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The trip had been long, hard and demeaning for Minion, however he had reached what he thought looked like a promising campsite for the night, for in the distance he could see a town. There was a rather large structure that he had passed, and that seemed slightly intimidating so he had decided he would check it out after he found the Leviathan Stadium. The plan was to go into town and get information from the folk living there so he could continue on his journey. Wherever that may lead.

During his travels Minion had eventually realized his stupidity when he collapsed in a stream, as he was nearly dehydrated. How obsessed he had been trying to get to higher ground that he had completely ignored the fact that there was water right in front of him. The rest of the trip had been rather uneventful. Just a few small instances where he nearly died, nothing serious. Taking the time to relax and clean his gear, Minion reminisced, chuckling at his own ignorance.

The first had been an attempt to rock climb with his gauntlets on, how futile that had proved at first. He could only get a few feet off of the ground before he would swing a leg or an arm out too far, causing him to lose his balance and fall back to the earth. He had eventually ended up pounding hand hold and foot holds into the soft limestone. When he was close to 50 feet off the ground he had pounded a small sitting space for him to catch his breath, and while sitting there, Minion took notice of a crack that was forming beside him and pondered about it as he seemed to drift away from the wall. Only too late did he realized that his footholds and hand holds had compromised his seat and it was breaking away from the cliff face. He did not have the strength or the time to change how he was situated before hitting the ground, his gauntlets sinking into the earth, until the rest of his body stopped their procession.

The wind had been knocked out of him and his internal system would have been crushed had he not been able to reinforce the bones prior to impact, and even with that he still managed to break a femur, three ribs, his jaw, and his pelvis. It took him 24 hours before he could move safely again, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

Another time he had angered something that looked like a rhinoceros from history books, and it had chased him for half a day, until he stumbled down into a nest of mercats, where they were angry at him for intruding and took all of his gear hostage until he had repaired the nest and fetched food and water for them.

What a trip, and that was only a few of the events that occurred.

As the energy was growing in his left hand, he watched as the golem stepped forward and assisted against the behemoth that attempted to smash him into the ground. He was glad to see such a sight, though the situation was far from prosperous. Bullets shot themselves into the crowd of black, dispersing more of this army of fiends, yet still, here they were, having to fight for their lives. He watched this Rage...wait a second...wasn't that he a she just a moment ago? Something wasn't right with this scene, having him stare confusingly at the man who was suppose to be his target.

"What is going on here," he asked himself. No, it must have been some magic affecting his brain. These things, whatever they were, must have used some hallucination to make him think the man was a she. Either that, or he really just saw breasts and heard the voice of a woman. Everything was so twisted.

"Hmph. No time for worrying about stuff like that."

With his left hand punching forward, a white shower of magic surrounded his body, the same effect following to surround Rage just a second later. The man would feel a growing adrenaline of power as Ruby cast a temporary buff to him. His strength would feel greater, from the muscles of his legs to the muscles of arms; and his mind would feel a lot more focused, like that trance one experiences when they start to get really focused onto a task without the consequences of blind rage. Though short in time, it would be enough to give him the power to take on the giant monster with better capability. That was what Ruby could offer in spiritual power.



"Now, my turn for a little rumble."

With the casting done, he went into the preparation for another technique, one that would bring this little rumble closer to its end.

"Hnng!" Ruby concentrated on the dormant energy within his body, calling on his spiritual power to perform a feat that was limited in use, but would allow him to pull out a good amount of energy at once. It was going to strain his body, but he was counting on the fact that he would walk out of here without taxing his body any further.

"Just a little more protection, if you can."

"Keh! Shah..."

How is he...

Athan was surprised, and it was noticeable both through the noises he was making and the look on his face. Judgment was supposed to grant him unmatched strength, but Ezra was still advancing, slicing through Athan's hand and pressing further into his shoulder. There was an abundance of pain, as well, but that he was used to. This wasn't supposed to happen, locked in a contest of strength with a man only using one arm, and he was losing. If anything, it made it painfully obvious that his rage and strength alone wouldn't be enough to overcome this opponent.

