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RE: =EC 2015= Twilight Arena

 
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8/26/2015 23:04:23   
  Starflame13
Moderator


Blossom’s hooves thundered beneath Elysia as they raced closer and closer to the gauntleted man. Her ally’s bolt of magic had struck one of the metallic gloves, and the figure half-curled up for a moment around the hand as he rolled to avoid further injury. She loosened and tightened her grip around the shaft of the glaive, keeping the point centered toward her target's chest. Shadows cascaded across her, sliding smoothly over the opponent as it was chased by light.

As the light caught the glint across his hands and arms, so too did it catch the globe of metal the feline was easily twirling about it on a long chain. Elysia hadn’t noticed how the cat had closed the distance between itself and her other opponent, though the creature had still approached from a side rather than from directly in front. It seemed more of a walling maneuver than anything; Elysia now only had one direction where it was safe to turn Blossom, and which would take her closer to the strange fight going on at the other side of the arena. She had no time to examine that now, for just as she turned to face her intended victim square on, he dove. Forward. Under the charging war horse’s hooves.

Unless trained to be a true knight’s great mount, no horse or pony will intentionally stomp on some short, squishy human that suddenly appears beneath them. True to his instinct, Blossom panicked and reared onto his hind legs, dancing backwards several paces. Elysia grabbed the saddlehorn in one hand and the reins in the other as his first dagger swipe caught the metal curve of her glaive in motion, sending the side of the wooden shaft hard into her stomach. She sincerely hoped her ally was holding on somehow. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, blocking out all feeling but the saddle gripped tightly between her knees and all sound but the roaring of blood in her ears.

Elysia yanked the reins to the left, hard, away from the metal chain snapping inches from her right knee and further away from the gauntleted figure, now rolling underneath her horse. Blossom landed on his front feet, and kicked out with his hind legs. With luck, one of his hooves would connect with the figure and send him flying. If not, it might at least keep his barrel and rear legs out of range of his deadly hands.

The hind hooves landed, and promptly left the ground again as Blossom sprung into a gallop, away from their fight and directly between the two other fighters in the arena. Elysia frowned as they sped over the blood-spattered wooden blanks. Was the horse favoring one of his rear legs? She slowed him as soon as she dared, as far away from her opponents as possible on the arena. Trembling, she finally took the breath, preparing to glance back to see what had become of her ally, and what had become of her horse.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 26
8/27/2015 5:11:33   
nield
Creative!


As Garreth looked up, he noticed that the horse had continued moving, which meant he had not been successful in cutting its leg off, though the small smattering of crimson on his gauntlet when he looked at it let him know that he HAD, at least done some damage. He began to stand up and look over at where the horse had gone over to the other competitors in the arena, but was unprepared for the sharp pain that shot through his body, and fell down as his right leg buckled under him.

Wincing in pain, Garreth looked down, at the back of his thigh, where a nasty welt was beginning to swell up and blood trickled down his leg. Unfortunately, it seemed as he had sprung out from beneath the horse it had scored a glancing blow when it kicked its legs. Garreth stood up again, more gingerly this time and found that so long as he did not place all of what weight he had on the leg, he would be able to move, though certainly not as quickly as before. Garreth cut the right leg of his pants clean off just above the wound, which was near the centre of his thigh, and then cut that length a few times and made a simple cloth splint to reduce blood flow.

Garreth then looked over at the feline competitor. They had been working as allies, but never at any point had they verbalised any such thing, instead, had simply both been working to take down the same foe, but not really working TOGETHER. Garreth knew that if she wanted to kill him, in his current state, dodging her attacks would be very hard for him. But Garreth had to hope that they could continue to work together, even if their foe had wandered into the fighting of the other competitors. "My name is Garreth" he called out to the feline woman. "Are we friends, or are we now foes?"
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 27
8/27/2015 11:10:59   
Starstruck
Member

Moriar clung for dear life to whatever was in reach. He was not made to be prancing about on the back of some clippy-cloppy beast. The ground had never seemed so enticing, but to fall while the creature was in motion would end badly, particularly with an opponent directly underneath. So, he scrambled at the saddle, the rider, the mane of the charger, ANYTHING to keep from being tossed off the back of the horse and fall under its crushing hooves. And as the horse's front fell back crashing onto the planks, Moriar sent a silent prayer to the Lord of the Unseen; he felt the horse's strong hindquarters bunch up and lash out with incredible force, and a sharp hiss of pain as the hoof connected with the poor fool who had made the heroic leap under the stallion's belly to arrive at the worst possible position anyone can be in around a horse. Quick though he may be, there was no dodging a kick from a horse, as Moriar knew well.

The rider twisted in her seat to look at him, and he smiled wanly to show he was unharmed, though his pale face belied his smooth assurances. Arranging his cloak, he settled higher on the seat and gathered his wits.

"My name is Moriar Thornewood. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am." As the paleness fade and his pulse slowed, he gave her a devilish grin, white teeth flashing in the sudden gloom that had overtaken them. "I'll be alright. Things got a little fast and confusing for me, but it'll be fine. Now. If you'll excuse me..."

He drew the silver dagger from the pommel, drawing the blade across his hand. With a sudden motion, he threw his hand out, drops of blood flying to a location a few feet before him and glowing slightly in the darkness with obvious magic. He repeated this action with his other hand, scattering the droplets towards the man with the enormous hammer, then placed a gentle palm on Blossom's rump and made a small incision. The horse gave a nicker of displeasure, but relaxed, as the pain was little more than a pinch. Drawing out the blood from the scratch, Moriar tossed it to the center of the arena then crumpled slightly, spent from the exertion. Though his words were little more than a whisper, they echoed out through the arena with great force. As the incantation reached the end, hushed echoes suffused the words, giving them an ethereal quality. Exhausted from such a sacrifice of his own flesh, Moriar could not focus well on what was happening around him.

