=Elemental Championships= Spectators Thread


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8/13/2007 19:34:09

Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...

The hour is nearly upon us...

Of the many and varied thoughts flitting through the minds of artisans and magi, this seemed the resplendent chorus guiding their thoughts. Even the Ronin of Dreams was caught be the exuberant thought, the Elemental Champion of the last tournament having been guided by the Unseen to direct the forces of workers and priests in readying the arenas anew for another year of combat. A touch here, a shift there, the work during the year was often far more vast than most competitors would have ever dreamed. And though there was only a single new arena...the others had received a fair share of renovations and maintenance work themselves.

Such was what Ronin's fast pace had brought him to check one final time, and he had chosen to start at the Arena that had received quite the substantial face-lift. The gates to Fountain Arena parted just wide enough to let him slip through to join the plentiful artisans around the base of the former hill. A hill that no longer stood as it did, with the gentle grade bedecked with fountains from the year prior, but rather a revised structure stood fast. It was at once a step pyramid, a set of interlocking circles, and at the same time as gently tiered as a rice paddy. Four cobblestoned paths would, if viewed from above, seem to form a cross on the structure, while vast expanses of each level had been given over to natural elements. Every second step used these expanses for the ornate fountains that gave the Arena its namesake, and the other steps held turf bedecked with small shrubs that would grab at the ankles of the unwary.

Each step was not overly high, and the nine steps in total that the structure possessed gave it a deceptive height that was only about twelve feet high. The top step held a far more ornate fountain structure than the others, however, as this one was bedecked in enough runes to momentarily transmute water into molten fire in its display. Even with such a structure, the top level could accommodate two contestants without too much trouble...though dodging the pyrotechnic display could keep them more occupied than their opponent if they weren't careful. Ah, to no longer be quite so concerned with such trivialities for a time

One of the artisans noticed Ronin and came by to give an impromptu report. “Sir, most of the renovations are complete. We've had a slight issue with overflow on the fountains on the northern side, however, that we are seeing to.”

The former Champion smiled slightly, rather than frowning like most taskmasters. “Oh really? What has this overflow done, exactly?”

“Well, sir, one of the fountains on the eight level seems to have a drain issue, so the cobblestone path on that side has what amounts to a small waterfall. And its starting to get this bottom level damp enough too...”

“That is fine.”

“Excuse me sir?” the artisan half-stammered.

Ronin paused and gestured to the entire arena in response. “This...will do nicely. Besides, I have not doubts some contestants are more than destructively minded, and will wreck much of the beauty of this Arena. Beauty which we will restore again before the next year. If we just let part of it hint at what will more than likely happen, perhaps we will see a better display from the lot of them.”

“I think so, sir.”

He nodded slowly, and gestured to the sky. “Make what last few alterations necessary and bring up the protective field about the stands for Fountain, then make ready for the fights to begin.” Without waiting on a response, Ronin left the artisans in Fountain for the magi and miners deep underground within Cellar. Here there had been more maintenance than alterations, the four thick and solid supports remaining ringed by the heavily magicked and fortified mirrors that would both protect spectators and make contestants extremely wary. The prickling sensation at the back of his neck already signified the enchantment against healing in place on this Arena...the sight of the occasional bloodstain more than memory enough at its deadly nature.

“Many who fight here may never return to the surface, unless they are chosen even in death...” he whispered softly.

“...and in death they gain a glory greater, if so chosen,” came a soft-spoken voice behind him. Turning around, Ronin was met with the smiling visage of the revived Arcadius, an artisan and friend who had fought in his own rights, and brought back as Ronin's boon for becoming Champion. “It is good to see you, Ronin, and I daresay Cellar is as solid as ever a challenge.”

“That is good to hear, young Arcadius. Has the issue regarding the ceiling been addressed?”

“Properly and fully. The bedrock foundation of the Final's Arena has been reinforced, while leaving the ceiling here relatively unaltered save for the fortified supports. When I first saw the written orders for it, I originally questioned your wisdom, Ronin.” Ronin smiled softly, but gestured for Arcadius to continue rather than respond. “Well, all told, I see now how you did not wish to deny certain tactics their effectiveness. Or defy the nature that is the cave this was fashioned from.”

Both men smiled, knowing without speaking the approval on each man's side of the topic. “Well done, Arcadius. After one last check of the Mirrors for the sake of the spectators, pull everyone out of here, preferably without a final testing 'accident'. The healer who inadvertantly was struck last year by a weak lightning bolt still refuses to work this Arena, despite the mage who ran the test apologizing quite profusely, I hear. Must be a sore point to this day, between that husband and wife.”

“I'll do my best, though I have news from Miriallia to spare you the trip. Spike Arena's maintenance was finished yesterday evening, so most of the magi tasked there have been helping finalize your new project.”

Ronin nodded once more, his smile genuine as he left Arcadius to the final tasks in Cellar. The twisting passage from gate to surface gate gave him time to think back on the project. An Arena for the Sky itself...it was not the easiest to craft. Nor figure out how to allow spectators there, but all is well. The idea of hot air balloons for the richer, and a scrying circle for the not so wealthy, seems to satisfy the priests and managers who insist on some turn of coin. And what a sight they alone have been, even without the Arena yet there.

