=EC 2011= Finals Arena

=EC 2011= Finals Arena (Full Version)

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Kellehendros -> =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/17/2011 17:34:13)
The arena is large, with rows upon rows of seats for spectators above a perfect octagon field of red sand. The crowd slowly gathers to watch the incredible displays of sorcery and swordsmanship. The wealthier viewers sit in front-row seats, surrounded by armed bodyguards and personal mages, whilst the commoners are forced to watch the bloodshed from a more considerable distance. The air is filled with anticipation, excitement, and the buzz from the invisible protection fields the guardian mages produce to keep wayward projectiles, metal, magic, or otherwise away from the crowd. It's not such petty protective magics that are most prominent sight of the arena, but rather the eight pillars, incredible manifestations of the Elemental Lords' power, and the gates behind each that put such things to shame. The gates themselves unimportant, only what's behind them being of any relevance - for behind them were the eight champions, now healed and restored after the battles that granted them such a title, who came here to fight for their own glory and the glory of their elements. Few sounds came from behind the gates - unlike before, there was but one man or creature behind each, and there was no one they could express whatever emotions they had to there... Everyone knew that a Lord only chooses a single follower to battle on - the one who he sees as most worthy of the privilege, and thusly everyone knew that this would be a battle to remember. And, as a reminder of that fact, the eight grand pillars stand - if not to communicate to all those who gathered of the Lords' might and grace, then at least to provide some distraction for the blood-thirsty crowd. An ancient oak stands in the sandy arena, or at least, a trunk of one, for the only visible branches grow straight into the stone platform above. Indeed a monument to itself, the Pillar of Earth seems to be eternal and vivid at the same time. This year its boughs are coated in novel white and pink flowers, an odd breed that none had ever seen before. Beside it, a silver statue of defender with a spear stands, ready and vigilant... Stories, some true, some false, but all wondrous, tell of how that man had fell in years past, and how his death was honored by the Lord itself as the defender of the otherwise harmless Pillar. Surrounded by a shimmering veil of superheated air, a stream of flickering lava - who could have guessed melted stone could burn? - flows constantly from an invisible spot from the open air above, and disappears just as mysteriously into the sand below without making so much as a mark upon it. The Fire Pillar's heat is indeed making all the nearby cool drink vendors happy, and the rest of the crowd suffer, drenched in their own sweat. Small, translucent fish play in the Pillar of Water - a lazy waterfall, which, while providing an aura of coolness and relaxation for all of those around, does not spill one drop of it on the red arena sand. Now and then a larger, darker shadow darts across the Pillar, as if a massive leviathan is passing through, incredulous as it may seem, the skeletal remains of a past contender's arm attests to the truth The Darkness Piller cannot be seen - either because it simply sucks all nearby light in, making its surroundings significantly dimmer than the rest of arena, or due to the fact no one really wants to look at it. There is something off putting about the sheer, absence, of the space, and looking into it only rewards one with piercing pains in the head and the taste of bile in the mouth... The Pillar of Wind cannot be seen either, but it most certainly can be felt and heard... A whirlwind (though more of a miniature tornado) spins happily around, messing up the elaborate hairdos of the ladies in the stands above. Little eddies of wind jet off the Pillar occasionally, and there is a faint sound as of bronze windchimes if one approaches closely. A white patch of snow in the red, red field with a humongous slab of ice in the center - even a penguin would probably lose a limb if it were to touch the Pillar of Ice. Blearily realized through the semi-translucence of the blue-white ice, something can just barely be glimpsed at the center of the Pillar, though its shape and nature are impossible to make out due to the intervening ice. A silent hum and standing hair are the only warnings one gets of the pillar of pristine steel standing in the sand - the Pillar of Energy, of course. The only warning that is until the occasional blue or yellow arcs of electricity discharge off the Pillar, grounding out on the red sands around it. The sand seems oddly unaffected by the Pillar's discharges though, one would think that the surrounding sand would be glass by now. The Pillar of Light seems to be ethereal - a light as bright as one has ever seen, and still one that doesn't hurt your eyes - rather on the contrary, its soothing effect is possibly even greater than that of the Water Pillar's. Oddly, staring directly into the Pillar itself, while bright, is not blinding, in fact, looking away after a few moments, one isn't even left with colored spots obstructing their vision. As the crowd mingled in anxious anticipation of the announcement and arrival of the Champions, a lone tournament official strode out into the sands. In a deep voice, amplified several magnitudes to cut through the din by a helpful staff mage, he pulled out a scroll. "Ladies and Gentlemen, even now the Champions are being notified of their advancement and are making their way to the arena! However, rather than force each and every one of you to wait, I have here the list of those advancing!" The din reached a new uproar that would not settle for all the 'polite coughs' in the world to get their attention. "For Earth...the wanderer from a distant land, Goshen Shaljrne! " "For Fire... the portly, the world-renowned, "The Gourmet" himself, Henry DeFranco!" "For Water... the unusual amphibious mage, G'thrax "Grax" Tideseeker!" "For Darkness... the unseen terror, the menacing stalker, Dajaal!" "For Wind... the mistress of storms, the lady of the gale, Salina Goodchild!" "For Ice... the cool librarian, "The Frozen Archive," Marcos Vardiante!" "For Energy... the human dynamo, the dynamic, living lightning rod, Reeve!" "And at last, but not least... For Light... the limber, the lightbringer child, Leira Wainwright!" Upon reading off the last of the champions, the mildly portly announcer started to scamper down to hop out through the small, mostly hidden official's gate before the Finalists would arrive. The gates begin to open, with loud cheers from the crowd. The Arena is spotlessly clean, with not a drop of blood or gore anywhere... Either the scarlet liquids were washed away during the course of the year... or they simply became one with that red sand below your feet and in your shoe. You will either become victorious, or become sand.

Krey -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/17/2011 18:34:10)
Lights. Lots of lights. What was with all the lights? One moment, he'd been preparing to skewer the darkness (though one has to wonder how darkness can be in any way skewered), the next his world was made of lights. There wasn't really any way Marcos could think of to describe the feeling; just lots and lots of lights invading his body and stealing him away to—holy wow was it cold. He had the feeling that, if he wasn't here invited, he would probably be frozen solid by now. It wasn't a painful cold, like he imagined it could be under different circumstances, but a cold that was, to him, familiar, friendly. “Hm, so I'm moving on up, am I?” Frost touched the wound just below his rib, a kiss of ice to steal the pain and seal the wound, and the mage's eyes fell shut at the sensation. The slice in his vest was likewise repaired, and Marcos found consciousness starting to slip away as the cold began to take him, overcoming his entire being. For the briefest flash of a moment, he felt as one with the frigid nature of the ice. He woke to find himself standing behind a great gate, the chill of the ice pillar just permeating the border of the chamber which lead out into the arena. “A promise of things to come, I wonder?” He questioned aloud, albeit in barely more than a whisper, and a grin crossed his features. “Very well. For the glory of the Ice Realm, and the knowledge that may come after, I shall claim the competition.” The announcer was finishing up, calling out names that meant nothing to the Archive. Except perhaps one, and only by virtue of his introduction; the name meant nothing. Unseen terror? Could that be the darkness he'd been dealing with before? If so, best keep an eye out. It could come for him again. Either way. The gate before him was beginning to open, and as soon as there was room, Marcos stepped out into the arena, a great frost-covered tome hovering before him, his bladed staff floating to the side. He moved beyond the Pillar of Ice, pausing but a moment to stare at it, a smile creeping upon his features. Such a powerful display, what force could possibly stand against it? The thought complete, he moved on, his eyes taking in the rest of the arena and only for the briefest of moments flitting across the Pillar of Darkness. Best not look at that again. It gave him a headache, made him feel as if he was going to be sick. In a word, vile. The rest were not so bad but none could match the sheer power of the Ice. His eyes shifted to the tome, the pages flipping as he picked out a spell to start things off with. “Frosty Blades, Frozen Spears... Ice Storm is fun... Er...” He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn't even know that spell existed... And I'd have liked to keep it that way!” The Mages who'd contributed to the archive were known to place the... oddest spells, in the strangest parts of a book. Clearing his throat, he moved on, flipping several pages, “Aha!” “Glacialis Verbero,” he began, his voice a low chant, his hands held out to either side, fingers splayed, palms up. “The demons of the Ice approach, angry, a rampage like none other. Your servant stands defenseless, but yet stands, heeds not the warnings of a brother. Lord, bring power to my hand, to bind the evil and guard this land!” An icy blue glow began to emanate from his hands, stretching out, then falling to either side. Frost trailed along the length as the glow continued to dip down, reaching to the sands. “Suus Curator.” The glowing lines of frost began to solidify, links of solid ice forming a chain which ran from the sands to his hands, and then back down. “Bane of the Frozen Demons, Frost Lash!” The end of each chain rose up, touching the back of Marcos' vest, where they seemed to vanish, as if merging with the caster. The opposite ends formed sharp blades, no more than three inches in length but deadly just the same. He dropped his hands, and the chains floated where they'd been. As Marcos took hold of his staff, each chain whipped out to full extension, nearly six feet in either direction, then flicked back, swiftly forming coils against his back. “No more games. I'll freeze them all, one by one if I must.”

