Deliverance.

[headmaster.]

Bound to shackles, the avatar stared at the guard patrolling his cell. Cerulean orbs watched as the large, plump man disappeared from his sight. Immediately, the avatar struggled to remove his shackles, spreading his arms as far as the short chain would reach; unbreaking. Thor sighed as he slumped, golden tresses falling over his countenance; providing a veil of shadow on his eyes. The guard returned to view, dangling his keys in plain sight while with his other hand stuffed his round face with more donuts.

"Ye wouldn't b' thinkin' of escapin', would ye?"

Thor sat motionless, staring coldly at the failed attempt of a man of uniform as he taunted him. I shall snap that round neck with a single flick of my wrist, should I be let free, he thought. Be grateful I am not... The avatar exhaled, gazing down at the shackles bound at his wrists and feet. If it weren't for their magical barrier - and his recent drain of energy, the avatar would be rid of this petty attempt of life before him and this place. If it weren't for those two. Thor's hands coiled firmly into fists, revealing his obvious discomfort.

"Aww, did I strike a nerve? Too bad," the guard said, chuckling as he walked off, beating the keys against the bars.

Should I be set free, you fat lard...

Somewhere within the city known only as Last Chance, the avatar sat awaiting his judgment from the authorities of Terrenus. He'd been sent to Last Chance; not as a free man but a criminal - however, not carrying a sentence like the ones who resided here. His was worse, trumping their's with ease. The would-be God of Thunder locked within these prison walls, what blasphemy... Terrenus would pay. The guard would pay. Those two would as well.

[Empyreal]

Freed? Ha, this man would be forever condemned.

His reprieve would come in a most abstract and peculiar way, more than likely far different from what Thor had in mind. For so long, the only sound that reverberated across the still night was the individual sounds of rain drops as they splattered on the various surfaces, synchronizing to form a rhythm of pure harmony. It was a peaceful scene....

-- until he came.

Without warning, the entire structure of the cage was rocked from its foundations. A loud roar erupted from the south sector, a tell-tale hint as to what monstrous disaster could have struck the vicinity. What remnants of the wall that could be made out were charred over completely, burnt by the vermilion flames that still licked their jagged edges. The guard that had so vigorously taunted the God of Thunder was amongst this rubble, too, suffering the same fate. Dental records would not even be able to fully identify whom the victim was.

Yet amongst the heap a silhouette could be made out, standing upon the charred skull of the bastard he'd just slain. He stood dressed in the cloth of his casual dress, his demeanor obviously apathetic to what he'd just done. From beneath his veil of pitch mane he viewed his target, a grin creeping over his lips. Thor had eluded him several times before, but now-- now he was to face his punishment, whether he liked it or not.

"Target Identified: 19,837 - Alias: Thor, God of Thunder. You are wanted for violation of law 0143, code 289, statute 37, paragraph A3 of the OPF Manual; punishable by death. I shall be the divine executioner that carries out your sentence. If you wish to speak on your own behalf or deny these accusations, now is the time. Otherwise, prepare yourself."

Without further statement, the man extended his right hand, digits unfurled. With the mere adjustment of thought, fingers found themselves curled around a pommel of steel, coddling the peerless arm of war - Trepidation. Its superlative edge glistened in what little light the prison offered, yet its own fruition was far more extravagant. Fully solidified, the blade now come full circle to point its metallic edge directly toward the criminal.

the time of reckoning had come.

[headmaster.]

A storm was brewing, the avatar acknowledged, staring up at the ceiling in his cell. He could not look beyond these concrete and steel walls but he knew the tell-tale signs of a storm. One couldn't be dubbed a God of a particular field unless you understood the basic principles that guided and established that particular forte; and the God of Thunder knew storms. Afterall, it was his forte. Thor heard the thunder clap against the nearing-night sky and could only find himself smiling gleefully to its presence, and what would come next.

"Ye don't think 'bout pullin' dat shit on me, Dunder boy! Y'hear me? Stop it!" the guard shouted, his fat face contorting into an odd form of disgust and annoyance. The overweight uniform* growled, banging against the cell bars.

As if in cue with the next thunder strike, the entire building before him crumbled to what seemed little debris of what the establishment was prior to the calamity. A large section of the roof collapsed down atop the guard's very position, crushing him in a single blow--too bad, he thought, actually pitying the man. That was until the keys in the deceased man's hands actually skidded over toward Thor's feet. Would you look at that, he thought. But, before the avatar could capitalize on the action, it appeared that behind this moment of fate; it was actually the workings of a man clad in black.

