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Beltayn's and Mikal's clash is hard and brutal. Beltayn lithely jumps and skates to the sides, scoring many marks across Mikal's armor and hitting him in a few of its weak points. Mikal retaliates with angry snarls and forceful but controlled swings of his mighty cracking sword. Beltayn finds it hard to dodge each swing and is nicked many times along his armor, arms and legs. Finally, after a few minutes of almost fanatic fighting the two back away from each other panting and stare into eahc other's eyes in challenge. Both warriors are bleeding and bruised but neither refuse to back down.

Finally, with a bellow, Mikal charges with his sword held overhead. Beltayn launches himself at his attacker coming in with a horizontal strike. The two collide for a brief moment and then spin away staggering, both sporting huge slashes across their chest armors, blood poured from each wound. Beltayn stood panting and wounded as Mikal thumped forwards in his heavy armor, but at the last moment he falls to the ground and moans, cursing Syrath for his misfortunes. Beltayn swallows some air and staggers to Mikal who lays bleeding in the dirt. He points the blade at Mikal's neck and holds it there, hesitating.

"Go ahead." Mikal groaned. "Do it and release me from this hell." Beltayn shoo his helmeted head.

"I am not going to kill you, and you are not going to kill me." He said as he held his chest. "Neither of us want to kill each other so we are not going to try any longer." He commanded. Mikal laughed wearily.

"Someone has to die today." He said simply.

"Then let it be Syrath." Beltayn says.

Mikal rises with a snarl. "I have told you Eldar, there is no killing him."

Beltayn shakes his head, he lowers his sword and spreads his arms, raising his voice to the crowd. "Who am I talking to? Your name is recorded in sagas, sagas that despite what Syrath's servants tell you, they mean something. Everything we do means something! All of our victories and all of our struggles, all the wounds we've taken and all the things we've killed, they all mean something! Syrath doesn't want you to think that because he's scared of you, scared of us, of what we can accomplish if we work together! You are a Space Wolf, Mikal! You took an oath to seek out the darkness and destroy it in life and in death! So tell me now, will you spend eternity fighting Syrath or fighting for him?"

Mikal's expression was saddened, he looked at the crowd around him and up to the stands where Syrath sat with a grin. He scowled and spat into the dirt near his foot, wincing from his wounds. Mikal lifted flashfreeze in one hand and pointed it at Syrath.

"Are you not entertained?! Well no longer! I once made an oath that while I still drew breath I would see your ashes tossed to the void and by my soul that is what shall be done! I may no longer be in the Chapter, I may no longer be a Space Wolf, but I am a Space Marine of the Emperor and I will not answer to you!"

Mikal turned his attention to Hunter who was still battling the Shas O' he snarled and launched himself at Hunter, vaulting and grabbing hold of the daemon prince's backside and slashing with his sword.

Beltayn stood and watched Syrath's expression with growing amusement. He spoke to the Greater Daemon in the stands. "Displeased? Good, this has only just begun."

(Alright Tyranic is wide open now, do your thing and lets end this gak... )

Lucian watches the Dreadnought carefully, searching for some kind of indication as to the Dreadnought's next move. Somehow he knew that signal would never come, the dreadnoughts body was not of flesh and blood. It could change its motions in an instant and perform motions that would rend a mans joints asunder. So when Marius snarled and charged forwards the blade of Fenris flicking forwards it was only a split second before Lucian could block it.

Nifflhiem darted down and blocked the lunge, just. The Dreadnought growled and spun, his torso rotating around his waist and Lucian had to raise his own blade in defense. The blade of Fenris slammed into Niffhiem with such force that the echoing boom that came from the blow made cracks appear in the arena floor. Lucians daemonic form was quite capable of matching the strength of the Dreadnought, but if the machine was any faster then Lucian would have already lost his head. It was all he could do to defned himself as the massive Deadnought's blade hammered home again and again. The booming reports from each strike drove spinters of rock deep into the ground as the shockwaves literrally threatened to flatten the other combatants.

