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=Elemental Championships 2008= Fountain Arena

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7/16/2008 22:15:35   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


 It has been a long year since the last Elemental Championship, but the Championship Arena Complex did not show signs of age, but rather on the contrary - it grew, and along with it, just a hill and a spring with a weary wooden bridge over it away, grew the township...now more of a city...of Bren. The vicinity of the Arena has done it much good - apart from the great crowds -- and thusly business -- it brought it during the Championship itself, just the presence of such a building carried the township's name far over the lands. There came adventurers of many sorts, and the burgeoning four inns of Bren were never short of business, there came priests of the Elemental Lords, building shrines and churches and granting it divine protection not from one, but from all the Lords, and there came many, many artisans to maintain the four offshoot Arenas around the First Arena now used exclusively for Finals, and craft the minor alterations that seemed necessary from year to year.

The would-be combatants, either just arriving, or having taken a night's rest either at an inn or at the small camp of tents at the base of the Arena hill, would get to see the artisans' handiwork soon enough, right after the priests and mages within them finish their last checks on the protective barriers and image transportation enchantments for the gathered crowds.

~~~

The gates opened with a slow and ominous shudder, finally cast wide for all to see within. Fountain Arena was open once more.

This arena's setup took the form of a lazily rising steppe of circles, standing tall and proud with its accompanying beauty of fountains and shrubbery. The hill it had originally been made into had been cut away to create symmetry to the form, and create a more difficult defense of the high ground. The eye catching display of constant transmutation from the crowning fountain on the ninth, top step is mere eye-candy to spectators...but could easily be turned into an offensive threat by competitors of skill. All in all not much seemed different at the surface of things, save for the northern face of the steps lacking last year's more waterfall-esque nature. Perhaps a balance, or perhaps merely faulty piping had been fixed, who was to say? Still, the bottom steps that the gates opened upon were washed in water nearly ankle-deep despite the apparent source of the year before being absent.

Even in the soothing scents and pleasant aromas of the plants placed so delicately on the battleground seem to hint at greater dangers. Their sweet smells hiding the sickly-sweet aftertaste of year-old blood newly dampened by fresh running water. No matter how clean and shaped smooth the cobblestones were, the scent still clung to them, warring with even the pleasantries if one came close enough to take a whiff. Not that such would be normal...outside of the battered, bruised, and broken knocked prone. Memories trigger best by scent, after all, and only memories of battle and death shrouded the pleasant visage of beauty. Memories that were not always so restrained to just the Arena itself...

But now is not the time for beauty, nor for gardening. Now is the time for battle.

Under a summer sun and a shimmering magic veil, the fight was to begin at the Fountain Arena!
AQ  Post #: 1
7/17/2008 10:17:35   
deltora94928
Member

Jake's eyes snapped open suddenly, seemingly without warning. He quickly rose out of bed and dressed. Jake was a big man with big weapons, a very sturdy long bow and a quiver of arrows that exploded on impact. Also, he wore a large hammer at his right hip that could cave in a skull when used properly. It had several runes written into the hilt. These runes were a spell that made the metal unbreakable, and unmeltable. He needed this enchantment because, before battles, he enchanted the powerful weapon with a spell that made it burn with the heat of a forge fire.

Jake's clothes, as a result, were fireproof. A dark red, leather shirt that concealed brand-new chainmail underneath. Jake didn't normally were armor. He didn't like it's bulk, and how it hindered proper movement. But he had a strong feeling that it would be essential in the coming fight. So, for the past year and a half, he had labored over the mail. Conforming it to himself. Aligning its links to his body, his curves. This way, it was as little a nuisance as possible. When practicing in it, he realized that it wasn't too bad. When his adrenaline got pumping, he forgot he wore it. His pants were also made of leather, only these were jet black.

His boots were large. They weren't very special. But his gloves were very unique. They were made from leather, of course; but inlaid into each knuckle was a little knob of solid steel. With this enhancement, he could dent a tree without feeling a thing. A useful advantage if he lost his hammer. He put on his quiver, bow, and hammer and went downstairs. He ordered sausage, ham, and eggs and ate the meal hastily. He also drunk some ale, which was suprisingly good. When he was finished he headed outside. He had recently learned he was to fight in the fountain arena, and he headed in that direction.

The gate's had already opened when Jake arrived. He walked inside and was stunned with what he saw. It was beautiful. Noting like a place of combat. This place should have been ground of worship. A unique harmony of earth and water. Beauty, and clever design. But as he took a closer inspection, he realized that everything was possible here, even flight. He Leaned close to smell one of the bushes and cloud detect a nearly absent trace of old blood. AS he sniffed, he was sunddely noticed a dark figure gliding slowly toward him. it wielded a large scyth. As Jake staggered back, it vanished. He cocked his head warily, but soon passed it off. Certainly it wasn't his destiny to die here. The arena was layered and tired. He had seen farms built on hills that had something like this. A flat area followed by a vertical rise and so on until one got to the top. At the top of the final tier, rested the most majestic fountain he had ever seen. He watched in awe as, during its flight it changed to magma, then mud, then back to water again. But if you knew what to do, you could smash it to pieces and bombard any enemy who followed you. You could do that with all the fountains. an endless supply of ranged weaponry.

Jake stroked his beard and thought about his strategies he would use in the coming fights. He heard other people coming and climbed to the final tier, which gave him a full view of the entire arena. He watched the entrance and waited for the competion.

< Message edited by deltora94928 -- 7/17/2008 10:55:53 >
AQ  Post #: 2
7/17/2008 17:23:44   
.Discipline
Member

Bolbi muttered as he rose from the tiny bed that had kept him warm in the inn. He shook his head and hobbled over to the small turquoise suitcase that he had placed there the night before. Opening the clasps he saw his beautiful sky blue robe, adorned with yellow patches of fabric, which was the customary garb of the priesthood of the Energy Lord. He slowly slipped it on, still muttering quietly to himself as he picked up his green, elevated shoulder pads and manuvoeured them over his head to cover his light frame. His grabbed his oaken staff which lay against the back wall of his room, smiling as the faint glow of the floating orb at the tip illuminated his face.

Bolbi was a gnome, and was therefore short, although still rather large for a gnome, standing at just above three feet tall. He had long white hair which fell down to his back from the top of his crown. The front side of his head was bald and wrinkled, showing his age. His face was also wrinkled and pale, upon his turned up nose rested a pair of blue spectacles which were large and hid his eyes well. Bolbi was quite portly, as he had been feasting on human foods for the last few years, of which the portions are often too great for a gnome.

With his robe on his back and his staff in his hand, Bolbi knew that today was the day he would fight, and most likely be united with, the Energy Lord. Bolbi had spent his entire life worshipping and spread the word of the Energy Lord, though was often met with little sympathy for his way of life, often facing abuse from followers of other beliefs. He muttered a short prayer on the inn floor before handing his key to the Innkeeper, who smiled and wished Bolbi well in the day's events, knowing full well that by the end of the week, the gnome who had stayed in his inn would probably be dead and buried. The Innkeeper smiled regardlessly.

Bolbi strode from the Inn, down the marked road to the Fountain Arena. The message that he would be fighting in this arena had been delivered to him the night before by a small pidgeon, and he was ready to fight. Bolbi walked through the open gate with a look of confidence. He didn't care what happened to him, all he cared about was upholding the standards of The Energy Lord, knowing that in his old age, this was the only chance he would have to represent his faith in combat. He would most likely fail to survive the next winter.

Bolbi gaped in awe at the intricate work that had been put into designing the Fountain Arena, the beautiful gardens, the babbling fountains, the smooth, formed stone. Instantly he began to devise strategies in his head, but without seeing his foes, this was useless. Bolbi spotted a large man with a hammer stroking his beard at the very top of the structure, and climbed the steps slowly to meet him.