.Discipline -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/17/2011 18:48:46)
Soft footsteps from the corner of the darkness pillar were slightly audible as the shadows appeared to grow much thicker around the pillar, creating a large and uncomfortable void of shadows once again, this time perhaps even darker than when he stood within the Cellar. Cracking his knuckles and his neck in preparation for the most poignant battle in his short existence, Dajaal was filled with pride for the darkness which manifested itself in an soft but deep chuckling as he attempted to remain as low profile as possible. Taking up a defensive position inside the darkness and keeping very wary of his surroundings, curling his plated arms around his midsection, guarding his head with his acquired blades, surveying the pillars and the crowd with awe, licking his lips as he imagined himself dining on every one of the spectators. How wonderful and apt a feast of that immensity would be for the new Champion of Darkness! But first he had a few, slightly more pressing, problems to deal with... Who or what would be coming from the other gates? Was he rid of that pesky ice mage once and for all? It had been a close call before, the looming shards of icy death surrounding him from every angle, a situation he certainly did not want to repeat itself. Suddenly, upon the thought, lo and behold, what looked to be the annoying pest himself, alive and well on the other side of the arena. A tough competitor, but the others could be tougher still. Dajaal had to watch his step on these blood red sands. Swaying his tail from side to side inside the eerie darkness before crouching with his tail hovering between his horns in a scorpion-like pose, he planned to simply assume the identity of the Darkness Pillar until some unwary competitor fell into his trap. It was time to do what Dajaal did so well... Crush. Break. Kill. Wound. Destroy. Smash. Pummel. Impale. Disembowel. FEED.

Mirai -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/17/2011 20:22:02)
Salina panted, her chest beginning to feel splinters of pain with each breath. Adrenaline would keep her going for now, but the repeated air-spells were beginning to take a toll on her energy reserves, compounded by her earlier sprint across the treacherous arena floor. Meanwhile, pain tingled from emerging bruises upon her hip and ankle, flayed nerves competing for her attention, as beads of sweat began to break upon her brow. All in all… not my most attractive look. I’d have given an awful lot to have properly filed my nails ahead of this fight, given a bit of time to plucking my eyebrows. I know they’re looking bushy right now, and my nails really look rather shabby. Still, streetrats can’t be choosers. A ghost of a smile flickered over Salina’s face, remembering the care with which she’d once done her makeup, war paint to sway men to her charms, a shield against other women’s scorn. Whatever would dear Galen say? Captain Galen Matterson he must be by now. Or Fethend, my darling knight in shining armour. Still… I’ve been in worse situations than this. It’s difficult to forget that bloody Wraith careening towards us, like the proverbial bat out of hell. For the briefest of moments Salina recalled the Wraith surging forward, swiftly accelerating towards her guardsmen’s locked mass, a bowling ball thundering towards its target. Had the monster been a foe of flesh and blood, its charge would have posed no threat to her warriors’ locked ranks, but driven by the black magic of the grave, the fell creature’s stampede had sent the guardsmen flying before its charge. Swords and axes had sliced about the creature, slashing through its flesh, but the fiend had paid the attacks no more fear than that with which a bull lion might greet the stings of a buzzing cloud of mosquitos. Instead, the undead spirit had lashed out swiftly and precisely with its cane, sending Salina’s two wizards flying from the guardsmen’s mass, broken limbs splintering gruesomely against the ruined chamber’s sandstone sides. “Scatter and fall back!” she had cried, sending her men hurtling from their formation, even as the Wraith crashed against them. Obedient to her commands, the Guardsmen had raced from the ruined room, dragging their injured companions with them as they raced to flee the Wraith’s devastating onslaught. As the last of them staggered from the scene, a heavy wooden bolt happened to fall into place, locking the Guardsmen outside Sierric von Banelion’s chamber. But Salina herself had not escaped, the Wraith rearing up before her even as she ordered her men’s retreat. Enough memories girl. There’ll be plenty of time for that when you’re dead. Suddenly light exploded close beside her a column of sorcerous incandescent brilliance burning up from the black fog. Cursing herself for thinking the silver tattooed woman contained, Salina started to turn once more to face this latest threat- but was pleasantly surprised to find the woman targeting other foes. Maybe she had the same thoughts as I? Whatever- she’d be a useful ally, and if you gain her trust, it’ll make stabbing her in the back later on a lot easier. I may have deafened her earlier, so this may be a pointless gesture, but nevertheless… “Light mage! How about you and I put aside our differences aside for a while gorgeous, and deal with these fine fellows first?” With that, the former Guard Captain was off once more, sprinting over the arena once more, a cheetah racing through long green vibrant grass stalks, dashing towards its behemoth prey, a long haired bison, a scarred beast full of muscle and bony horns. Her flowing cloak floated behind her in her charge, flying over the arena’s surface with silken haste. Suddenly a swarm of coloured sprites appeared out of nowhere, wriggling and writhing all around her, crawling and cavorting before and upon the Coven mistress’ eyes. Choking back sprites with her revulsion, Salina vainly struggled to escape the fairies’ grasp, feeling herself rising into the air. As deaths go… this is so not a good look. And then everything went black. … Flash She was a toddler, running through golden fields of corn, palm clasped in the hand of her father. Sunshine danced about the pair as they charged over the waving stalks. Salina giggled as they raced up to a hill, her little legs pummelling over the windy terrain. “Papa” she cried, “go more fast!” Flash She was a child, running from the alleyway of her parents’ murder. Blood dripped slowly from the mugger’s knife, as he rifled through her mother’s dress, the warm dark curls of her hair still upon the cobbled floor. Flash She was a child, raging at the general disinterest shown by the Guards for her plight. She cursed the street vendors as they went about their business, without a thought for her beloved mother and father. She spat at the bright sun as it rose in the morning sky, uncaring of her agonies. She wanted to bury her hands in the earth and rip the roots of the city asunder. Flash She was a streetrat, running through the streets, bearing with her the sorcerous books she had stolen earlier that day. Behind her a young woman gave pursuit through the market square, her olive skin marking her out as the apprentice of the wizard whose tomes Salina had taken. Flash She was a young coven leader. She smiled at Gael, delighted at the plan they had hatched. They would bring together the ambitious, the vicious and the powerful. They would find those youths of Nagraith with talent, bind them to their mutual ends, bind them with deadly magics that would ultimately make their deaths the bloody key to Xinguish’s release. Flash She was a Seargent of the Nagraith guards, battling for her life with a madman intent on incinerating the king’s library. She wrested his arm behind his back and smashed his face into a thick pillar of marbled stone, blood dripping off the polished plinth. Flash She smiled at a young recruit, Galen Matterson, all nervous energy in her presence. It was a reaction she was still getting used to, having only recently been promoted Captain of the Nagraith Guards. He looked sweet, innocence shining in his hopeful eyes, though his jaw was set with determination to join the city watch. Flash She plunged a clean bright dagger into Gael Blackfire’s back, felt shock surge through the woman, as she stumbled about, trying to espy her killer. High in the skies above, a red crescent constellation shone like blood upon the land below. Flash She wielded a demon’s stolen power, eldritch white light blazing from her eyes, piercing through the fading darkness of the ruined temple of Feng-Kai. Scornfully, she addressed the fiend: “your power is mine, to make a world where justice can reign. A world where parents will not die at a mugger’s hand. A world where people will care, will protect one another. A new world. My world.” Flash She slumped in the darkness of Perdeep Pit, wondering what terrors lay in store for her. Idly, she scratched at the red crescent tattoo still marking her lower left arm. Forcing herself to control her fears, she began making plans for surviving the inevitable attentions of her fellow inmates. Flash Flash Flash Flash Winds whipped about her, caressing her hair and skin. The bruise on her hip faded, the pain in her ankle dulled. She felt her whistle and web, sands and shards restored to her belt. Her energy felt restored, uplifted by the exhilaration of the gusts battering about her. She was a mote of dust caught up in a whirlwind’s mighty force… and it felt wonderful. Reclining, she let her left hand dip and flow through the winds path, idly noting that her arm now appeared bare and unmarked. If only all my sins could be scoured so swiftly. Flash Flash Flash … "For Wind... the mistress of storms, the lady of the gale, Salina Goodchild!" Salina opened her eyes, finding herself before the arena’s great gate. As the door opened, she reflexively ran her hands over the folds of her cloak, relieved to find all her deadly devices replaced there. She smiled, laughter dancing in her eyes, as she felt and heard the elemental vortex of the wind lord’s cyclone before her. "For Energy... the human dynamo, the dynamic, living lightning rod, Reeve!" Mistress of storms? A girl could get used to a title like that. "And at last, but not least... For Light... the limber, the lightbringer child, Leira Wainwright!" Then caution replaced joy, and the grey eyed warrior glanced left and right, sighting the pillars of darkness and ice respectively. Looks like an ice mage, and I've no idea where the warrior for darkness is yet. Not that that says much- I barely knew where the darkness mage was in the last round. Focus girl, and make yourself an entrance. Head up, chest out, and issue a challenge. Let’s see if you can’t annoy a few more foes… its worked well enough so far. “Greetings champions of ice and dark! Think a pair of heroes like you can handle a little girl like me? I’ve always been fond of threesomes.”

superjars -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/17/2011 22:34:51)
There he was, lying on the ground, head spinning slightly from the rush of adrenaline from his recent maneuver. He laid there for a few seconds, letting his body recover from its most recent trauma. He just really wasn’t built to perform those type of acrobatics; better to stay on the ground, use his staff more. Speaking of, he hadn’t even really brought the implement into play yet. Not that there was much movable earthen material in this basement, but it might have helped some against Leira. His gaze withered a bit as he stared at the ceiling, thinking of the beautiful girl and the strange words she had spoken. To his surprise, and much to his chagrin, small lights began to pour out of the ceiling, breaking off in all directions; some even came towards him, flitting around his body and then into his body. He gagged as they rushed into his open orifices, a wave of nausea rushing over him, but that lasted only a moment. As he stared up, the world around him began to coalesce, as if he were losing consciousness, then everything went dark. What seemed like an eternity passed before Goshen’s eyes flitted open. He was seated on the boulder, staring at a large wooden gate, overgrown with vines. He had vague memories of walking through a forest just a few moments ago, but those were fleeting, seemingly unreal. If the Earthen Lord had some special message, it mattered to him not. He was glad to see that he had been advanced to the championships, but only as one was glad to be nearer to completing something they had never wanted to do in the first place. He sighed as the gate groaned and began opening, and pushed himself to his feet, striding forward with staff in hand, the boulder starting to roll after him as he moved. Goshen absent-mindedly reached up to touch his nose, noting that the blood was gone from where it had been flowing and the the nose itself had been repaired. The pain that had announced the bruising to his face was also assuaged, he also noted. His hand continued upwards to slide thick fingers through his hair, a wide grin flowing onto his large face. One step closer to home. It was a new arena, a brand new fight and there were likely to be plenty of new faces for him to deal with. He passed through the gate and got his first real glimpse of the arena beyond. Blood red sand covered the floor for as far as the eye could see and arrayed around the edges of the circle were several monuments, one for each of the elements, it would seem. He took notice of his own as he passed it by, a stately oak covered with flowers. Reaching out, he caressed the wood with his fingertips, taking a moment to pluck a single flower from one of the branches and hold it betwixt his thumb and forefinger. A memento of why he was here and what he could accomplish if he were to win this thing. He looked around at the other elements each in turn, noting that a few of the other competitors had already appeared at their own gates. He knew what duty his honor would demand of him before he could fight, and so he began to set about the task. With large, unhurried steps, he began to stride out to the center of the arena. There he would make his challenge to all who entered this field of battle, and there, he would begin his fight. As he walked, the boulder rolling behind him split itself five ways and lifted into the air, tumbling over and around each other as sand streamed slowly up to join them in a wild dance around Earth’s chosen Champion.