The Dreadnought kept swinging, and Lucian was forced to go on the defensive blocking and parrying as much as he could, ducking those that were to awkward to get to. The Dreadnought refused to tire and its constant rain of blows was beginning to strain even the supernatural body that Lucian now possessed. Lucian could grimly appreciate how efficient and deadly the old Wolf was, with a body that was insanely strong and fast and did not tire the Dreadnought could keep up its barrage of blows indefinitly. And indeed Lucian found himself tireing at a rat ethat truly worried him. The power of the Dreadnoughts blows were so immense that Nifflhiem flexed with every swing. The blade threatening to shatter in the daemons grasp.

Lucian backpedaled furiously, forcing the Dreadnought to over reach. And just like that the battle changed, Lucian found his second wind and went on the offensive, His blade darting as fast as he could make it. Making the Dreadnought concentrate more on blade position than Lucian would ever have to. The dreadnought was unable to doge Lucian attacks and so was forced to use every inch of supernatural speed that it possessed in weaving a web of steel and adamant so fine that Nifflhiem was unable to find purchase. Lucian shifted his technique and his attacks became broader strokes followed by smaller feints and jabs. Marius was now using every ounce of skill he had, changing sword hands frequently and sometimes even letting go of the sword entirely as his torso spun around to use the flat of the Dreadnought's hands to diflect Lucians attacks only to catch the swords and bring it around for anouther blocking motion.

The Dreadnought and daemon fought furiously backwards and forwards occaisionally circling for what felt like an age. Lucian soon came to realise that his body wasn't actually tireing it was just his mind not used to coping with so much power and was unable to use it fully. Understandably Marius took full advantage of the Daemon prince's unfimilarity with his body adn began to throw in moves that forced the Daemon to jink out of the way, even at one point use his wings to flip completely over the Dreadnought exchanging blows with it in midair.

As the battle raged on the racks in the arena floor became more and more pronounced, soon parts of the floor jutted upwards and Marius began to find his footing unsteady and had to pay more attention to where his feet were going giving Lucian the upper hand. Slowly the Daemon prince's attacks broke through the near impenetrable web of steel of the Dreadnought and one swing caught the Dreadnought's hand knocking the blade of Fenris out of the machines grasp.

Lucian roared in triumph and slammed his massive insectile foot into the Dreadnoughts chest armour knocking him to the ground, whereupon Lucian stood on the Dreadnoughts chest with one massive foot.

"You are beaten old wolf... Submit"

A treat for you all... a showcase of their swordplay skills

OOC: Now just for me to finish Hunter...
... I will do it, don't worry, its Kais' job to finish his old friend...

Syrath lands next to Marius and Lucien, he smiles at the defeated Marius and turns to Lucien who he pushes down with his psychic powers and grabs him by the head. He pulls him up and pushes him towards towards the massive Daemons face, his flaming eyes almost burning the Wolves fur off. Syrath smirks;

"Excellent, your prowess is great. Replace him and join my side Lucien, please and I will let your friends go and survive the coming storm. Do you accept? Or must you join the many bones that dot this arena with Marius and Lucien?"


Hunter throw's Shas off him and grabs him by the neck, he punches the Shas in the stomach braking one of the Taus ribs before tearing of the Shas'Os mask and hissing at his bear face;

"I will make you a trophy fool, a Skull to join the others!"

OOC:

Working on a post, will be up soon...

IC:

Kais stepped back as Mikal tackled Hunter, bringing him to the ground. He watched as Mikal struggled to finish Hunter, but was pushed back high into the air, and Hunter got up, directing his attention towards Kais.

"Lets finish this then, Shas'O. My old friend."

Kais brought up his rail rifle and fired a quick shot which pushed Hunter back, who yelped, but quickly regained his posture, and brought up his massive Chaos runed sword, ready to inflict a devastating wound on Kais.
But he was ready for it. He dodged, and took advantage of Hunters unbalance, to swing out his foot, forcing Hunter to slam into the ground. Kais turned, and readied his spear, for when Hunter would get up and engage him in battle again.

"Get up, so we can finish this."

"As you wish."

Hunter leapt to his feet, and unleashed a flurry of quick attacks on Kais, who could barely manage to deflect them. He returned it with his own lunge, that Hunter blocked withh finesse, and kicked out, sending Kais sprawling into the dust.