"Aequam memento rebus in arduis
servare mentem, non secus in bonis
ab insolenti temperatam
laetitia, moriture Delli,"

"Quo pinus ingens albaque populus
umbram hospitalem consociare amant
ramis? Quid obliquo laborat
lympha fugax trepidare rivo?"

"Huc vina et unguenta et nimium brevis
flores amoenae ferre iube rosae,
dum res et aetas et Sororum
fila trium patiuntur atra."

"omnes eodem cogimur, omnium
versatur urna serius ocius
sors exitura et nos in aeternum
exilium impositura cumbae."


As the professor spoke, the spattered droplets coalesced and shaped themselves into a curious but familiar symbol; a circle with a star inscribed on it, split down the middle and with stylized writing around the edges. As the incantation drew to its close, the blood hardened and dried, becoming difficult to see in the shifting patterns of light and dark.
DF MQ  Post #: 28
8/27/2015 22:36:43   
Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer


The meteor hammer descended. She was committed to the strike, there was no recalling it now, and all she could do was watch it unfold and see what results it met. In the end, Micha’s eyes widened in surprise, though by now she supposed that she should not expect any of this to go the way she thought it would. All of the entrants were from different places, far-flung lands of separate origin. It was probably foolish to expect them to fight in styles that she was used to seeing.

Still, the Enkeli admired the little man’s nerve as he flung himself under the lightning caller’s horse. It was a maneuver she might have attempted herself, though from the side rather than straight ahead. Charging the beast head-on seemed a good way to be stomped to a pulp. And that was part of what surprised Micha, for her ally emerged, mostly, unharmed from his daring gambit. The woman’s steed reared, hooves milling, rather than pistoning down on the man invading its space. Most warhorses would have stomped, or perhaps even bitten. The Kissa had seen that once. Horses might be herbivores, but those flat, grinding teeth were dangerous. Her own strike was thrown off because of the beast’s actions, though for a moment Micha hoped that the hammer might contact her opponent’s knee in a blow that would be just as crippling to human as equine. That was not to be, however, and the metal orb slammed into the poplar planks with a heavy dull thud.

Her energetic opponent, as the Enkeli had previously observed, was an adept rider. She managed to move with her mount, gripping onto the horn of the saddle with her hands and the barrel of the beast with her legs. Skillfully guiding the horse back down to all fours before leaping away, she blazed a path between the other two fighters in the Arena. Unknown to any but Micha, the horse bulled straight through the lingering shade of the hooded man, momentarily scattering his ephemeral form. The star-cloak was far less graceful in the saddle than his ally, flailing in a manner that might almost have been comic in other situations as he grappled for a hold to maintain his place atop the lightning caller’s steed.

Micha reeled in the chain with a swift and practiced hand-over-hand motion, leaving the weapon coiled once again. She considered returning it to her belt and drawing her sling, but left the links dangling from her left hand, ready in case the weapon should prove necessary. Across the Arena she detected the flash of light off a blade, and then saw the faint threads of the star-cloak’s magic coalescing. The Enkeli frowned as the dark mage cast his hand out, her nostrils flaring slightly as she caught the scent.

Blood? Why is he throwing blood on the ground? She turned slightly, positioning herself so that she could keep one eye on the quartet of fighters at the other end of the Arena while also leaving herself angled to keep the other on her “ally” as well. Whatever the star-cloak was doing could wait, even though his breathy chanting somehow carried across the Arena to set her fur on end and her tail to lashing in agitation.

It could wait; the star-cloak’s blood was not the only blood she could smell. Micha could scent the corpse of the dead man, but stronger and closer was the smell of the gauntlet-bearer’s blood. The Kissa inspected him for a moment, the two trading considering glances.

Micha wondered idly why he wore his hair so that it covered half his face, but banished the thought as he spoke. The Enkeli gave no outward sign of reaction to Garreth’s introduction or his question. His leg was wounded, crudely bound by the remnants of the pant leg that had once covered it. Micha’s golden eyes flickered from the damaged limb to the man’s visage, thoughts whirling as her nostrils flared once more. The hunter in her recognized the pain faintly coloring the words, recognized the weakness brought on by the wound. The hunter in her recognized prey.

She could kill him; he knew it as well as she did. From what she had seen, it would not be easy, but she knew that she could do it. The Kissa pushed that desire down, suppressing the instinct to pounce on wounded prey. She was more than that; her people were more than that. Logic separated man from beast, and Micha’s reason was telling her that killing Garreth was not a winning play. She could do it, but that did not mean that it would be easy, and any extended battle would leave her vulnerable to the lightning caller and the star-cloak. Taking on the mages’ alliance by herself was not a winning play either. That would just leave her like that spirit across the Arena, lingering decrepitly over her own cooling corpse.

So she couldn’t kill him, at least not now, and while Micha had to admit to herself that she had taken a liking to the daring little fellow, she knew enough about the tournament to understand that any alliance was, at best, a temporary thing. Only one head could wear the Crown, except in the most unusual of circumstances. The Kissa waited a beat longer, and then inclined her head in Garreth’s direction, her voice pitched just enough so he could hear her. “Micha Wiedii. We are not foes, at this time,” she said, her voice containing a hint of reluctance, “but neither are we friends. Allies, perhaps, if it seems good to you.” She hoped that Garreth could accept the pragmatism of her answer; there was simply no other outcome she could see. Soon or late, they would have to fight one another, unless either or both were killed first.