Geddesmck -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/18/2011 15:01:45)
Reeve awoke in chains. Black manacles pinched his wrists and ankles too tightly. Heavy chains joined each wrist to the other with barely a foot of slack and the chains for his ankles were little better. More heavy links ran from each manacle to a point behind Reeve’s prone form and every little movement was met with resistance. The final restraint he couldn’t see, but he could feel it and he knew it was there. It was always there. A long, thin, silvery chain ran into the darkness behind Reeve, attached to the device around his neck; a beautifully worked collar of newmerion. The silvery metal seemed to reflect more light than it should and that only served to make the engravings that decorated it stand out more. Chief among these engravings was an ornate sword that ran across Reeve’s throat with a single word upon the blade: Reeve. Reeve. His name. But it wasn’t really a name. It was closer to a title, or more accurate yet; a label. It meant sword. That’s what he was: A sword for the Library. A weapon for the mages. But not anymore. The thought came unbidden, but it was clear and bright, full of hope and truth. And he had to suppress it. He could not even think of freedom, they would not let him. Thinking of freedom would bring pain. Seeking freedom would bring worse. But a thought nibbled away at the corner of his mind. A traitorous, dangerous thought. A thought that would destroy him if he let it through. Freedom is worth anything. And he remembered. He remembered everything. He remembered escaping the Library. He remembered running for more than a decade. He remembered hardship and pain and crimes; his own crimes and those of others. But most of all he remembered the taste of freedom. Freedom is worth anything. The chains tried to drag him down. But he resisted them. His muscles cried out and rebelled, trying to do as the chains willed and pull him back to the floor. But he resisted them. Slowly, ever so slowly, he got to his feet and stood before his Lord. Before him. Behind him. Around him. Above him. Below him. The Energy Lord was everywhere at once. He wore no human mask; doing so would demean the great Lord. The Energy Lord was not a man, but a force and that was how he showed himself. Reeve stood in the middle of a thunderstorm. Only air was beneath his feet, but it seemed as solid as stone. Lightning flashed across Reeve’s world of grey clouds and thunder shook his very bones. No words were spoken but Reeve knew a question had been asked of him. What do you seek? “Freedom,” he said at once, holding up his chains and straining against them as if to illustrate his point. The Lord gave no reply but silence. For what seemed hours Reeve stood still before the storm that was his Lord. When an answer came it was not as words. Lightning struck Reeve and sent him to his knees in pain. Pain like he had never known assaulted him; he felt as if he was burning from the inside and freezing from the outside. He felt as if his skin was being torn from his bone even as those bones were crumbling to dust. He felt as if he was dying a thousand times. And it seemed to last for eternity. But he got to his feet again. This time the Energy Lord didn’t even bother to ask a question and blue light and pain filled Reeve’s world again. This time he sobbed, the pain overcoming pride and stubbornness. But freedom was worth anything. So Reeve got to his feet again, tears running down his cheeks. What do you seek? It took a moment to reply, the pain, and the fear of pain, had stiffened the muscles in his jaw. But reply he did; “Freedom.” Silence again, but this time it was followed eventually by another question. Freedom from what? And Reeve couldn’t answer. Freedom from the mages? No, whatever he might tell himself, he knew he had escaped them years ago. Freedom from other people? No, his encounter with Gabriel in the Cellar Arena had showed him that other people could sometime be trusted and that trust was a treasure. Freedom from guilt? No, the crimes he had committed were part of him and regretting them only showed he was still human deep down. “I don’t know.” Lightning struck again, but this time there was no pain. The chains, manacles and collar glowed white hot, but did not harm Reeve. He looked behind him at the chains that trailed into darkness, and realised with a start that there attached to nothing. And then they melted. Molten metal flowed along Reeve’s body but did not harm him, in fact, it seemed to invigorate him. Energy and strength, both physical and mental, returned to him. He had strength in his limbs again and he knew that any wounds he might have had were gone. Lightning flashed and thunder roared. The Energy Lord had no message for Reeve. I will return to your presence, he vowed, and I will know then what I seek freedom from. The Energy Champion stepped onto the red sand just beyond his pillar. A muscular man with black hair and dark blue eyes he was, clad in simple grey cloth trousers and leather boots. He wore no shirt, revealing his heavily scarred and heavily muscled torso. The scars and muscle drew fewer stares than the steel spike head that jutted ever so slightly from his chest. Each of his fingers was adorned with a steel ring, the ones on his right hand covering every joint and pointed so as to make it appear as if the man had metal claws. A thin, silvery chain was wrapped tightly around his right wrist. At his belt hung a longsword and two daggers, each made of steel from pommel to the tip of the blade. The rest of the space on his belt was taken by small spikes of various metals. Reeve’s wounds were healed. His equipment returned. He was ready to fight as a Champion of his Lord. Freedom is worth anything, he thought as he had so many time before, but this time the thought was completed with a question, but freedom from what?

Mirai -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/19/2011 18:21:13)
Salina stepped from the gateway, glancing momentarily at the red sands coating the arena floor, which softly crunched beneath the footfall of her supple leather boots. For a second, she felt a pang of fear, haunted by the image of blood soaking into the uncountable grains of the octagonal chamber, a legacy of this annual gory sacrifice to the elemental lords. Possibly, but human blood tends to turn a dirty brown after it has been spilt a while. I’ve seen enough bodies in the Guardhouse morgue to know that. Sorcery could keep it ruby red, but that’s an awful lot of effort for a visual effect. Mind you, who knows what gods are prepared to do for their own amusement. Or to say what species’ ichor originally fell in this death pit. Whatever, you need to focus girl or it’ll be your own lifeblood spilling onto this sea of burgundy. Salina’s grey eyes ran over the arena again, noting the earth competitor striding towards the centre of the chamber, scarlet sands and rocks swirling in his wake. The towering warrior was a giant of a man, his short messy brown hair entirely in keeping with his dusty appearance and burlap robes. Cute. They say it’s not how big you are, but how you use it that counts: but personally I’ve always liked a man with size. Now that one has the right idea- don’t forget that this crimson dust can serve as a weapon. And don’t discount those elemental pillars either- get yourself slammed into a god’s manifestation and I severely doubt you’ll be looking too perky after. Focus girl. By comparison, the ice mage to her right was slighter, though still a good six foot. He appeared young for a trial such as this, his impish face still lined with vestiges of a teenager’s sardonic humour. With blond hair slicked back and streaked with lines of icy white, Salina briefly struggled not to dismiss him as a foppish poser, all style and no substance. Don’t you dare girl. He may look like a sandled dreamer, but that prep boy is still an elemental lord’s chosen one. Whoever he is, he'll doubtless have something more about him than some frosty hair gel. Beyond the youngster was the champion of energy, whose name Salina had vaguely caught earlier. Like the earth-warrior he had messy hair, though his was dark not brown. At this distance he appeared to be of average height and build, without a clearly distinguishing facial feature beyond what appeared to be a relatively long nose. The steel spike head jutting from his scarred and muscular chest more than made up for this however. Reeve- the living lightning rod I think he was called? Catchy title, whatever he is. There’s some unusual magic going on there for him to be walking around with a spike in his chest. Good thing he wasn’t called ‘Reeve the human pin cushion.’