Perhaps Ezra would see a change in Athan's eyes, as if he had sudden clarity on the situation. No more thoughts of Slaughter, or vengeance. The stalemate was broken as Athan began his swing, but Ezra might notice that, during the course of the swing, the Forgotten Matter was sloughing off his left hand and simultaneously spreading up the entire length of his right. Not fast enough to prevent Ezra's second swing from sparking along his armor and widening the previously inflicted wound. The sharp pain was quickly replaced by a sudden numbing sensation as the form of Savior was taken by the Arm.

It was the first time Athan had made conscious effort to to use the Arm's power, and switching from one to the other was beginning to take its toll. Not necessarily in a physical or mental sense as far as origins went, but the fatigue manifested itself as physical strain. He was beginning to sweat as Ezra's arm reformed, slightly smaller than before, but holding to the the blade of his sword, trapping the massive weapon in place.

"So what would you have us do? Sit idly by, wait and watch as Alpha and the others do whatever they damn well please? You obviously knew us before we knew you, Ezra. You should have known that we don't believe in hopeless battles."

Eyes narrowed, his left hand secured its grip on his sword, and his now thickly armored right hand balled into a fist. He stepped forward, trying to make it difficult for Ezra to draw his sword back for another stab. At this point a slash would probably spark off the armor covering his chest and left arm, and stabbing would require Ezra to draw his sword arm back. Hopefully before that could be achieved, however, Athan struck out with two quick body shots in the form of short uppercuts, driving that armored fist of his into Ezra's torso, just below his ribcage. Hopefully, if it were enough to unstable the Knight, Athan would take a half step with his left foot and finish up the combination with a hard right hook.

"This isn't Moam, this is our world. If you want to make amends then stop trying to force this judgment on a world that isn't yours and either stand with us or GET OUTTA THE WAY."

Sore and slightly humbled by his experiences in crossing terrain of multiple features, Minion stumbled to some kind of structured place, that was well fortified, or it looked as if it had been well fortified and now was a mess. He was close to the edge of the place and couldn't be more than a few miles away, hopefully. Gauging distance was a weak point for him and he was still unsure of the distance he had crossed or where he was. All of his supplies had been broken, lost, washed away, or stolen by vermin who lived in the desert. Minion simply wanted to find a bed to lay down in and get something to drink.

The closer he got to cluster of obsidian hued buildings, not in color, but in something that smelled horrible. Maybe this is close to a garbage dump or something, I'll just have to bear with it some more, at least it isn't a corps or something like that... Minion thought as he came close to the city and looked around himself. Not noticing signs of the situation in the city from various factors, Minion heedlessly entered Barton Fortress, though he doesn't know that. (cont. in Barton Fortress)

A sudden surge of energy coursed through the man's veins as he tried to pick apart a golem with nothing but his bare hands and some thin pieces of metal. Time slowed down for a fraction of a second as he tried to make sense of what was going on around him. It wasn't magic, it was... something else. It wasn't like he had time to figure it all out, he just had to--

His brother's voice floated into his head. Except something about it didn't sound quite right.

"Stab it in the eye! Stab it in the eye!"

He was suddenly brought back to a conversation he had with his younger brother a few weeks before at the Firebrand. Axel was showing him one of those boxes you put in front of a television, where you actually control what happens on the screen instead of just watching it. While he was busy complaining that he could just go out and do the things that he saw on the screen, Axel was teaching him a core value of boss fights.

"If something's glowing, or stands out, or is the only part that's not covered by armor, it's probably an OBVIOUS WEAK POINT!"

Suddenly being reminded that he wasn't a few weeks ago and was currently and futilely trying to stab a golem to death, he got as good a grip as he could before raising his left blade and jamming it into the golem's eye. If that didn't work the first time, he'd just keep it up. He didn't know where all this strength came from, but he wasn't going to complain, and he'd keep attacking the construct until he was sure that it returned to the rubble from whence it came.

Rather poetic, if he did say so himself - he'd have to write that one down if he lived through this.