The Enkeli shifted the dart-end of the chain into her right hand, letting a bit of the chain’s length play out as she turned her attention back towards the other end of the Arena. On the subject of those who were trying to kill them, there was the dark mage’s spell to consider. Keen eyes sought out where the blood had spattered and found, instead of red slicks glistening in the fitful light, dark red-brown encrustations that glittered with hidden magical malice to her sight. “Be wary, the star-cloak has laid some trap upon the ground for us. We shall have to wait for them to come to us, or circle the edge of the Arena to get to them.”
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 29
8/28/2015 11:08:12   
Rayen
Constructively Discussional!


Back to the wall, Shud watched as the usually quick-footed assassin rose shakily from the ground, having just become visible again. The man seemed genuinely pained, but he wasn’t fooled by this likely only temporary or intentional display of giddiness. Hitting the ground hard can do that to any man, but won’t bother him long; and, by now, Shud had enough respect for his opponent to know that this was not just “any man”.

The assassin kept his eyes closed as he straightened, likely avoiding the already dizzying effects of the lighting of Twilight Arena, then took in a deep breath, spat blood and spoke calmly, meeting Shud’s eyes, “Is that all?”

Shud grinned. Much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to like this small, shady fellow. They were alike in many ways - strong, determined, self-confident. And now both injured and missing weapons. Was that all? No, not even close. Shud laughed loudly, voicing his thoughts, “You’ve gotta be kiddin’. I’m just gettin’ warmed up, little fellah.”

It was true, though. He had hardly had an opportunity to display his power at all, so far. He’d missed every attack, and had only survived that lest attack on sheer luck. It was time for new tactics, but Shud wasn’t keen on the idea. Shud hated assassins. But he hated magic, too. He hated people who used it too freely and hated using it himself, as it left him feeling tired and weak. In fact, if Shud ever bothered to consider it, he would likely discover that he hated a number of things. However, sometimes unpleasantries must be endured in order to achieve one’s goals. This fight was drawing on too long. The longer it lasted, the higher the chance that some trick or other of the assassins would slip through Shud’s guard and end his life. The time and necessity for the use of magic was drawing near.

Yes, Shud might create small, rippling shockwaves that emanate outward from each footstep, causing unsuspecting passersby to trip or weak structures to tumble; yes, Shud could kick or throw larger rocks much further than any normal man, through the use of primitive Earth magic; yes, Shud could manipulate the pure-Earth gemstones, that were now as much a part of him as any limb, causing them to float or form any shape. But what nobody knew or had seen, what Shud’s first and secret ability was, could be described simply as Bonemancy.

There was a reason Shud had always been so strong; why he’d grown so fast, tall and bulky. “It’s not natural”, his Aunt, originally an Outsider to the family, had said. And she had been correct. When surrounded by Earth containing the necessary minerals for bone development or oxygen transfer in the blood, Shud could absorb nutrients through his skin and fuse them with himself. At first this happened subconsciously due to Shud’s desire to grow strong like the rest of his family, but on his fifth birthday, he broke his wrist trying to wield a large mallet incorrectly. The wrist was splinted neatly by his grandmother and he was told he wouldn't be able to use it for at least a few weeks. But when he woke the next morning, it was perfectly back to normal. Curious, he intentionally broke a finger, splinted it himself, and waited to see what happened. Immediately he could sense weak magic flowing through his bare feet to his finger, so willed it to strengthen. Within minutes, the finger was at full strength.

Over years of experimenting, his magical ability growing with his understanding of it, he found that not only could he heal himself, but he could, merely by focusing, break one of his own bones or move a limb incredibly fast without using its muscles. Soon this extended to breaking other’s bones, though it sickened him to do so, as he lacked the cold-heartedness and rage that he was now famous for, and which he now brought to the Elemental Championships.

Yes, the time for Bonemancy was fast approaching.

Shud was quickly broken from his deep thought by fast-approaching hoofbeats. It seemed that the mounted competitor was racing directly for both the assassin and himself! Reading his body to dodge an attack, Shud pushed his back against the smoothly curving wooden wall, hoping that the darker shadows there would somehow enshroud his gigantic form, allowing him to escape this charge. If the assassin was killed by the rider, he’d be furious…but he’d also be somewhat relieved. He wouldn’t mind a few minutes to recover from the burning, aching pain of his arm. The pain, he imagined, was equal to rubbing a hot coal against his gums. An angering pain that made Shud want to lash out, though to do so may be to cause even greater pain or injury.

As the hoofbeats neared, Shud noticed that the rider, a woman with short, spiky hair was ignoring both he and his current foe, keeping her eyes straight ahead, as if fleeing something, although nothing seemed to be following.

The rider and the intimidating man clad in the night sky who now rode with her came to a stop somewhere to his right and the man began chanting, but Shud kept his eyes on the assassin, waiting for him to make the first move.

Shud was in pain, angry, and had his back to a wall. His options were growing slim, but in a wave of inspiration, he squatted down, temporarily reforming the gemstone neck-plate as a small crowbar and prised two floorboards up, tossing them in Shadow Toy’s direction and quickly placing his left foot onto the tamped earth beneath, while the floorboards distracted his foe. Then he straightened and impatiently called out, “If yer scared o’ me, let me club yer head in. No need to go hidin’ away. Fight me like a man and I’ll let ya die like one!”

It was the assassin’s move, provided the mounted pair didn’t try something first. With Earth finally beneath at least one foot, and his mind prepared for using magic, Shud was ready to crush whoever stood in his way.
AQ DF  Post #: 30
8/29/2015 2:32:45   
nield
Creative!


Garreth nodded, accepting her answer. In a battle such as this, he supposed it was as good as he could expect. She pointed out for him that the imposing man had laid down traps, and, looking around, spotted one in the centre of the arena. The dark substance blended in on those areas of the floor that were marked black, but under the fierce light, stood out immensely on those sections of the floor marked white.

