Sirius' trek through the tundra was slow among other things. He had been forced to don his stoneskin attire while he waded through the ever thickening snow, still carrying Darien's body on his shoulder. Fortunately, the application of the thick, unfeeling dermis had dulled his feelings of cold, and enhanced his ability to ignore the worst of the elements. Sirius had been walking for quite a while now, the whole time forcing himself to deal with the issues of life and death. His sense of pressure registered that he had come within visual distance of what he assumed to be the tournament HQ. The mass registered about the same as he had recorded earlier. As he waded through a snow drift that was up to his waist, Sirius looked around.

"Odd, it wasn't snowing at the HQ when i left." Sirius stared harder into the cascading sheet of white.
"Oh Fucking Hell...."

The mass of weight Sirius had registered was none other then a medium sized glacier. The mass of ice rested firmly in his path and signaled him that his internal debate had taken precedence over his sense of direction.

"For crying out loud, where the hell am I. Why isn't there an easy way to go back to the lobby?"

Sirius looked around for some type of sign, but the snow had turned into a blizzard, and visibility was almost zero.

"Where are those tournament employees when you need them....."
"BZzzzzztt" First the sound of something electrical registered to Sirius' ears
"Kreeeee" Second the sound of a creaky door could be heard
"Mr. Leonine? do you need something?" A voice sounded from behind Sirius, and Sirius turned astonished to see the balding man who had originally escorted him to the lobby staring at him through a sort of door in space.
"Get me the heck off this frozen wasteland!"
"Where would you like to go sir? A jungle? An Island? I hear moncatoon beach is lovely this time of year! Wow sir, it's really cold where you're at!"

Sirius glared at the man. He was getting angry, and the overbearing attendant was beginning to annoy him.
"Just get me to where i'm supposed to go after my match is over."
"Oh to Azir then! Okay one moment."

The door shifted and Sirius from his blizzard blasted tundra was treated to a new sight. The sight of the awaiting Azir and the mild temperatures of wherever the HQ was held at.

"I guess i just walk through this door thing then." With that, Sirius walked through the doorway, and he finally left the tundra behind. The doorway closed with a click as he finished walking though.

Sirius walked right up to Azir, still carrying Darien's body and placed it gently on the ground beside the undead shade/zombie/ghost whatever.

"Sirius leonine, winner of his round two match." Sirius rattled off the words almost joylessly, eying the man on the floor. Looking up at Azir, Sirius made his request. He had seen the powers over life this man commanded, and wanted nothing more then to see Darien revived, if only to quell his raging guilt.

"This man has died honorably in combat, I humbly request you restore his life to him." Sirius locked eyes with Azir. This would be a defining moment for Sirius' beliefs. If Azir really did control life and death, perhaps there really was no reason to fear death. Perhaps it was only a temporary demise before a being of higher capabilities deemed one worthy of life once again.

Magnus stared out at the vast landscape in awe. Unfathomable amounts of metal of all different kinds coated the ground for as far as the eye could see; a literal ocean of steel for him to work with. He had been directed by Azir to create a structure of legendary proportions. But was he up for such a monumentally arduous task? The former comrade had been kind enough to restore his energy and life force to full and then some, but the task given to him was the kind of ideas you heard in lore of gods. Still, the Magnian had already performed several god-like feats. The destruction of his entire race in a day and a half. The slaying of a so called "immortal" demon whom even Azir in his previous incarnation could not topple. This next job would require him to enter the form even he feared to use, and to rely on it completely.

Closing his eyes, the man inhaled deeply, locating his spiritual center and relaxing his body. With an equivalently lengthy exhalation, he began to raise his body temperature at an alarming rate. One thousand degrees. Two. The pain already seared his entire body inside and out, but in his current mental state, it was almost completely surreal, as if he were in a dream. Three. The metal beneath his feet began to glow and melt, some of it even appeared to vaporize as the Magnian's body temperature continued to soar. His body almost appeared to melt into volcanic lava, giving off a white glow. The air panicked, rippling and fleeing the area to the best of its ability, causing more particles to take their place and perform the same course of action. Four. With a brilliant flash of light and a small release of force that dented the steel below him, the transformation was complete. Silently staring outwards towards the sky, Magnus selected a point where the object would be located.

