The Sketch Rift: The Eternal Crusade

The Monster Within

Ivel's Rift-bound grip on Soal's neck ceased as Irene (without Alice) arrived, the "new" Kyson Scepter in Irene's hand. This allowed Soal an opportunity to get to his feet, and to finally draw his sword, just as Ivel cast another series of attacks -- this time with his katana.

"He's gone insane!" Soal gritted his teeth as they escaped Moth's chamber, and as they evacuated Grant's Shrine altogether, Ivel swiped his katana in all directions, hoping (yet failing) to disorient his intruders as they retaliated. "Hold him back -- I'll get the others!"

"Others?" Irene's question was hardly distinguishable from a single-word statement among the clamor, with years-old Henderian pottery shattering between them with every sweep of Ivel's katana. Beyond the gates of the Shrine, there was no pottery to be vandalized -- only the hills of the dead, scalded Slicers, which made a nasty crunch under their boots as they fought.

But Soal had no use in fetching the others -- they had already begun to aid them. While Ivel rethought his strategy, clashing with Soal as Irene backed him up with her own sword (also reconsidering her Kyson Scepter plan), Moth appeared on the scene, dashing to them from the path to Hendera -- definitely aware that this battle was underway, and that Moth was prepared to deal out justice towards his longtime captor. It didn't take much for him to gain Ivel's attention, immediately diverting his attention to the Ambassador, while maintaining a counterattack for the Master Bringer's front with his left hand, sending various waves of energy that were fortunately weak enough to fizz from existence upon contact with their shields. "You will not win this battle, Ambassador," he snarled. "Now is the time for the final fulfillment of the Crusade's purpose."

"In no way will that fulfillment be possible without a leader," Moth taunted as he silently thanked Soal and Irene for, in part, distracting the enemy.

"What are you going to do?" Ivel ridiculed Moth's unarmed state, dodging the Sulukridger's blows with pitch-perfect precision. "Punch me?"

With a sly grin, a katana of Moth's own materialized in his right fist from plot holes, outdating his captor's previous claim. Soal had always known that Moth was a fencing prodigy, but how could he possibly simultaneously outwit the sorcerous Ivel, who had in the past contracted at least five additional Vorrens to boost his capability?

In the blink of an eye, Ivel had transported all four of them to the empty trapezoidal plain of Northwest Waise, an arena in which he was, ironically, clearly more versatile. Soal and Irene waved their swords at Moth's side, only to find that familiar swordplay was not the answer when a Sulukridger was involved. The Commander briefly stood in place at the center of the field, a short distance from his challengers, focusing intensely, only to mentally reanimate the entire population of Slicers in Northwest Waise.

Moth was unmoved, despite being relatively unprotected, but the Master Bringer had little of a chance to gasp at the sight. Ivel had taken authority of the Slicers, and drew them with his measly index finger to target the three of them. As tightly clustered as they were, Moth took in -- and sustained -- most of the damage as the undead Slicers' still cooling, blunt paper stingers attempted to strike a plot-hole shield. "You use them too much!" Ivel boomed, prior to instantaneously killing all of the Slicers from outrage and dividing Northwest Waise's field into segments with borders of flames, lifting himself into the air and hovering twenty or so feet above the ground level. Soal and Irene peered up with an uncannily familiar intimidation as a waving worm of cyan flame enveloped Ivel's eye, which, along with its non-fiery companion adjacent to it, paid more attention now to the space behind the old friends rather than directly to them.

As Ivel conjured another Rift-drawn assault, Irene was the first to glance behind their location to identify Ivel's current target. Soal swiftly followed, but Moth declined to do so. "The cavalry has arrived," the Ambassador beamed as Gnat, now wearing proper hierarchical mango-colored Sulukridger garb, shakily and with acute consolidation, rose into the air to match Ivel's altitude, Hemingway on the ground giving instruction with great pride, obviously viewing her from Moth's side as a favorite student of sorts.

A dialogue ensued as Ivel and Gnat dueled in a race to present the other with a spell. "Ivel, you cruel joke of a leader and a Sulukridger," she taunted in midair, "It's about time for you to be 'punished' for leaving your place. I heard the whole conversation, but I knew it all."

"You're the same incompetent defector I once knew," Ivel spat as he attempted to immobilize his ancient victim. "And this time, you're even more Nathaurus of Hendera than you were Nathaurus of the Sulukridgers. How shameful."

It was not difficult to see, however, who was advantageous in the struggle. The student of the pseudo-Sulukridger's was subject quickly to being lowered to the ground again with great invisible pressure from a nonexistent weight, and much to everyone's alarm, on the verge of being crushed by the air above her.

Hemingway's eyes widened, and without even fully paying attention, intercepted this attack and forced it upon Ivel himself. The pseudo-Sulukridger stepped forward before the Crusader, quickly followed by the weary yet eager company of allies as Ivel was forced to bow towards them in submission on the ground of deceased Slicers.

Ivel convulsed visibly in agony, and aware of his undignified defeat, he snapped, forgetting all the while to make eye contact, continuing to stare towards the ground. "Pseudo-Sulukridger, you have to stop going around like this for good," he sniveled, attracting a perplexed response from the others. "In you, people see only wiles, but it goes beyond that. Someone has to destroy the monster within you before it spirals out of control. You could... you could destroy... everything."

"Nonsense," Hemingway glared down towards the deluded figure, his expression both doleful and regretful. "Without your leadership, the Eternal Crusade will collapse. I am sorry, but there is something I must do, for the good of us all."

Hemingway set his battered right hand above Ivel's back, and the Commander wailed in pain as Hemingway effortlessly and horrifyingly obtained the Sulukridger's very Vorren from a wormhole in the Rift. It appeared as a dark and reflective pearl, shining vaguely with the palette of the Rift and emitting a faint warmth. Moth handed the pseudo-Sulukridger a plot-hole jar, and he quickly captured it before it drifted from his palm.

"You... will pay... for this," Ivel sputtered before sprawling out on the ground, completely defeated and already beginning the gradual process of Soullessness. "Agghhhh..."

"It may be best for everyone that we leave him behind for the time being," Moth (along with Gnat), although relieved, internally viewed the Vorren theft as a highly excessive decision, while the Master Bringer -- who covered their eyes during the event -- could do without Ivel, but the consequences of his defeat were staggering indeed, potentially even more so than expected. "We must return to Hendera as soon as we possibly can."

Such a feud among true and false Sulukridgers and suddenly appearing swords would quickly and immensely be dwarfed by its results, just as with the Slicer Swarm that now rested in death on the fields of the Waise Chain and the streets of Hendera.