"As much as waiting for out foes to come to us is a good idea, the problem with these foes is that they can sling their spells at us from afar, they have no real need to close the gap. I can't fight from afar, so I say that we take the initiative, go after them ourselves." gingerly, Garreth started walking, not directly after the mounted duo, but on an angle, so as to avoid the trap laid in the arena's centre.

With his wound, Garreth's pace was slow. Slow, at least, for a Fiend. He was still able to walk at a pace that was slightly above the average person's walking pace without upsetting the wound on his leg. That said, he did still walk with a grimace on his face, as the wound slowly ached, irrespective of how much pressure or weight he placed on it. Garreth had felt pain before, of course, pain that was far, FAR worse than this but still it ached and pained and slowed him down, causing him to wonder just how useful he was going to be in battle further. The answer that came to his mind was: Not very. But still, he would fight as best he could. That was why he was here, of course.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 31
8/29/2015 9:52:10   
  Starflame13
Moderator


Despite her worry, Elysia still took the time to examine the arena as she slowly turned to look behind her. Her two opponents were talking to each other, and the other two fighters in the arena were exchanging threats and other such battle banter. She had time. Twisting in the saddle, she first looked slowly over Blossom’s hindquarters. The man’s gauntlets had ripped some deep gashes along the inside of the horse’s right leg, just beneath his hock. Not good, but not nearly as bad as it could have been, given how she had also spotted chips in the formerly-smooth edge of her glaive where the same gauntlet had deflected her blow. Her gaze traveled from her horse to her ally. While he attempted to give her a reassuring smile, it was even more obvious now that he had never been on a horse. She half-heard his name, Moriar Thornewood, as he introduced himself, but the rest of his speech she ignored as she swung herself swiftly from the saddle.

With her feet touching the floor of the arena for the first time, Elysia rested the glaive against Blossom’s shoulder and drew her long hunting knife. With quick, efficient motions, she sliced off a long strip of the nearest cloth available, which happened to be Thornewood’s star covered cloak. Ducking under the barrel of the horse, she bound the cloth tightly about his wound, halting the bleeding momentarily and finishing it with a tight, practiced knot. Once finished, she hurriedly turned back to face the arena.

She needn’t have rushed. While Elysia had been busy, the movement of the arena had slowed. Only the dance of Twilight continued uninterrupted. Thornewood was chanting something up on Blossom’s saddle; it would be prudent to wait until he was finished with whatever spell it was before remounting. The nearer fight to her was composed of a bloodied corpse, a mountain of a man who had started destroying the floor with a crowbar (hadn’t he had a hammer earlier?), and another man armed with knives, with blood across his face and hands. At least one had moved at her panicked gallop between them, but neither seemed keen to break off their fight to go after her. Perfectly fine for the moment.

The gauntleted… thing was limping. Elysia decided that her earlier assumption that the creature was human must be incorrect. No human was lithe enough to pass between the forelegs of a charging warhorse. At the least, no true human was insane enough to try. He was definitely slower now, though. Briefly, she allowed a grin to cross her face. At one of her first riding lessons, she had made the mistake of running too close to the hindlegs of the warhorses a tribe member had been training. One had lashed out, caught her side, and broken at least three ribs. That thing must be in quite a bit of pain, unless his human-like race also made him immune to that. She heard him call out his name, Garreth, to the feline, but missed the rest of his sentence as he turned to face her. Maybe the feline would go for the easier target..?

But no, it merely resettled the chain around its waist, and replied to the thing, too quietly for Elysia to here. As they continued in their exchange, dark liquid flew over her shoulder, forming patterns in different places along the arena floor. Thornewood had finished his chanting. Facing Blossom again, she remounted the horse in front of him, this time with the stirrups in order to avoid knocking him off. She examined the glaive with a sigh; it would take hours of sharpening the blade to smooth out the nicks that Garreth thing had gouged in it. Shifting in the saddle, she decided to wait until their opponents made a move. It would give Blossom a few more moments to catch his breath as well as allow her ally to recover as he slumped in the saddle.

Grabbing her flask of water from the saddle horn, she took a swift drink before offering it to him to help him gather his bearings before replying to his earlier statement. “I am Elysia, Storm-Bringer. You best get used to the fast pace, Thornewood, unless you plan to fall of next charge. Now tell me, are those things safe to jump over?”
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 32
8/29/2015 21:02:31   
Tdub
Member

Zane took the few brief moments he had to mentally recover. He could push aside the pain. In fact, he knew his training had prepared him to outlast his physical ailments. His true concern was his mental state. He was still reeling from being tossed around like a bag of sand, and the invisibility had taken its toll on his mental and magical energies as well.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’. I’m just gettin’ warmed up, little fellah.”

The reply had to be true: Big hardly looked like he had been in a fight. Zane was mentally exhausted and physically tested. Running mental calculations, the assassin determined that he still had several seconds before he was in any sort of state to attack magically. He had to keep the brute talking; otherwise, he would be in no shape to go on the offensive.

Fortunately, some time was bought with the arrival of a few new players in the game. The mounted woman, whom he had seen when he had first entered the Arena, rode suddenly in between Zane and his opponent, carrying the mysteriously-clad imposing figure. Well, they don't seem to be trying to kill each other. An alliance could bode ill for us all.

However, the pair simply continued on their way as if they were taking a ride through the woods. The assassin had no time to contemplate these curious acts; after all, he did have a bigger problem to worry about.

That bigger problem, of course, being almost impossible to find an answer to. Zane now knew this man's strength and reflexes. He dared not approach Big visible, and it would be quite a while before he could disappear again. If he tried, he had no doubt that a solid backhand could leave him unconscious, let alone a strike from anything those bright rocks could form.