Krey -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/19/2011 19:45:23)
What was that? There was a girl at the pillar to his right... That of the Wind Lord. And she was taunting him, as well as whoever was at the darkness pillar. A glance in that direction revealed nothing. Except that the Pillar of Darkness appeared... Oddly large. And there was something about it that seemed very familiar. He could only spare a brief look at it, for the immediate headache it threatened him with was reason enough to keep it out of his sight. But there was definitely something else there, and if the announcer had indeed been referring to that cloud of darkness from before... Well, there was a very good chance he didn't want to go anywhere near. In the meantime, the Champion of Wind seemed to think that Marcos himself wouldn't be enough to handle her, a suggestion he felt a powerful need to disprove. Marcos grinned, the chains that coiled at his back lashing out with an airy clink as he turned to face her, planting one hand on his hip as the other held his staff upright, its end planted into the crimson sands below. “Careful you don't bite off more than you can chew, love,” he called back, an icy grin spreading across his features. “There's more than enough of me to keep you busy, and you can bet by the time we're through you won't be thinking of anyone else.” The chains coiled at his back again, and he spared another glance throughout the arena. Others were beginning to move, preparing to begin their own respective battles. More than one he recognized from the Cellar Arena, which meant he had to keep his eyes open. It was entirely possible, perhaps even likely, that he would find himself coming under attack from several foes at once again. After all, he had effectively made enemies of most of the arena with just two spells. Best not to repeat that in the Finals, he figured—these were all Champions, while the Cellar had been filled with rabble. One at a time, he told himself. They would fall, one at a time. Seeing as the Champion of Wind had tossed out her challenge, and he'd returned with his own in kind, she would be the first to go. A relative shame. She was attractive, if a bit old for him. On that note, her age could be somewhat telling—if she was here, there was a fair chance she'd seen more combat than he had. Best keep on his toes, test the waters. To that end, he summoned a book; a midsized tome, with a sharp ridge of ice running along its spine, its cover bound in leather crisscrossed with ice to form what looked like a net. “Gelu Laqueus,” the chant began in a low monotone. Marcos released his staff, allowing it to float beside him, the book floating open in the air in front of him. Both hands reached forth, arms slanted towards the ground and spread just wider than his body. His hands were open, fingers splayed inwards so that the palms faced him. “I invoke the spirits of the North, the guardians of the Frozen Realms. Defend thine Master, who takes thine icy will and grants it form.” His eyes didn't leave the Champion of Wind as he chanted, his hands remaining firmly where he'd placed them while the chains attached to his back lashed to and fro wildly, as if daring her to approach.

Ryu Viranesh -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/19/2011 23:40:07)
Everything was happening so quickly that it was hard for Leira to keep up; the man she’d challenged had raised his weapon as though to fight her and then promptly tossed the thing to the side. At my arm, she thought questionably as she pulled the limb through space to rejoin her body, the swordsman already charging her with his titular weapon. She slid her right leg around and back, at the same time readying her right arm for a punch. She twisted her body and thrust her arm forward, but before she could dissolve the limb her fist collided with a mote of light. The will-o-wisp shattered at her touch only to reform into a group of the strange lights, the things darting forward to assail her form. They came at her from all sides, carefully avoiding her flailing hands as they made their way inside of her; before she knew it she was rising into the air, her body tumbling around in space. Eventually a pair of the sprites took her sight, turning her vision into a multi-colored mush, and a few moments later she felt no more. Leira awoke with a start and glanced around, unsure of what to expect after such an unusual attack. She found herself in a simply constructed wooden room, sunlight streaming through the nearest window. Wherever she was, Leira knew one thing: she definitely wasn’t in the Cellar anymore. “No, you are not, my child,” came a soft, feminine voice from behind the girl. A chill ran up Leira’s spine; the voice sounded familiar, yet at the same time with an ethereal quality she had never heard before. She slowly turned around, knowing who she’d find behind her, but at the same time scarcely believing it. The girl found herself face to face with her mother, whose golden skin, long blond hair and slight form reminded her of her own. In some ways, she was even more otherworldly than Leira was, possessing the sharply pointed ears of a full-blooded lightbringer, as well as floating weightlessly on the air. However, something about her felt odder than usual; in fact, this entire encounter seemed out of place. “Why are you here, Mom? Better yet, why am I here?” asked the girl, her face screwed up in confusion. Her mother smiled gently, the gesture appearing to be one hundred percent genuine, “If you think about it, you already know the answer to both of those questions.” Leira was silent for a moment, allowing the woman’s words to sink in; the possibility had certainly occurred to her, but she hadn’t thought that it could really be the truth. Finally, she mustered the courage to voice her thoughts. “I’m...the champion of Light, aren’t I? Which means,” the girl trailed off as the full gravity of her situation finally hit her, the weight causing her to fall to her knees. “My lord, I’m sorry for not recognizing you sooner, it’s just that I never thought that I’d be chosen to-” “It’s alright, my dear. You’ve done well,” cut in the Lord’s medium, “and there’s no reason for you to be groveling on the floor. Arise, champion. I believe that you had some questions for me?” The newly anointed champion of Light hurriedly rose to her feet, struggling to keep her composure now that the moment she had dreamed about was finally here. “Yes, well,” she began, flustered, “I was wondering why you allow your followers incredible leeway so long as they pledge their loyalty to you?” Her mother’s body closed its eyes for a moment, as though the being in control of it was taking a moment to think. “Before I respond to that, I’d like to ask you a question of my own. You came to this tournament planning to showcase your belief and dedication to me. Is that really all that you did, all that happened within the confines of that arena?” Leira was momentarily taken aback by the question; was her patron really suggesting that she hadn’t shown as much devotion as she could have? No, that’s not it, she thought, if he didn’t trust that I believed in him with all my heart, then I wouldn’t be here. She was quiet for a long time, but when she finally spoke up her voice was firm with conviction, sure in her answer and in herself. “No, it isn’t. I learned a lot about myself and got caught up in the moment, in the heat of the battle. My beliefs never strayed from my fists and I remained honorable through it all, but I only openly proclaimed my allegiance once. I’m not ashamed of it though.” Her mother smiled knowingly at her, “Do you think many of those who serve me think any differently? Whatever other activities they might participate in they always see themselves as holding close to the tenets that they follow. I’m not saying that they’re always right, but mortals are not perfect beings. I don’t expect to be worshipped to the letter by each and every one of them, though I don’t begrudge any for trying. Do you understand?” Leira nodded, “I do. I won’t stop trying, but this experience has taught me that I can’t hold others to my standards.” The girl smiled, “That and so much more.” The lightbringer across from her opened her beautiful blue eyes and stared back at her daughter, the orbs bright with pride. “Then you’re ready.” The woman raised her hand and gestured to the space behind the young woman, the wooden wall parting to reveal the exit: a portal made out of pure light. “Go forth, my champion. Hold tight to your beliefs and follow your heart.” Leira nodded a final time and bowed, tears starting to well up in her eyes, “I will, my liege. I promise you...and you, Mom.” She wiped her eyes before she really started to cry, and turned away from her mother. She strode toward the portal and went into the light without looking back, leaving the lightbringer smiling behind her. The searing, but comforting brightness healed her wounds and re-knit her clothing, leaving Leira feeling as fresh as when she’d first entered the Cellar. There didn’t seem to be any end to the highway of light that she was walking along, but she trusted that her Lord would guide her to where she needed to be. Sure enough, the glare began to lessen and she heard something far off, a kind of rumbling sound. The ground began to shift beneath her feet and she finally heard something definitive: a voice. “And at last, but not least... For Light... the limber, the lightbringer child, Leira Wainwright!" The light around her receded and was drawn into the pillar that stood in front of her as the gate clanked shut, sealing Leira in the arena. None of that mattered right now though, the girl walking around the pillar after giving it a brief, longing glance. She turned her gaze to the rest of the arena, smiling when she saw Goshen in the arena’s center, preparing to challenge everyone, no doubt. She recognized some of the other champions, like the Ice mage and the man whom she was preparing to fight when she was spirited away, but she was unfamiliar with the woman near the Wind Pillar. Leira took another step forward, placing herself in front of the Light Pillar, and raised her fists. She was re-energized in body, mind, and spirit, and she was ready to fight. She opened her mouth and, beating Goshen to the punch, screamed out a challenge. “Anyone looking for a fair, honorable battle, you’ve found your opponent!”

superjars -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/20/2011 1:24:11)
His steps carried him shuffling over the hot sand, more and more of it trailing upwards to form a spinning halo around his form. The center of the arena drew near as more of his opponents stepped from beyond their respective gates to join in the large battle royale that was about to begin. His mind was already spinning, going through his repertoire of spells and abilities to form a strategy. This was a much different competition; the stakes had been raised and the competition would be much fiercer than it had been during the preliminaries. He would likely have to use the fullest extents of his magics to stay alive and competitive amongst those from the opposing elements, each of them champions in their own rights. He glanced around to see if there were any he noticed, his eyes flitting around at the various pillars arrayed before him. Darkness seemed unattended, but he noted that the pillar was much larger than the others looked. It seemed silly that they would make it thus, but who was he to judge the wills of the Lords. Perhaps the Dark Lord simply needed to assuage a large ego, or something similar. He definitely preferred the simplicity of his own element’s monument. Wind had yet another attractive woman representing it, one who seemed to already be using her womanly wiles upon her hapless prey. Definitely someone that Goshen should avoid, he thought, especially from the timbre of the voice which carried over the sands. No good could come of tangling with this vixen, he reflected as impure thoughts began to flood into his mind unbidden; thoughts which he pushed away as quickly as they came. Ice... Goshen’s eyes closed for a moment and his head shook sadly from side to side as he recognized the man who stood in all of his arrogant glory before his gate. Hopefully, the frosty fellow would refrain from dominating the Championship arena as he had in the Cellar. One could hope anyway. For now, he seemed preoccupied with the pretty girl, which was good. They deserved each other. The pillar of energy had another combatant that he vaguely recognized. He hadn’t had any direct links with the man, but he had been the opponent of (his beloved?) Leira before they had been whisked away here. He would likely not be too difficult for the large man to handle, though, and that seemed a fitting tribute to honor his bond with the lovely light fighter. No time to examine the other fighters as he reached the center, the time for his challenge to all now upon him. He would have liked to have made individual challenges to each combatant he faced in this deadly arena, but he found it extremely unlikely to be a practical use of his time. One grand, sweeping call to the other seven Champions would have to do, and if he had opportunity for a more personal touch, he would take it. The five bulbous rocks around him stopped where they were, rushing to meet on the ground, running under his feet and raising him into the air, a pedestal from which he could usher his stately address to those gathered. He raised a hand to the sky dramatically and opened his mouth to speak... “Anyone looking for a fair, honorable battle, you’ve found your opponent!” A voice, as familiar to him as his own, musical and flowing to his ears, sprang out from behind him, his heart skipping a beat as his mouth gaped open, unable to utter a sound. Never had he dared hope to see the alluring Leira again so soon, and yet here she was. He turned towards her, a wide grin spreading across his massive crag of a face while his cheeks blushed a bright crimson. As was typical for him, his hand went directly to his hair, messing about the already untidy mop upon his brow. “Yeah, what she said,” he bellowed, giving her a quick smile and a wave. Just like her to steal his thunder before he had his chance. Normally, he would have been furious at the slight, but it was impossible for him to remain angry at her. She had said everything that needed saying already and he actually felt quite honored to simply follow in her footsteps. It renewed his resolve; if neither of them met their ends before their next encounter, she would be his opponent once again. And now that the challenge was cast, the real battle could begin. The pulpit beneath his feet flowed down and outwards until his soles rested back upon the earth. As it moved outside the circle of his stance, the boulder split into eight pieces, spires which pointed towards each of the elemental pillars, including his own. These quivered in anticipation of jettisoning towards his opponents, but for now were content to simply protect him from a charge while he prepared himself for the combat to come. Sand began to swirl around him, quickly obscuring him from the view of all but the most astute observers. The time had come for him to get serious.