Once majestic chasms of cerulean hues would gaze upon the man with warrior-like relief; as a pleasent challenge, but, now Thor could only look upon his would-be savior with cold, gray-blue eyes. The avatar could say nothing to what came next; the man spoke, pointing his large boomstick at him, and the man stated he was to be Thor's executioner, his judge. The words only brought a single quiver to the lips of the avatar of his former self. The condemned man could only look upon this judge of fate; Thor's fate, and chuckle. There was no life left in the avatar, as he had lost all hope of rejoicement, all hope of returning to the place he once called home. What was the name of that place again?

Asgard.

The word echoed in his mind; repeating itself over and over again so that the avatar could not forget--even if he could will it, which at this point he could not.

Thor shifted himself, gazing upon the man with a cold stare, one much darker than his original self could have ever produced. He'd betrayed a large code of conduct, as his opposite stated, against a law that redeemed such acts of criminalism with a single judgment; death. Relieved of one's crime by taking one's life in equivalence. Equivalent exchange, it seemed, at its best--or worst as far as the God was concerned. No matter...

As the would-be God of Thunder stared upon the point of his predator's choice of weapon, he could only see what decision he had to make--and with only rusted, metallic bars separating him from imminent death, the avatar chose his words wisely; for if one mistake, even in the slightest--it could be assumed his executioner would take no liberty in providing mercy upon those of the unjust. And Thor was most unjust...

"Consider myself prepared."

The time of reckoning truly had come, and Thor now realized that the storm outside painted the exact masterpiece the avatar would have prayed for to be officially claimed as his final moments; his final battle. The match to decide them all. And though Thor understood his demise was only moments away, he could only think of what style framing he'd desire for the artwork to be displayed within; specifically revealed to the World atop the mantle of all mantles.


Thor was ready to die.
If it came down to it.
Although, the God knew
one thing was true;
He would take this man
with him to his grave;
should it so be destined
Tonight.


Thor rose from his rusted throne, extending his arms from waist- to above head-level. The chains that bound him immediately coming into contact with the edge of his opposite; immediately shattering, dispelling the seal containing the avatar's regenerative abilities; among others. Thor stood, hands loosely dangling from his sides as his now-glistening ocean eyes stared into the pools of his predator. Much like the natural-- or unnatural --luster produced by the man's blade, Thor's eyes reflected an unknown glow from an unidentifiable light in the room. As if in unison with the connection of age-old chains and a sheer perfected edge, the weather outside reflected the mood between the two silent warriors.

The throes of war had written that words were now obsolete and no longer mattered. Both warriors were too in-depth in the battle to back out now. Thor was in for a hell of a night, whether he liked it or not; and at this point the avatar couldn't decide which way yet. Aside from the clap of thunder and the beating of rain atop the roof like a war drum, the only sounds the pair would hear were the calm, steady breathing of each other's nostrils and the clang of shattered chain links against the concrete floor.



* = Uniform is in reference to the man, and not his actual uniform.

[Empyreal]

Good, he is finally read to face inevitable fate. He spoke to himself, though daring not to let the thought linger. Lifeless prisms continued their gaze upon Thor's being, unwavering and precise. He lowered his sword, leveling the edge with the man's throat - a fair warning, a pretense as to how he would end the worthless criminals life; it would be epic, indeed.

There are people here, Seymour.
Criminals - they mean nothing.
Not all of them, my child.
Oh? Very well, I understand.

Trepidation illuminated with a foreign might, greedily swallowing the darkness that enveloped the decrepit prison. Ephemeral tendrils slowly erected from the glistening steel like wild-fire, licking the crisp night air before coagulating into a much thicker aura. And then within an instant, the displayed power flash-compacted upon the sword, etched as a intricate network of expertly placed designs.

Target: Thor, God of Thunder.
Threat: Minimal.
Order at Hand: Remove any and all possible casualties from battle area; the town of Last Chance.
Abilitie(s): Rune Magic -> Non-aggressive -> F -> Fear: Unleashing an invisible bolt of magical "shock" over a given radius, a sense of uncontrollable terror floods denizens of the area. In this situation, the technique is used to urge innocents to leave the town. Those that stay behind do so on their own accord.