"Hello, Sir, my name is Bolbi Derevain, are you competing in today's events? If so I wish you good luck." Bolbi spoke, in a high pitched but crackly voice, to the man, holding out his tiny, frail hand and awaiting a reply.



< Message edited by .Discipline -- 7/17/2008 17:31:19 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 3
7/17/2008 21:55:25   
deltora94928
Member

Jake was so deeply lost in thought that he almost didn't see the short little creature that approached his perched at the top of the arena until it spoke. It amounted to a name, Bolbi, and a wish of good luck. Jake looked and almost laughed out loud. He could have punted this chubby little man all the way down and erased one of the contestants. But he knew that this thing was most likely much more than he seemed.

He wielded a staff that supported a glowing orb at the top. He was a priest of some sorts. He also appeared very old. His head was half-bald and his face wrinkled. Jake was so busy studying him that he didn't notice the hand that he held out. Jake finally realized his mistake and quickly shook it. It felt so frail in his large, callused hands. "Name's Jake. I wish you luck as well and ask a question. What element are you fighting for? I'm fire. You appear to be priest, Am I correct," Jake asked in as polite a manner as possible, trying to keep a straight face. Jake knew he needed to keep his guard. This little gnome was probably very powerful, despite his obvious age.

So Jake smiled, trying to see past the man's glasses. They guarded his eyes, and therefore his secrets, well. All the more reason to keep on his toes. But he was itching to punt this little man right out of the arena. He couldn't wait to get started.
AQ  Post #: 4
7/17/2008 23:29:39   
xaxtoo
Member

Karddicj just marched right through the gates. Having just quickly hidden his floating lightning ship, he had no intention of mingling more with the weird human race than necessary. Even if he was in a social mood, the township of Bren would be a place he would avoid. First there was just the stink associated with so many bodies crammed in one place, and more importantly, people create unnecessary hassle. And back to the matter at hand, he was not here to pick up a pet to take back, he was here to compete in skills and exalt his newly found yet glorious Lord.

Still standing in the gateway, he took in the arena in one cursory glance. He grimaced at the watery playing field, an unnecessary hassle already. Water impeded movement and made hiding much harder while hid unwanted things like excrement and waste, plus even with the sun blazing and magnified in the magical barrier, water is cold. However, if his humor was better, he would grudgingly admit to enjoy not the magnificence of the large fountain but rather its functionality. To Karddicj, there simply were not enough triangular spires, not even one, to make the structure beautiful. What's a fellow to climb to escape nasty things like swords and gigantic Karddicj eating bugs? Survival is a heavenly beauty in its own right.

At the top of the fountain Karddicj saw two peculiar shapes. The first is an odd little man, small like a kid, climbing the huge structure. Karddicj decided that this must be one of those fabled halflings, yet looking again, he thought since the man has not bursted into song and dance yet nor could he hear the whistling of a gay song, it must be a dwarf. Then again, the thing did not look sturdy enough to be a dwarf, so it must be a mix. A Dwarfling! No, that had a brisk weird ring to it. A Halfarf! Perfection, an absolutely fitting name for a mirthless stub. At the destination of the Halfarf, there stood a huge looking man, holding gigantic weapons. Brimming in bulges that could only be metal everywhere it was a knight maybe? But where's the man's noble steed? From culture and lifestyle classes, the human race favored those things to appear big and threatening. No man entered battle without his trusty sidekick jammed between his legs and under his romp. Karddicj took his second grimace of the competition then, for he really really does not like the Orc species. The big thing whom Karddicj decided was an Orc would possess so much strength, he could bend Karddicj like a two dollar lightning rod. And there are no spires!

Leaving the Halfarf still climbing, Karddicj dropped the ball he had been cradling in his arm into the wet film covering the ground. It immediately sank to the bottom. Underneath the water, the dark blue ball seemed one minute one size and another minute another size. With a indiscriminate yell that Karddicj hoped was frightening, he made to give the ball a good whiff with his leg, but unfortunately, he had misjudged the size of the bugger and the moment his leg went past the thing, his momentum carried him directly unto his butt. Sitting in the water shivering, Karddicj resentfully picked up the ball and gave it a good fling regardless of direction, just away from the entrance. It landed a respectable 10 feet away at least. Karddicj picked himself up wincing at the effort, openly rubbing away the pain. He would have to go back at least a week to find another time he grimaced and winced so much in such quick succession.

Immediately when his feet was set he took off at a dead run towards the ball, and upon reaching it gave lovely sphere a gentle tap with the inside of whichever feet was not being used for leverage. Finding his rhythm with the first touch, he started dribbling the ball around the arena, sometimes lifting the ball out of the water, sometimes keeping the whole thing submerged. Where he ran was not important, he just followed after the ball. Direction can be changed easily enough. Sometimes when the ball touched the ground, a faint blue glow barely shining through the water appeared and spread out before seemingly dying from effort of penetrating the cohesion of the liquid. The area underneath the light quickly morphed into a darker hue, black probably, sometimes even protrusions and indents blemished the previously smooth surface.


< Message edited by xaxtoo -- 7/18/2008 0:30:48 >
AQ  Post #: 5
7/18/2008 0:02:06   
Ryu Viranesh
Member

As Seyrinth Mountlock walked down the streets, he walked with determination, with a purpose the cold leading him where he needed to go. Seyrinth was a dwarf, not just any dwarf mind you, a Tundra dwarf, a race rarely seen to leave their icy homeland.

He had the white beard and hair that was typical to his race and the stern facial expression as well, he wore a set of beautiful armor, handcrafted by the smiths of his village, but beauty could also deadly, this armor was equipped with a numerous amount of spikes, his body literally was his weapon, he also wore a helmet with a larger than average spike on it, it was balanced just right, not to make him horribly topheavy, but to also provide a decent weapon.

Seyrinth flexed his hands, examining the knuckle spikes at the same time, -Ye Gods this city is big, it makes home seem so......small, it's also so impressive, the city of Bren, home of the Elemental Championship, kinda still can't believe I'm here, but, I'm not gonna get distracted, I'm here for one and one reason only.....-. Seyrinth continues his way towards the Fountain Arena, where he'd been assigned to fight, while planning against whoever he may have to fight.

As he walked through the Gate, Seyrinth was once again struck by the sight of absolute beauty, the Fountain Arena was a true masterpiece, he was almost sorry about what would have to occur here during this day, but he lifted his head high and trudged inside the battlefield.

As he carefully glanced around, he saw three other people inside the Arena, a big man with a hammer shaking hands with a being that was even smaller than him, he couldn't get a clear view of what the creature was from where he was standing. The final occupant of the Arena was what seemed to Seyrinth to be some kind of animal kicking something around the field in a haphazard manner that made him frown slightly.

Seyrinth made his way a bit to the side of the gate, his feet sloshing the water as he went, despite his best efforts to keep a bit quiet and stopped, watching everything around him, not wanting to be surprised here of all places, he raised his fists and took a deep breath, preparing himself for combat. He clapped the knuckle spikes lightly together and returned to his battle stance, calmly awaiting the storm that he knew was going to come and smiled.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 6
7/18/2008 10:33:25   
.Discipline
Member

Bolbi smiled and replied to the man, who was apparently called Jake. "That is correct, Sir, I am bishop of the Energy Lord and I am here to compete on my Lord's behalf!" squeaked Bolbi, fiddling with his glasses and brushing his hair back behind his pointed ears. "Our Lords are close in the the fact that one element can create the other, and vice versa. This is why I wish that even if I do not triumph, my Lord shall bless you, young one. I bid you farewell for now." Bolbi spoke in a wisened tone, which was rather deserved, as Bolbi had more than three hundred moons experience on the human with which he conversed.