So, attacking up close is out.

That left a magical attack as his only option. He still needed a few minutes before he would be able to use his disorienting Darkness spell again, meaning he would have to keep away from his opponent for the next few seconds. Fortunately, Big seemed to have no interest in charging at Zane, instead bending down, using his gemstones to pry floorboards from the ground. Zane saw what was about to happen just before the boards flew, and was fully prepared, leaping gracefully out of the way as the black and white floorboards whizzed past his head. He couldn't seriously think that would work, could he? What's he...

The assassin's thoughts were interrupted when he saw that his opponent had not moved toward him, but was standing in the exact same location as before. I'm not hurt, he's not better. The only thing different is the floorboards...

The ground.


It had been evident for quite a while that Big was competing in service to the Lord of Earth, but Zane had failed to consider that his opponent would dare try to draw power from the source directly. Whatever Big had in store, it had to do with the exposed earth that the giant was currently standing in. That meant that no matter what Zane's plan of attack was, it could not, under any circumstances, involve approaching his opponent. He could only hope that he had enough magical energy to form in his hand...

"If yer scared o’ me, let me club yer head in. No need to go hidin’ away. Fight me like a man and I’ll let ya die like one!”

Big had the situational advantage, and he knew it. The brute was nowhere close to giving it up, obviously hoping that Zane would approach. Fortunately, the assassin was not quite so stupid. He had to force his foe to come to him, or otherwise leave the exposed earth. There was nothing to do but attack from a distance and hope to make the giant mad enough to charge.

"You want me to fight like a man, so long as I come to you first? Are you really so lazy? I could do this all day, you ugly brute!"

Zane hoped his lie sounded more convincing than he felt. And he certainly hoped that he would not have to "do this all day." But he was ready now, and with a flourish of his hand, he launched another bolt of Darkness at Big's head. It was too accurate and too fast for his opponent to just move his skull: surely the giant would have to move away from the exposed earth. Even if he did not, Zane began backing slowly away. He could be patient. He could only wait and see if his opponent would be as well.
Post #: 33
8/30/2015 15:09:25   
Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer


Micha padded lightly after her ally, eyes flickering to his leg after a few paces. It was clear that the odd man was in pain. The Kissa couldn’t be sure just how much pain that was, but she hoped that Garreth was playing up the injury, making it appear that he was hurt more than was actually the case. A little overconfidence in the lightning caller and the star-cloak could turn the tables on the ensuing encounter. Truth be told, the Enkeli was not feeling fantastic herself. Her left leg was smarting from the woman’s earlier bolt. It was not enough to overly hinder her movement, but there was a hint of pain there with each step.

Pain could be endured though, and if there was any comfort to be had it was in the fact that her opponents were not entirely unscathed. The star-cloak might have some bruised ribs from Micha’s earlier shot, and while the lightning caller had managed to keep herself from harm thus far, her steed had taken at least one hit. The Kissa’s eyes slipped from the riders to the Arena’s remaining two entrants, checking them over swiftly as well.

The first was a large, very large, man. Upon consideration, the Enkeli was not certain exactly what the hulking figure was, beyond the fact it was male. There was a hint of magic about him, a complex pattern that Micha could not tease out at this point. It seemed to center mainly about the jeweled rod in his hands, which the big man was using to prise up some of the planks that comprised the floor. The second figure was another man, looking almost like a child next to the behemoth. He was clad in all black, causing patches of his figure to fade in and out of view due to the dance of light and shadow across the Arena. Golden eyes moved between the two slowly, and the Kissa observed each for another moment. Was the big man favoring one arm? Perhaps, though he seemed well enough as he hurled the boards wrenched from the floor at the black-garbed man. For his part, the other dodged the improvised missiles adeptly enough to demonstrate his own well-being.

Micha glanced back at the lightning caller and let out a soft curse. While the Enkeli’s attention had been on the other two men, the woman appeared to have dismounted to see to the wounds that her mount had sustained. She was turning to climb back into the saddle. If Micha had only had her sling out, she might have been able to launch a swift stone to take out the star-cloak, or even better, sting the steed and panic it. The Kissa had seen already that the star-cloak was no horseman, and without the lightning caller to control the beast, Micha had little doubt that should the horse rear or plunge the star-cloak would find his way swiftly to the ground. But her hands were occupied with the lengths of her chain, and she was nowhere near enough to the pair for that to be an option, nor was she swift enough to draw sling and stone in time to launch an effective strike. There was little choice then, but for the Enkeli to watch the woman remount her steed.

Growling softly, Micha continued forward, tail switching back and forth in frustration as she angled her path to avoid the star-cloak’s symbols upon the ground. A missed opportunity, and one that could very well cost her. There was hope though. The riders had rushed directly through the duel between the jewel-man and the black-garb. One or the other might take offense to the action, or see the magi as a threat to be eliminated. Somehow, the Kissa doubted that her luck would extend that far, it certainly had not up to this point. The way this has been going, it was almost more likely that the four would band together against her and Garreth.

A cheering thought, no doubt. Her ally was hurt, and more to the point, he seemed to have no method of doing battle but for the gauntlets upon his hands. Of the two, Micha was the only one who could engage at range, not that it had proven overly effective so far against the pair of magi. Grimacing, the Kissa slowed, winding the chain and hooking it back to her belt. Her hand went to her last bola for a second, and then skipped over to the sling, drawing it. The Enkeli glanced at her ally. “Ever use a sling before?” If Garreth’s wound was as serious as it appeared, he was going to need some way to still be useful in the battle to come. With the sling, he could at least support her while she took on the mounted magi.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 34
8/31/2015 19:58:27   
  Starflame13
Moderator


When her question was met with silence, Elysia shrugged and returned her flask to its place on the pommel. Thornewood’s spell had apparently exhausted his pretty manners. A heavy weight suddenly slumping against her in the saddle corrected that thought; the caster had overdone himself and fainted while still astride the horse. She frowned in frustration. The easiest thing to do would be to shove the man from the saddle, and either kill him herself or leave him as a target and distraction for her opponents. But despite his horrible riding skills, he had helped her land a few strong blows. Her tribe would disown her, if they learned that she had turned her back on a partner, however briefly they had been allied.

