Two Bosses Enter: Lord Godfrey vs. Setesh

Azil wore an arrogant grin as she floated serenely in a sphere of crackling purple force - just one of the many amazing powers bestowed upon her by Deathwing. Tirion Fordring, his arms folded as well as one can fold his arms in plate mail, glared righteously down at the Twilight priestess levitating above the coliseum floor.

"Your opponent will arrive shortly. I am told he is undergoing final adjustments."

Azil raised a delicate eyebrow. She had anticipated having to face one of the many filthy trolls who littered this farcical tournament, but one did not generally have to adjust trolls. Perhaps this one had a bad back. Her head snapped around as she heard the great doors of the coliseum rumble open to a cheer from the gathered Crusaders, adventurers, famous personages, goblin cartel oddsmakers and itinerant gamblers. There was a faint whirring sound from the shadowed doorway, and two eyes flared. A voice - or at least the echo of one - spoke in eerily placid tones.

"Foe Reaper 5000 on-line. All systems nominal."

An assemblage of mechanisms roughly screwed together into humanoid shape clanked into the coliseum, and Azil spent a few long moments staring, then threw her head back and laughed.

"This is what you put before me, Fordring? First the murloc in his little cookpot and now THIS?" She sneered up at the High Crusader. "I'm beginning to think you do not respect my power."

"To the contrary, dark priestess - I think it is you who do not respect those you face." Tirion said, raising an armored fist high. "Champions - BEGIN!"

The robot spun around once, its gleaming claws extended. The glowing eyes lit with the fires of the strange forges of the Deepmines swept the coliseum and settled upon the priestess, still floating in her shimmering sphere of dark energy.

"Acquiring target."

Azil waited a moment, her hands at her side, curious as to what the contraption was capable of. An unusual mechanism, as little as she understood these things - it appeared to be based on the designs of the harvest reapers she remembered in Westfall from when she had been a little girl - but the ominous bladed claws and the fiery eyes and the grinding engines spoke of a device put to a whole new purpose. Well, it mattered not. The thing looked like it was still "acquiring" her, and she had grown bored. Some goblin tinker might have hammered a plowshare into a clanking sword with an annoying voice, but it looked like it could still be crushed with boulders. She raised her hands suddenly, causing the sphere of energy around her to brighten and crackle, and the coliseum rumbled.

"Let me show you what I respect, Fordring ..." she grinned malefically, and clenched her fists as the ground behind her cracked in magical agony and spat gouts of lava, drawing shouts of alarm from the crowd. "This world will be reborn - in FLAMES."

Three huge chunks of the earth, dripping with the seething lava that had boiled forth at her command, floated into the air majestically behind her. Azil smiled, wishing only that she could throw them into the crowd and bury this whole mockery under the earth, but the Crusader's magics prevented such fun. Instead, she simply clapped her hands, sending one of the rocks spiraling at the robot.

The Foe Reaper did not move, as it had no need to, its eyes gleam flickering as the shape of the boulder was detected. Clockwork spun in its barrel, calculating speed and mass and the terminus of impact. An optimal punchcard slid into the correct slot, and an engine whirred into life.

"Overdrive engine activated."

The robot's arms extended, claws gleaming as the upper body began to rotate, faster and faster, blurring into a vortex as its heavy legs cycled into a thumping sprint, rushing past the crashing boulder with barely an inch to spare. Azil's mocking laugh faded, and she raised an eyebrow. "Luck." She hurled another boulder, her fingers crackling with eldritch energies as she arced this one hard, pulling upon the energies of the earth. The robot continued spinning, in an erratic whirling dance, and somehow managed to avoid this shard of the earth as well, its claws grazing sparks off this boulder before it spun clear of the shattering impact. Sweat began to trickle down Azil's forehead, her mocking smile fading to a snarl of fury, as she bore her concentration down ferociously, refusing to be bested by a machine. The last dripping crumbling fist of earth launched in a sharp vicious arc as the robot's heavy overdrive spring finally began to wound down. Clockwork clicked and the Foe Reaper came to a dead stop suddenly, just a few feet from where the rock crashed to the earth in front of it. Azil gasped, her shield flickering as the magic she had expended in the attack caught up with her, and sank to the floor. Behind her, lava seethed and cooled into obsidian from where she had ripped the living earth free. Before her, the Foe Reaper swung its claws in a vicious arc, shattering the cracking boulder half-buried in the earth in front of it, and moved through with an eerie jittering mechanical grace.

"Target acquired."

The fiery eyes blazed, and Azil gasped, beginning to backpedal. Her slippered feet slid on the rough floor of the coliseum, and she could feel the heat of the lava she had called behind her, as hot as the breath of Deathwing. Sweat ran down her face freely as the robot moved forward, its claws gleaming.

"NO!" She cried, and brought her hands up, twisted into a grasp beseeching at the sky. Radiant violet energy, as dark as the night, seeped through the earth at the robot's feet. Foe Reaper 5000 did not look down. Robots can't look down. It did, however, stop in its tracks, caught by the gravitic pull of the earth magic. Azil panted, making sure the robot was snared, and then laughed. "Here is what I think of your toy, Fordring!" She cried out, defiance and arrogance returning to her voice as the Foe Reaper spun, its claws sparking and screws beginning to loosen as its local gravity increased a hundredfold, the groan of metal accompanying its slowing turns.

"Master, a sacrifice for you!" She cried, exalted with the dark fury of Deathwing as she thrust her fist out, catching the robot in a fist of that same dark energy. The iron grip of gravity itself wrapped around the Foe Reaper, lifting it up. Screws and bolts popped free and it sparked, the iron oak barrel of its body giving a groaning crunch as it started to stave inwards. One of its fiery eyes flickered. Under the groaning collapse of its heavy chassis and the mocking laughter of the priestess was the sound of soft frantically ticking gears. A gauge spun and a dial inside sprung free. Certain latches were released, and a chemical held in reserve rushed into the engine at the heart of the Foe Reaper. Its eyes blazed a searing crimson, though its voice did not change.

"Safety restrictions offline. Catastrophic system failure imminent."

"It's more than imminent, you clinking, clanking, clattering collection of collagenous junk!" Azil screamed, bearing her will down upon the grip of gravity's force.

The red eyes flashed in binary patterns.

"Cyclonic counterforce calculated."

The robot began to spin, its metals groaning and wood splintering, sparks flying as its overclocked engine forced itself to rotate, claws extending and slashing at the tendrils of violet energy as it spun faster and faster, Azil grinding her teeth as she struggled to hold on.

"You cannot resist he power ... given to me ... by DEATHWING!"

The robot's spinning hit a peak speed that dropped it free of Azil's manipulation of gravity. The heavy feet landed, and Azil's pool of dark energy dissipated as she gasped for breath, sinking to her knees.

"No ..." she moaned, clasping her throbbing head and peering at the steaming, sparking robot, springs boinging with comical sounds inside its battered frame.

"Harvesting servos engaged," Foe Reaper 5000 replied with its traditional wit and verve.

There was a rush of springs and a tortured groan of metal pushed to its limits. Heavy curving claws whirled in a blur and there was a last lingering scream from Azil that faded into some very wet sounds that weren't at all like the threshing of Westfall wheat.

"Target destroyed. Foe Reaper 5000 - shutting down."

Terminal gears clanked into place, and the arms sank, the harvester settling onto its great steaming joints with a hiss of released pressure, until the only sound in the Coliseum was the soft scarlet drip from its quiet claws.