He gazed the human up and down, noting that for a competitor of the fire element, he was suspiciously well armed, as opposed to the pyromancer-esque opponents Bolbi had envisioned. He immediately began to pinpoint apparent strengths and weaknesses in Jake, surmising that he most likely could be a large threat with that hammer, and possibly used a small amount of fire magic, being versed in that element.

Bolbi spied a creature fall into the water a few steps down, shivering as it searched for something underneath the flow. Bolbi could not quite decide what this item was, but decided it must be important to the creature, and began to descend the steps again to the aid of the creature, but found that it had already levelled itself and from its form came a ball, which must have been the item it was looking for. Bolbi sighed and decided to move himself into the shubbery to the left of the main fountain, there he could get a good means of cover in the event that battle was declared, and foes came search for him.

Bolbi dropped a woven piece of cloth behind the bush, and knelt on it, muttering a short prayer to the Energy Lord for the strength and luck to survive the battle and bring glory to his Lord. He then rolled up the mat and crouched just in between two bushes, hiding himself from prying eyes and he chanted and readied himself, getting prepared for the single most pivotal event of all of his many years.



< Message edited by .Discipline -- 7/18/2008 16:00:06 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 7
7/18/2008 16:37:03   
The Extinguisher
Member

Michael moved quickly through the city of Bren. As he walked, the people still out on the streets stopped and stared. He was familiar to this feeling, and not uncomfortable with it, but he had more important things to worry about. This morning was the morning of the tournament. There would be a large audience today, fighters and spectators alike, for Michael to work with. Blood would be shed, lives would be lost. It was perfect.

He was by no means a large man, if that was indeed what he could be called; Michael had the appearance of a man, but he seemed almost above gender. His most obvious physical appearance was his striking beauty. More beautifAul than anyone mortal or immortal could ever hope to be. His beauty could not be described, it simply was. Yet, something was off. No one could place it, but he didn't seem right.

But at this point, nothing else was on his mind except the fight. He came up on the day's stage, and walked through the gates of the Fountain Arena. Let the fun begin.

~~


Michael went to work quickly. He didn't have much in the way of magic--that power was lost to him--but he knew how to fight. And that was the important thing. He drew his sword; a holy sword by definition only. He was about to work on a plan of attack, when he remembered something important. Taking out a bag from some unknown storage space, he took from it a black ooze in a vial. This was the deal he struck with the Element of Darkness. It was what allowed him to participate in such a tournament. He would win the tournament for Darkness, and in return, he would be granted a favour. This ooze was darkness in a malleable form. He touched it to his sword, and it began to creep along the blade. The only other condition for this deal was the sword. Michael would need to offer up the sword. And that didn't bother him. It was full of too many memories.

The pact was complete. Michael was now blessed with the darkness, and his sword given the power of the shadows. Now it was time for the bloodshed to begin. Michael, the once Archangel turned his attention to his nearest target, a white haired dwarf. Saying nothing, he launched himself at the dwarf, sword in hand, ready to strike.
Post #: 8
7/18/2008 18:02:59   
dragon
Member

The wind whispered through the blades of grass, which each, in turn, humbly bowed. It ended briefly before gusting once again, following a pattern akin to the breathing of a living thing, for it was this in its own right. It precariously strolled upon the fray of reality, going where it sought to go, and not where it was told or even politely asked to travel.

This wild essence was something with which one being commonly identified. In doing so, he was not often seen sitting or standing in any one spot for a prolonged period of time, and it was only by a twist of fate, two cents from chance, and a sprinkle of luck that the Elemental Championships were delivered to his attention. Yet, pondering the past and its predestined clockwork is not something many can endure without a side effect of insanity, so we won't dwell. For all intents and purposes to be observed this day, he was haphazardly placed before the city of Bren.

A lustful breeze licked at Vi'in Gajel's ankles, brushing like a cat in need of attention against his legs. He calmed it for a moment, but it soon resumed its bold romantic conquest of his body, gusting through his every molecule. He didn't mind, only in the greatest storms was he at home, and only in the quiet whisper of a breeze was he in the company of friends. His footsteps were lonely entities of the moment, unaccompanied by sound. He was an interesting character, something sinister was in his composure and his form, something lurked beneath his eyes, but his silence would likely betray all curious eyes and minds into focusing on their daily life, for that was his way, discreet and modest in his being.

Discreet, in a way, but Vi'in was nonetheless a warrior and one who dressed the part. If not a decrepit and careless in his dress, at least at first glance. His wardrobe was first and foremost composed of a light armor, fitted to his form with astounding perfection. The downfall of this piece was its age, for curiously enough, it was stone, and this stone was old enough to suffer the cracks and wear of any rock upon the ground. Cracks ran through it in inconsistent intervals, and one would suspect that it was a stone's throw a way from shattering completely. A poor assumption to make, but regardless, it was impossible to draw any other conclusion.

This armor was barely visible, as it dwelled beneath the shadow of cloak, and this was a cloak that moved, as if consumed in current. It was in actuality a myriad of dead leaves spiraling through some mysterious current that enveloped the figure, and every particle moved with pattern, although this pattern was for the most part unidentifiable. The cloak came together at the front, and flared like any cloth at the bottom, fluttering normally with Vi'in's movement. It passed over his shoulders and was near to dragging upon the ground, but the cloak was open below the connected "vest" at the front. It much resembled the combination of the suit of a conductor and the attire of a magician, and both roles fit Vi'in, if not in more exaggerated forms. His arms were covered by black gauntlets, and his legs were enveloped in metal the shade of night, with matching boots, and all objects were engraved with designs important only to the bearer of their weight.

His face was determined, yet soft and graceful somehow, as if the wind caressed it to an illusion. One eye was piercing crystal blue while the other was a solid black, and one could look at each and see the best and worst of themselves. It was not an experience many had enjoyed, the few who Vi'in had trusted enough to be that close.
----------------------------------------------------------

Vi'in walked with caution, but solid esteem, through the city, upon the main road that would lead him straight to the arena gates. Fountain arena was his destination, and he didn't care much as to his assignment, he could only imagine its beauty would create an environment akin to a stroll in the park, give or take some glimmering metal and a quick heart rate. A really quick heart rate. Nonetheless, nerves accounted for, he at least showed no signs of consideration for the battle ahead, although he knew this facade would likely last no longer than a few minutes after his arena entrance.

A breeze whistled in the windows of the buildings he passed, although he didn't so much as flinch at its highly curious and sudden appearance. It died soon after he left the area, and even by him, its playful nature caused it to veer from his course. He didn't imagine it would be playful much longer, but he knew was was not one with the power to decide this. When the arena complex came into view, the wind died suddenly, and he was alone in his final walk, save for the stream of dead leaves that still encompassed parts of his form.

Upon the visage of the arena, Vi'in was tempted to stop, but instead pulled out a curious intrument and began to strum away. The instrument was held horizontal and perpendicular to his body, and resembled the body of a bow, save for the hundreds of strings that were angled toward a small chamber toward the front of the object. He strummed it steadily, creating a melody with beauty beyond many angels voices and far past the feel of a lover's hand in your hair. The "music," which was a concoction of notes from the depth of an old soul, wafted along the air into the arena, and it was at this time that Vi'in entered. Upon his entrance, he continued playing, stepping onto the first tier of fountains. As he passed over the water, it parted from him, rolling back to its former position when he was fully over it.