"This is why I went with Syrath, Kais. Because you and your pitiful race are not nearly powerful enough to come up against us. You are weak, without skill, and you will never be able to match me in a fight, let alone Syrath.

"I might not be, alone," Kais said slowly, looking up into Syraths Daemonic face. "But together, we are."

Suddenly, Hunter felt unbelievable pain as a blade was jammed inbetween his ribs, and he turned to see Mikal, twisting the blade in his lungs, before slowly pulling it out.

"We all trusted you, Hunter, and you were Kais' best companion, yet you threw it all away. You deserve this."

Hunter took out his sword, and tried a quick attack against Mikal, who responded with a skillful block, before slamming his powerwsword into Hunter's, which sent it spinning away to land in the dust.

"You fool! None of you can defeat me," Hunter cried with fury, slamming his fist into Mikals head, sending him to the floor, in a heap.

He turned to see Kais attempting an attack, but quickly drew his chaotic dagger, and stabbing Kais in the gut, before raising him into the air, and bringing his face closwer towards his own.

"It seems fitting for I to be the one to end you, Shas'O."

"No," Kais said, gasping for breath, blood seeping from his wound, around the dagger. "But this does."

Kais used all the remaining strength he had, to bring up his spear which was still in his hand, and shove it deep into Hunters throat, who immediately let go of him, and desperately tried to pull the spears head from his neck, gurgling, blood pouring from where the weapon had pierced his skin.

Kais picked up his rail rifle, and brought it up to Hunters chin.

"Very fitting... indeed..."

He fired a shot, and Hunter was dead.

He fell onto the floor, all the energy gone from him, and the pain from hiss gut pulsing around his body. If he didn't get help soon he would be a goner.
It was bad, he was probably dying, but he knew there was something else to be done. So he looked, and saw Syrath hoolding Lucian, taunting him, and Kais picked up his rail rifle, perhaps for the last time, and looked down his sights, at Syraths head, for one last sht, if just to buy some time...

Syrath screeches and grabs his neck.

While a normal shot would not have generally not hurt Syrath this connected with his neck and almost severed, he grips his neck and turns his attention away from Lucien and Marius to the Shas'O Kais. The Daemon roars and fires a bolt of energy that tares through the Shas'Os stomach and bladder, shattering bone and flesh within seconds of impact. The Daemon fires another bolt that shatters his elbow and brings him to his face;

"You shall die Tau, along with the rest of your pathetic race."

OC:

Kais is pretty much dead...

... if he survives it'll be cool, but I just wanted to kill him so that he isn't turned to Chaos...

... but I suppose he'll at least die a hero...

... and at least its fitting he dies after defeating his greatest ever friend-gone foe...

IC:

Kais roars out in pain, but he still hangs on. He must hang on...

... this fight isn't over.

These blasts would have immediately killed any other of his race, but he has had enough cybernetic implants, which allows him to hang on just for a little bit longer.

"If I go down... I will take you with me.. wretch..." Kais barely manages to say.

He raises his rail rifle withh his unharmed arm, and fires multiple shots that tear through Syrath just as the last one did, tearing his flesh from daemonic bone.

Syrath snarls but pushes his claws into the Shas'Os stomach, he tears large amounts of flesh from the Tau's stomach and continues to do so until Shas can barley breath;

"You cannot kill me! You could never you foul and pointless thing!"

IC:

"Just... try... me..."

Kais put his rail rifle up to Syraths face, and fired continually, blast after blast tearing his brains and flesh apart.

And then, Kais dropped his rail rifle, fell onto the flor, and slowly, his eyes closed.

There were but a few words that were audible coming from his mouth, as the life was drained from him...

For the greater good...

Syrath's little remaining flesh begins to slowly regenerate, he raises his staff and forces his staff down shattering Shas's spine and breaking him in half and bursting into an insane laughter;

"Dead! Your foolish Tau companion is dead fools, I will take his broken body as a trophy to remind you of my power!"

The Daemon grabs the dead Tau's body and waves it in the air as the Daemonic crowds scream and laugh.....

OOC:

Reaper...

... thats just adding insult to injury...

And its fun! (INSANE LAUGHTER)

You mean...