"By the way--"STAB"--in case this doesn't work--"STAB"--how exactly do we kill this thing?"STAB

[Buff timer: 4 posts left]

"There's no guarantee that history will repeat itself! We can win this on our own!"

As Ezra stumbled backwards Athan refused to charge in like he normally would. Even his voice seemed to lose the rage that he was so well known for, raising in volume only to overcome the raging battle around them. While he felt betrayed by Ezra's methods, he still felt deep down that there was some measure of the man that could be redeemed. The entirety of it all was strange to Athan, who should have had no personal stake in what Ezra was trying to accomplish until it involved the threat of death. By that notion, Athan should view the man before him as an enemy and nothing more. Something delayed him, something kept him from pressing the advantage against a man who rarely gave one.

Before he could reconsider his hesitation Athan was blasted backwards by a wall of force, rocks pelting his face and splitting open the skin just above his left eye as he struggled to catch his footing. Blood curved around the outside of his orbit, cascading down his cheek where it mixed with sweat, sand, and the forgotten matter from the shades he had slain earlier. Athan took the separation as a chance to catch his breath, his chest heaving from both physical and mental exertion.

"He wouldn't lie, not after all this time. I can't let you take my hope."

He?

"The power you rely on has not come to a decision after all of this time you have struggled to earn for it. What makes you think it will reach a consensus before this world is lost?"

As Ezra displayed his mastery of Anima, Athan's chest rose and fell for one last sigh. Athan was so ready to just put Ezra down and be done with it. Now he was reluctant to even draw his sword up from the ground.

"You don't even see how single-minded you've become. You're just like these shades!"

Ezra brought the sword up, Athan reacted as quickly as he could, stepping forward with his right foot and swinging his sword up from the ground, looking to meet momentum with momentum as he brought the flat of the Rook's Destroyer up to intercept Ezra's weapon, not wanting to attempt to resist the attack without slowing it down first.

The weapons impacted, Athan's arms shuddered from the force, and he dug his feet into the earth, barely able to keep his left knee from touching the ground.

"I can't believe I lived long enough..."

Athan was dedicating a lot of his energy to holding the sword above his head if Ezra wasn't going to take it away to strike again. There was physical strain in his voice, but he was also genuinely distraught over what Ezra had become.

"...To see Alpha showing..."

Athan's feet stopped slipping long enough for him to surge forward with his legs, letting loose a shout of exertion in the process. He pushed upwards, aiming to shove Ezra's sword up into the air, buying Athan enough time to bring his own sword across in a left-to-right horizontal slash that would have enough depth to leave a sizable, though not mortal, gash across Ezra's chest should it go undefended.

"more free will than you!"

Ruby opened his right hand. Spirit energy rose from his palm, condensing itself into a spherical shape. It was basically another spirit sphere. Upon being released, it hovered itself in a circle around head level, unused for the time being. He had to be cautious of any changes that were going to occur between now and the inevitable end of this fight; thus, it was best to prepare ahead of time.

And then there was the wave of shades. Ruby lunged forward at the wave that appeared, his body crackling with divine power. His mouth opened as a loud "Grrrragh!" battle cry rang true from his throat before a single fist slammed into the side of one of the Shades. The new strength the monk held threw the monster off its feet, bashing it into the other crowd of shades next to it. Likely, this was going to cause their attention to turn to him. He didn't mind. He could take them, as long as their numbers didn't grow, and as long as another one of them rooks didn't appear out of nowhere.

"Haya!"

The Shades wouldn't even be able to approach him so easily. His fists were flying at rapid speed in front of him, spiritual force acting like a buffer in putting a dent into each of their immaterial bodies. His feet slid forward, switching between right and left lead foot stances, his martial art skills showing live and true. No move was wasted, no breath lacking pace. One shade managed to throw its blade forward, creating a bloody scar across Ruby's left bicep. It wasn't a serious wound, but it gave enough pain to cause the monk to falter in his advance.

"s**t!"

That one move allowed the Shades to shift the momentum into their favor, their swarming manner causing the fighter to backpedal as he used blocks, parries, and counter attacks to keep himself from taking anymore damage. The steel plating upon his gloves were the only thing allowing him to defend against sharp blades. He started to think that maybe trying to take on this wave by himself wasn't the smartest idea in the book.