"Planetary Devastation"

The metallic floor quivered in fear as a plethora of spheres bubbled from the surface, rising into the air. Miles upon miles of the terrain was being collected this way, traveling upwards towards a single point in the sky. Magnus clenched his teeth, concentrating his focus into a perfect form of raging effort. Never had he experienced pain such as this; every other experience in his life paled in comparison to this godly undertaking. The bubbling metal quickened its pace rapidly, until it appeared to be boiling. The location of the collective sphere was now painfully evident; it had already reached half a mile in size, and continued to expand at an increasing rate. Gritted teeth and clenched fists could not express the unfathomable effort being slaved into this structure. Rivulets of crimson steam vaporized from Magnus's body, floating towards the singularity some would mistake as the moon at this point.

Now one and a half miles in diameter, the ocean of metal had been completely removed for as far as the eye could see, leaving the soil under it exposed. It too rose, although more slowly than the metal; each piece removed from the planet was the size of a small city. Breaking up into infinite fragments, the stone material started to coat the metallic sphere evenly. The Magnian roared in fury as his very life essence began to drain, the streams of red increasing in size. Thankfully, the structure was now complete; two miles of earth and steel had congregated to form a sphere which would eclipse the sun for massive distances around where he stood. Ten miles of the planet's surface depth had been removed at the chosen site, eight of which had been pure metal.

However, his work was not yet done. Raising his arms into the air and issuing a final war cry, the sphere slowly rose from its already heaven-bound perch to a lofty seven thousand feet above ground level before coming to a final rest. The sphere could now be seen in it's complete form from the lobby, which was located almost a fifth of the way around the planet. For a moment, the Magnian stalled, but he soon collapsed, immediately releasing nearly all of his bodily energy, and returning to his previous, solid form. His entire body was covered in hardened blood; his life hanging by mere threads. But he had completed the objective.

He had created the stage at which the final two contestants would fight.

"Sirius leonine, winner of his round two match."

Azir turned to face the man, having only just recognized him. He had been paying more urgent attention to Magnus, who had begun the process of forming the final stage. The fighter was to be kept alive, and in order to do that, Azir needed other obstacles out of the way, and fast.

"This man has died honorably in combat, I humbly request you restore his life to him." Sirius pleaded.

With a hasty "Yeah sure", Azir formed several souls into his body into life force, and merged it with the crackling dark energy which formed in his hand to revive the fallen man. In approximately the same method as before, life would return to the man just as it had to Taretha. Sirius would most likely have a few thoughts to dwell on, but Azir did not possess the luxury of time at the moment. He could feel Magnus's energy signature fading at an alarming rate.

"If you'll excuse me," Azir muttered before rippling the space around him, employing his limited dimensional manipulation and dark energy control to warp himself to Magnus's location. By the time he arrived, the two sights that greeted him were the completed sphere, and a blood-caked body. Wasting no time, he enveloped the man in soothing dark energy, healing the opened wounds and granting the man additional energy. From a practical standpoint, it would not be wise to restore his functions to full, but enough energy would be granted so that the man could safely return to the lobby. The regenerative machines would finish the job.

As he left the scene, in a shocking realization, Shade suddenly informed his host of how he had recognized the earthen contestant whom had made it to the finals. And after a moment, a decision had been made and a vow silently etched into the collective minds of Azade.

"Sounds like we have a favor to repay, and another soul to harvest." Azir responded with a dark grimace on his face.

It was a sorry state of affairs when you had to carry your mount back from a battle. Shai had been under the impression that it was meant to be the other way around.

Whatever that dagger had done to Syl, by the time the booming voice announcing the battle's finish and her victory had reached the field, he had been in a sorry state. He'd barely managed to land without killing himself. So now Shai trudged up to the hotel on foot, looking decidedly worse for wear after the long walk back. All of her remaining energy was going into the cushion of air that carried Syl.