The fountain arena represented the veil of peace to Vi'in, for while it was a stunning world that seemed separate from any normal reality, he knew that blood would always flow more readily than water at the end of the day, even in this haven from the mediocrity of outside beauty. He walked quietly, still without a sound save for his unique instrument, to a random place on the first level of the arena, and stood still, breathing in harmony with the music, an observer for the moment.

What he saw didn't surprise him, heavy armor, creatures of all heights and weights, and weapons with origins as broad as their owners. He was not taken aback, but merely interested, in the quick action of another competitor, from which echoed tales of ancient good and recent fall. He turned his attention to the source of echoes that rang with compassion, and another figure who could most likely be identified by his humor.

All of these echoes radiated back to him, but could be heard nor interpreted by any other who was present. Yet still the sweet notes existed, seemingly ending in the middle of motion, as if dancers collapsed with no explanation. There, but over with no echo. As if they were figures with no shadow. The day was new, the fountains intact, and all would soon come crashing down.

< Message edited by dragon -- 7/29/2008 22:37:18 >
Post #: 9
7/19/2008 0:12:03   
darkgillshadow
Member

Gill woke up. Rolling out of bed, he thought "This is the day." He examined the gear he had laid out the night before, neatly piled on the floor of the rented room. This was the day. He lifted the bracers first, sliding his hands into the grips (complete with steel knuckle covers), strapping them to his forearms. He'd slept in his slacks, rolled up to expose his ankles.

Tied a thick pad around his waist, then belted his tasset over it. Two lengths of chitinous steel that trailed from the belts and hung around his thighs, offering some protection and preventing his ass from being stabbed. He slung a strap over his shoulder, then hefted his heavy, double-headed battleax and slung it over his shoulder as well. A hole in the handle met a hook on the strap, securing it easily, and a bent bar protruding lower down caught the shaft and kept the weapon from swinging all over the place. Today was the day his target died.

Outside, his bare feet kicked up puffs of dust from the road as he let himself be swallowed up in the crowd bustling toward the arena. Nobody paid any mind to his green hair, long and tied back out of his face, his slight frame, or his exposed upper body, muscles taut under his dark skin, smooth as river rocks. He wasn't the most fantastic competitor in the crowd...not in this crowd. He reached up, bracers clinking, and scratched the dark stubble dusting his hawkish face. It was disturbing, being exposed like this. He was far more accustomed to silent, sneaky, dirty work. Getting to compete in fair combat again would be a fun change. Finding his arena was no trouble, either. He'd seen it before and there were signs and things for just that purpose.

If he'd cared about this tournament at all, he would have been impressed by how well organized it all was. But as he stepped through the gates, peering up at the neatly stacked giant rings and scrunching his nose at the offensive sickly sweet smell pervading the air, he noticed his target had not arrived.

So he chose a new one, one just for the hell of it. Just because he was here on a mission didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself too. Reaching up, he unslung his ax and brought it around, gripping it in one hand and letting the head plunk into the water and hit the ground at his feet. With his free hand he pointed up at the figure standing before the lava-topped main fountain, the one who called himself Jake.

Grinning madly, Gill lowered his hand and hefted the ax into it. Swinging the weapon back so the head trailed behind him, he charged up the steepe of rising circles, air whistling past him as he charged Jake with deft speed, making no effort to hide his movements. Once he was within range he swung his ax upwards, slashing in a diagonal from left to right and down to up, grabbing the weapon with both hands as it arcs, aimed right for the larger fighter's torso.

< Message edited by darkgillshadow -- 7/19/2008 0:33:49 >
AQ  Post #: 10
7/19/2008 9:53:09   
DWeird
Member

In the tent town sheltering itself along the Arena Complex walls, a peculiar... protrusion could be seen. Of both the shape and texture of a rather large and rather old walnut, that bulk of interwoven roots, twigs, branches and brambles was the poorly-kept home of an uncanny creature. At least, that's what the townsfolk thought that the thing was, strewn across the grassy field for three weeks and five days now - though there were those who could tell the time of the stranger's stay by the hour, minute, and sometimes even second.

Those who liked listening with their eyes instead of their tongues would find that the rumours and gossip, for once, were true - the owner of the strange adobe, now leaning into it while sifting through a parchments, was downright eerie.

His clothes - a simple white hooded robe, clean and yet with that certain dusty greyness that only years spend among books or tombs or both could bring. The physique was also not something incredible or at the very least impressive - the man was as thin and bony as a naked skeleton would be.

In fact, he was one. Those who were not driven away by sight of the pale, bony, sharp fingers leafing through wrinkled pages and yet seemingly never touching them, except at the infrequent times when a blackened, ink-stained index finger would underline, or perhaps cross out, a word or two with a silent *scritch*; those who were either wise or foolish enough to make fear a friend they barely visit, would find the final proof of this soul's nature - the features of his face. A human skull with inhuman features - large eyes of a glistening deep blue and fangs ripped out of the jaw of some unholy creature and carefully set in where human teeth once were. The fangs would clang once silently as the skeleton addressed his spectator with a simple "Yes..?".

The big blue eyes, the deathless toothy grin and the oh-so-pale complexion gave his face a certain cheerful, morbid innocence - the kind that looks at you and idly wonders what your taste would be like.

Few men would want to indulge a curiosity of such a kind for no other reason than to sate their own - and so, the skeleton was left alone.


And that's the way the skeletal mage would have it - reading was a pleasure company would not improve. Not that it was any particular pleasure to read the book he now held - in the month or so that he had stayed in Bren, this was the best he could find, and the best he could find were the rambling ravings of a half-crazed stargazer. The nature of Cities... Bloodlust may bring wealth and fame, but never knowledge.

Well... Except for him.

As most undead beings of power and intellect, Snur had plans. Big ones, seeing how neatly death brought irrelevance to all of the small ones, the minute ones, the trivial ones. Right now, those plans involved learning as much about that peculiar affection - or perhaps affliction? - that made man lust for the suffering and demise of one such as he.

And there was only so much one could learn from books.

Shoving the parchment with little heed into a niche in the wooden wall that was not there a moment ago and was no longer there the moment after, and then pulling out two pouches from another hole so formed and attaching them to the white piece of cloth that acted as his belt, Snur headed for his designated Arena. He would enjoy the fieldwork, but for now, there was no rush. Even though he was fairly certain he was already late due to the time he spent correcting all the horrible mistakes in that stupid stargazer's scrolls, his stroll was steady and slow. Patience for creatures of his kind was a matter of nature, not virtue, and he could use the time so gained to reshuffle all of the knowledge he gained about the Arenas and the Championship during his stay in Bren, asking, reading, listening.

The crowds he was pushing through, the stalls of goods he did not care for, all disappeared from his mind, and he only regained thought of his body after the images in his head dissipated to make way for the real thing. There were errors, as there always are when one bases knowledge on the memories of creatures which forget... Errors he would correct.

Assuming errors could be corrected at all - it would seem that change was in the air and change was in the ground - two of his competitors were about to... He did not know, but he did remember - something... One of sight, and one of sound - when and what had he read of these things?

But those were things that would have to be taken care of in their own time, more immediate matters were pressing. Snur had entered silently enough, and now stood at the base of the Fountain hill, with his bony feet and the bottom of his robe in water. It would slow him down considerably - but moving centerwise to a position more suitable for escaping attacks would also make him more likely to be seen, and thus more likely to be attacked. Instead, he'd have to be... inconspicuous.