Prey

Instinct

Hate


Atlas had spent hours on the cold slab of a Haemoncuili's operating table and had suffered horrid surgery, but that was the price. His arms and legs had been broken by Syrath, his mind twisted and horribly maddened. He had given most of his soul collection to the Haemoncuili and had flown to the highest spire in Commoragh he could find and made his nest with Talon and his allies, he had learned to fly quickly. He had to do so in order to survive and had learned the ways of the Scrouge, his instinct and powers served him well and he had fashioned himself a collection of new weapons. He landed onto one of the spires of Syrath's arena and looked down, Shas lay dead.

Avenge

Destroy

Vendetta

IC:

Atlas would become sane again, but for now, he had to sate his bloodlust. He would enter the arena, fight like he had never fought before, with his newfound weapons and abilities, and eventually fight Arrius...

... and then... and then...

... Syrath...

"Spectators of the arena! I come to avenge my companions defeat! I come to do battle with the best champions Syrath has to offer! And I will then destroy him!"

There you go Syrath, I am putting on a little show for you, but soon these... people, will be viewing your own demise...

Atlas jumped up into the air, before diving down to the floor of the dusty arena, before landing gracefully on his fee, drawing his venom coated daggers, and charged into battle.

Syrath was caught off guard allowing Atlas a great advantage, his still bleeding wings pumped steroids into his system as he plunged the venom blades into the Great Daemons flesh and tore them out again. He flew back and opened fire with his Splinter Carbine causing Syrath to move away and shield himself from the venomous darts, he fired several bolts of energy which missed Atlas and allowed Atlas a valuable counter attack.

OOC: Ohh, and just for convenience, Atlas' daggers are attached to his wrist-bracers...

IC:

"Your time is up Syrath! Kais was kind enough to help us out by hurting you, and now we can finish the job!"

Atlas rolls under Syraths attempted block, and bring his daggers up to stab Syrath in the neck, before ripping them out, and flying into the sky, taking out his splinter carbine to fire down on Syrath.

Suddenly, a loud fwoom is heard as Talon, Havoc, and Poison all fly into the arena, attacking Syrath with a flurry of quick strikes.

Syrath's body begins to fall apart, his flesh shatering under the constant poison attacks, Poison grabs onto his horns and stuffs a melta bomb inside his head. It explodes breaking large sections of Syrath's head, he falls and teleports away leaving Daemonic crowds cheering and shouting for bloodshed. The door ways dotting the arena open allowing several Hive Tyrants and Tyranid warriors...

"Good co-ordination Talon, now let us face the oncoming threat," Atlas says, before leaping into the air, and swooping towards the oncoming Tyranids, slashing and hacking as he goes.

The Tyranid Warriors are cut down after heavy splinter fire that reduces them to piles of twisted and molten flesh while the Hive Tyrants begin to slow but charge forward when the Scrouge's try to swoop in, more Hive Tyrants move through more door ways concentrating on the winged Eldar.

Mikal and Beltayn both watched with astonishment as the winged Dark Eldar swooped into the arena with bat like wings and hammered Syrath with a series of blows. As the daemon fell apart and the arena doors opened, Mikal tried to rush forward to get to Shas' lifeless body but Beltayn held him back.

"It is too late, he is dead Mikal, he died for us so that we may live to finally kill that daemon."

With one last reluctant look towards Shas' Body as it was swarmed by tyranids, Mikal nodded sadly. "Farewell my friend, may you find peace in oblivion." He said and then retreated with Beltayn back towards Lucian and Marius who were both righting themselves from each other's and Syrath's assaults.

"We now have a common enemy, one that wants us all dead, damn these petty squabbles and let us work together!" Beltayn says as the two warriors group up with the other two.

"He is right, we have bigger problems now." Mikal said, pointing towards the Tyranid swarms coming at them. All four warriors brace themselves as the gibbering hordes come on and as the two sides meet, Tyranid bodies fly, cut into pieces by swords and blasted by weapon blows as the the three warriors and the dreadnought fight a sea of chitin and push through towards where the dark eldar fight.