Pushing the doors open, Shai walked inside with a grimace. The lobby was sparkling, and Shai just knew she was leaving muddy footprints as she walked. And a bad smell. Walking really, really ... sucked. Why did anyone do it? Because they couldn't fly. And that, too, sucked.

Shai waved aside the hotel staff as she walked, ignoring the wary looks they gave the limp mount she squeezed entirely ungracefully through the double doors behind her, and made her way directly to the rejuvenation chambers.

It was a good thing they were big enough for large bird dinosaur things, or Shai would not have been pleased. Even more not pleased than she already was.

Dumping Syl in the chamber next to hers, Shai settled down with a sigh, and let the rejuvenating energies wash over her. Her energy was restored, and her wounds and fatigue lifted. One of these would be great to keep at home, though there were probably some side effects of overuse. There always were.

A squawking from behind the wall to her right made it clear that Syl was doing well. He would probably get claustrophobic soon, and -- CRASH -- there it was.

Once fully restored, Shai stepped out of her chamber, and flicked the switch to open Syl's door. She quickly sidestepped, to avoid being razored by a flailing of talons and feathers. It took a good five minutes of calming whispers to quell the mount's panic and get him out of the hotel to somewhere he could nurse his pride.

Shai herself returned to her room for yet another change of clothes and a shower. At least she wasn't all that muddy this time.

She wondered, idly, if it might be an idea to investigate who her opponent was. But there were priorities to deal with.

If you'll excuse me...

Azir faded into nothingness, leaving Sirius and the newly recovering Darien.

So it was true, Death was not an end to one's existence, merely a temporary stoppage in it. There were beings that possessed the power over the soul and the body. Sirius began walking to his room, his brain already turning the wheels of his thought process. He had left the newly revived Darien alone to recover. Normally Sirius would extend his arm to the man, tell him good fight and offer a joke to ease the tension. Now, however was not one of those times.

Inside his head his mind was racing.
Then that means the only reason people cease to exist is because they lack the attention of a being with such power, they fade away because they are not recognized as being worthy enough of such a generous gift. Sirus pondered for a moment as he absentmindedly reached for his keycard and entered his room, heading towards the rejuvenation chamber. What then can I do to show I am worthy of such a generous gift? How do I get famous enough to get noticed by these beings?

As Sirius climbed into the chamber and closed the lid, the rejuvenating waves washing over his body, several thoughts entered his mind.

Power..
Money..
Reputation...
Skill...
Talent...
It depends on the person granting the gift...

.....Power.... Reputation.....

As the chamber opened, Sirius exited with a renewed purpose. One that would make those who had the powers over life and death to sit up and take notice. Sirius would gain his fame through his power and his reputation. The two traits he had but had never considered were important to the outside world would be his tickets to fame and eventually recognition.

The final match of the Grassroots tournament was just the place to start.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Soon enough, a voice sounded in Sirius' room, as well as elsewhere throughout the great building.

"Will the finalists of the Grassroots Tournament Shai Sunamon and Sirius Leonine please report to the lobby for transport to the championship match. Also, will Darien Blackdagger and Arendus Sagi also report to the lobby for transport for their third place match.

Taking a few moments to ready his battle gear, Sirius exited his room, and approached the grand staircase that led to the lobby. What he saw as he came to the top of the stairs and began to descend amazed even him. The lobby soon burst out into applause as the staff who were now decked out in their finest gear cheered for the fighter as he descended the stairs. Perhaps he had already begun to establish what he had only recently decided on pursuing. The crowd showered the finalist in applause, as they would no doubt show for the other fighters, but the feeling of being respected and looked up to was one that brought Sirius much joy.

Soon enough he approached his place to be transferred to the battle site. He had been told through the loud cheers that the four fighters would all be transported to their fights together unless the fighters decided on different arrangements.

Sirius took up his place in the center of the GR staff and awaited Shai. If she did decide to come, Sirius would remove his right gauntlet and extend his arm for a handshake.

"I know not how our battle will end, but I am honored to share the championship battle with you, may the warrior with the most skill be crowned the victor."