"Now then," he whispered as he slowly motioned into stance. His right leg slowly slid back, parting chunks of rubble as it moved. Left side leading, with a flick of the wrist Trepidation's glory was tucked behind his figure. There was silence, though soon lost beneath another thunderous boom. It was the killing time.

Without warning, he spun his figure with a speed hardly mundane. In what would surly be viewed as a blur, his figure snapped to the side, reeling the end of his right boot into a chunk of ruin before him. It easily weighed over two hundred pounds, and soared toward Thor's chest with all haste. If he was a ordinary man, the force of the impact would surly kill him.

Seymour hadn't moved, but merely stayed in the position that was the aftermath of his kick; right leg extended and raised to about waist height, he watched to possibly get a glimpse of his opponents potential.

Don't disappoint me.

[headmaster.]

The section of the roof had been sent airborne, rocketing toward Thor's chest. Taking a single step backward, the avatar raised his right limb forward, sending fist against concrete. Instantaneously shattering into two large halves, the wall continued its path--merely detoured slightly. Immediately after punching the wall in half, Thor extending both arms backward, digits clenching the concrete tightly as he hurled them back at his predator; arms now crossed at the elbows. Dimly gleaming ocean hued chasms stared onward at this uniform of a man.

A silent groan permeated throughout his person as unused muscles had now become active, hot with use. It had been some time since the avatar used his body in this fashion, if he was not mindful he could overwork the body and destroy himself faster than he hoped. As the concrete segments flew, Thor knelt down--cupping a single hand around the shackles of his feet and ripping them from his ankles. More chainlinks clanged against the floor as he arose erect once again.

Thin-laced shoes slid apart, spreading shoulder-level along the ground. Thor had slipped into a more comfortably acute stance. It had been a while, true, but the throes of war had never left his mind. He was a son of warfare, it was like a boy learning to ride a bike--one could never truly forget such experiences. Digits tightened as hands now contorted to fists, muscles flexed, preparing his entirety for a physical confrontation. Thor's countenance grew stoic as he awaited the counter action to his action. Meanwhile, a faint, colorless aura pulsated around the avatar; he struggled to recall the memories of previous teachings...


Remember, you dolt... You were once bred solely for warfare. The pang of violence, physical confrontation, and death cannot be long lost in that labyrinth of a mind of yours.
Remember...
Remember...

[Empyreal]

Thor's mediocre display of power did nothing to hinder his executioner's stoic demeanor, and even less to pervert the determination to carry out his mission. While splitting the large chunk of debris with but a punch could have impressed the average man, such an opponent would simply narrow his visage as the two halves were tossed back toward him. The sheer speed and power of the counter-assault rivaled his own, daring to breach the man's nonchalant stance and defense. Thunder rolled over the rhythms of howling winds and merciless droplets of rain that pattered against his body, lighting cracked across the sky of the darkest pitch. It was the perfect scene for a such a battle, he could not have asked for a better one. The Karas would indeed act, in true fashion to the relentless power he represented, without hesitation or a moments loss.

I've watched them for so long, mother - since the day you left me.
The fill my eyes with beauty, flying away into the grasp of eternity.
These crimson butterflies... are they you? Are you trying to reach me?
Tell me, mother... is it you?

The rocks drew closer, yet time stood still within the man's zeroed zone. With but the flick of his wrist Trepidation's fatal edge rose from his side with its tip eying the ground, coming to meet the two halves as they merged. In that instance, the fraction of reality's time that all three edges would kiss one another in a waltz of surreal beauty, something magnificent happened. Pearl tendrils seethed from the blade's luminous edge, effortlessly rapturing the jagged surfaces of both rocks alike; spreading through the infrastructure and exterior like a preternatural wildfire, the oncoming figures were rendered into their most basic forms of composition. With a loud resonating boom, a fine breeze of dust harmlessly passed by and was lost within the stormy night. T'was but a fraction of the sword's awesome power, a tell-tale hint as to what was waiting for him.

Target: Thor, God of Thunder.
Threat: Minimal.
Order: Eliminate the target by any means necessary.
Abilitie(s): Permission to access level two abilities; granted.