Elysia hid her annoyance at the situation and backed Blossom up towards the originally vacant entryway into the arena. She could see the feline and the gauntleted thing moving, edging a path past the bloody patterns in the floor. Despite the fact they were both moving slower than earlier, if only to keep pace together, she still had to do this quickly. Just as Blossom’s tail brushed against the wooden walls, inches from the opening, she released his reins and secured her glaive to the side of the saddle. Turning, she again grabbed Thornewood by the back of his cloak, angling Blossom as he did so to trot parallel to the threshold. With both arms, she lifted the caster from the saddle, and threw him with all her strength at the shadows that had moved to cover the unoccupied entrance.

Twilight danced and leapt about her, catching the figure’s magnificent billowing cloak as he sailed through the air. A beam of light shone briefly across the threshold, illuminating for one moment the hallway beyond and catching his scowling face and the glittering silver chains across his vest. Shadows parted, then came together as his unconscious body sailed into the hallway, hiding Moriar Thornewood from view as he landed with a surprisingly soft thud, followed by the clattering of his wood and silver cane as it fell from his hand.

Blossom snorted, releasing a giant gob of spit that sailed through the barrier after their former ally. Elysia grinned at how her horse chose to express his displeasure, then turned him with her knees to face the center of the arena. The feline and Garreth thing were still approaching, despite Garreth’s obvious limp. His expression still showed determination, despite the pain, and the feline had barely checked itself in order to stay nearer to her ally. A two on one fight with this pair, even with their handicaps, was not a pleasing idea. Unless…

With a signal, Elysia turned Blossom around and trotted him closer to the other set of fighters. They had spent the past minute hurling words at each other, despite the bolt of darkness the dagger-wielder had just thrown. Perhaps one or both was reluctant to join in the fight again. If she could offer them another option, would they assist her? Ignore her? Charge her instead? She had no idea, but there had never been a better time for taking risks. She hadn't seen the result of the blast of magic, but at least one, if not both, of the fighters would still be standing. Retaking her glaive in one hand and pulling Blossom to a halt, they stopped almost due North, with a clear path down the center of the arena, apart from the dried blood across the floor.

“Are you two men warmed up enough from your spar? Since you’ve been busy, one fighter has left the arena and two are injured, one barely standing. Are either of you up for an easy kill to clear out the arena a bit? Once at least one of them are out of the way, it’ll be much easier to resume your fight without worrying about someone sticking their claws in your back!”

With a shrill whinny from Blossom to accompany her challenge, Elysia backed him up a pace, keeping one eye on the dueling pair and one on the approaching duo. With her glaive gripped tightly and the tingle of energy at her fingertips, she knew that whatever the result of her brash words were, she’d have to act fast.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 35
8/31/2015 20:57:04   
nield
Creative!


Garreth grimaced at Micha's question. "No, I'm afraid not." he said, eyeing the weapon the feline competitor held. "I'm not sure it would be a good idea to try either. The way these gauntlets are, I don't so much grip things as slice them when I hold them and if I take them off, I'll lose just that much fighting capability, against a mounted foe. Can't really go barehanded and expect to come out on top."

Garreth turned his focus back to said mounted foes, to realise that the man had slumped over in the saddle. "Ah, it looks as if he won't actually be much of an issue anymore" Garreth said, as the woman a-horseback rode over to the entrance that had stood leftwards of Garreth when he entered, the one that had held no foe. Garreth watched as the woman deposited the man out the entrance, his role in this battle clearly over. Then she rode over near by where the other to fighters were. Garreth had not had any particular reason to pay attention to the two fighters before: They had been in their fight on that side of the arena while he was in battle on the other.

Paying attention to them now, Garreth saw the corpse of the fighter who had stood at the entrance second left of Garreth's, who had obviously gone down very early in the fighting and the standoff that the two remaining were in, though he couldn't discern details at this range. He swept his hair back from the left side of his face, his left eye peering out from beneath the eyepatch he wore to ensure that no-one would see it during the competition. But even with both eyes firmly on the two fighters he could not really discern much detail.

Still, it seemed to Garreth like the mounted woman might be trying to recruit some more allies after the imposing man's exit from the fighting, and Garreth gritted his teeth. If she enlisted their aid, he and Micha might be in for a hard time. Fighting the mounted woman alone was difficult enough. So Garreth slowly eased down onto all fours. Speed was how a Fiend fights, but movement may as well be life itself in battle, so even if a leg was wounded, Fiends had to have a way to maneuver somewhat quickly. On all fours, or, rather, on threes, a Fiend could do a sort of loping maneuver. It was not pretty, but it got the job done, and that was what Garreth was doing now.

He started slow but began to build up speed, weight falling on his right hand as his left leg did not come down to meet the ground and help support his weight with it. Pain ached through his leg as he kept it suspended above the ground, for all he was still disturbing it, but it was not that bad. He aimed himself at the horse and began to lope in earnest. Perhaps the most he could hope for was one last good attack. He could definitely still use his right leg for a spring into a whirl, slicing as he would go, but he knew if he did so it would exacerbate the wound greatly and even preclude this loping maneuver, as the pain would become too great.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 36
9/1/2015 10:13:08   
Rayen
Constructively Discussional!