He chuckled as he made his way into the Final's Arena, upon whose sands was a mass of interlocked stones, each the height of a man. There was, he knew rather than saw, a large hole within the center of the configuration as well. Surrounding the massive construct were magi and priests of every element, and of every level of power, each chanting in ancient tongues and weaving motions together with strands of power. The head magi directing the effort barely managed a nod towards Ronin in a manner of greeting, focused on his own part of the ritual as he was. Ronin disregarded it, stepping into the circle of magi to add his own efforts to the project at hand. The stones, after all, still rested on the ground when they should be floating in the sky.

Efforts such as was directed within the center of the main arena were rare enough on the face of Lore, more so do to the cooperation than the nature of power itself. As the stones rose sluggishly to their place far above the arena sands, they began to separate slightly from each other. The ritual had placed a great importance on each stone being individual while remaining a part of the greater whole, levitating the structure so that it would lazily spin under the contention of forces for decades at the least. He knew that many of the spectators who had arrived early must be looking on the effort with a sense of awe, even as it settled into place and the weavers of magic slumped in mixed relief and exhaustion. Ronin even overheard a slight muttering between two such members. “I pity the unfortunate fighter who manages to twist their ankle on the uneven surface. Its one long fall if they are on the edge...”

It was done. The Arenas were readied. It was time to begin...

A robed figure of small stature, garbed in the robes of a tournament official, slowly walked into the teething masses of spectators and competitors alike. “This year's Elemental Championships is now open!” he bellowed to the crowd. “Spectators may take their seating as they choose, and competitors are advised that assignments shall be posted within the hour! Once assigned, competitors should report to their Arena and make ready for the fight!”

Post #: 1

8/14/2007 3:31:00

xaxtoo
Member

History has an odd way of repeating itself. Never in his vagabonding days, would Martin think of wandering his way back to Bren, especially after his unpleasant experiences there last year. Maybe age is affecting his memory much earlier than he had anticipated, or he is becoming a victim of fond reminiscing.

He seemed to remember a much smaller town, but then, he is not making a flying entrance this time. He also didn’t feel like alarming the humans anymore than his presence already did by giving them the impression he is invading their homes. So he’s taking a roundabout approach. As much as he likes playing Lilliputians he was certain that his mere presence is enough to spur up enough gossip for awhile, and besides, he is causing some unrest by appearing to take reconnaissance of the place.

Wrapping the cloak, indeed--he kept it as a souvenir, more tightly around himself and half covering his head, he if nothing else would seem a midge shadier to the observers. A loud cheer from farther ahead reminded Martin his actual reason for being here. So much for grabbing a good seat. Then again, paying for events was never his thing to begin with. Maybe he can talk his way past the guards by feigning as a contestant. But they might actually lead him directly to the field, and he can’t have any of that. Even a smidgeon of possibility is too much.

Approaching the area of interest, Martin slows down and fumbles his pipe out from his pocket before lighting in and sticking it in his mouth to begin his ponderous spell. He puts his hand on a tree for support, for he usually thought sitting down, and felt he could use the balance. It’s an epiphany he had in his current state, but then if he wasn’t in his current state, he wouldn’t need the tree. At least not most of his brilliant thoughts end up in a circular fashion. However this time, even with his tongue out for emphasis, nothing is coming to him. In a fit of despair, he looks up to the sky in obvious an attempt to implore additional help. Auspiciously, he saw a man float upwards towards a spinning mass of stones. At first Martin was inclined to think art has moved towards more abstraction, but squinting, he can make out the man was equipped with weapons. Pleased, Martin let out a small smoke ring, which rose at the same rate as the man only because it proximity to Martin. He watched as his smoke ring fizzle at the same time the man completed his ascension. “Up! Of course! Up!” Martin gleefully shouted at the expense of alarming all in a 50 meter radius. He’s going to the domain of the Widow Giant (she’s been such an old hag, even keeping cats now) and maybe providing he gets the nerve, he might take a dive right into the spectators. As an added bonus, he can enjoy a great view of this new arena in a recumbent manner lying lazily on his stomach.

He did not bring enough spirits for this. He’ll have to get more on the way. Just as Martin was about to relinquish his hand from the tree, he changes his mind and pulls it out instead as a gentle reminder of his participation from the year prior. He quickly marches to a hidden place to start his ascension.

Post #: 2

8/14/2007 9:08:49

Viroxor
Member

This was quite a new experience for one young man sitting in the lobby, waiting in unbearable anticipation for the assignments to come. He might die here. He didn't know if he was quite prepared for that. But at this point, this young man didn't have an inkling of a choice. This was a place told of only in legends, he had always perceived. But apparently, there was always a need for fresh blood to be spilled, new entrails to be scattered upon the grounds they had prepared. He didn't expect anything to be easy, but he definitely hadn't expected some of the faces he saw here. There were ogres, mages, monsters, berserkers, things of all sorts.

His name was Aaron Lombardi. He wasn't much to look at himself. He wore blue leather type armor, a scarf hanging down from his neck. He was told one needed a good appearance at the Elemental Championship. But Uncle Charlie had told him that the best idea was never to stand out. Of course, Uncle Charlie himself had never BEEN in one of the tournaments. Had he been, he would be quite dead, along with everyone else who doesn't win. That was the biggest internal struggle that had to be overcome. The knowledge that people who lose these fruitless games don't come back.

At last, the first group of people were called, for the Cellar arena. He knew little about that. So Aaron waited some more. The anticipation here was driving him crazy. There was nothing to do! No-one had ever told him how excruciatingly long it would take just to get assignments to the arena. But, it was unlikely that there would be as many stories told about these arenas. They had only been implemented last year. And renovations on them allegedly went right up to the beginning of the tournament. That must be what was taking so long.