With that, Sirius would replace his gauntlet and await transport.

The championship battle was about to take place.

"Will the finalists of the Grassroots Tournament Shai Sunamon and Sirius Leonine please report to the lobby for transport to the championship match. Also, will Darien Blackdagger and Arendus Sagi also report to the lobby for transport for their third place match."

"Shai'zur, Nai, and may your winds carry me to victory, glory to your name."

It was with a slow but purposeful grace that Shai rose from the cushion before her shrine, her robes brushing against the floor of her chamber lightly. The priestess was prepared for her battle. She stepped away, and as she did so, passed before the mirror of her chamber. Her eyes fell upon her form reflected back at her - her hair tightly tied up to prevent it affecting her skill in battle; her robes tied for similar reason. With one hand she took her polearm from the rack to the side of the room, turning the gilded weapon over in her grip before clenching her fist around it.

It was time. The march to battle. The warhorns had sounded, and the Na'vin must take her place.

Na'vin are warriors first.

Above all else, Shai was a warrior. She revered her Goddess, and led her ceremonies as a priestess should, but above all she was Nai's warrior. Her blade would strike down all who opposed her, until the day that Nai chose to release her, and welcome her into her arms.

"The day you die is no failure, Shai. Remember that. If you die, it is a sign that you have fulfilled all that Nai desires of you. You have completed your tasks upon this earth, and earned the right to sit around the fire with the Gods. You are ready now. Today, you ride with me to battle. We will see what Nai's chosen can do."

In that first battle, flying alongside Kael, Shai had experienced the feeling of blood on the end of her spear. Life severed by her blade; by her lightning. It was enervating, and horrifying, all at once. Victory was a drug, her mentor had once told her. Only in defeat are we sober enough to see our failings, and act accordingly.

She missed Kael dearly. As the priestess exited her room, she murmured a brief prayer for the man, that he might watch over her today. The sound of cheering and applause reached her ears long before she reached the stairs. It was a familiar backdrop - victory parades, battle lines, all were adorned by spectators, families, civilians cheering their heroes to war. Their champions, the Na'vin - their idols. There were none more respected save the leaders of the tribes, and that was a heavy burden to bear.

"Life is all about burdens. You carry yours, you carry those of those close to you, you share the weights between you. The Na'vin carry the burdens of an entire clan, but remember, the clan is there to share the weight with you. You cannot triumph alone. Your people are your strength."

And where were her people now? At home, far, far away. So far away that Shai couldn't begin to comprehend it. But Nai was with her -- and through Nai, her people. The Goddess linked them all.

Shai sometimes wondered at the truth in that. She felt alone, here, so far from home. But Nai was with her, even if her people were not. Nai was always there.

As she descended the stairs, Shai held her head high. The light shone onto her, reflected off of the gold designs on her robes and in her hair. She paused for a moment at the top to look down as the cheering crescendoed, before gliding down into the main lobby. The priestess did not care for her own glory, her own repute -- only for that of her Goddess -- and so it was with a stoic expression that she greeted Sirius.

"The honour is mine." she said, her voice quiet under the roar of the crowd. "May the blessings of Nai be upon both of us. May her winds carry the victor onto glory, and cradle the loser in her embrace." Shai took the man's hand and clasped it, nodding her head.

Soon all would be decided, for better or for worse.

"Shai'zur, Nai... Carry me home." she whispered.

Darien thought he saw his matron Korosatharis for a moment, and was bracing to receive the masterfully crafted punishment he was anticipating for being so soundly beaten, when suddenly he saw the familiar lights and sounds of the tournament lobby.

"Ugh...what happened? I'm sore everywhere, and my back is killing me." He was then quickly informed that he was indeed well and truly killed, only to be revived for a consolation match with the loser of the other semifinal for third place...some Arendus Sagi dude. The loss had taught the assassin well: He couldn't do anything to predict the layout of the arena, but what he could do was watch footage of his previous matches to get an idea of how to get the man out of his element where he would be more error-prone, and therefore more vulnerable.