"You want me to fight like a man, so long as I come to you first? Are you really so lazy? I could do this all day, you ugly brute!"

The assassin’s reply got Shud’s hackles up. No Stoneskin in history who had died of natural causes had ever been “lazy”. Laziness was a great crime, and an insult to the family name. A crime punishable by death. So to be called lazy by this good-fer-nuthin’ target practice, was maddening.

But Shud finally had a direct link to Earth and was loathe to leave it. Nor was he threatened by the assassin’s words. If he thought he could go on all day in his condition, he was a bigger fool than Shud had anticipated. Spotting a man’s weaknesses was not one of Shud’s specialties, but weakness itself was something he was so unaccustomed to that ordinary people looked like a whole other species. A man with three arms would have gone unnoticed in the multitude of weakling spectators who had flocked to Bren for the Championships. Regardless, he thought he’d humour Typically-Visible Toy and make no mention of his somewhat declined physical strength. Besides, it was just as likely all a ruse to lure Shud into a sense of security. He knew better.

Shud, his eyes trained sharply on the assassin, noticed a dark object suddenly appear in his hand, which he launched at Shud’s head in the peculiar manner of wrist-flick used previously. Perhaps Shud’s taunting had flustered the assassin. The object alternately disappeared-then-reappeared through the pillars of light and darkness toward Shud’s head even more rapidly than the stone projectiles he’d flick at his three older brothers with the aid of magic as he was growing up. A magic projectile?

The instant Shud noticed the darkly-dressed man’s wrist twitch, faster than thought, his perfect crystal collar reformed to float half an inch in front of his face, a perfect replica of the dangerous man who wielded it. A fraction of an instant later, the bolt struck, hard. Through his colourfully-tinted mask, Shud observed as the object impacted, sending out spider-web fractures beneath the crystalline replica of Shud’s eye, before parting around the mask, like a liquid, and dissipating. So it was a magical skill. A deadly ability when used correctly, no doubt. Shud wondered then why Shadow Toy had not used the bolt while invisible, saving himself the risk of coming to harm…as he indeed had. Perhaps he trusted his knife skills, or perhaps it was as taxing on the assassin as flicking stones at his brothers had been. The latter was more favourable, and, in Shud’s opinion, more likely.

In reply, and also to help control his racing heartbeat, Shud let out a wave of booming laughter, then scoffed, “Well that was close! You caught me off-guard the first time. Care to try again?”. In case he did decide to try again, Shud quickly crouched down to resume the removal of floorboards, reforming the fractured crystal mask to form a crowbar. Thankfully the fracture was removed in their fluid form, but Shud was unsure whether they would ‘heal’ if they properly shattered. The band of crystals encircling the deep wound below his wrist would hopefully serve as protection against another bolt, though Shud had not ever seen them show weakness or damage in the years they’d been at his side, causing a sliver of doubt to wedge its way into his mind. Whatever the assassin had used must have been very powerful magic. Next time, the magic projectile might shatter the stones completely. He’d have to make sure the assassin was denied a third cast.

Having already broken through the floor, it was much easier to lever up adjoining floorboards to reveal a large patch of tamped earth around his feet. The endeavour thankfully required little attention, so he was able to keep his focus trained on his opponent, who seemed surprisingly calm after having his attack blocked. In his peripheral vision, he noted the positions of the other contestants.

A pair on foot were making their way over to Shud’s side of the arena, and the horsewoman had evidently lost her partner while galloping around. Hopefully he was dead or unconscious, because, though prepared, Shud didn’t fancy a magical ambush. It was a distinct possibility though, as the horse appeared to be heading in his direction once again. She’d better not take his kill away from him. He’d already lost one, losing Toy would not only annoy Shud, but would be a blow to his pride.

At a safe distance away from his fight, the horsewoman halted her horse and spoke.

“Are you two men warmed up enough from your spar? Since you’ve been busy, one fighter has left the arena and two are injured, one barely standing. Are either of you up for an easy kill to clear out the arena a bit? Once at least one of them are out of the way, it’ll be much easier to resume your fight without worrying about someone sticking their claws in your back!”

Her statement was annoyingly naive. What type of men, locked in battle, would lay down their hostilities to remove a few currently unthreatening parties, potentially allowing their original opponent the chance to gain the upper hand when hostilities resumed? No, their fight was underway and their battleground established. Shud didn’t give a care about anyone else but his Toy right now. Besides, his back was to the wall; if he moved, he was more likely to get a pair of knives in the back than any…claws?

Shud straightened, the gemstone crowbar once again reforming around his neck as a now-proven-to-be-effective protective brace, then replied, “Stay outta this, Lady. I’ll deal with you and ‘oever else when their time comes. P’rhaps I’ll lend you my aid when I’ve finished with this dirty shadow-stalker. Just watch ‘e doesn’t stab ya in the back as y’leave.”

Shud stood his ground patiently and cautiously, waiting to see whether the woman would attack after being denied his immediate aid, and curious to hear his opponent’s reply.

Moments later, Shud noticed something glinting and moving in his direction at speed, headed directly for the mounted woman. Shud cursed the woman for interrupting his fight and for bringing her fight to him. At least he now had his feet on solid ground. Shud allowed himself a wry smile. Things weren't going to plan, but neither were they against his favour just yet.

< Message edited by Rayen -- 9/1/2015 13:27:32 >
AQ DF  Post #: 37
9/1/2015 23:40:41   
Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer


Micha frowned slightly, eyes going to the gauntlets that Garreth wore as he explained his inability to use the sling she was offering him. The Kissa was not sure where the odd little man was from, or even precisely what he was, but she was suddenly very glad that she had not offered to shake hands with him. That might have had some disastrous, and painful, results. She was tempted to say something about how easy a sling was to use, but bit back the comment. It was one thing to know of a weapon, but Micha supposed it was another thing entirely to know how to use that weapon effectively; after all, she would not know the first thing about how to fight using Garreth’s gauntlets.