Another group of warriors called. These were to go to a Sky arena. Sky arena? He had never heard of that. Looking next to him, he saw a rather intimidating foe. He knew he was Earth, and he knew he would be fighting against this man, but regardless he asked him the question about the Sky arena. The man did no answer, of course. Too prideful in his elemental alignment to realize the connection everything on this world shares. He probably thought his element somehow deserved to drown out the other elements, that only one was needed to survive. How could someone be so blind, especially with so many more years of experience than he?

Aaron's element was fire, an element that was commonly associated with burning and destruction. Violent behavior and erratic actions were the trait of a typical fire elemental. And it was by not expressing these giveaway traits that Aaron planned to live longer than those who came before. Uncle Charlie told him that the element of surprise was more important than any of the eight one can see represented in the tournament. So, in order to maintain that element, Aaron would make this a guessing game for his opponents, and try to use his wits more than his sword.

Finally, another list of names was called out for the Spike Arena. He was afraid he was going to have to wait for the last arena, the Fountain, but at last his name was recited, at the end of the list. One of his fellow Spike combatants was wearing a white coat with a black creature on the back. A nice design. Another was simply a moving ball of flames. He didn't know how that would work. But now he shifted from assessing his opponents to preparing himself. As they were led down winding hall after winding hall, he told himself he was ready for this, the biggest battle he would ever face, and maybe the last...

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

Charles and Daniel Lombardi sat in the spike arena stands, eagerly awaiting Aaron's arrival. Daniel was another of Charles' nephews. Aaron and Daniel were his oldest. He had a son of his own back home, but this was no place for children, even in the spectators' stands. "Where's Aaron?" Asked Daniel. Charles held up a hand to calm him down. "Aaron will be here soon enough. Stay calm, young 'un. And be ready for anything. Please, be ready for the worst..."

Post #: 3

8/14/2007 9:52:22

TormentedDragon
Member

This was an interesting setup. Windows to the audience, mirrors to the contestants, a protective wall which would keep all attacks within the arena. And yet, the audience could hear what would happen inside. He frowned. This could be problematic. Neither he nor she had any desire to see the audience harmed, despite their bloodthirst. The magi here were good, but had they considered all the possibilities? He dared not assume.

His eyes went blank, unfocused as he lost himself in the airways, feeling his way along the currents. He spread his mind, covering the whole of the stands, preparing himself for the inevitable. Perhaps action would be necessary, perhaps he was just being paranoid. He was lucky, in any case. He wouldn't have to halt her attacks, just soften them, make bearable to the crowd. Far less taxing.

His eyes refocused as he returned to himself, his head buzzing with the strain of maintaining his blanket. The knowledge that he buzzing would be a migraine by the end of this battle brought a grimace to his face. Ah, the things compassion would make you do. No matter. At least he would get what he'd come here for.

Post #: 4

8/14/2007 10:03:36

dinranwen
Member

Cecilia sighed as she idly thumping her legs against the stone bench on which sat trying very hard to be patient enough to wait for her name to be called and failing miserably.

Lifting up her eyes from where they had been starring to all apperances at the floor, her greyish-blue eyes seemed for a moment to the other combetitors to obverse the room. That was, of course, until the obversers noticed that the woman's eyes in fact saw nothing. Cecilia was listening rather then seeing, and sensed more then she saw.

The room was strangely noisey to her ears although none of the competitors seemed to be talking at all, yet there was so much to hear, and Cecilia's sensitive but highly toned ears heard all of it. The crunch of boot upon sand, the uneasy shift and balance of weight, the impatenient tumping of her own tightly fighting dear skinned boot whose souls gave Cecilia an added bonus of feeling through her feet as well, and finally through it all, Cecilia heard the patient stroke of metal being sharpened and she worked hard to keep the expression of endless and undeniable calm upon her face.

For those who had known Cecilia in her earlier travels, her outward apperance had not changed much. She was still very much a tiny thing with no much weight to add to the tallness of her frame giving the impression of a tall pine tree standing alone in the winters of the north. Yet, despite her frailness, Cecilia's small frame showed that she quite clearly that she was a woman. A gentle, if slightly small, bossom curved her hinted at by the darts within her dark blue short sleeved dress whose hem floated just above her ankle high boots that Cecilia, despite her better judgement, had worn anyway despite the limited movement she experenced in the beautiful if sometimes annoying thing. Hips also lent curves to her tiny body, but more then anything, it was the gentle heart shaped face, high but soft cheek bones, an elegant if a tad sharp nose, and the soft tilt of her brightly insit eyes that gazed around her as if through sight gave the undeniable apperance of a lady. Cecilia still wore her long plantium blond hair that glowed in the moon light down to her midback letting its length hang free from all improsionment since having her hair loose for her at least had never been a disadvantaged.

In addition although many years had passed since Cecilia had first met Edynol the tragic immortal of death, her face still had the serenly attractivly peaceful look of a young woman of 25 who although old was by no means an undesirable woman by any extent of the imagination. It was good then, that only she and her companions knew how many years had passed between that time and this time, or suspicon would have been aroused by Cecilia' young looking face.