Beltayn's sword blazes orange in his hands and gently smokes with the rage of battle, tyranid ichor dripping from it as he slices open a tyranid warrior from shoulder to legs in a diagonal swipe. Everything seems to be in slow motion as he fights, the tyranid's blows coming much to slow and predictably. Whispers from the sword, whispers uttered in a growling voice demanded Beltayn release its spirit. Beltayn laughed as he slew...

Soon he thought, soon you will have your freedom and Syrath will regret ever crossing the Eldar kind...

Bel'tyan rises and begins to burn and re form, he falls and becomes a fiery demi-god that crushes Daemons with his massive fiery blade that slices apart into burning chunks and ash. Syrath's Tyranid servants are utterly devastated as the Avatar of Khaine who crushes the on coming foe, his fiery form burning apart any Tyranid that comes close.

The surging masses of tyranids separates each warrior from each other and Beltayn found himself surrounded on all sides by Tyranid warriors and gaunts. His body is a flurry of slashes and he is covered by both his own blood and that of the xenos. His muscles do not tire and neither does his fiery spirit as he carves his way through the ranks, but even as he does so, more and more tyranids mount up on all sides. Just as he thinks he is about to be overrun by chitinous bodies, an electric tang filters into the air around him and he smells strong ozone as reality rips in two next to him to form some sort of gate. The tyranids were thrown back by its opening and Beltayn looked into it. He recognized it as a webway gate...

Wraithbone figures stride out and Beltayn recognizes them as the wraithguard he had seen earlier, there are many of them which surround him with weapons and keep the tyranids back with blasts from their cannons, still there are more that surround him in a tighter circle with no weapons, they just sit there humming but Beltayn can hear them speaking in his mind in many great whispers.

It is time for the Young King to meet his destiny...

He holds the sword that shook the heavens...

And now he will shake the earth...

You may win, you may lose, but one thing is certain...

Blood will be shed in the name of the Bloody Handed God...

And you will be his weapon to do so...

Beltayn looked at the wraithguard around him and a smile came to his face, he nodded.

"Yes, yes, anything to bring Chaos low."

One who has gone too far down his path is needed...he must be lost to himself and privy only to death...

"I am one who is such, I have been so for a long time...lost on the path of the outcast..."

Then today you shall be vindicated in that choice, Beltayn the Longbow...

As the wraithguard kept the Tyranids at bay, the circle of weaponless wraithguard began to chant and Beltayn himself began to pray, taing off his helmet and throwing it aside as he looks to the sky.

"We are Eldar kind! Today we call upon the strength of the Bloody Handed to give us his form and his fury! Hear us Kaela Mensha Khaine, hear us and be free to slaughter those who would enslave your people!" Beltayn shouted to the sky and raised his sword to the sky.

The sky darkened, the crowd became silent, the fighting even halted, the tyranids being cowed by the sudden energy in the air, everyone looked to the only source of light in the now darkness. The now blazing diresword roared of its own accord, the fragment blazing white hot. The fire that sparked from its blade grew as the wraithguard chanting became louder, the flames engulfed Beltayn's arm and then his torso and then his body until his entire being was blazing a mixture of red, orange, yellow, and white. The brightness of his figure grew to a tremendous size, so much so that everyone were forced to avert their eyes at its brightness. The closest tyranids were burnt to a cinder and ashes and finally, just as the brightness threatened to reach the intensity of a star, it began to lessen...

Beltayn had been replaced by a towering giant of magma armor and fiery head crest. In his left hand it held a long spear that was engulfed in flames and had a long blade at its end which glowed bright orange and red like hot iron. The being itself burned from the inside out where its lava core kept it white hot and gave off tremendous amounts of heat. His right hand was coated and dripped crimson blood, a never ending reminder of conflicts long passed...

He was the Avatar of Khaine and he sought blood...

The wraithguard bowed in respect to the living god and got on their knees as the burning god walked past them, leaving burning footprints where he walked. His spear lashed out in waving arcs as he roared, sending Tyranid bodies into oblivion by the dozen...

The Avatar bellowed for a challenge, a worthy challenge to his might...

Coraks crashed into the ground, in one hand a mighty battle axe and in the other a mace of strange design. As he moved forward he swung his Axe towards the Avatar and his Wraith Guard, forcing some to the ground before entering a defensive stance and roaring praises to Khorne;

"Come!"

