Torn smiled broadly when Moliira mentioned her children and her mate. “The more the merrier,” he said, before sampling a few cheeses. When Moliira wished him luck, Torn made a bow - not a formal one, but respectful nonetheless. “I thank you for your goodwill. I was half expecting you to be vaguely - or explicitly - threatening, considering my relationship with Keira. Toya and Blaine have both expressed some malevolent intent should something happen to her,” he said, casually. It didn’t seem to disturb him. “Not as scary now as before,” he added, with a chuckle.
Torn grinned broadly and headed for the door immediately when moliira told him to lead on. “Great!” he said, and simply headed straight for the arena. While they were walking, they passed a muse in a particularly elaborate toga - one of the Seven Judges. The muse was minding its own business, looking over a concert schedule, and Torn simply grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along. “Elovar, say hello to Moliira, the Storm Wolf.” The poor angel looked both slightly annoyed and terrified, and gave Moliira a respectful nod. “My lady. Brother Torn, I am scheduling concerts - may I resume my duties?” Torn looked at the angel, and shook his head with a completely deadpan expression. “We’re watching the next fight, and we need music. And since our guest is a triune, we’ll provide the best. That means you and the other judges,” he said, much to the muse’s dismay. “As you wish, big brother,” the muse replied - though with clear resignation and annoyance in his voice.
When the two gods stepped out onto the balcony, the previous fight had just ended. The Battlemistress, one of the most high-ranking valkyries in the realm, was preparing the arena for the next fight. As per her usual behaviour, she didn’t turn around, looking constantly at the arena floor. “Your audaciousness. My lady Moliira. The next fight will begin shortly. Please enjoy it,” she said, simply and flatly. Torn sat in his seat - which was clearly made for comfort, not authority - and grabbed a big cup filled with mead. Other refreshments were laid out, as well - this time, a lot more refined. Grapes, fruits, cakes, wines, ales - the selection was wide. Torn gestured at a seat next to his - Keira’s, by the looks of it.
After about a minute or so, the Battlemistress flew down to the centre of the arena, and announced the next fight. As promised, a unit of soldiers and a gathering of frost mages entered the ring. Suddenly, the arena floor morphed - the ground got covered in snow, and walls sprouted from the ground. They were not particularly restrictive, and some of them only chest-high, so it was clear they were there to provide cover. The Battlemistress, now back on the balcony, offered a brief explanation. “Snow to slow down the soldiers and give the advantage of time to the mages, walls to provide cover and flanking options to even the odds,” she said. Torn gave an approving nod. “Prudent,” he said, watching the fight unfold.
“These matches have three functions,” he said, as the mages erected walls and spike fields of ice to limit the movement of the soldiers. “It entertains the dreaming folk of Revaliir - the audience here are mostly sleeping people, visiting this temple in their dreams,” he explained. It went a long way to explain why it was called the Dream Arena. “Second, it’s to figure out who is worthy of becoming Merry Misfits, my militant followers, or get an audience with me,” he continued. It was plain that Torn didn’t want just anyone to be able to meet him in person - prayer and worship was one thing, his undivided attention quite another. Considering the number of fighters wishing to win, it was also clear that Torn simply didn’t have the time.
The soldiers took cover by some walls to avoid the spells of the cryomancers, and advanced somewhat slowly. Even so, with tense music in the background and the constant flurry of magic, each step taken by either side was visibly precarious - making it an interesting match. Torn decided to use this time to explain further. “Those who challenge this gauntlet for the first time need not fear death,” he said, “as they will be revived and returned to the gateway that led them here.” He pointed at one of the cryomancers. “That man, however, fell once before. I want people to come here and try, but I cannot have the weak consistently making fights less interesting,” he continued, “So if he falls here, he will not come back to life.” Torn seemed more amused than anything about the man’s persistence. “Of course, those with ability are typically collected and healed before they die,” he said. Several valkyries were standing on guard at the front of the stands - many of them watching this man.
The fight soon erupted after that. A handful of soldiers emerged from cover with their shields raised, and marched to outflank the mages. The others waited on the other side, believing the mages could not cross the field of frozen spikes they had created in the middle of the arena. However, when the flanking soldiers finally approached, one of them triggered a ward - unleashing a blast of cold that stunned the group, and they soon faced a withering fusillade of spells, claiming many of them. Flying spears of ice pierced their armour or knocked their shields out of their hands. As they fell, they faded out of existence, their bodies reconstructed in the physical world of Revaliir. This prompted a charge from the other side, a desperate attempt at getting the mages from both sides - but with a gesture, their spike field crumbled, and the other group triggered another ward. From there, the mages reconstructed the spike field, and trapped the soldiers in a much smaller space than they had before. A mere minute later, all the soldiers had fallen, with only two mages having taken mortal wounds.
“Well,” Torn said, as the crowd cheered for the victors. “That was fun.” He looked at Moliira, smiling. He had rather enjoyed the fight, but he felt an itch now - there was a potential challenge before him, and he would not let it slide so easily. “But what about we give this audience a proper show, hm?” He grinned broadly. “A battle between gods, perhaps?”
Torn's god rules:
i: Torn can make anyone feel an intense desire to overcome massive challenges, even where logic dictates it should be impossible. This also incurs a blessing to help them succeed.
ii: If Torn approves of - or praises - a piece of music, that song will evermore sound more appealing to mortal ears.
iii: Torn has the ability to summon any creature he has personally slain, to serve any purpose - or transform into one himself.
Voice Actor: Jon Cozart (Paint)
Theme Song: Masatoshi Ono - Departure!
I am KeeXeyn.