Yet for those who knew her well, Cecilia had changed remarkably. Gone was the constant fear within her eyes, and although there still lurked within their depths a secret sorrow, her eyes no longer showed her fear. She was no longer afraid of what she had been afraid of before. How this lack of fear would effect her in the competion would only be told with time. Cecilia, if one had the skill to notice it, seemed a braver, fiercer, more daring woman although the way she held herself told the world that she was very much a gentle and caring woman. Her hands too suggested this gentle caring because although they held the callouses of a much practiced archer, they also had all the softness of a healer. Cecilia was at once, one could tell, a warrior, a healer, and a woman. But which feature, would become prominent in the battle?

She was being reflective again, Cecilia knew, but she couldn't help it. Not only was their the noise that Cecilia's mind constantly had to sort through and identify, but there was also the overwhelming and clashing auras that surronded her. Cecilia sensed the burning hotness and brillancy of a energy elemental hosted in the man next to her. She noticed precisely the at once gentle, soothing, rippling aura of a water ememtal of the woman across the asisle that hinted at great viloncence within. Each aura was so much more powerful then her own, which was a pale bubble with slight blueness hinting at Cecilia's prefence for northern winds and colder elements such as ice and snow.

There were so many of them that Cecilia reluncantly "turned off" her other not so physical senses that helped her determine the nature of her world. She simply could not decipher each of the aura, and she wasn't going to sit her and blind herself with trying. Her skills, Cecilia thought twining a blond lock alone the length of a digit, were best saved for the arena.

Ah yes, the arena Bringing her attention back to the present, she heard idly the names of the arenas and the constents within them. If Cecilia had her guess, she would be in the fountain arena which was fine with her, but still she reminded herself never to assume but simply wait.

Which reminded her. Why in the world had she joined anyway?

Cecilia couldn't say for sure. Perhaps for honor. Perhaps for glory. Perhaps as a final declaration to the world that she was not the helpless weak blind woman she seemed.

There would be no guest in the arena cheering for her.

No family anxiously worrying about her health. No friend either. Not even a lover. Cecilia smiled wryly in her thoughts.

She was truly friendless here. The only one she had to worry about was herself. This made Cecilia both sad and happy. Happy that no one would have to worry for her cause, and sad because she had no one. Her companions on that faithful trip were all gone, lost through the long years and illfitting memories. Yet the experienes on that journey had changed Cecilia into the woman she was now, and secretly Cecilia hoped to see the faces of Edynol and perhaps even Mortarian in the crowd. It would be comforting at least, to know she had a friendly spirit on her side.

As if to remind her she was not alone, Zephyr a blue fairy lady with transluent dragonfly wings to Cecilia's 'sight' brushed across her cheek and whispered in her bell like tones within Cecilia's mind, "You are never alone, my lady, and we are your friends."

Whispering mentally back, Cecilia smiled seemingly to herself, Thank you for reminding me dear one. I do not know where I would be without you two.

Zephry said nothing merely curstsing before resuming her flight with her brother, a sliver paladin with silver dragon fly wings in Cecilia's mind's eye, Zer who saluted Cecilia briefly with a sweep of his tiny sword before also resuming her flight.

Comforted, Cecilia came back to the world and to her senses to wait for her name to be called.

And she waited...

And waited...

And waited...her boots making a distinctive thud admist all the noise of the competitors area.

Finally her name was called, "Cecilia 'Liza' Yoldar?" Cecilia stood nodding to show that this was her not trusting herself to speak.

"Fountain Areana" a magi said quickly before returning to the rest of the list of names.

Gather up her still unstrong bow, Cecilia took up the bow in her right hand as her finger tips of her left hand began to tap a tattoo on the top of her quiver.

The time for reflection was over...now it was the time to fight for life and limb. May the winds aid me Cecilia thought stepping into an arena whose beauty she could not see...

< Message edited by dinranwen -- 8/15/2007 23:12:00 >

Post #: 5

8/14/2007 15:57:25

Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer

Rounding a corner a small grey housecat wove quickly between the legs of the shuffling masses intent on gaining entrance into the Arenas to watch the bloodshed unfold. Clearing the crowds Slash bounded up the stairs and leaped gracefully onto the banister the delineated the edge of the Fountain Arena.

Her golden eyes raked across the Arena, zeroing in on Alex with single-minded intensity. She couldn't contact him, there were wards in place to prevent the audience from aiding the combatants in any way other then by shouts of warning and support. The cat's tail twitched occasionally from side to side, the only sign the other spectators would get that this cat was alive, and not just a magically realistic statue.

"Be safe Alex..."

Post #: 6

8/14/2007 17:48:52

darkgillshadow
Member

The young man was hanging from a pennant flag pole precipitously, the pole was so long and thin, and he was so high up upon it, that it waved a few feet in whatever direction the wind was taking, creating an effect that left him dizzy and excited. The air actually felt thinner up here, at the top of what the locals called the 'nosebleeds', and how he'd managed to get up there was anybody's guess.

What was certain was that he was wearing dark clothing, a tunic and slacks, and that he was wearing a black bandanna over his long, forest green hair. He had his hair tied back, to keep it out of his face, and his tanned face was lined with white scars. He was grinning like a child, his grey woolen cloak hanging to one side of him as the pole bent in the opposite direction, threatening to throw him off or simply snap in half and drop him into the teeming crowd below.

The wind and the sun felt nice, but he couldn't see anything from up here. he would have to move soon...but he was looking for familiar faces. Probably someone to sit with, or someone to watch get hacked up in the arena.

Post #: 7

8/14/2007 18:14:22

Ultrapowerpie

Mail Moogle of AdventureQuest

The small droid floated gently through the crowd, making his way to the fountain arena. Observing the other arenas along the way, he considered what Cid had said that the situation could have been far worse.