.Discipline -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/20/2011 5:31:12)
Dajaal remained still, silent, deadly and contemplative. Had they fallen for his ploy? He cared not, for he knew that the Elemental Lords would not have chosen the weak to represent them. Any false move, one foot out of place, would give his entire game away, so instead he simply stayed ready, ready for anything. Looking around he spotted the other champions emerging from their gates. At the Earth gate it appeared the champion was already making use of the arena's blood red sands, Dajaal took note to avoid the red ring of death which the warrior slew around his belt. But still, if he were to be distracted, he would be a human just like the others and would snap into his composite parts just as easily, it was simply the flowing control of his element which showed what a challenge he could be. Dajaal's ears drew him to the wind gate, where an attractive young woman appeared to be issuing both himself and the annoying mage from the Cellar a challenge. But alas, he was not about to let his reply give away his form or position, remaining deadly and silent. Noting the look in the girl's eyes, she appeared oddly confident for one faced with such a challenge and would no doubt have a trick or two to display before she would go down. The Energy gate appeared to harbor a strange man indeed, clad in the clothing of a common urchin, with what appeared to be a manner of keeping himself which matched, the only thing which gave him away was the short metallic spike which jutted from his chest. No doubt he would be using that as a source of his energy magic. Energy magic was unpredictable... Dajaal knew that a stray lightning bolt or two wouldn't cause him too much grief on the sandy ground of the arena, but the urchin would know that too... Then Dajaal's hands tremored slightly as he observed the gate he had the most fear and respect of. The gate of light had harbored what would look to any other as a little threat. But those eyes, that hair and the energy which permeated from her very skin revealed to Dajaal a sobering truth. This was no mere human... was this the angel he had sensed earlier? No. That didn't feel right... this combatant had a holyness about her which made his skin crawl a little. She would need to die before she could become any more of a threat... but to reveal his position to the others would be a horrible move. Dajaal continued to assess the situation as the battle began, his eyes flitting back to the mage that had given him so much trouble. If they were all as tricky as he had been, this wouldn't end well for Dajaal. He had been given a task and wasn't about to just let himself be taken out by a stray spell before even so much as wounding another. Breathing slowly and quietly he tried to relax himself again, drawing in the hatred... and the bloodlust... the bloodlust was incredible...

Micosil -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/20/2011 10:27:24)
Grax's vision was suddenly clouded by a surge of blue lights. He tried to turn around quickly, thinking it an unforseen attack, but his body wouldn't respond - forced to remain still, surrounded by unknown magic, Grax cursed quietly, mind racing. An oppressive feeling, like being in a room with too much air, pushed at him, which would've made him even more nervous had he not been already at his peak of tension. A humming rose slowly, so quietly that when Grax finally noticed it he realized he couldn't tell when it started; his attention perhaps distracted since the lights had started pulsing, twirling hypnotically, sending waves of unwelcome tranquility through the troll's body. After a few seconds, he shook his head, finally realizing what had happened. "So there's no better fighter, eh? Or is that no other fighter? Lord, you don't get that much love, I know that." The troll shrugged, his muscles responding this time. "Well, ready when you are." Whether the Lord actually cared about what Grax said or not was never very clear for him, and this case was no different. Shortly after he finished speaking, the lights went away as suddenly as they'd come and, with no other visible response from his Lord, the troll found himself standing in front of a gate leading to what he could only assume was the pillar in honor of (built by?) his Lord, quickly moving towards there as spheres of water on both his hands started to accumulate power. Listening in on the other entrants' descriptions, he quickly noted an absence of a target near the pillar of darkness - not a very good sign when the dark champion was introduced as a stalker and an unseen terror. Beyond that, everything seemed pretty standard, with the usual rituals to fighting - though admittedly more polite than he generally saw. Perhaps an advantage of these people over his own culture? Or a lack of honesty from their part? In any case, if there was a time to move, it was now. Grax touched lightly the tubes on his shoulders, making sure that they were still stuck to the water tank on his back before turning his attention back to the arena. Most of the entrants hadn't picked a fighter, which meant he'd be able to pick a target, and the situation wasn't tense enough yet that others would try to go in for a quick kill. Individual battles were possible and the troll didn't expect too much trouble from those. Of course, the targets were champions, so it wouldn't be easy in any case, but it wouldn't be... His thoughts were interrupted by a black shadow passing right next to him, inside the water pillar. The water buildup was suddenly pressurized and, as he realized that there was nothing jumping at him, returned to its normal state, a ball of water larger the size of a watermelon. Swimming... not that good an idea. Lord, make my work easier, not harder. You want me to win. I want to win. Don't put giant devourers inside the water, will you? I wonder if I can shoot it down if I need to... A voice bellowed around the arena, a challenge emitted by the champions of Earth and Light... which presented him with a choice. Not a very hard one, at that, because if he had to pick he would definitely prefer to fight someone whose attacks were based upon physical stuff. Magic beams of light and dark and energy had never quite set the troll at ease - he very much preferred things he could touch. And thus, standing right next to his own pillar, he replied just a bit more quietly: "I ain't looking for a fair fight, just a win, but I'll take you on anyways, Earthman." The stone shards weren't too worrying as far as Grax was concerned. They'd be easy enough to shatter with a single shot. As for the sand whirlwind... Well, he had a few ways to handle that, but even in the worst case scenario he could blindfire inside. His shots were damaging enough that he could afford to waste the effort as long as a couple connected. It would, however, wreck his timing with the water decompression, which might be a problem. Deal with it, kiddo. With those thoughts, his right hand rose and, with a punch forward, turned into a pressurized jet of water aimed at the center of the whirlwind, a basic attack intended to simply check for the target. Of course, he'd spend a second thinking after his reply, so the enemy could've moved by then, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. As he prepared for retaliation coming both from the ground under his feet and Earth's champion himself, he switched his power charging to his right hand fully, aiming to quickly recover all the water he'd released.

Geddesmck -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/21/2011 14:21:22)
He recognised some of them for the Cellar arena; the ice mage and the pretty woman with the detachable limbs most of all, but the Earth Champion had also fought in the mirrored arena. The other finalists were strangers; those that had shown their faces so far anyway. Reeve had not seen anyone emerge from either the gate behind the Fire Pillar or the Darkness Pillar. He found himself hoping to see Gabriel come walking out from one of the gates, but it never happened. I never even found out what element she was representing, he realised. He was wondering if she was even alive when the Light Champion issued her challenge, followed by the Earth champion’s rather less impressive call. The Light Champion was not a great distance away, the pillar of her Lord was right next to Reeve on one side, and he considered taking her up on her challenge. To his other side stood the ice mage (Marcos the announcer had named him) from the Cellar arena, his back to Reeve as he face the Wind Champion. Two frosty chains extended from the mage’s back and thrashed like angry serpents. A mage with chains, a very attractive target for this blade of mine. He fingered the hilt of his sword, the urge to charge at the mage while he was unaware difficult to resist. But resist he did. He turned to the Light Champion and drew an iron spike from his belt. With the same practised motion he’d demonstrated in the previous arena he swapped the steel spike in his chest for the iron spike in his hand. The steel was pulled from the hole in his chest, for the briefest of moments giving a glimpse of Reeve’s dead heart to any who should look, before the iron replace it. Steel limited Reeve’s electricity generating powers greatly, but lasted for a long time without being replaced. Iron on the other hand was much less limiting, but it lasted only a few minutes. Best make them count then. The steel spike found its place on his belt and the long sword found its place in Reeve’s left hand. The silvery metal chain around his right arm uncoiled with a crackle of energy and only Reeve gripping its end stopped it falling to the sand completely. Now that the chain was unwrapped it seemed longer, almost six feet in length, its thinness disguising the length when it was wrapped around the arm. He began to approach the Light Champion, Leira he believed she had been named, the long chain trailing in the sand behind him. A few sparks of blue electricity discharged from the blade, the chain and, if one looked closely, even Reeve himself. We never really got to start our fight, Reeve thought, let us continue it here. He gave no announcement he approached, but neither did he disguise his intent. To him that seemed generous, chivalrous even; what manner of fool would willingly give his foe warning? The Energy Champion approached the Light Champion, an aura of violence almost visible around him. He was a thunderstorm and she was the sun. When the storms rolled in, the dark clouds hid the sun and cloaked the world in shadow. The storm approached.