Silently, ambient particles of energy were funneled into the open left palm. Narrows pools eased their deadly gaze upon the man before him, lips daring to curve upward in a makeshift grin. Leg muscles flexed as he powerfully pushed in retreat, sending his lithe figure soaring into the night sky. It was there Thor would see his beckon of light, a small realization as to what his opponent had concocted. Etched into the gloved hand was a symbol, intricate in design and tongue of the rune. Aquatic hues metamorphosing into a beautiful array of golds and reds, burning freely though doused in rain, he would soon let loose the apocalypse restrained only by the digits of his hand.

They're so beautiful...
Can they be real?
Their whispers taunt me to destroy this man.
May his soul rest in peace...

[headmaster.]

The two large segments of concrete had now been disposed of as harmless dust, filling the air until it was carried by the heavy wind. The dark blade shimmered with an unknown gleam; it obviously held unknown powers. Soon enough this prisoner would be exposed to its abilities, of this he was positive. Azure chasms shone true against the dark night, staring at his opposite as he gracefully retreated into the black sky. Out from the large expanse that once made up the prison building, Thor looked into the world he'd been shunned away from. Stepping out into the exposed rock where the lithe figure had once stood, Thor was doused in the rain.

It had been a long while since the man had felt the cool touch of water... Almost an eternity, he whispered to himself, feeling each and every droplet course his stature, and mat his hair to his head and even the clothes to his back. Thor raised his arms, staring up into the sky. It truly was too long...

Gathering himself, Thor gazed into the sky where the entity continued to glide gracefully, and a dim aura began to encompass his person. The feelings were beginning to come back to him; how to move, how to think, how to fight, but especially how to feel. Through cerulean eyes, the world was revealed to him by means of an extended sight. Each and every living creature held an innate aura surrounding it; from the trees to the man in the sky, to the planet he stood upon. There was an extensive amount of energy resonating from the planet.

It was all coming back to him, now... Slowly but surely he'd be returned to his true stature on this plane. The avatar revealed a toothly grin that hinted excitement. With tightly clenched fists, Thor tested his physical limitations. Bending his posture at the knee, his person was hurled into the night sky, and in a single bound had achieved unrivaled heights--except by the man here to take his life.

The cool, night breeze flapped through his loose prison garb, and other than the rain itself it felt quite good. Thor couldn't help but smile. The sound of thunder claps and the powers of storm echoed in his ears, permeating memories all through his body similar to goosebumps. Thor was having fun again. But, back to business. The aura from around Thor began to radiate a bit further than his person, going so far as to reveal itself to his opposer and those within the city of Last Chance.

"Tell me, entity, if I should so fall tonight-- at the hands of yourself --may I be so bold as to request the name of my maker?"

Thor continued to glide mid-air, half a mile away from the other man. For now, Thor would merely allow himself to grow accustomed to the methods of warfare that he was currently alien to.

[Empyreal]

His left palm seethed with the burning power he'd summoned forth just moments before, expanding several meters from each and every digit. The golden flame hissed violently as the countless droplets of rain succumbed to its raging fury, swallowing the darkness and its serenity without care. With his being entirely illuminated from the awesome source held within his hand, a grin crept along the thin line of his lips; eyes grew wide with anticipation, and his arm veered back. The flames crumbled, seeming to collapse upon themselves until compacting into a mere shadow of its former grandeur. Charcoal splotches had formed all about its nexus, yet its radiance hadn't been hindered in the least - it was as if he held the sun in the palm of his had, brightening the darkened sky with his beautiful creation.

Seymour's body tensed as he braced himself from the recoil of such a powerful assault, firmly pressing his feet into the fabrications of a support that wasn't there. Will held him stead-fast as his torso snapped, whipping his arm forward, sending the brightened sphere toward his target. Sparks of power permeated into the air while a thin tail of residual energies were all that was left in its wake. Homes and rubble were ripped into the air from the pure force of the assault, charred and broiled from the intensity of its heat. It moved at a speed surreal to the common eye, seeking its target's chest with all haste.

The Karas, as before, simply remained in the position of his throw. He would wait to see how this man would deal with his attack. The rune, though not burning as bright, could still be seen etched into the center of his glove.

[headmaster.]

Before the avatar, the ball of fiery energy began to enter its final stage hovering above the man's gloved hand. Ocean hues watched on, as released from Seymour's hand, the ball was sent hurling square for his chest. It appeared the man knew of attacking other's centers and delivering blows to this area of the body. Thor acknowledged, but paid no further attention to the simple note that the man failed to give his name, and decided to stay in the present; the now. As the ball rocketed for Thor, the avatar had no time to prepare a viable defense in order to steer away from harm, the best he could do was minimize the damage.