Arriving on the scene, The robot decided to take a "seat" amongst the spectators, and pateintly observed everything going on. 5-1-2 was larger then other droids found on the Airship, and had much better sensors that allowed him to access spectrums and frequencies most humans could only dream about. It is with these sensors that 5-1-2 began to examine the action on the field, but most importantly to keep an eye on Cid. He also kept his rear sensors online, just in case the spectators in this area were rowdier and thought they could pawn him on the black market. Boy would they get a nasty surprise if they tried something.

Post #: 8

8/14/2007 18:22:55

Shodu
Member

Shodu walked through the crowd and lazily threw himself on a seat, watching Cid combat. He had known Cid from Aerodu, and he was definately his favorite for the match. He was bored with some of the other competitors that did nothing, such as Ferith or Cecilia at that point, however he was extremely impressed with some of the combat going on. The way the earth had moved with that attacked was awe inspiring to him.

He was noting Ferith with a small interest due to his choice of weapon. Katars weren't very commonly found, he himself was a fan of the weapon but hadn't expected anyone to use them. Ferith's also seemed special, made out of ice. Shodu questioned the choice but decided to ignore it.

He let out a roar of approval as suddenly the large berserker ran up into the stadium and gave a bloodthirsty roar. He wasn't a big fan of berserkers, however he knew that anything that increased combat was definately in his field of excitement.

Post #: 9

8/14/2007 18:38:34

Ultrapowerpie

Mail Moogle of AdventureQuest

The little droid sensed that an Aeroduian was nearby, due to 5-1-2 living in the airship and knowing many Aeroduians. Deciding that being by himself was a tad boring, he floated over to the Aeroduian, whom he recognised as Shodu. "Greetings Shodu. Glad to see that you made it to watch" he stated.

"This is my first time here, I'd imagine it's yours as well. I see that Cid has decided to tag team with that fellow with the katars... I believe his name was Ferith, according to the roster. I see that others are teaming up as well. Odd that not all the listed competitors are in the arna at this current time though..."

Post #: 10

8/14/2007 18:42:29

Shodu
Member

Shodu looked over his shoulder and noticed 5-1-2 approaching. He waved his arm and smiled, although not sure if the robot could understand the greeting.

"I thought you'd be here. I want to see what the match comes to when the other guys come, that'll be something, if not overly chaotic. I see what you mean about Cid and Ferith, they're talking but they don't seem that hostile. They'll make an interesting team, I want to see how they fight together. Of course, at this rate the arena will be split into seperate teams fighting each other. At the end they'll have to end up betraying each other unless they can all last the entire period of time without being defeated... in the end one team will have to dominate the others. It's like the clan wars all over again."

Post #: 11

8/14/2007 18:46:34

kenzoku
Member

An odd man appeared in a flash of rueple colored light. He was an obviously a very old man, hence the long white facial hair. He absent-mindedly twiddled his thumbs until his mind returned from vacation and stuffed itself into the man's ears. His seat was soon made of frozen meat, and the thumbs he had been twiddling became a pair of mice attatched to his hands.

AQ	Post #: 12

8/14/2007 19:13:12

Ultrapowerpie

Mail Moogle of AdventureQuest

The robot bobed up and down, giving the illusion of nodding. "Aye, the clan wars... those were dark times, but fortunately that's what's made Cid a capable fighter. Plus his extra training with all the other clans, and his travels here and there. So, how are things with you anyhow... Odd... My audio sensors are detecting more comments from them... perhaps they're planning something... can't make it out... meh, I'll need to perform a self-diagnostic real fast. Can you watch my back to make sure no one pawns me?" 5-1-2 asked, and quickly began said diagnostic without waiting for a response.

Post #: 13

8/14/2007 19:22:49

Shodu
Member

Shodu had opened his mouth to reply but closed it as the robot began preforming its diagnostic. Sighing Shodu grabbed the robot and inserted it on his lap, keeping a tight grip so as not to have to constantly watch it. He looked towards Ferith and Cid, they did appear to be talking. Shodu found it almost funny how they were chatting as though planning a picnic while chaos consumed the rest of the battlefield. Shodu wondered what kind of crazy plan the two might devise, they were both very different. Shodu assumed it'd probably be something simple yet effective, Aerodu had a knack for those kinds of plans.

Post #: 14

8/14/2007 19:30:18

Geddesmck
Member

The young woman sitting in the stands around the Fountain areana couldn't help but laugh slightly when she saw a huge pillar of stone, about 5' thick and at least 10' high, rise out of the ground near one of the fighters. She knew it was Zenz who made the first move. Mainly because it was here that had taught him how to make that pillar.

Juney Occomo was a very skilled Geomancer, alot more so than Zenz at least. She could tell, just by the look on her students face that Zenz was slightly surprised his attack had worked at all. To be honest so was she; she had trained him for nealy 3 years and she was very aware of Zenz' lack of skill with magic.

Now if she told any of the other spectators that Zenz had very little skill with magic they might not believe her, because they would be confusing power with skill. Juney brushed her brown hair out of her eyes for the hundreth time that morning. No one would have taken her for a mage, she was wearing simple clothes and didn't have an aura of power about her.

Zenz had power, he could preform powerful magics with ease and connected himself with the earth perfectly. He didn't have skill, in other words, he couldn't control his powerful spells and sometimes even simple spell went wrong. He didn't know how to make the most of his magical power and, more importantly, he didn't have much confiedence in his magic.