He reached into one of his pouches, but before pulling anything out, he noticed - rather belatedly - that the vantage point he wanted to occupy - the top of the hill, already had a defender... And an attacker. A memory of a playful giggle called itself out almost against his will, fluttering among his sharper thoughts before dissolving back into a hazy mist of half-knowledge. A ring, a simple gold circle, turned around on his finger, sparkling for a moment before being engulfed by a steady white glow - this negligible motion and obscure light well concealed by the long white sleeve of his robe.

Snur caught the attacking one's belt in his mind's eye, and, letting it go... letting his new tool go just the right distance, he gave it a nudge, a push. The distance was significant, the mind's grip was weaker than it could be, but he was certain it could do what he intended it to - to push the attacker storming the hill straight into the legs of the hill's defender, sending them both tumbling down, perchance to their deaths.

"Three birds with no stone..." He chuckled, almost inaudibly.

< Message edited by DWeird -- 7/20/2008 8:58:55 >
Post #: 11
7/19/2008 15:09:42   
deltora94928
Member

Jake watched with fascination as warriors from all walks of life entered the playing field. I very beautiful man walked in and drew a sword. He pulled out a black vial and rubbed some of liquid inside along his blade. He turned, spied an ice dwarf, and launched himself at him, sword in hand. Jake was about to alert him but quickly checked himself. If the dwarf got killed, it was one less man Jake had to fight. Another man entered. He appeared to be wearing a kind of bulky armor with a cloak over it. He didn't attack but took in the sights, no doubt thinking about what he would do to win.

Another man entered. He wore a kind of unique armor. Gauntlets and a belt with chain mail hanging from it to cover his butt and his thighs. He didn't wear shoes. He removed his massive battle-ax and looked straight at Jake. He grinned wildly and pointed at him. Jake grinned back and waved him forward. He drew his large hammer and mumbled the incantation. It began to glow a yellow, then red hot. He felt the heat wash over him and sighed contentedly. Jake watched the attacker begin to move and noticed a pale man behind him. The man drew something out and moved it towards the man charging him. Jake didn't know what it could do, but he knew that if it affected his attacker, it could affect him as well.

His attacker was much closer now. He hefted his ax and swung it upwards aggressively. Jake dove out of the way, onto the lower tier. He pulled out an explosive arrow, and, with a bow being to slow at this range, hurled it at his attackers feet, giving it enough force to detonate on impact with the ground.

< Message edited by deltora94928 -- 7/19/2008 20:22:32 >
AQ  Post #: 12
7/19/2008 18:35:13   
Xforce
Member

For decades now, the Elemental Championship had been an open forum for combat - drawing competitors from all walks of life, unlife, and occasionally, even the ranks of the unliving, snaring them with its promise of prestige and power. It was said, that those who distinguished themselves on the bloodied stones of the ancient arena were often chosen by the gods themselves - instilled with powers far beyond the scope of mortal ken. In the few years since the township of Bren had established itself, its occupants had grown used to the strange hodge-podge of would-be-competitors that constantly flitted in an out of their burgeoning township, lending the place an otherworldly - almost faerie-touched atmosphere. As the the hourglass turned, years passed and the townsfolk seemed to have grown accustomed (or perhaps merely numbed) to the presence of the oddities that dwelt within their midst. It was a rare competitor that would merit a second glance from most of the townsfolk - and it would take a stranger competitor still to earn a puzzled stare.

This year, A lone warhorse seemed to have accomplished both... and in a spectacularly peculiar fashion. It seemed ordinary enough for a beast that had been bred for the battlefield - perhaps thirteen hands high, accoutered in full plate barding and draped in a coat of heavy chainmail. Its stirrups hung loosely, draped almost carelessly across its mane, and a large, steel-tipped lance rested languidly in a holster positioned alongside its body. Its iron shod hooves dug into the ground, puffs of steam gently wafting from its nostrils as it moved forward at a steady canter, navigating the twists and turns of the street as it headed toward the arena with unerring precision. A stylized eye, embossed into its platemail armor seemed to indicate it was a mount fit for a knight... but therein lay the contestant's peculiarity. Simply put; it lacked a rider. The spitting image of a knight... without a rider.

Normally, a riderless mount would be quickly stolen, led away or otherwise confiscated... but there was something exceptionally eerie about this one. The air seemed thicker as people approached it, weighing them down and instilling a leaden, lifeless feeling upon their limbs, as though exerting some unseen pressure. Colors seemed to leach themselves from their surroundings, then suddenly sprang back into full vibrancy, shining so brilliantly as to pain the eyes. Every now and again, a strange distortion would mar the surface of the air, curving and distorting the light like a funhouse mirror - as though the fae themselves led the beast with invisible hands, propelling it toward the arena known only as the "Fountain". Strange though it was to admit a simple beast into an arena where the highest of honor was at stake... the creature stank of the unnatural, and the minds of mortal men are ill-equipped to understand the machinations of the fae.

----

As the creature approached the entrance to the arena, the strange rippling became more pronounced, swirling through the air in frenzied, arrhythmic ripples... whilst the pair of guards barring the entrance looked on placidly, unflappable and unimpressed. After pausing for a moment, the first guard began leafing through a sheaf of paper, running his finger up and down the list of contestants until he alighted on the item he was looking for. Looking up quizzically, he glanced at the distortion, looked back at the sheet of paper, then squinted - a puzzled expression floating across his features. "Representing the lord of light... Almond and his illusionary... cat...?"
The second guard chortled, covering his mouth with one hand as he glanced at the horse. "Buddy... hate to break it to ya, but looks like you screwed up your illusion some. S'not a cat."
The first guard, however, continued to stare at the sheet in puzzlement, as though attempting to pronounce a word unfamiliar to him. "Cat-a..."
A thin, slender hand suddenly parted the air, rising up to pull aside the cowl of mirrorcloth that masked the invisible competitor's markedly alien face. Its eyes were the shape of almonds, and bore no irises or whites - but instead sparkled with a depth and beauty that reminded men of the vastness of the world on a starlit night. A strange, unearthly beauty seemed to radiate from its pale, ageless features and its voice emerged in a soft, lyrical melody as it pursed its lips, a ghost of a smile flickering across its features. "Cataphract."
With a gesture, the figure pointed at the horse, motes of light collecting across the tips of its fingers as it closed its eyes, drawing forth a deep memory, etched deep into its subconscious and instilled that memory with the power of the eye. The light around the horse seemed to dim, its colours running amok like dye that running from cheap cloth. By degrees, the colors ran together, multiplying and vivifying as the memory corrected itself, resolving into the shape of a black knight in full armor astride his mighty charger.
The guards grinned, then nodded, moving aside to allow him access into the arena. "Cataphract it is, then. Enjoy."
Almond nodded as well, his features taking on an alien cast as the innocent smile playing across his features resolved into something... more. A searing, radiant light spilled forward from his eyes, then the cowl covered his features - and he vanished once again - slipping from the sight of mortal man.

----

As he floated through the gates, he took in the sights; his eyes roving across the arena and the swarm of contestants that had already crawled out of the woodwork, scuttling over its beautiful terrain like so many insects ready to dine on a feast of carrion. Some hung back, aloof and alone - at the edges of the arena, while others had plunged headfirst into conflict, attacking each other with self-destructive ferocity. The scene stirred memories deep inside him, and he shuddered uncomfortably, his cloak rippling as it refracted a thousand tiny points of light into the air, momentarily flooding his immediate surroundings - and the surface of his illusion - with a swath of colour that served to announce the arrival of a new combatant. It was a concession to form - and to decency, one of the few he intended to make, this day. Turning, he directed his attention to a strange, skeletal being, hunched over some distance from the entrance and clasped his hands together, issuing a silent command to his illusory minion.