He could still barely move due to the lingering effects of his own poisons, but he still had one vial of will worker's woe left from the spectacular fall in the artificial land slide Sirius had triggered. It was all he could do to crawl to his own room, something the tournament organizer probably did on purpose to save his own strength. He didn't have the energy to blame him, but even if he did, he wouldn't. There was an inherent selfishness among those with such power over life and death, something he could identify with.

"Shadow manipulation, eh? This is going to be as tough as I thought it would be," he murmured to himself watching the replays of the fights of the guy he was about to face. Darkness was his constant companion, and the thought of it being turned against him was not at all pleasant. Still, as long as he struck the right balance between staying on his game and making sure the opponent wasn't on his, he would be fine. Miraculously, his weapons were still intact, and for this, he could only thank his infernal mother for giving him a chance to go out with a win. He couldn't help but think that he was going to literally catch hell after this fight, however.

Well, there was nothing for it. The regeneration machine had done all it could for his body, but his mind was still in a fog from his recent revivification. Regardless, it was time to end this farce. Stepping into the teleporter for the last time, he took a deep breath, and let fate have its way with him once more.

With a flash of black light, both Sirius and the deceased Shai disappeared from their battle locale, only to arrive at the grounds near the lobby. The violet skies set a stunning backdrop for the false celestial sphere, which in it's grand departure resembled a piece of paper being crumpled and torn out of a notebook, with a much louder, harsher cacophony of collapsing noises. As the massive stage met its end in the rift which Azir had apparently opened (his right arm and focus seemed intently fixated on the distant landmark), the two combatants merely rested, motionless, on the cold loam.

Turning his gaze upon the victor, Azir spoke softly as his familiar aura surrounded them both, healing the injured geomancer. "Congratulations on your victory, Sirius Leonine. Your skill in battle is most impressive, and through victory, you are to be crowned the new Grassroots champion. You will collect your reward at the awards ceremony tomorrow, and depart along with the rest of the combatants."

As he was about to continue his current course of action and revive the runner up, Azir noticed Shai's wounds slowly closing; a detail that he would take important notice of. The wind warrior would soon awaken, dead for certain but in tip-top shape. With a short application of dark energy, and a quick dimensional blink which would likely go unnoticed by both fighters, Azir effectively cheated death, restoring the woman's life without the sacrifice of others. Lowering his arm, he merely stared at her, waiting a few seconds before assuaging the reoriented champion's surefire concerns. "She will be fine; there is no need for me to restore her beyond what I have already done. However, you both should continue to rest up and regain your full strength on your own."

With his current job finished, the assassin appeared to melt into the ground, resurfacing in the middle of the lobby. He would soon make preparations for the awards ceremony.

"The girl appeared here, of all places. I thought this realm was inactive."

Azir's brow furrowed slightly as his eyes closed gently, his head tilting downward in a moment of silence.

"That's enough, Shade. Stop talking."

Darien walked back into the lobby, dissatisfied that his opponent wasn't as fun as he expected him to be, but still with a smile on his face that he had managed to capture third place. The one regret he had was that the Point of No Return still yearned for the blood of a worthy opponent this entire time.

No...no, that was the blood of his mortal half talking. Assassinations were all about picking unfair fights that were over in the same heartbeat stolen from the loser. While there was little he could do about it at this point, he could at least be handsomely rewarded for how far he had managed to come despite his inherent lack of mastery over his infernal blood, as thick as it ran in his veins.

As soon as he got back, he would eschew traditional training, and instead reflect on the ways of Korosatharis, and how he might be able to embrace his heritage instead of fighting it in order to become more skillful. More in tune with himself. More...perfect. However, now was not the time to dwell on such things. He would have his moment of glory on this plane, to be sure, but one thing remained clear: He was nowhere near the level his seniors in the order expected him to be when he was selected to participate. He would surely be a disappointment in their eyes, but there was still time in this mortal coil to set things right. Still time to atone for his failures and shortcomings. He feared the wrath of his mother when his time did come, and rightly so, and the only thing he could do about it was to try to forestall its arrival as much as possible. That seemed to be a worthy goal.