When Zenz drew his sword Juney sighed, he'd already resorted to doing what he knew, sword fighting. She couldn't blame him really. He'd spent 3 years learning magic, he'd spent almost 19 learning swordplay.

She waited for her student to attack...

< Message edited by Geddesmck -- 8/14/2007 20:18:17 >

Post #: 15

8/14/2007 23:02:13

Apocalypse Angel
Member

Vincent walked at a rapid pace through the packed streets of Bren, swiftly dodging his way through the crowd until he stepped into the large shadow that was cast by the looming Spike Arena itself.

He knew he was quite early, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind that the stadium would soon be full to the brim, and he wanted a chance to find his seat without to much of a hassle.

He got into one of the lines leading into the arena which, at the moment, wasn't extremely lengthy. Before long, he arrived at the entrance and handed over his ticket to the guard. After checking it quickly, the guard said "Take the stairs to the right and climb all the way to the top. Vincent nodded in thanks and jogged into the stairs, taking them two at a time. He knew he didn't have the best seat, but he had gone for one of the cheapest tickets as he wasn't exactly rich; it had still noticeably lightened his money pouch, however.

Vincent took his seat in the next-to-last row at the very top and, for the first time, took in the combat area far below. Fully mad of metal and littered with huge spikes, it was quite a sight to behold.

The stands filled up very slowly around Vincent, and he could feel the electricity building around him. Finally, the first contestant entered the arena, to loud cheers from the crowd. Vincent's heart raced. This would be good...

Post #: 16

8/15/2007 0:20:22

Onomatopoeia
Member

"Which one of these people are we looking at, Braxx?" A short man with spiky blonde hair leaned casually back in his chair, watching the fights with bored interest. Standing beside him, towering at twice his height, was a large Orc carrying a folder filled with papers.

When his master asked him a question, the Orc, Braxx, began searching through those papers till he found what he was looking for, "Deschain, Luthor. Second of that name. Our information suggests that he is the most likely to listen to our offer. I think that's him fighting the winged woman, Seli something or other, hold on."

The shorter man yawned widely, "Eh, forget it. Take a seat and watch the fights. If he loses we'll make our move, until then there's not much we can do."

Braxx nodded and took a seat.

Post #: 17

8/15/2007 7:56:41

Geddesmck
Member

Juney's jaw dropped. How could Zenz be so stupid as to allow himself to be put in a vunerable position, she screamed loudly when she thought he would be cut in two.

Then he began to talk. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but it looked alot like he was pleading. What was he thinking.

Of course, looking down at the arena there seemed to be a lot of talking going on. Was Zenz trying to ally with someone he'd just sent a huge block of stone at? She knew he could be a bit idiotic, but he was been crazy.

She sighed and stood up, she needed a drink. She was also considering betting on the energy user...

Post #: 18

8/15/2007 11:53:06

Rimblade
Member

The noble young knight took his place in the stands with a fully bemused air, staring up toward the Sky arena.

I wonder what possessed Uncle? He wondered, watching the posing and pre-battle manuveres, It can't possibly be any good for his health. Not that I'm going to be the first to tell him. You'd think that all this gale-curst heavy armor would stop me from getting bruised when he whaps me with that stick. Maybe I'd better see a healer. The fair laidies always seem to be more attracted to scars than bruises anyway. How am I supposed to get a good scar, with all this armour? Gah, thunder and lightning, anyway!

Ser Gaz Pupyy twirled his gauntlet-clad finger in the air moodily, sparks dancing in circles about it.

It's not as though he can hope to be there for long. Gaz snorted angrily to himself, And now that gustbrain's inane idea means that I can't do any of the fighting. How am I supposed to win glory, and honour, and also swooning maidens?

The knight sighed once again, and returned to watching.

Post #: 19

8/15/2007 12:37:48

dinranwen
Member

She walked, or rather glided, through the city the whispers of her passing as the elegant woman with hair so fine and blond that appeared to possess no color at all made her way through the city. Her hair floated around her in its own personal breeze softly like a pair of angel wings as some of the locks brushed against her painfully beautiful face. A random passerby by no name that we know of wondered briefly about who the lady with her floating hair reminded him of only to forget his wondering as he proceeded to buy his produce from the butcher whom he had just called a cheat.

The lady was unusual tall for a woman at 6 feet tall, and she was thin her yet her heavy prominent womanly bosom and hips made a remarkable contrast to the smallness of her frame. The woman wore a thin almost transparent dress of light blue which wrapped itself around her neck before draping tightly over her pleasantly shaped bosom before spilling out in a straight skirt of floating tatters of the wrapped fabric each piece dancing in a wind felt by no one else. The dress was layered so what would have been a see through fabric turned opaque while still hinting at the pale ivory skin beneath its layers.

Her skin was pale, her lips fair, her eyes the starling blue of a cloudy summers days. She was beautiful, each feature of her face perfect so that it pained one to look at her. She was perfect. Too perfect. She would have been beautiful, some bards that she passed at a bar mused, if she only one slight imperfection of the face, if her lips had been a little less strictly cut cross the mouth so they pouted a little, if her cheeks bones had not looked like they had been cut of stone, or if her eyes didn’t seem to look through one’s very soul.

Whatever the woman was she was a lady, as her dress and her manner clearly screamed at those she passed the she was so much their better, that she was the personification of unreachable beauty was untouchable. It would have been better for her perhaps in high aloofness, stern gaze, and unforgiving mind if she had been an elf. But she wasn’t an elf. She was human. Or at any rate she appeared that way.