At his master's bidding, the black knight lifted his stirrups and readied his lance, then wheeled toward the object of its master's ire and jerked the reins, leaning forward in his saddle and couching his lance. The horse's hooves clove the water as it responded to its master's bidding, accelerating from a slow gallop to a steady charge as it rushed toward its' target like an iron meteor, its advance filled with the promise of steel and death.
AQ  Post #: 13
7/19/2008 19:07:52   
.Discipline
Member


Bolbi stood behind the cacophony of different shrubs, knee deep in mud that had come from the fountain water being mixed with the soil which kept the plants healthy. He saw the chaos of the arena from behind a small hole he had poked in the bush. An angel flew straight towards a dwarf, ready to kill him, a warrior swung towards Jake, only to clumsily tumble toward his target.

"Oh my! Oh my!" Bolbi muttered to himself worriedly, fiddling with his robes and keeping tight grip on his oaken staff in the expectation of somebody finding him nestled in the bushes. Bolbi had not seen so many powerful warriors in one place before, and was becoming increasingly nervous. He decided that enough was enough, and raised his staff in the air slowly to begin chanting a spell that would send a powerful lightning bolt crashing toward the bony gentleman in the white robe that had just entered through the gate.

There was a time for hiding, and there was a time for fighting. This was a time for both. When his spell had been cast, Bolbi intended to run behind the fountain again so as not to draw the attention of his chosen target. There was no doubt that if this plan failed, Bolbi may be in a spot of bother...
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 14
7/20/2008 12:53:07   
DWeird
Member

His bony hand returning from the confines of the small sack with an eye encased in a sphere of some odd material in its clutch, two in the sockets of his skull, much like the one just fished out, saw something that would make his current plans obsolete.

A sparkling bolt of energy happily flew crackling - directly at him! He noticed a rustling in the bushes up in the hill that he assumed was the source of this trouble, and readied himself to eliminate it...

...when he heard a watery version of a muffled splish-splash gallop, get louder with every splish and nearer with every splash. He turned his head just slightly to see the source of the commotion, and he saw a heavily armored knight rushing straight forward - also directly at him!

His head buzzed with thoughts - and yet there was not a shadow of confusion, or fear, and the only surprise that reared its fuzzy inquisitive head was of a contemplative "...interesting." variety. Many strands of thought ran - though that is not an apt word to describe the calm pace at which the mage's mind moved - parallel through his head.

"An ambush?" - "There is no reason - my Order is not present here." - the bushes rustled even more, with a plump, well-clothed mage dashing for the top - "Too poorly prepared, too willing to flee." - "No ambush."

"Why would both of them attack me in such unison?" "Could my attack have been noticed?" - "I've done nothing easily seen." - "Are they ones that can see what's hidden?" - "Other motives..." And the thoughts branched off. "Elimination of opponents?" "Elimination of the 'evil', as they would call me?" "Bloodlust?"

"The speed of this..." - "The speed of that." The memory of a cheerful giggles raised its wings again. "Simple calculus."


Snur stood steadily, one of his eyes watching the coming foe, and the other - the coming magic. The third one into which his sight just breached monitored his rear, lest more ugly surprises show. He could no longer measure their distance, their speed - but he already had an answer to those questions. No, this was but the simplest of precautions against the unexpected - he would not make the mistake of predicting the outcome of a battle easily again.

And yet, as he would find out in the moments following, he had again done exactly that - predicted falsely.

In those moments, almost before the tip of the black knight's lance could reach and perhaps pierce the skeleton's chest and mayhaps even the chest in his chest, Snur took a speedy step back... then another... then a third.

Snur, eyes wide open as they always were, watched the bolt, which he could now even smell - had he still a nose! -, and watched the cataphract gallop straight in front of him. "All that armor! All that metal!" His anticipation was both gleeful and restrained.

And yet, something went wrong!

The knight, with all of his weight, adjusted the direction to which his steed took... Too quickly! Snur took another step back, and yet the rider's lance managed to pierce him, straight through his neck - and then slided straight through, with no resistance at all, with no effect at all. The cataphract - it was ethereal! And yet it made a sound? He gleaned something within the apparition that would have made him cackle once again, had the unpleasant matter of a lightning bolt not be settling itself at the exactly same moment.

The lightning bolt went through the knight's feet, and then the horse's torso, with no resistance to speak of - a hushed 'huzz!" could be heard, and a faint, nigh-invisible trail of white smoke rose straight through the knight's body and head - and continued on through straight into Snur's lower limbs. He rushedly did a semi-squat, which looked comically enough, and yet was successful enough in dodging the damage to his legs. Surely enough, there were now two smoldering perfectly round holes in his robes, and the insides of his bony legs and even the lower part of his pelvis were slightly burnt and blackened, but a quick mental check made sure that no great structural damage was done.

And then, the bolt hit the water.

The parts of his robe that touched the water blazed in fire for a second, and then doused out, and then, left charred... Just as the bones of his feet. The destruction that the bolt wreaked on the already brittle bones was devastating - for a second, he thought he could not take one step without his feet dissolving completely, and a follow-up check revealed that to be only a slight exaggeration. No more running. That meant no more running away, which meant he would have to go offensive.

He cast his gaze upon the top of the hill again - there seemed to be some motion on the very top, but it did not seem directly threatening or beneficial to him on first glance, and he did not have the time to cast a second. His foe - the plump little parcel of a caster had made most of his way to the top, with but a few steps left to the ninth circle. Snur grabbed at the many garments of the magician, enfusing every thread of his robe with a different sort of life. One less restful... One more manipulable. He pulled back his opponent slightly, so he would not hide and get out of his view, twisting and turning its very bottom so that the gnome would not escape, finally reeling in him, straight through the air, giving little bother to the comfort of his target - giving this improvised prison an extra curl as he pulled it towards himself.

He turned the eye he held in his hand to the side where the black knight opponent - now a little ways forward and turning back - first appeared, and seeing no one or nothing who could have been a source of it... Thought.

"Must be a ghost of some variety..." And began leafing through the pages of his memory.
"Or an illusion of some sort... of light or of shadows?" - "Does not matter - both can hide, and both can hide well." - "Why was I attacked?" The question returned. "Because they know who I am, or because they do not?" - "When in doubt... conceal your nature."

'Stop, fool! I am of the Light!' he shouted loud, in no particular direction - a lie which on another day may have actually been true. He had little idea what effect it would have, or whether it would have any at all, but it should bring doubt to whatever manner of a master the apparition had, should it hesitate.

The entrapped gnome was still flying towards, and yet he had no use of him... except! Snur saw some the weird creature he had earlier seen reforming the arena with a ball darkness appear from the bushes that the gnome had came - and having nothing better to do with his current parcel, he tossed the lilliputian lightning at queer creature of the dark. He ceased control - but velocity was given, and even gravity could only help its trajectory - one similar to the result of a kick or punt of a significant strength. The small energy wizard was now flying with all the grace and power of a sack of potatoes.

And now, he had to take care of other matters. He tossed the eye in his hand towards the ghostly rider, controlling its course to be steady and true. He could see himself in that eye now, he could see the eternal grin on his face and the sparkle of the saphire eyes.

"Wonders will happen... Wonders."

< Message edited by DWeird -- 7/21/2008 11:00:32 >
Post #: 15
7/20/2008 13:40:56   
.Discipline
Member

Bolbi finished casting his spell and began to run toward the rear end of the fountain, screaming as he was caught by his robe by something. Bolbi did not have time enough to see what this was before the end of his robe was tied up and he was flung in a random direction.

"Good gravy!" Bolbi yelled as he hurtled towards the creature he had seen fall over earlier, holding out his staff so as to eliminate the threat of anything he came into contact with, be it another contender, a wall, or the ground. Bolbi had no idea where he was heading, so he simply began to chant a spell to charge his entire body with several kilovolts of electricity.

