A descension into unreality.

[DoS Archive]

Date: 12/21/97 11:43 AM Pacific Daylight Time
From: Zaradda

The oaken slab that comprised the door of the Duelists Arena; a time-tested block, admitting the sundry scabs that whittle their life away amidst the blood and screams of their opponents. This night was no different, certainly, as Zaradda Crimean Eltorçh offered his presence to the buzzing patrons that so often frequented the arena. His step spoke of a jaunty swagger, his face of blasé ignorance. This was a man without morals, concerns, or wants--excepting a brothel girl at the night's waning, and a good meal in the waxing of the 'morn. Hovering at the bottom of the steps, the lanky were-bat had not clue that a moment later he'd be jarred into by Seraph Pen-Seren; not a clue that he'd have the wind knocked out of him--not a clue he'd be dead, this eve. And so it came to pass. But a few seconds later, the Daemon Gaejin had collided into the neatly pressed blue tunic of Zaradda; only words exchanged being the withdrawl of their blades from the housings that laid against their hips. Several glances from the weaker sex found their way to the stairs, but casually disregarded the growing conflict. The rest of the room seemed oblivious; a surreal event, truly. A few feints were exchanged, and Zaradda found himself bearing down upon the Callers Couch, arms tightly encasing Seraph as the Gaejin barreled down at the weaker man. And then, the inevitable--a meter or two before the couch in question, Seraph collapsed upon the floor, Rad bearing the brunt of the weight. Without trepidation, Seraph initiated a brutal pattern of violence; spiked fists bearing down upon the rapidly deteriorating man. At this, several of the nameless shrews cawing about the arena glanced over, voicing their inane squeals in opposition to the man's rapidly fading state. Seraph, in as few words as possible, informed the women of what they might do with their concerns, and resumed his pummeling of the limp form. All the while, Brian Girvin drolled on with useless comments that reflected the apathetic demon that had obvioiusly possessed his very soul. During Seraphs violation of Zaraddas form, the lanky man had faded into a state of unconsciousness; a mix of fear pain contributing to this inevitable end. With a depreciative slash, Seraph drew the limp mans jugular open with a serrated knife; thick gouts of blood spilling out and along his chest. With each pump of Zaraddas heart, a contribution of crimson fluid was granted to the Arena floor. Silence cloaked the room a moment, the death ofa man affecting even these clods; yet finally it was broken, again Brian - a spastic remark about "cleaning that up" revealing his vast expanse of intelligence. Seraph, taking immediate advantage of the suprise filtering through the Arena patrons, bore down upon the marred neck with that bloody blade, hacking and sawing until the carapace of brains came loose into his metallic grip. Holding it aloft by the gimpy black hair, he flung it outwards--dirty and grimy face smacking straight into the RDI, Brian Girvin. With a soft grunt, the caller fell backwards over the couch, blood-stained and outcold. >The following was not of my concern; indeed, little is of importance to the Revenant. A passing of a petty man.<~RèVénânT

[DoS Archive]

Date: 12/21/97 12:26 PM Pacific Daylight Time
From: BelIeDame

::wonders where Brigath is with his mop when you need him most::

BelIe DameSans Merci bd

[DoS Archive]

Date: 12/21/97 4:10 PM Pacific Daylight Time
From: PrlUnicorn

Collie had heard through the grapevine about the incident. She shoke her head sadly wondering if he was really dead or if it was a demonic possession.

Somehow she hoped Rad would pull a rabbit out of his hat, but this time it was different. It saddened her to lose one more she had loved and called friend especially now when she needed them near by. The child would come in June.. and even though Rad hated children his strength would have been useful.

She headed home wondering if she'd wake from a nightmare.

[DoS Archive]

Date: 12/22/97 10:10 AM Pacific Daylight Time
From: Foxxgrrl

Ally hears of the news, having been present at that time. Although the words used in the announcement make her fists clench angrily, she is left with a feeling of guilt by the end. Sure, she had been there. Sure, she hadn't done or said anything until the very end, and she had done her best to ignore the whole thing, as sick as she was of Rad's games. Maybe it was the only time in her life she'd resisted Rad's bait, who knew? It didn't
matter now anyway.
With a heavy sigh, she thinks back to the last true conversation she had with Rad. At least five months ago, when summer still held court in Rhydin, they had talked in the near-empty early afternoon arena of loyalty and politics and other things. She could only remember Rad like that. The next time she'd seen him after the conversation, he had been possessed by that spirit.
Ally is probably one of the few who still believes that Rad had been possessed these last months. She can only hope that this would result in a cleansing and the return of the Zaradda Eltorch she used to know. "But," she mutters to herself, "how cleansed can you get when your head's thrown clear across the room?"
As she rubs her nose viciously, which is NOT a sign of tears or sadness, she won't allow it to be, she leaves the room. You know, she never did like Seraph...