Arriving at the stands, the woman stood for a moment as she waited for her hair to settle on her shoulders in relative order while a stray strand or two continued to dance in the wind.

Observing each of the arenas in turn, the woman turned her eyes towards the fountain arena where she felt her child her precious, precious child. For a moment, had anyone looked at her in that precise moment, her face turned gentle, her expression kind, and she was for a brief moment what could be called truly beautiful. The expression was soon gone though fleeing like a rainbow across the sky.

Turning her attention back to the stands, the woman obversed a young man dressed in a heavy suit of armor twiddling with what appeared to be lighting as he looked high above at the lofty sky arena.

The woman smiled, but it was a cold smile with no true emotion to it at all. Instinctively, the woman felt the man would be impressed by her beauty, and this pleased her. So without hesitation, the woman slid herself onto the seat next to him and tapped the man on the shoulder while saying with a playful smile, “Hello young sir, do you mind if I sit here?” Even as she spoke, the woman moved herself a little closer to the young man, but not too close.

~ ~ ~

A visible contrast to the elegant woman who had floated through these very same streets just moments before, a new figure entered the scene sulking and stomping with rather loud curses at the lower people around him while marching down the streets with a purposeful stride.

It was clear that he was a Lord’s son. The man wore a grand silk dark blue doublet and velvet light blue short sleeved tunic to reveal through the tightness of the doublet muscular legs, and letting his arms be seen below the short sleeves of the tunic muscular arms as well. His garments were stitched elegant with silver and the sign of his house, an owl sitting on a beech tree with a crescent moon behind it was stitched largely over his left breast in silver thread.

The man was handsome, but not in an unusually marked way that the woman had been. His skin was pale, but not it was not the ivory tone of the lady but rather a more healthy tone of pale skin. The strictly oiled hair styled backwards in an elegant style was black, and his bright glittery eyes were a deep dark but beautiful blue. His mouth was full, his chin stern and square, and many a lady would have fainted to see that mouth smile and have that chin touch theirs in a passionate kiss. One thing scarred his handsome face however. Rage, hatred, and violence contorted his features and made him a very, very, ugly man indeed.

At his side in a black leather belt, a unsheathed a deadly double edged broad sword hung at his side.

Arriving at the stands, the man felt his lips turn up in disgust upon seeing the beautiful pale woman with such unusually colored hair. Why did she have to be here? The man growled mentally, the noise barely audible from the depths of his throat.

Marching purposefully through the crowd not caring whose toes he stepped on, the man made his way to the other side of the stands, away from the woman but still where he could clearly see the fountain arena below him.

Sitting, his glittery blue eyes now resembling the balefulness of a snakes glare sought out one figure. Spotting the source of his anger, all his hate, the man shouted while rising one fist. “Curse you! Curse thee who blood demands I call my Aunt! May you die this day at the hands of your opponents!” Ceasing to yell, the man glowered while mentally adding to himself, If they don’t, Auntie dearest, I will.

< Message edited by dinranwen -- 8/15/2007 23:12:39 >

Post #: 20

8/15/2007 15:23:11

Geddesmck
Member

When Juney returned to her seat she found it occupied. She cursed under her breath and searched for another good seat. She couldn't see any, well, apart from the ones behind to the cat. She frowned and walked over to it.

When she was almost there a large, rather drunk man approached her, "Al'righ' doll? Need a place to sit? 'ow 'bout on my knee?" he guffawed, obviously finding himself extremely funny. Juney was going to ignore her, but when he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards him, Juney was forced to act.

She didn't act though. One of the guards had spotted the man and with a swift blow of his wooden club had knocked him out. Two more guards hoisted the man up and carried him out of the stands. The first guard removed his helmet. He had short blond hair and was clean shaven, his eyes were a muddy brown colour.

Juney smiled and thanked the guard, pretending to be very shy and retiring. The guard escorted her to the seat, then sat down beside her, just behind the cat. "Who are you cheering for?" the guard asked polietly.
"Zenz Nightwalker," Juney replied, "the geomancer who's going to lose me a fortune at the betting stand." The guard laughed loudly at the comment. "My name is Tidal, by the way. I don't think the other guards will mind if I take a short break," the guard looked at Juney, wanting a response, hoping his blatant intrest in young woman was being noticed.

"I'm Juney Occomo. Nice to meet you Tidal, thank you for the assistance earlier," replied Juney, polietly, but she didn't make eye contact with the guard (who she had to admit was quite handsome.)

"So... I noticed that although that geomancer you're intrested in looked promising earlier, his first action was to go to sleep. Why do you think he did anything as stupid as that?" asked Tidal, eager to get into a conversation with Juney. Juney smiled slightly and turned her head. She couldn't resist explaining the action to the guard (quite loudly at that, any person... or cat for that matter, in the area almost certainly heard her explanation), she had, after all, taught Zenz that technique.