"By the Lightning Maidens, I hope this works!" he screamed as he was flung, in darkness, at the competitor with the ball. He buzzed with energy and hoped that something would break his fall.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 16
7/20/2008 14:56:43   
dragon
Member

The echoes were constant, and became a source of observation through ecolocation. The music relayed off of magic and matter, and Vi'in listened curiously to the brilliant concert before him, which was in truth a complex web of jumbled notes. His fingers became slower in their movements, and soon, following the strumming of a final string, the melodic whispers ended. As if the notes were a sincere lullaby, the wind began to pick up, rowdy after its nap, stream momentarily through the arena before hushing in anticipation.

Vi'in maneuvered the odd instrument onto his back, a curious perch as there was no hook or holder placed upon his armor, yet the object lay secure and quiet in its waiting. On the other hand, two voices rose in harassment beyond the normal plane of comprehension, functioning solely in the warrior's mind.

A young woman's voice rolled amongst the folds and canals of Vi'in's brain, sharp in tone, yet assuming a kind meaning. Now Vi'in, do you really believe the unassuming gestures of all those who are here? None are civil, and all are monsters in their souls. Do not permit such futile existence to inhibit your power Vi'in, eliminate them. Be subtle, and whisper caresses of death into their bodies. And don't surrender to the blatant lies of the Patriarch my boy, listen to the one who promises the fruit and gives you a grove.

A deep voice echoed in the cavern of Vi'in subconsciousness, rattling his body with vibrations, stifling Vi'in's thoughts with a blanket of chaos. A laugh devoid of humor struck out against the walls of his head, and then the voice elaborated on his argument. She has never led you down the road you appreciated in the long term Vi'in. What she offers is power, but she offers it only out of a lust for this exact thing. I see the futility of their souls, but I recognize the futility that will plague your own existence if you do not aspire to rise above the Matriarch. The grove she offers is dying of a swarm of bugs, and she would have you know nothing of the sort until you have accepted her promise. You need not satisfy either of us, for it is your hand that shall crush the embers of our final moments, who shall determine our fates. You are in control, leave it at that.

In a final, hateful plea for freedom, the voices bloomed to sinister claps of thunder. Remember Vi'in, we are Monarch, and Monarch knows best.

The wind had returned in Vi'in's predicament, and tried to no avail to wake him from his meeting. It was only when the two voices had returned to their slumbers that Vi'in's eyes sparked with focus once more. It took all of five seconds for the voices to elaborate their messages in full, and yet it seemed like a day had gone by. He knew no such thing had happened, but regardless, he was dismayed at the mere presence of the voices. Vi'in's hair floated lazily in the breeze, its black strands like tendrils of a monster, twirling in a dance of death. Soon they lay still once more, as even the wind had left him to his battle.

Vi'in contemplated the battles that were beginning, watching intently as visions of magic strands were burned onto his corneas, amazed by the ethereal strands that had grasped the gnome, radiating from the skeletal mage.. He noted the questionable tactics of the ball kicking man, and the efforts of war that others were producing. he contemplated his best move, focusing on the effects and reactions of every plan that bombarded his tactical pondering. He knew, with no doubt, that this would be an interesting Elemental Championships.

< Message edited by dragon -- 7/20/2008 15:36:19 >
Post #: 17
7/20/2008 15:05:11   
Ryu Viranesh
Member

Seyrinth, having been carefully keeping watch from all directions, saw the attack coming at him and he turned immediately towards the foe to counter. Suddenly, he felt a pain in his body and a bit of numbness following it, as well as the smell in the air after a lightning storm mixed with singed flesh, but, he pushed it to the back of his mind, knowing that he would have to feel the full brunt of it later anyway, but not now, he couldn't afford it at this moment, he had a battle to fight.

He took in what the enemy looked like in an instant, a fell beauty, a sword swathed in shadows and both of these things were headed straight for him. Seyrinth immediately brought his helmet horn up and with a battlecry, brought it foward to block, while at the same time he prepared his right hand to jab right into this creatures torso as soon as the clash occured, and hopefully rip open a belly wound and make a quick end to this fight.

In the short moments he had before his fight officially began in his eyes, he took a quick glance around the field to see what awaited him once he ended this first battle. He saw a gnome flying through the air at the animallike creature he had seen before, what seemed to be a Skeletal creature squaring off what some sort of horse of light. A man with a hammer and a man with a battleaxe on a collision course with eachother, much like his own actions were about to be.

That was all he had time to glean before he turned his attention back to the thing in front of him. Seyrinth called it a thing because it was too beautiful to be human, yet the the fell sense of the creature told his mind that it wasn't a being of light, so, he had no idea what it was and had settled on "thing." as the alias for it. Hefocused his attention fully on the confrontation before him and forgot everything else in the area for the moment, all that mattered to him now, in this arena, was the foe right in front of his eyes and that may be all that had ever mattered to him.

< Message edited by Ryu Viranesh -- 7/20/2008 15:27:23 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 18
7/20/2008 16:19:30   
xaxtoo
Member

Karddicj moved quickly, sometimes galloping, occasionally switching to running, shifting effortlessly between speed and agility. As he weaved around the vegetation, his heart sang out a joyous tune, one that cherished his former glory and celebrated the return to his roots. Playing accompaniment, his feet rhythmically beat at the ground and periodically thumped emphatically when they met ball creating the upbeat baseline to his melody. And for a short while, Karddicj got lost in the chaotic symphony of planning another kind of war. Each kick of the ball brought about new tactics and formations being quickly drawn up and before each was contemplated filed away for review later at more leisure. His genius in the sport is unparalleled amongst his lands, and by all those who knew of him the moniker of the "Green Kard" was tossed around fondly by supporters and respectfully by his detractors. However, that was a time gone, even knowing that none of his strategies would ever be used again could not dampen the harmony of his jubilant mood of once again having a solid ball at his feet on a competitive field. Different stakes this time, but that has only made everything so much more fun.

With grace and speed, Karddicj spun away from a wall, steadying the ball so slightly with the tip of his foot during the apex of his spin before sending it another direction with a swift kick carried with momentum of the swing as his body fully made it around. That was his tenth forced juke already, and he had barely reached his stride. And, despite his fun, Karddicj had to admit the space on the bottom of the fountain is confining and restrictive. He should climb, but that will limit the functions of the ball, and he did want to give up neither the terraforming nor his freshly rediscovered sensation of being one with the pitch quite yet.

Catching up with the ball, Karddicj slid his feet underneath it, deftly lifting it out of the water, and with a quick flick, he started effortlessly bouncing it alternatively between his foot and knee, making sure it stayed well clear of the water. Easily noticeable now, the size of the ball fluctuated, much more in transition than moments before impact, which when its path never wavered from the first bounce showed just how much mastery Karddicj had. Oddly enough, whenever it sent a jolt through Karddicj's leg, it gave off sounds akin to purring. Sometimes Karddicj wasn't sure that it wasn't mocking him in tweets and whistles. Taking this chance to look around, he saw that he had stopped somewhere on the opposite side of where he started, with patches of black covering where he had intended to go as well as behind him in satisfactory manner.

Hooking his leg around, Karddicj brought it down hard, slamming the ball into the water as it gave final desperate squeal, turning the ground into a freshly colored black amidst the dancing lights skimming underneath the waves of the disturbed water. Flattening his right hand, he inserted it past the film of protective layer right into the bluish glow of his abdomen. Feeling around the dense liquid, his hand brushed something hard, smooth on one side and uneven and jagged on the other, like it was bitten. Pulling it out, Karddicj choked back the beginnings of laughter, yet wonder escaped through his eyes at finding a half-eaten apple. Taking it in his other hand, he moved it close to his mouth, pondered ever so slightly, and giddily took a bite. It was sour, odd that, since Karddicj only ate the sweetest fruits, but it was still juicy.

