Following the comments of the figure, Skallagrim that indicated that combat was about to begin the Tyrant’s daughter had donned her own Raiment of Conquest. The ornate yet brutally functional armor had slid on with ease and the practice of a being that had clad herself in armor many times over the course of her long life. And so when the world changed and the fabric of the multiverse distorted around her she was prepared and embraced it, simply standing with Lacathing clenched in her hand as the distortion overtook her and she vanished.

When she reappeared the world had changed and she could no longer see the expanse of the Hall of Dreamers stretching out before her. Gone as well were the combatants that Elisara had seen gathered in the hall, now instead she stood alone upon a world that she did not recognize. A white stone that mere humans would have considered massive stood next to her, only rising to slightly below her own waist height and the surrounding area appeared lush and green, split by dirt track worn bare of grass by the passing of countless footsteps. Across the divide made by the footpath was a small lean too that she was confident she could not fit into, a clear sign that this land was inhabited by something of human size and shape and not by her kin.

The Princess of Vol’Kariz, daughter of the Liberator, finished her cursory examination of the battlefield by noting the small fences that were easily stepped over and the small trees that lined portions of the footpath. With her observations complete and no sign of her opponent the mriswring clad demigoddess nonetheless gripped her sword with two hands to hold it into a ready position. She appeared to be in position to thrust the sword into the ground at her feet, her two hands clasped together before her chest around the hilt of the eight foot long great sword.

Elisara cut an impressive figure in her position, the golden coloration of the full suit of mriswring plate armor reflecting the light of the sun brilliantly and the four spines that emerged from her shoulders similarly were highlighted by the light. Either for their absorption of the light on the part of the black spines or the brilliant glow of the ivory spines; both were quite impressive. Her face was hidden behind a faceplate that had a visor slit of sufficient size and placement to not obscure her own vision and from the peak of her helm rose the six spines of Vol Kariz, the inheritance of the crown of Maev’Sil’Vien herself.

“Who comes to face me? Speak now so that I may know who opposes me.” Her voice was regal and commanding, the voice of one who had issued commands for many years and who also had a practiced and melodious voice.

His multiple eyes gave him excellent vision of his foe, though the well-lit terrain hardly made that a remarkable feat. The Akarid stood at 7ft beside the lean-two in plain view, across the rode beside a massive white boulder his enemy stood awaiting his arrival, bellowing out a pointless challenge to his methodical mind. Large, the giantess perhaps, the armour would prove difficult to manage. He raised his upper-right arm, for he had twice the normal appendages of a man and the lower body of a spider. The Archivist had a great store of information at his disposal, and he intended to use that knowledge now to learn what he could of his opponent. Such a large foe was quickly scanned and searched for by his Data-pad, he would have what data he sought in a short period of time.

For now though, his own tactical observations had to be made. The bald, snub and inhuman grotesque face of a man swerved as he took stock of the field. It was disgustingly even, though as the smaller of the two combatants there was potential to use his foe’s size against her. Bushes clung to either side of the road, and narrow trees which could make for excellent obstructions or traps. He scuttled forward on all eight legs, his arms folded and claws displayed, wet with his poison and deadly to even the most powerful foe. The armour would prove difficult perhaps, but there were ways to bring big warrior types down and the Archivist was nothing if not resourceful.

When he reached his side of the road he decided some polite conversation was in order, or that was what he seemed to be doing at any rate.

“I am the Archivist, take solace in that your data will be added to the Archive, and your memory will live on when you meet your end” he rasped. The Akarid was fully aware that nothing was permanent in the Nexus of Worlds, but it amused him to be so cold and calculating in his prediction of the future.

“Oris’Sion’In, The Life Ender holds no power over me.” The daughter of the Tyrant, and granddaughter of Maev’Sil’Vien retorted as she observed the being who had come to challenge her in this round of the competition. It was the grotesque spider being from the great hall and Elisara did not react to the unsightly apparition with disgust, nor did she appear to be phased by the creature’s claim that it could defeat and kill her. Was she not the spawn of the Liberator and of the line of Maev’Sil’Vien herself? No mere beast could possibly fell her. Besides her blade was longer than the creature was tall and her strength was certainly vastly greater than some humanoid spider.

As the being advanced to the other side of the footpath Elisara moved slightly to the left setting the rock between herself and the creature. She still held Lacathing in that two handed grip with the point downwards in front of her chest and while it was not immediately apparent she began to reach out with the call that her father had taught her, the call that summoned their servants to them no matter where they resided at the time. As the Archivist was not a servant of Vol’Kariz and therefore lacked the connection to Elisara and her father the call would not be audible to him and there would be little sign of what exactly the Lorenvolk was doing as she replied again. This time her voice was rich with the pride of her lineage and person as she returned his introduction with her own.

“I am Elisara of Vol’Kariz, daughter of the Liberator.” She declared as the first answers to her silent call began to manifest. It was a sudden apparition that had not given any signs of what was to happen and so it was likely that the spider would not have expected it. To either side of the rock appeared a pair of human soldiers. One stood to her left and this soldier of Vol’Kariz was clad in chainmail of simple steel, in his right hand was clutched a long-sword and in his left was held a shield on which the symbol of Vol’Kariz was emblazoned, the six spires, three of white and three of black reaching into the sky. To her right was another man, this one was also clad in steel chainmail and in his hands he clutched a bow. From his back hung a quiver of arrows and at his hip hung a dagger. His chest was emblazoned with the same sigil that the other man bore on his shield.

“In the name of the Liberator and Maev’Sil’Vien slay this creature.” Her voice boomed out again and the pair of soldiers that she had summoned forth began to obey. This would not simply serve to hopefully strike down the adversary but should it fail it would also reveal information on what the creature could do.