Mirai -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/21/2011 17:05:23)
Salina’s grey eyes continued to flick around the arena, as she sighted the only other female competitor in the finals, an attractive, slight young thing wearing a golden yellow vest and white fingerless gloves with a splodge of gold. For a moment she was sorely tempted to accept the offer of ‘fair, honourable battle.’ All the easier to stab such a foe in the back if they put their trust in honour. At least this ‘Leira the lightbringer’ looks prettier than old silverhead from the Sky round. I wonder if all the light competitors were female? Still there was no sign of the darkness competitor, only the pillar of the elemental lord of night. Though in truth she could not so much ‘see’ the darkness column as the nauseating absence of light that presumably surrounded a central pillar of sorts within. Beyond the bale monstrosity of darkness the champion of water had now arrived, a troll by appearance, whom she vaguely recalled seeing at the previous Sky round, though their paths had not crossed. Meanwhile the towering earth warrior was setting protections around himself, a dust cloud swirling about, even as his rock formations arrowed outward. Behind her she could hear a rumbling murmur from the crowd, spectators taking bets and muttering about which champions would be first to fall to their bloody deaths, sacrificial lambs upon the elemental lords’ altar. But suddenly, the auburn haired warrior's attention was focussed upon the ice mage, as he responded to her challenge by warning her off biting off more than she could chew, and claiming she wouldn’t be thinking of others by the time they were done. The former coven mistress’ grey eyes twinkled at the young man’s claims, even as she looked towards him in mock sympathy. She struck a pose, lift hand on a jauntily angled hip, a smile playing over her fulsome lips. This youngster has something about him at least. A bit prepubescent still, but at least he has some spine. “By the time we’re done I won’t be thinking of anyone else? You’re worried your poor performance will put me off men for good? Aw, that’s sweet honey, but don’t you trouble your frosty head with such fears: I eat little boys like you for breakfast. Here’s a kiss for your concern though.” Stooping, the cream cloaked former captain put elegantly filed fingers to her lips, and with a wink blew a kiss to her young foe. Infusing her breath with sorcerous energy, the mocking gesture instantly became a weapon in its own right, a gust of hurricane force ripping along the surface of the arena, snatching up in its wake the red sands the coated the chamber’s floor. In a heart beat’s passing, a veritable scarlet sandstorm was tearing forward, dust grains blinding to the eye as they scoured through the dusty air. Then the wind-witch was off and running, sprinting forward in the wake of her creation’s path. As she darted forward in the direction of the ice mage, she deftly veered and zig-zagged in her path, a white grin playing over her features as she waited for his counter-strike. This should keep you busy while I close the distance between us sweetling. Hopefully my gale will slam you hard enough into the chamber wall to break a bone or two. Regardless, as my foes of darkness and light proved in the last round, it’s a lot harder to hit what you can’t see…

Ryu Viranesh -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/21/2011 23:40:43)
As soon as she’d belted out her challenge, her proclamation was followed by an accompanying yell from Goshen, not surprisingly asking for the same thing that she had. The man gave her a generous wave, at which she couldn’t help but take a moment to smile; it was rare that anyone, in the midst of battle or outside of it, would be so genuinely glad to see her. As much as she wanted to wave back, she didn’t want to distract the man when it looked like he’d soon be entering combat. A new champion who had entered the arena, some kind of large blue beast that strode forth from behind the Water pillar, was making his way towards her…friend? Leira’s brow wrinkled as she thought about what the man really was to her; he was the champion of Earth and a good friend certainly, but was that really all? Her Lord had told her to follow her heart, but it was something that was easier said than done. She shook the images from her head; she’d have plenty of time to figure out her feelings after the tournament was finished. The girl took a quick glance around the arena, noting that in addition to the Water beast and Goshen, the icy mage and the woman near the Wind pillar were also engaging in combat. Since there didn’t seem to be anyone by either the Darkness or the Fire pillar that only left one opponent to respond to the challenge that she’d just issued. The thought of actually getting the fight that she’d desired before the Finals began brought a smirk to her lips; she’d be able to test herself against that swordsman after all. Leira turned to face the Energy pillar just in time to see the man start walking towards her. A metallic chain dragged along in the sand behind him, sparks leaping off of the weapon to shudder and die on the scarlet surface below. He still held his iconic sword at the ready, the blade similarly energized; the amount of electricity being generated by the man was staggering, almost as though he himself was a force of nature. As she raised her head to look him in the eyes, she felt it in his hard indigo irises. This was a different kind of battle than her fight with Goshen had been; there would be no camaraderie, no laughs shared between her and this man. This was a fight to the bitter end between two people who didn’t know and wouldn’t know anything about the other. Leira steeled herself and shifted her stance to face him, her eyes narrowing as she studied his form. She’d avoid killing him if possible, but no one knew if it would be in this grand melee. Fully convinced that she didn’t want to let this foe and his electrical appliances get anywhere near her, the girl started to think of ways to keep him well out of range. It didn’t take her long to decide on a relatively simple plan with a twist thrown in; she’d been able to use the last arena’s quirks to her advantage, it was time to see if she could use this one’s as well. She slid her right foot backwards, displacing quite a bit of sand in the process, and opened her mouth to address the swordsman, her lips still curved in an amused fashion. “Now you see me, now you don’t.” With that she dragged her foot forward, increasing the force behind it as it drew closer and closer to where it had began. The action also collected a nice amount of the scarlet sand on the front of her shoe, the grainy substance to be added to the pile already existing where she’d stood. As her foot and the sand reached this point, Leira suddenly brought her leg upward into a crushing knee, the sand on top of the appendage being launched into the air before her, hopefully obscuring the man’s view. This didn’t stop her leg from fading into light though, the body part reforming right in front of the Energy champion, aiming to smash right into his chest. The force of the blow had been lessened slightly by the resistance that the sand had produced, but the attack was still a more than adequate warning shot to start off the fight.

superjars -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/21/2011 23:46:58)
But not too serious. If there was one good that had come from his years of wandering, it had been to renew the sense of excitement and adventure in the large man. Ever since his escape from the raiders on his home world, he had been learning to smile and enjoy each day he was given. The previous round of combat had included some rather pleasurable times, and he hoped that this grand melee would be no different. He’d have to see who came his way and what they could do to be sure. As if on cue, a distinctively male voice called out acceptance to his proffered challenge; rather rudely, if Goshen was to be honest with himself. He allowed the excess sand to drop away from him, no longer obscuring his figure and revealing a strange sight to any who dared look in his direction. It appeared as if the large man had grown a second skin, his entire body covered with the crimson sands spreading out below him. His legs were also submerged in the surrounding sands from the knee down, causing less of his tall form to show in the air above. He was being blessed with ample supplies for his craft and found it important to make the best use of them. As this was all revealed, the strange creature, cerulean and supple in appearance and rude as he was, pushed the offensive, tossing what seemed to be a random punch in the large man’s direction. A broad smirk covered Goshen’s face, somewhat obscured by the sand plastered around his mouth, twisting it into a strange and awkward look. This man may have thought to fool him with this move, but if his other battle had been any indication, things were never quite what they seemed. And, just as he had thought, something more happened: a razor thin blast of water came blazing from the fist, aimed for what was now the large man’s face. Allowing that to hit would not do much for his already craggy face; Leira was likely to be quite angered if he allowed someone other than her to damage it, so it was obvious what he had to do. More sand shot up around him, sinking him even deeper into the arena until his feet came to rest on a solid surface. He was now up to his waist in the stuff, and low enough that the shot would sail over his head. One crisis was now averted, and being down here gave him another idea: he’d see how smart this water creature was. A simple spin of his staff and it was planted in the ground at his side. He slid his fingers along the runes he had carved in it, making sure to touch several specific ones along the way. Those he pressed began to glow a dull red, matching the sands which then began to rise up and swirl around it, shaping itself to mimic the large fighter. At the same time, he used his magic to pull himself under the ground, as well as grabbing two of the spires and pulling them with him. Together, the three objects split up, heading towards the Water Champion, each leaving an impression on the surface in its wake to signify position, while at the same time his sand-coated facsimile stood in place to draw the creature’s attention.

.Discipline -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/22/2011 13:57:27)
Finally, some action, the Champion of Water had appeared and as quickly as he set foot on the blood red sand he had accepted the challenge of the Earth Champion, attacking him, becoming distracted... This was the time to strike. Finding the bloodlust rising deep within him, Dajaal couldn't remain undercover any longer. He won't be able to stop me with water spouts... he won't even see his murderer... Watching for the opportune moment, just when the Champion of Earth has launched his counter attack, Dajaal began to run toward the distracted foe, filled with hunger and rage, making sure to take his opponent by complete surprise. Unfortunately this would make his guise as the elemental pillar of darkness unreasonable, but if he could move quickly enough he may just take the entire arena by surprise, perhaps even escaping the peripheral vision of many of the combatants, appearing as just a flicker at the corners of their vision. Moving thunderously fast, making his way toward the Champion of Water, Dajaal planned to make his first kill, taking advantage of the distracted opponent, blinding him by placing him into the aura of impenetrable darkness. This would be a swift and deadly maneuver, if executed correctly. With poison dripping from his venomous tail he planned to strike, incapacitating the azure troll and tearing away at his flesh with sharp, unrelenting teeth. If the hulking, shrouded demon had his way, nothing would leave the shadows but clean picked bones. He licked his lips hungrily as he rampaged toward the strange aquatic warrior.

