last long, because in the next moment the cheering stopped as all eyes turned to the door leading toward the exit of Avik-tchai. Hovering there with feathered pinions spread was an angelic figure dressed in glittering green plate mail. In one hand it bore a sword and in the other a mirrored shield and when it spoke, its voice was full of commanding bravado."I am Ayremac, holy warrior of the goddess Umba," he shouted, leveling his weapon dramatically at the Gisir. "And I challenge you to a duel!"Ixin nudged Ayremac's wing and whispered, "We're too late." She pointed over at Morier hovering beside the limp corpse of a man in polished hide armor. "The trial's already over.""If that's your boy, then this is a bad call. We should turn and run," Cerrakean growled in the holy warrior's other ear. "I specialize in fighting groups, but even at my best I couldn't take this many."Ayremac looked again at the jaundiced humanoids arrayed around the perimeter of the spherical room. He supposed them to be githyanki without bothering to ask. They were all of them arrayed for war, with oversized weaponry and ornate armor of a variety lighter than he wore himself. And near a large doorway on the left was a singular specimen with a massive, club-like scepter in one hand and a magnificent greatsword strapped across his back. His armor was a filigree of gold and on his head burned a crown of fire.This then was the Gisir."This is who we came to rescue?" Maleko asked from the rear of the group. His voice was filled with shock and more than a bit of disdain. "But he's... he's a drow." Sensing the swell of racial enmity rising in the elf, Del jumped in to discourage Maleko from doing anything rash."Look around you, my friend," the marshall said, laying a reassuring hand on the elf's thin shoulder. "We know very little of the men involved here and I've seen many a desperate man. Let's not judge him based on his will to survive alone."Maleko grimaced, but nodded at his friend although it was clear that the elf held little hope that anything positive would come from an association with a degenerate fae of the night below."And anyway," Del added, pointing at Morier's bleeding arm. "Look at him. He could use your healing right now, not your prejudgement.""I have to touch him to do that," Maleko replied, barely containing his contempt for such a proposition. But before he could say more one of the githyanki near the Gisir detached himself from the throng and drifted confidently forward, sword-in-hand."The mighty Gisir of Avik-tchai, Okemocik accepts your challenge," the lone githyanki relayed. "He wishes to know what you offer beside your head as trophy of his victory and what you demand of him in the unlikely event that you prove triumphant?"</blockquote>

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