You trying to one up me Warork? The avatar? Sigh. Ah well,

(IC) Lucian steps back from the massive burning effigy thqat is the Avatar of Khaine. His friend was gone, in his place stood a titanic construction designed only to kill.

Lucian was quite frankly, a bit miffed.
"KIll stealer!!!!"
Marius having risen to aid the warriors in thier battle, on thier side now having been beaten by Lucian looked at the massive warrior and sighed
"There is nothing quite like having a new body to experiment with. Good luck Eldar, we shall deal with the others.

With that Lucian and Marius scale the walls of the arena Marius using the Autocannon from his back to obliterate anyone who tried to knock them off (Remember Marius's dreadnough body had been modified to have more agile legs, that would allow him to climb like this). When they get into the stands all hell breaks loose as the two warriors of Russ begin to shred the enemies the find there.

Slowly Lucians body begins to change, his daemonic limbs become less smooth and soon fur begins to grow along them, his mandibles morph together and fuse into the muzzle of a wolf, his insectile hands take on the shape of fur backed astartes hands, massive astartes hands, that have 4 inch claws extending from each finger.

His wulven form returns to him, his constant fighting against the corruption in his spirit and his own personal faith and mental will purges the daemonic from his system, leaving in its place a titanic humanoid wolf. The battle against Marius Ichorskin purified his mind and soul, the battle against the wolf lord absconding him of his sins. And so his natural form shinesw through. The Wulven is just as powerful as the daemonic form but far far pureer.

Marius observes the changes happening and his mind soars. His new friend had managed to purge the daemon from his body and soul. He was truly proud.

OOC: Kill stealer? thats a good one...

one up ya? Nah man, just thinking big...dont worry, you still got Mikal to pal around with...

"KILL THEM ALL!"

Syrath drops down and snarls at Marius and Lucian, he draws his staff and forms a energy field around himself and raises his Axe. The Large battle axe pulses with unholy energy and releases a blast of white pure energy that almost utterly destroys Marius but passes him by inches, the Daemon smirks and laughs as he throws the corpse of the broken Shas'O to Marius and Lucien's feet and laughs before firing another bolt of energy that slams into the Space Wolves.

Mikal had followed the older space wolves up into the stands where the crowd heaved and scattered at their approach, now frightened by the spectacle before them. The three easily fought off the tyranids and daemon guards that followed them but Syrath was much more powerful than them. He sent blasts into the stands that could have easily killed all of them if they hit. But the wolves were quick on their feet, they were able to dodge the assaults. Marius, even with the streamlined body that he had, found it hard to move his bulk quickly enough to dodge the attacks.

One bolt went straight at him, Mikal saw it and knew Marius would not be able to move fast enough to prevent it from destroying him. He dove forwards with a shout of warning and sliced his sword into the momentum of the bolt. The two collided and sent Mikal sprawling but the bolt had been deflected back at Syrath. Mikal lay amongst the debris and got to his feet groggily, he held in his hand the pommel of the sword which was smoking and blackened, but the blade had been destroyed. Mikal looked at it sadly.

"Faithful companion you have been, but your time has come just like it had for all of us..." He said and threw the handle away into the debris of the stand and rejoined his fellows...

Meanwhile, Coraks and the avatar fought in the midst of the arena, their blows echoes loudly as each tried to best each other, Coraks shouting to Khorne and the avatar roaring nonsensically in rage. They traded swipes over and over, each looking for an opening in the other's defenses. Coraks came in with his axe and mace while the avatar deflected with the staff of his spear. Finally, the Greater daemon overextended himself and was punished with the pommel of the wailing doom's spear across his jaw that sent him reeling. With a loud bellow and a furious charge, the avatar came in with and uppercutting strike into Corak's midsection and impaled him with the spear. The blazing blade burned the daemon's guts as he was hoisted into the air and thrown out of the arena over the stands with a might heave. The avatar raise his spear in triumph and turned to Syrath, pointing at him with his dripping hand.

"I grow tired of playing with your servants Syrath! Face me now and at least offer me an honorable death!" The avatar shouted through its fanged maw and charged Syrath with the intent of slicing him in two.