Krey -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/22/2011 19:14:02)
Marcos smirked at Salina's retort, his laugh held back easily, if grudgingly at her wit; he had to admit, that was a good one, though he already had the perfect return. Unfortunately, he was casting, and to utter it would mean to interrupt his spell, and so there was no time for banter. In all truth, though, he never expected to unleash this spell. If the Champion of Wind allowed it, he'd finish it of course, and in that likely seal her fate. But this was the Finals, and if she allowed him to cast such a powerful spell right off, she deserved to die the painful death that would have awaited her. Instead, she blew him a kiss, and in that act gave Marcos exactly what he was looking for. And then some. While he wasn't exactly sure what to expect, hurricane-force winds were not exactly what he'd been anticipating. The sandstorm those winds created was another miscalculation, one which could have been downright debilitating if he'd not closed his eyes as soon as he saw it coming. He didn't even try and guard against the attack. There was no moving out of the way, he'd simply been too unprepared for it; instead, he worked out the best way to suffer through with as little damage as possible. He grabbed his staff, knowing that the spell was a lost cause. The next second his book was blown away and he allowed the blast of wind to lift him off his feet. The book was dismissed, and as he flew, his chains lashed towards the sandy floor of the arena, digging in as best they could to slow his flight and to spin him 'round so that his feet would hit the wall. The sands stung at his bare lower legs, his arms, his exposed torso and his face, but in the grand scheme of things, this was minor. The wind hadn't lived long enough to pick up the ferocity of a true sandstorm, so the worst he got was some raw skin. The real threat was the wall behind him, but his positioning in relation to the Champion of Wind meant that he'd be hitting the wall at an angle. All that remained was to cut the friction between his feet and the side of the arena, and he'd slide to safety, using her own assault to put more distance between her and himself. This was accomplished with the chains. Once he was satisfied he'd slowed enough, and that his angle was right, he pulled his knees up and the chains wrapped 'round both his feet, bringing with them a welcome chill to raw skin. He stretched his legs out a little now to better absorb the impact, and as soon as he felt it allowed his knees to act as springs, absorbing the impact with relatively little pain. The chains sang like nails on a chalkboard as he slid along the wall, and as soon as his momentum began to slow, he kicked off, flipped towards the sands, and landed three quarters of the way to the energy pillar, staff in one hand and a small blue book hovering in the air before him. His free hand reached out to his left, fingers splayed. “Ice Queen, I invoke thy wrath; spear of Kryshandra, Gelu Hasta!” The air beneath his hand began to glisten, crystalline particles forming from nothing, those particles joining and lengthening to become solid, a physical shape swiftly lengthening, taking on the form of a great spear made entirely of ice. It ended in a blade, double-edged and sharp, albeit short and hardly useful for cutting. Not that it mattered, as the spear was no melee weapon, but a projectile, simply awaiting the command of its master to strike. In the meantime, the cloud of sand had a twofold affect, one of which served to delay his strike. While he'd cleared the majority of it by some distance with his slide, he would not see her until she emerged from the bulk of the mass. By the same right, it was unlikely she would see him. As soon as she emerged, the spear would fly. Now he just hoped she didn't do that windy thing again...

Mirai -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/23/2011 19:10:16)
The roar of the crowd was louder now, a thunderous rumble that echoed around the arena like the baying of hounds, relentlessly pursuing a scarlet tailed fox to its bloody end. Within the cacophony, individual voices could be heard shrieking and yapping for individual champions. Here a swathe of black robed dark priests shouted for the purple eyed demon of darkness, glorying in its ivory horned monstrosity. There a green eyed young woman could be heard cheering on the sandled and silver bangled young ice mage, giggling with her friends as she hoped to catch sight of the athletic, toned muscles concealed beneath his white, icy blue-trimmed vest. Doubtless a few out there even cry out in support of you girl, their eponymous wind warrior. Enjoy their adoration, but don’t you forget they’re fickle fans, quick to switch allegiance at the fall of a favourite, cursing only for a few coppers lost in the gambling halls. In truth, all of us here are just bloody sacrifices on this altar, livestock to be culled again next year for the amusement of the people and the lords above. Suddenly the noise shifted briefly in tone, pierced by a thousand simultaneous gasps, as the pillar of fire disappeared into nothingness. A thousand intakes of breath: all of which then turned to cheers and cries of dismay in their own turn. But Salina had little time to note the shift in tenor of the crowd, being far more occupied with the task of pursuing her foe, sent flying by her own sorcerous blast of wind. While her gust had been effective in thwarting the athletic young mage’s spell casting, it had also served to send him careening away from her charge. Not that she was entirely sure of the frosty wizard’s precise location, as the remnants of her own sandstorm still hung in the air, obscuring mortal vision. Hmm, this is familiar- charging toward a foe I can’t see. At least this time round my opponent won’t see me coming, won’t near burn my eyes of with her lightshow. Summon a giant snowman to eat me, impale me on an icicle- yes, but no blinding radiance. Love it! Her leather boots shifted, angling in the crimson sands, her weight twisting toward the arena’s centre, as she turned the momentum of her sprint towards the vague location of the bangle wearing young mage. She rounded his own pillar of ice, keeping away from its spectrally cold surface, and charged toward the column of electrical energy. Tempting to use the whistle again- but the ear plugs will send me into close quarters with my frost-gelled foe deaf as well as blind. Time for something different. Filching one of her small steel ball bearings from her pouch, she placed the metallic orb onto her pink tongue, and unsheathed her mithril blades. With a leathery snick the two weapons were drawn smoothly from their scabbards, shining like twin beacons above the arena’s dusty surface. A moment later she entered the cloud of swirling dust, tensed for whatever surprises the wizard had planned. Not to disappoint her, the ice mage swung an outstretched hand towards the former captain the instant that she made out his shadowy shape in the sand fog. Battle-honed reflexes sent her turning to the side but his glistening spear still caught her left shoulder a glancing blow. Though her spider silk tunic held against the blade of the weapon itself, the sheer force and size of the brutal javelin was dangerous in itself. The explosion of unexpected force sent shockwaves down her left arm, the limb suddenly feeling at once numb and at the same time home to a thousand prickling pins and needles. Pain flared from her shoulder, nerve endings howling out a song of sudden torment. Xinguish’s fires that hurt! My frosty friend packs a punch of his own. Just give thanks to the wind lord girl that he didn’t hit you directly, or you’d have been the one flying across the arena this time… But she knew she had to press the attack, to at least limit the ice mage’s opportunities for further sorcery- notwithstanding the octopus-like additional arms of ice already glistening from his back. Instinctively, she pivoted on her right foot, using the force of the ice-spear’s blow to give her turn extra momentum. Let’s see if I can still swing a sword with my left hand…I’d prefer to mangle a slash than a block at least. Her back briefly to her foe, she willed her left blade into a backhanded horizontal slash, the sword trembling ever so slightly in the air as it swung round, flashing towards the mage’s lower rib cage. Simultaneously, she brought her left leg up to about 80 degrees from vertical, twisting it into a roundhouse kick that was made more deadly by the steel blade suddenly springing into place at the base of her boot, turned with one concealed toe-flick into a temporary ice skate. Inexorably, the steel edge curved towards Marcos’ thighs. As she spun toward the ice mage, her right blade remained steady in its vertical guard position, poised to attempt to block any retaliation- or to deliver a killing stabbing thrust if the opportunity presented itself. Meanwhile, she spat out her steel ball, her sorcerous powers turning the simple object into a makeshift bullet with another magical exhalation. Though ‘shooting’ in this fashion was at best an inexact science, the grey eyed warrior was aiming just above the snowflake charm upon the ice mage’s sternum, releasing the metallic orb with a cry of both wordless ferocity and bloody intent: “Hyah!”

Geddesmck -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/24/2011 15:14:59)
The sand made every step that little bit more difficult. For now it was an annoyance, and a small one at that, but Reeve wasn’t used to this kind of terrain. He tried not to think about how embarrassing it would be to stumble in the sand and die due to clumsiness. He couldn’t help but grimaced slightly at the thought. She turned and the spotted him, a smirk on her lips. The Light Champion locked eyes with Reeve for the briefest of moments and something passed between them; an understanding that the coming fight would not end until one of them was dead or dying. That suited Reeve fine. He’d been half afraid upon choosing the woman that he’d find himself unable to fight her, as he apparently had been with Gabriel. He needn’t have worried, there was no little voice in his head twittering on about how pretty this woman was (although she undoubtedly was), perhaps because, unlike Gabriel, this woman was obviously not looking for anything more that a fight. Reeve shuddered slightly as electricity ran down his spine. An iron spike allowed Reeve to produce much more electricity than a steel one. This had many uses, one of which he was putting to good use now; electrifying his entire body. It was an odd sensation, like spiders crawling over and under his skin, but that was a price he was happy to pay for the results. “Now you see me, now you don’t.” Oh no. Reeve covered his eyes with his forearms on instinct, expecting some kind of great flash of light to blind him. Whether there was a flash of light Reeve couldn’t say, the next thing he knew his mouth was full of sand and something hard collided with his chest. There was a small flash of blue light and a short, harsh BZZT. Whatever it was that had come in contact with Reeve’s flesh was in for a (literal) nasty shock. Reeve’s lungs felt like they were empty as he fell back to the sand; the blow having knocked most of his breath away. He sat up with a groan and got reluctantly to his feet, spitting sand out his mouth as he did with a grimace of distaste. This is not going to be an easy fight.