The Enkeli shrugged, turned her attention back to the lightning caller and the star-cloak, and then blinked in surprise. It would appear that the dark mage had overextended himself on his last effort, for the man had sagged forward in the saddle and collapsed against the female rider. Micha’s eyes darted back to the still malevolently glittering sigils upon the floor, even as the lightning caller angled her mount to one of the entryways dotting the outer wall of the Twilight Arena. What followed was a rather unceremonious exit, as she hefted the stocky sorcerer and launched him bodily through the gate. It would seem that the Kissa was not alone in choosing to stick by her ally. Given the limpidity of the star-cloak’s airborne form, and his less than graceful landing on the bruising planks, Micha suspected that her energetic opponent could have just as easily slit the man’s throat as thrown him to safety.

Nonetheless, that certainly simplified matters concerning the magi. Without the star-cloak to back her up, the caller’s chances were significantly reduced, even if she could use her lightning-burst to defend herself from both sides at once. Micha’s left hand went to the pouch at her waist, drawing a stone and slipping it into the cup of her sling. Her eyes narrowed as the rider directed her steed back towards the Arena’s remaining pair of duelists, and the triangular ears perched atop the Kissa’s head swiveled forward, catching the woman’s words as she addressed the jewel-man and the black-garb. And, oh, what the Enkeli heard...

What she heard was displeasing, to say the least. Micha hissed, her fur fluffing out, tail held straight and rigid behind her. Really, it was only natural for the lightning caller to be looking for another ally after the star-cloak had faltered. No, what really bothered the Kissa was how the woman said it. “Sticking their claws in your back.” The back! As though Micha was some conniving Kotka, smiling at you one moment and planting a blade between your ribs the next!

She bristled, about to snarl something to Garreth when the man took matters into his own hands and bolted across the Arena in a bounding, cat-like run. The Enkeli grinned fiercely, bared fangs flashing in a beam of wayward light. She sent the sling into a spin, and her arm came up, whirling the weapon over her head. Across the Arena, the behemoth bellowed out a reply to the lightning caller, and then turned his attention back to the poplar planks, wrenching more of the wooden slats up to widen the expanse of exposed earth he had previously created. He must gain something from the ability to touch the bare earth, but what that could be, the Enkeli could not say.

The sling was a softly whistling blur overhead. She had no interest in the behemoth or his opponent. Her attention was for the lightning caller, and Garreth’s impending intersection with that energetic rider. The Enkeli released the sling, the leather strap whipping open and sending its stone payload hurtling across the Arena in a sweet sidelong tumble aimed at the lightning caller’s hip. She was going to regret insulting Micha, the Kissa promised herself that.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 38
9/4/2015 11:36:46   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


Twilight Arena faintly pulsed, its curtains of light and shadow writhing in sudden activity. The coruscating patterns cast upon the contestants below seemed almost alive for a moment as things were set into motion. A small cheer came from beyond the shadows, growing in magnitude as the spectators clued in on what was happening. It was time.

Suddenly, the curtains shook free a mass of multi-coloured sprites. For the briefest moment they danced and glittered in the air, made more brilliant by contrast with Twilight's stark, somber tones. Then they dispersed, swarming with full purpose as they streaked towards specific contestants. Sprites wriggled and writhed, seeking entrance through every pore and orifice that they could, melding seamlessly into eyes and ears, diving into nostrils and mouths. They made the Chosen glow, just for a heartbeat.

Bodies grew transparent. An exhalation of effort by the strange, odd little bits of light and aether. Then the Chosen rose just off the ground, and exploded into countless little marvelous pieces, leaving nothing behind unless they willed it.

The Eight had staked their claims. Their chosen Paragons would proceed to fight a new battle in the Grand Arena. The Finals would soon begin!
AQ  Post #: 39
9/7/2015 21:22:57   
nield
Creative!


As he bounded across the arena toward the woman astride her horse, Garreth's motion was arrested as he dug his claws into the poplar boarding beneath him as the lazy play of light and dark sprung into frenzy. Garreth looked around left and right, thoroughly confused. Was it an attack? An illusion? Something else? Something else it was, as many-coloured lights shook free and lazed through the air. Then the lights streamed down, engulfing each of the other living contestants, all of whom began to glow, causing Garreth to raise an arm in front of his face as he gingerly lowered his right leg to the ground. Beyond his arm he saw the other contestants raise up... then shatter into innumerous fragments, and were gone.

Garreth lowered his arm and looked around. Twilight was now... barren. Light and Shadow resumed their regular lazy dance and all that was left beside was Garreth himself and the corpse of the man who had fallen at the start. Garreth was dejected. Everyone else. Every other living competitor who remained within Twilight had been called onwards. Garreth was the only one who had been deemed not worthy. Slowly he raised up onto his feet, wincing as pain shot up his leg. He looked around, then turned to the entrance by which he had entered. Though he only knew it was the one by which he had entered, because he remembered seeing the dead man when he had arrived.

Garreth stood at that entrance, stared into the hallway beyond, noting that the body of the imposing man was not out there. Whether he had come to and left, or the apparent singular multitude of the hallway prevented him from seeing the man out this exit, Garreth did not know. He clenched his fists. "Not yet... if this is as good as I can do here, I'm not yet ready to fight the Fiends... my people." he sighed. "I need to train more. Become stronger. Maybe... Maybe I'll be ready to fight them soon. And maybe... Maybe I can never hope to be able to fight them unless I fully utilise all my limbs... We'll see." And Garreth left Twilight. All that remained was a corpse.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 40
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