"He was meditating, not sleeping. Most geomancers 'command' the earth, they think of the earth as their servant. However, some geomancers prefer to fight with the earth as their ally. Zenz is one of those geomancers. He merged his own spirit with the spirit of the earth in this arena. He can feel everything that the soil, plants and rocks of the arena feel. Although that's where his weakness lies, if you caused enough pain to the earth Zenz would be forced to seperate from his element, otherwise he'd go insane in order to cope with the pain. That's not too important however, as I doubt any of the others will work that out," Juney took a breath and then continued,

"The main advantage of this skill is that none of the other geomancers are going to be able to use the earth in the arena to it's full capacity as long as Zenz is merged with it. Even better, if one of the geomancers attempts to attack Zenz using the earth of the arena itself, the attack will be completely negated, it's logicical really; the earth isn't going to want to hurt something it's part of. Someone else could use this same ability, but they'd have to have a stronger spirit than Zenz in order to take control from him. Finally, Zenz is using far less energy with his spells, because the earth WANTS to help him. It's very clever really and simple too, it's one of the most basic skills a geomancer has, yet it's seen as a power only for the weak, for students of the magic arts," Juney concluded. Then she groaned. She'd just explained Zenz' strength's and weaknesses to almost everyone in the stands. For a mage who was supposed to be extraordinarily wise, she was pretty dumb.

She looked down at Zenz, who was waiting for his opponent to respond to what he'd just said.

Sorry Zenz, she thought.

Post #: 21

8/15/2007 15:30:00

Cubal
Member

A red-skinned woman strode into the spectator arena, her pace was somewhat aggressive yet relatively calm. Her attitude little bit like she was itching to fight, but knew better than to do so. Even the blue, short and very feminine dress could not put a lid on the woman's aggressive appearance. She just radiated it, equal ammounts aggression and mystery. What manner of creature might this woman be? The pointy elf-like ears poked out from white hair and clear-blue eyes alone made her somewhat of a difficult case to identify, and the red skin didn't make it any easier. Completely in silence, she made her way towards the best watching spots, a subtle yet biting cold warning anyone who cared to move close that this lady that she was quick on the trigger and more than willing to test her freezing powers and their effects on nosy mortals.

Her name was Koori, and there was one place she'd rather be right now. She and the other Unspoken was to find someone to replace their deceased fellow Unspoken, Kaji. It wasn't her idea to look here, but the Lords would know she voulenteered to do the fighting part. Wind, the unofficial leader of The Unspoken, however, had insisted that if someone was to look for Kaji's replacement, it was him. He was the eldest of them, most experienced. Many, many years ago, Wind had discovered that Koori was a potential unspoken, and thus, her life as an elf had ended, and her life as an unspoken had begun.

With the mandatory flashback over with, Koori looked at the arena, observing Wind as he landed on the platform. The fighting style of the Unspoken of Wind wasn't perfect, Koori could spot several flaws, but she also knew that Wind had survived his part of figthing, so there was no doubt he'd manage. Koori also knew that her style was hoplessly aggressive, she knew she could be a more effective fighter with finesse and some defense. It wasn't that she didn't know how to, it was merely not any fun. Oh yes, Koori was a fighter at heart, and merely having to watch while the otherwise tranquil Wind fight, now that was just pure annoying.

Post #: 22

8/15/2007 18:15:18

kenzoku
Member

The odd old man vanished, leaving only a carrot behind to show he had been there.

A man dressed in the garb of a jester cartwheeled through the stands into his seat in the audience of the fountain arena. He grinned as he watched the battles, remembering his participation last year. He had died, if he remembered correctly. In fact, it was Berzerk's mask that had killed him. He avoided looking at it, but felt it looking at him.

AQ	Post #: 23

8/16/2007 23:25:02

Azerkail
Member

As he entered the spectator's area, Azerkail sighed. Hood over his face, his rifle wrapped up and unloaded, he limped to one of the windows overlooking the fountain arena.

"Ye should be upon tha' field Azerkail, raining death upon thar' 'eads from above," came one voice in the back of his mind.

"Nonsense. I don't have the time. The Energy Lord can wait. If anything, we were lucky. Did you see that one man without weapons? Brazen, but smart," came another.

With a start, Azerkail watched the foes he would have been raining death upon had he stayed in the competition. But, as his other half would say, "Ye lost tha' killin' in 'em."
It has been several years since Azerkail killed anyone, let alone fought anyone. A good soldier as he was, his weapon was always cleaned and always ready, there truly wasn't another impulse to kill.

Somewhere behind him, a woman remarked on the man mentioned before. Something about "Wind".

Another sigh preceded a thump. Azerkail leaned against the rifle and the window.

"The magi here are quite amazing, shame I could never..." he began, but was distracted by the severe amount of fog engulfing the field.

"ARGH! It be a sniper's paradise Azerkail! Jus' one shot, den, whaddya' say?!" came that familiar rugged voice in the back of his head.

"No," said Azerkail bluntly, out loud to himself. The woman seemed rather alarmed and walked briskly away to another window.

Post #: 24

8/17/2007 10:36:01

Ultrapowerpie

Mail Moogle of AdventureQuest

5-1-2 had finished the Diagnositc a while back, and began to sense around the field and the stands. "Error, Aerial disturbance detected. There is one aligned with the North Wind at the very least in this stadium. Possible disruption to Cid. Analyzing field and streaming to Analog Necro in other Lore"

As the insanity insued on the field, the teams forming, 5-1-2 couldn't help but be proud of Cid. "He certainly is using circumstances to his advantage. He handleded that Berserker marvelously." He commented.

Then, the lava incident occured. "Amazing, Cid is using the entire field to his advantage now. His opponents are near the hill, his team is farther away, and he warned them to back off in advance. Coupled with the fact that the fog is still on the field, the lava will be most deadly. Cid has the perfect oppritunity to strike now once that plasma bolt connects." 5-1-2 commented, gazing intently on the field.

Post #: 25

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