Micosil -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/24/2011 15:41:06)
Grax frowned upon seeing his enemy dive further into the sand and dodge the shot. Fighting someone who could move effortlessly through sand was not high on his priority list, so he at least hoped that it'd take part of his focus or tire him out. Otherwise this fight could go either way, and he couldn't really afford that kind of uncertainty. The troll eyed the three projectiles coming at him, torn between shooting them down, blocking, or simply dodging. The latter was far too risky, but the other two were just as simple. As he was raising his hand to shoot them down, a flicker of shadow moved by the corner of his eye. Quickly noticing that the pillar of water was calm this time, Grax's heart and mind raced. The stalker thing. Two on one? Not nice. He had time to stretch his hand and touch his Lord's pillar before darkness engulfed him. In a hurry to get his defense up as soon as possible, he called forth a rush of water, an almost horizontal flow of water running from his arm and around his body. He took a deep breath an instant before he was completely immersed inside one of his spheres of water, about half a meter larger in radius than the troll's own body. A short but heartfelt prayer went to his Lord for letting him use that water, more an intense feeling of gratitude than anything with words. The troll, however, was not done yet. Simply holding the water was taking up most of his attention, but he didn't have the time right now to adjust the bubble's size to his own. Instead, he tensed up the water's surface, as he did to hold his spheres solid and, as he floated, the sphere actually pushed him up, as if he were inside a gigantic ball. The effect of this was twofold. On one hand, the sphere's tension should be high enough to resist anything that was thrown his way, and even in the rare situation where something managed to push through his "shell", he'd be able to reform it around whatever was attacking him, forcing it to maintain an incredible effort in order to get closer to him. On the other hand, Grax was reaching a very dangerous point as far as water control went. Not only was he surrounded by darkness, but he couldn't sense what was around him, not while he controlled this much water. He'd have to shed part of his shell if he intended to get back into the fight anytime soon, or simply if he didn't want to drown.

superjars -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/24/2011 20:37:38)
Snaking his way underground, the large man had no idea what was happening on the surface. This happened to be the major disadvantage of this type of maneuver, but the arena made this too good of an option for him to resist. It actually felt very freeing for him to be slithering through the sand, a path opening before him, then closing behind, as if he were a worm burrowing slowly through the soil. He knew precisely where the two rocks were, but beyond that he was oblivious to the rest of the arena. He contemplated sticking under the sands for a while, simply floating around through the coarse grains, ignoring the rest of the din going on above him. But this was the Championships, and it would not be advantageous for Goshen to remove himself from the combat. It would likely make his Lord angry, but more importantly, it would be a disservice to the honor which guided his words and actions. No, it would not do to stay below; he must arise like a great worm from the depths and strike out at his foe, just as he had originally planned. He increased the speed of himself and the spires trailing to his left and right, gauging where he thought his strange opponent would be, plotting a course for himself that would take him beneath and behind his prey. Likely, the Water Champion expected him to do a direct attack, closing the distance and striking from below. And to a certain extent, this is exactly what he planned. But it wouldn’t be him that made the direct assault. He planned to aim the torpedoes of stone on his sides at their target - the place where he thought the pillar was - while he shot further on, surfacing behind the man’s back and using his magic to adjust the movement of the rocks and skewer the man before he had a chance to react. Having set the course of the underground missiles, he let them go on their path and focused on his own trajectory. When he felt he had gone far enough to be clear of his opponent and the watery death trap of a pillar, he angled up swiftly to fly out of the sands and surprise his foe. What met him, however, was very different than what he left behind. Where he had expected to see the back of his target and the sands stretching out beyond, it was now blotted out with black, as if the sun had been eclipsed and the world plunged into darkness. He had no idea where his earthen rockets were at, nor where his opponent was situated. This was quite the strange, and possibly untenable, position for him to be in. His best guess was that whoever had come through the darkness gate had decided to enter the midst of an already occurring struggle. Although not something that Goshen would attempt without announcing his intentions, he could not hold others to the same standards that he did himself. Regardless, this new player was likely going to make things interesting. Otherwise, this water-logged brute he was fighting had some amazing tricks in his pipes. He finally caught a tingle of the large earthen shards as they blazed out of the ground and into range of his magical manipulation. He took hold of both of them, sending them on a path through the darkness and towards himself, hoping they might hit something along the way. At the same time, he placed a quick magical command in a minuscule sand orb he created to give instructions to his staff -- still positioned in the center of the arena -- to collect the rest of his boulder and return. As he flung it towards his implement, he knew it would take a bit for the signal to arrive and longer for the entirety of it to return. He hoped that the twin spires he had brought with him, as well as the sands of the arena, would be enough to stave off defeat until the rest arrived. This battle wasn’t turning out to be half as much fun as when he had fought Leira.

Ryu Viranesh -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/24/2011 23:52:32)
Her trick worked like a charm, or perhaps not, seeing as the swordsman had covered his own eyes instead of being blinded by the sand that she’d kicked up. It wasn’t like it mattered though, as her leg sailed unopposed right towards its target, a nice satisfying thump greeting her ears as the knee connected with the man’s chest. The electrical shock that came afterwards was considerably less satisfying. Her limb recoiled as the charge ran down its length, its current separation thankfully stopping the burning sensation from spreading any further. After waiting a moment for the the feeling to subside, Leira cautiously pulled the leg back to her body so that should could inspect the damage. She found that while the unexpected shock had numbed her calf, there was still enough feeling in the limb for her to move it, although it would be slower for a short time. Her knee, on the other hand, had taken the brunt of her opponent’s counter; the skin on the front of her kneecap had been cleanly singed off, the raw, tender flesh beneath stinging as air brushed across it. The girl winced slightly, more in annoyance than pain. She’d be capable of using the knee again, but she was sure that it would hurt when it collided with anything. Despite this minor setback, she was satisfied with how she’d come out of that engagement; it was no worse than what Goshen had put her through. Now that she’d assessed herself, Leira turned to examine her opponent and see what damage she’d managed to deal to him. Her maneuver had knocked the man onto his back, but he was already rising to his feet; even though she’d hit him squarely, it hadn’t been enough to put him down for more than a few moments. Perhaps the electricity weakened my strike a bit, the girl absent-mindedly thought as she watched the man spit something onto the ground, frowning. As she considered his form, her eyes wandered to the spot on his chest that her knee had struck; if he’d been able to shock her when he was unprepared for an attack, that likely meant that his whole body had lightning coursing through it. This was going to be a difficult fight for a person like her, who relied on “close combat” to deal damage to her foes. She’d have to find a way to attack him without touching him. When the idea popped into her head, at first she considered it too dangerous, but another glance at the swordsman and his electrified body dispelled any doubts that she might have had. Leira couldn’t afford to risk losing her hands, the most potent weapons in her possession, so she needed to end this battle as quickly as possible. She was going to have to try something risky. Her eyes never left the champion of Energy as she carefully shifted her right leg backwards into a position that mirrored the one she’d been in maybe a minute prior, her hands poised and ready in front of her. The girl would wait for her opponent to come to her, and then she would spring her trap. Just because she represented Light, it didn’t mean that she didn’t have a mischievous side.

.Discipline -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/25/2011 14:47:54)
Coward, shielding himself... no matter, he is blind to the world now... This is my time. Noticing the rumbling behind him and feeling the ground shaking below him, Dajaal jumped down onto the ground, covering his head and ears and watching in astonishment as jagged spikes of earth whistled over him. Clearly the Champion of Earth had caught on now, but not to worry, this was to be expected. With the Water Champion encased in a hardened goo and the assault of the sandbathed warrior only to worsen, Dajaal thanked his Lord that the safety of darkness would give him refuge and a chance to react to the poorly aimed attacks that would continue. Focusing while he lay down against the sands, he shifted the bulk of his dark aura upward, making it appear that he had remained standing. That should be enough to avoid aimed projectiles for now, but with the Water Champion unable to see at all and encased, there would be no possible way to make an attack unless he could trick the Champion of Earth into penetrating the watery shield. These heretics are not as weak as they appeared... something will need to be done Pointing his tail upward to catch whosoever may be wandering in the darkness, he drew a deep, formidable breath and began to wail at the top of his lungs, the eardrum shattering sound would also serve to low the focus of his foes. And with the watery orb in such close proximity, perhaps a sonic attack would better penetrate the tightly packed outer wall causing it to shake the inner liquids and cause instability... who knew? All Dajaal knew is that he would have to stave off a direct attack however he could before he would try to regain his feet and attack his shaken foes directly. The bloodcurdling screams emanating from the impenetrable darkness echoed loudly through the arena as the waiting giant lay in wait for another, perhaps more successful, chance to attack, to kill, to feed. The hunger was growing inside him. But who would be on the menu?

Krey -> RE: =EC 2011= Finals Arena (7/25/2011 18:51:05)
The woman showed herself, emerging from the cloud of sands and Marcos reacted instantly, his hand lashing forth and, in response, telekinetic force launched the greatspear at his target. The strike was glancing, at best, but it struck with enough force to put her into a spin, and from that an attack—controlled, by the look of it, if only just. She came 'round quickly, her blade going for his left side, towards the lower rib cage. Well, that was simple enough to avoid—she was basically an open book at this point. He took a big hop back, clearing both the blade and the kick and likely saving his life in the same movement. What he hadn't seen coming was a bullet. It'd have taken him straight in the chest if he'd been standing where he was; fortunately for him, her aim was off, and really he'd hardly even have known it passed except that it grazed his bare right shoulder, just taking the surface layer of flesh as it whizzed by. He hissed in pain, but was thankful he'd cleared the majority of her attack. Not that it was such a feat, what with how sloppy it was. “Come love, you'll have to do better than that,” he taunted, a grin playing across his features. He faltered slightly and took another step back, as he noticed suddenly the lack of a Pillar of Fire on the other side of the arena. Interesting. Not as if it affected him greatly, but it seemed the Fire Lord had already lost favor in his chosen champion. Pity that, but not surprising—Fire was a weak and fickle master, easily quelled. Except when it wasn't. Then it was an annoying bastard. But back to the fight! Time to try something a little different. Not that he hadn't done this before, but not when fighting a skilled opponent. This would certainly prove interesting. A large blue book formed in the air to his right, and circled around behind his foe, pages flipping til he found the title he was looking for. The text was, fortunately, quite large—why make such a huge book with small text?—so that reading at a distance was not much trouble. Even as his eyes scanned the page, the chain on his left lashed out, aiming to wrap around the blade she'd made to strike him with, and he brought his staff around from his right, that hand grasping it in the center and his left towards the base, so that the blade lashed up, intent to open her diagonally across the torso. If nothing else, it would keep her at a distance. As he made these strikes, he began to chant. “Gelu Flatus! Your master requests your aid, Spirits of the North. The chill of the mountains is but a distant memory, but one at your will brought forth, an aura of frost to comfort the warrior and slow his foes.” While this spell was rather less deadly than the last he'd tried to cast, chanting in combat was not nearly so simple. His focus had to be perfect, and he hoped the chain and his staff would give him the chance to finish.

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