Bracing himself for impact, it occured, the sphere struck true on Thor's chest; however, Thor had curled inward, spreading the damage to the arms and partial torso. A giant explosion filled Thor's overall area, and out from the cloud of smoke in the rain-dominated sky, a figure was jettisoned. In no time at all, Thor had been mid-air and was now lodged in the planet's hide. A crater presented itself to the man here to slay the once God of Thunder, with his target emerging slowly from the rubble. Staggering to an erect stance, Thor gazed skyward. He's serious... He really is here to kill me.

The avatar brushed the larger debris off his person, and a single hand coursed over his torso; where the object of impact had been. Luckily for the avatar, his aura had provided worthy of shielding its owner from a majority of the damage. It didn't mean it hadn't hurt, the sting permeated even as the rain pattered against it. Moving to the base of the crevice, Thor awaited the man's next course of action...

[Empyreal]

The burning essence collided true with its target, bursting into a valiant display of fiery tendrils and explosions that permeated far and wide. And while the damage to Thor was nothing near fatal, the residual energies and countless tons of rubble that lay in abandonment upon the road could've very well been. A track of ruination was the wake of Seymour's assault, a gift he knew would be more than a waste should it be spoiled. With the mere adjustment of thought, his conscious mind was opened to the millions of channels that represented the incorporeal energies left in the aftermath of his assault. He gathered them, beckoning them to coagulate and meld into something far more beautiful.

His end is near, I promise.
He seems quite formidable,
maybe he's waiting.
Lets give him something to worry about.

Just as his opponent, Thor, would be standing and stroke the wound bruised upon his chest-- it came. The night stirred up once again as countless pounds of rubble were hurled forward, tossed into a maelstrom directed for the man's persona. Chunks of buildings, remnants of transportation and road all swirled in unison as they approached; it was then that the malicious energy was set ablaze, illuminating the darkness of the night with a fire greater than any inferno previous to its birth. Its devastating glory could be seen from miles away, its heat seemingly equal in greatness. At the epicenter of the swirling mass of heat and rubble, the Karas stood with a placid countenance; chasms narrowed as he awaited the next great escape.

We'll see how he handles this.
This should be quite interesting.
Wouldn't you agree, mother?
Mother...?

A stake had been driven into the heart of Last Chance, and Thor was on a linear path with its point.

What would he do?

Initiate: Inferno.

[Empyreal]

Death for the Thunder God seemed ineviitable, assumed by the awe-stricken look upon his countenance. It was in that fraction of time, split between the two entities, that the Karas had a revelation. His body tensed as his exerted his will through the burning maelstrom, thoroughly permeating his preternatural being upon the malicious energy. Racing thoughts brought with them surreal reactions, turning the entire storm that was the Inferno. The twisting edge spiraled out to the right, coursing through the city until smoldering itself beneath countless mounds of uprooted debris and terrain. A large trench of charred land, still alive with various burning horizons, was all that remained behind the attack.

Eyes narrowed as he viewed the man he once thought to be a threat, re-analyzing the current conditions.

Target: Thor, God of Thunder.
Attack Situation: Idle.
Threat Level: Constant Minimal.
Conclusion: Insufficient date was gathered to label this man a direct threat on a cosmic, planar, or even occult level. Removing all folder and files pertaining to this being; cleansing from the Omniversal Police Force database.

Seymour remained suspended within the raining night, looking down upon his former target; his left eye twitched with agitation - he could have been looking for Faustus, if only that damned program hadn't miscalculated. Nevertheless, it was good to see hadn't lost his touch. It had been quite a while since he'd participated in a bought of any sorts.

I suppose I was wrong, mother.
No matter, Seymour. We will try again.
Yes, yes-- we will try again.

Digits twirled the katana about his palm, bringing it about and sheathing it once more upon his left side. Eyes closed and his head tilted heaven-ward, as if bathing in an unseen radiance; but he could feel them. He felt the warmth of those crimson butterflies, those fluorescent spirits that followed him everywhere, smothering his visage with their incalculable numbers. And then within that instant, he was gone, simply vanishing into the darkness of the stormy night.