The Archivist looked particularly unimpressed by the two soldiers which were summoned to strike against him. It was strange that there was no outward sign of her summoning from her specifically, but the scanner at his arm noted a disturbance in the Nexus of Worlds energy-veil which he had already scanned in the Great Hall earlier. He would be able to tell when the summoning was used in future, through this interference. If his foe was so quick to resort to tricks, then he would do the same, after quickly reading the data he had received he logged his foe’s strange summoning abilities.

What he had learned of his opponent from the Archive was very general, but informative regardless. She was of a lesser Demi-God race; specifically Lorenvolk, she was of 13’11 in height and weighed roughly 1550 pounds. Her blade and armour were made of the same substance, though data on the materials exact properties was scarce his Data-pad noticed interaction with low-intensity environmental magic, so it likely had draining or resistant properties, which were unlikely to affect him.

He was snapped back to reality by an arrow skimming towards him, obviously fired by the archer minion, he caught it nimbly in his left hand suffering only the barest of grazes. It snapped in his grasp and he seized the arrow-head, launching it with a sharp flick at the advancing swordsman. The man shrugged away from the projectile as he crossed the road, his one and only mistake. The arrow lodged in his armour and he dropped his shield down low enough to allow the Akarid, who had quickly scuttled to his position, to rip it from his grasp with his upper left hand with ease. He seized the man’s arm as it swung down and his claws pierced armour, and then he took the sword when the hand released it in pain as poison shot rapidly through his body. The warrior’s constitution was just not strong enough, the Akarid beheaded him with his own sword and lifted the doomed warrior’s body with both of his free lower hands before he could fall lifelessly to the ground. Another arrow lodged itself in the corpse, and blood spurted from the grievous wound across the ground and burst from the neck. With an almost negligent push he threw the fallen warrior across the road at its master, hard and fast enough to do some damage when the comatose swordsmen’s body collided with her. It was more of a message than an attack, but it amused him none-the-less.

He stood there then with his stolen sword and shield, watching with interest from his new position in the middle of the road. Blood dripped from his blade, first blood.

Elisara watched with interest disguised by her concealing helm as the call continued to resonate from her and the creature demonstrated a degree of physical aptitude. The arrow first fired by the soldier to her right had been unsuccessful, the spider-creature had snatched it out of the air with apparent disdain and hurled it across to strike the swordsman as he charged the being. Elisara had expected little else from an opponent chosen to actually stand against her. As the creature stabbed claws into her soldier the daughter of the Tyrant observed that although the nerves had not been severed and the tendons appeared intact her follower had simply collapsed in the creature’s grip.

It was likely there was more to those claws than initially met the eye and while her confidence was in no way lessened she knew to exercise caution and that it was not wise to be struck by them. As the spider used the corpse as a shield and then hurled it across the battlefield towards her Elisara felt no sense of alarm. She simply took a step to the side, allowing the broken man to fly past her to strike the ground. There was no sense sullying her blade on the flesh of her own soldiers and to call on her other magics would have disrupted the continued summoning process.

With the sidestep completed the silent call that had continued even as the monster fought her followers delivered unto her a new cast of subjects. This time there were more of the soldiers of Vol’Kariz, four to be precise and they flickered into appearance to either side of the boulder once again. Two stood on the left and two on the right of the boulder to join the surviving member of the first summoning. These four soldiers were all adorned with chainmail emblazoned with the sigil of Vol’Kariz, the six spires of white and black and all of them held bows this time.

From behind the faceplate of her helm the Tyrant’s daughter’s face was shaped into a predatory grin. The more the creature fought against her soldiers the more the being would tire and the more about itself it would reveal. She had the defendable position, she had the soldiers and above all she was the granddaughter of Maev’Sil’Vien and the daughter of the Liberator himself. There was no question that she would prove victorious. “Unleash your arrows together, volley fire.” The command rang out from her as the soldiers she had summoned began to fire in unison.

After watching his opponent nimbly side-step his rather poignant message he snarled and scuttled forward at high speed. An arrow came at him from the left, and he caught it nimbly on his stolen shield. His opponent stood motionless, apparently concentrating on something else, he did not rate her chances of being able to raise her sword into anything resembling a defensive stance in time. He slashed horizontally from the right, aiming to cleave her across the lower abdomen with formidable force. His momentum carried him past and it was simple to drive the point of his stolen weapon through the archer’s heart with minimal effort, driving him back a few steps as the spider stopped and turned, pulling the blade free with a burst of gushing blood. His legs moved side-wards with surprising agility, and he turned once again to face his foe and gauge the damage, if any, his blade had inflicted.

It was unlikely the soldiers would still be summoned all around him with bows, but if they did he would deal with it as it came.

The Archivist sped past with swordsman-like grace, his sword cleaving a vicious arc to scrape the armour of his foe’s lower body. Strangely, though she seemed to flinch back from the blow the real damage of the attack was not noticeable. Simultaneously however, he heard a grunt and the dying rattle of the Archer to his left, blood spurting from his body as if he were instead struck by the spider’s attack.

“Interesting.” The Archivist muttered, instead turning immediately to face his foe roughly five feet away, he waited by the boulder. Quickly, he summarised the link between the lack of damage he inflicted on his target, and the unexpected death of the minion. They were connected, he should have guessed, the information would be important in the ensuing battle of that he had no doubt.

His lower hands came together, rolling and spinning together as a strange substance began to form between them. His sword was held in a ready stance, as was his shield, he strafed slowly rightward, circling his foe, moving away from the obstructing boulder so his back was once again towards the road.

Fight Ends- Winner The Archivist via forfeiture.