It was hot. Very hot. Like, fry an egg on a pan without fire kind of hot. Which was to be expected really, but still rather unpleasant for anyone not accustomed or dressed for such weather. Horrible skin burns from the sun, the blender effect of the harshly blown sand, and the chances of going blind thanks to the sands reflecting properties made this hellish place a less than ideal place for life to exist in any form.

And yet, it did.

The evidence was sparce indeed, the sideways S shape of a sidewinder as it slithered across the sand blown away as quickly as it had been made and the hoofprints of the nomads horses filled swiftly making tracking an impossibility. If one wanted to hunt anything a consumate knowledge was required of the local and the creatures being hunted. Modern humans used technology to replace the instincts that their cities and villages had robbed them of and those who made their livings in the wastelands used tricks that had passed from generation to generation over the years. Animals, on the other hand, used entirely different means altogether. What was a compass to a mouse after all? Or more to the point, a snake?

Damion was none of these things in any large degree, more an amalgamation of them all, some odd hybrid of old human and beast that defied all logical attempts at explanation. He had never seen a compass before and yet new his cardinal direction almost instinctively. He had no heat seeking organs in his nostrils but could pick out hidden prey with unnerring accuracy in most environments given he could see or smell. He was almost a perfect hunter in every way. But he had met a match in the wastes of the Baratharvos desert, the constantly shifting landscape throwing everything out of balance.

Each dune looked like the last and mirages teased his mind with promises of water and perhaps a method in which to cool off for abit, always peeking from between distant dunes and gone before he got there. His footprints were filled with each step as the wind blew hard and strong against his back and whipped his clothes around him to snap at his skin and sting his flesh with harsh bits of sand. Sweat beaded on his skin and dried just as quickly under the relentlessly punishing light of the sun and yet still he trudged forwards without any signs of stopping. His green eyes were bloodshot and tired but filled with harsh energy that promised only pain or destruction to the obstacles that stood in his path.

Because that's just the kind of man he was.

He had come to this hellish locale with only one purpose in mind and it was not survival. That would come later. No, he had come with the sole intention of hunting down and killing one of the vicious Rock Snakes of this land with his own two hands, to take it's skin and eyes for a tool Maximos was going to make for him and what was a quest like this without alittle hardship?

Ah to hell with that, he'd gotten overzealous on this one. He was hungery, he was tired, and his feet hurt like hell. He'd been walking for 3 days straight wearing loose black pants, no shoes, and a long sleeve black shirt because damnit the book said loose black clothes would keep him cool. Well it wasn't and he was thirsty as hell now from sweating like mad. Even the night didn't bring much solace as the blazing heat turned to the maddening cold and made him sluggish as hell. He hadn't seen any rocks for hours and was almost positive that he was moving in one long elipse by now. Those dunes looked familiar.

The elemental stopped mid-dune, hiding in the meager shade that curved down from the curved tip of the dune. Huddled down there he could see for a good distance in 180 degrees but really just back the way he came. Long stretches of nothing greated him and in the distance he could see a swirling dust storm that stretched for the heavens and was undoubtedly tearing the world apart in its immediate area.

" Bullocks..."

Damion let his gaze drop down into the drainage of two large dunes, sighing softly. Bits of brown and green dotted the ground there where Cacti and maybe bits of brush had grown where water gathered. There even appeared to be rocks there, unless those tannish lumps were dead things he couldn't make out with his tired eyes. Why there were rocks in such an odd place he really couldn't say or even really care about. ******** things were just oddballs he guessed. The shifting nature of the sand made it hard for him to even use his earth sense turning what should have been steady shapes into choppy geometric shapes and forms that made absolutely no sense.

He looked skyward again, gazing into the perfect blue for a long moment before shaking his head and wallowing down into the sand, digging for the cooler sand below the hot bits. He would sleep for awhile and then continue his long and arduous search perhaps in the evening when it got cool and not freezing.