Still working on the apple, Karddicj dug in once more to grope around. Finally, after passing over a few more uneven and jagged bits, his hand grasped a squishy thing. Luckily for Karddicj, it was flexible for otherwise, its massive girth of about the size of Karddicj's head would never have came out of the slit, and he certainly didn't have the time to wait for it to fall out naturally. It looked quite like the rear end of a big bug, even had segmentation like one.

The squishy thing felt titillating in Karddicj's hand. Flicking his wrist a few times, he managed to get most of the digestive fluids off the thing. The blob jiggled and wobbled around sometimes folding into itself sometimes looking stretched, just like a belly dancer, or an fat cheeky baby. Resisting the urge to just squeeze it just for good measure, Karddicj looked around for the little Halfarf. He didn't really want to hurt it, but capturing it for entertainment aboard his lightning ship still remained a distinct possibility. Quite an honored position, free lodging, good hours, good food, minimal pokings. Unfortunately the little creature had disappeared from his view.

However, that could not dampen his good mood. He grinned with delight as an angel turned to charge an elderly dwarf, happy that the sword isn't aimed at him. Spinning the thing on his palm, he pointed the smaller end of the squishy thing skywards. Estimating that the gap between them and him can be closed quickly, especially considering the lack of vegetation and the multiple patches of terraformed land almost lining up to form an arrow directed straight at him, providing them a most tempting target.

Before he had a chance to enact the rest of his plan, into his line of sight popped up a staff. Serendipitous, he had found the Halfarf! Lightning shot out from the bush, so the little bugger contains energy, just like a Lightning Catcher. He grinned in anticipation of the capture, that has made everything so much more simpler.

Targeting the Halfarf, he noticed the Halfarf had risen out of the bush, and began flying towards him. Without a thought, the ground underneath him rose instantaneously, lifting him and the entire black patch up into the air. The platform resembled home, in fact it was home.

He twice squeezed down hard in rapid succession on the fattest portion of the thing. Each time, a glowing white ball popped out of the thing with the wheeze and smell of flatulence. With a high-arching path, it lazily flew to drop on the incoming Halfarf. Finished with the apple, he let the core drop. Jumping with an extended leg, he sent the core flying straight at the Halfarf. The impact jarred lose the seeds and broke off small segments, yet the main bit survived and the whole mass flew true. If all goes well, the apple of his eye will be distracted by his physical symbolic message to notice the miniature impending bombardment. Landing on top of his platform, Karddicj made ready to jump down, gaily singing a tune about short things with big noses.


< Message edited by xaxtoo -- 7/20/2008 16:21:07 >
AQ  Post #: 19
7/21/2008 10:46:04   
.Discipline
Member

The end of Bolbi's robe began to unfurl itself, just enough that Bolbi could see where he was headed, just at the right time to see two white balls of some strange substance flying toward him. Being charged with large amounts of electricity, when Bolbi collided with the projectiles, most likely from the creature he had seen earlier, they burst into flashes of eerie white flame, which was bright, but just after exploding, the area around them seemed much darker and a smell of rotten eggs proceeded this. Bolbi was also, unexpectedly, bonked on the head by a piece of apple core, he might have seen it, if not for the overwhelming intensity of the darkness surrounding the balls.

It appeared that Bolbi's plan to charge himself had been a good one, but hardly a fantastic one, causing the small white balls to be overcharged with elemental energies and explode in a fantastic display of energy and dark light.

Bolbi, in a dazed state, came crashing straight through a pillar of hard rock, debris flying everywhere and making large splashes and thuds as they hit both the ground, and the water. Bolbi's left arm went numb and his head ached something fierce, as he struggled to level himself, falling back down the first time, and the second time, just managing to get back on his feet.

"Woooo..." he sighed, in a somewhat confused manner, as he stumbled around the arena. Bolbi continued to stumble in a tipsy manner, his next thought being to attack whichever creature had flung him. The main problem with that objective being that he had no idea who to target, and was dizzier than the common tavern drunk.

< Message edited by .Discipline -- 7/23/2008 8:37:04 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 20
7/21/2008 16:35:36   
The Extinguisher
Member

Michael knew all too well his attack would not connect. It was a mostly superficial move only to declare the dwarf as his target. He would have preferred something more underhanded, but the formal aura the tournament gave off meant Michael should at least give his victim the dignity of knowing who his predator is.

The dwarf raised a defense. It didn't matter, Michael charged full on. In the instant before their collision, six large blackened--yet still glowing white--wings errupted from Michael's backside. These limbs were mostly for show, but they served a purpose. Spreading the wings full span, the drag was enough that he could avoid the spiked defense. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to avoid the jab coming at his stomach. Stupid. Should have seen a counter attack coming. Stupid.

Before the attack, he felt a shock at his feet, in the water. That shock was much like the punch. He didn't feel the pain. Too much adrenaline, too many thoughts of battle. He didn't feel the blood or the singed flesh, all he felt was his need to kill. Bloodthirst and insanity drove out whatever thoughts he had of pain. It was largely a disadvantage, but it didn't matter. The dwarf had his fun. Now it was Michael's time.

In that same instant the wings appeared, Michael's shadowed sword vanished. He found himself face to face with his current adversary.

"Well well. It's not often someone can hit me like that. That's some punch you have there."

And with that, he was gone. The wings vanished, much like the sword. Someone with a fast eye might have noticed them melting into flesh on his back, but the former angel had done that move so many times he needn't take the time to do it properly. It was second nature. He would save the more powerful shifting for the finals.

His attack was swift, having lept into the air and behind his prey. His sword formed from his hand, but not completely as before. Now, the blade simply extruded from his arm, in place of his wrist and hand. It was a simple shift, but impossible with any other sword. The blade was his flesh. And his flesh was now going to cut through the flesh of the dwarf. Soon it would be over. As he fell over the dwarf, his sword cut down...

...and passed right through him. Like the sword was made of air. No, not air. Shadows. Damn it. I should have tested it before hand. It must do something. But what?

The attack had left Michael shaky, but he managed to recover. He had hoped to end it quickly. Now it was just going to be an annoyance.

"You better hope I enjoy this, dwarf"

< Message edited by Flame Master Axel -- 7/22/2008 15:57:24 >
Post #: 21
7/21/2008 17:27:22   
darkgillshadow
Member

The events of the next few seconds zipped by, as an adrenaline-addled blur. He was there, he was about to cut his first opponent down, when he hesitated. Mid-swing was not the time to slow down, but he was anyway. And it cost him his catch. For such a big guy, he sure knew how to get out of the way, and fast. He'd been careless.

And why was he slowing down?! His posture was off, his technique flawed. Gill realized he was coming in too low, that he was liable to crash either into the ground or his opponent at this rate. His lead foot stalled, his other leg coming up too fast, his ankles crossed and tripping him.

The ax went up. The rest of him went down. His shoulders wheezed as his body stretched, the base of the fountain suddenly flying up to meet his face. He could feel the fingers of his left hand slipping, so he let go and gripped the heavy axe in just his right, the weapon continued to strain against his grip, wanting oh-so-earnestly to go flying across the arena, free of it's wielder. Instead it gradually began to dip down, and Gill could see, quite clearly, dozens of tiny red bugs skittering across the surface fo the stone he was about to collide with.

Full-out trippage in front of an arena full of onlookers. A broken nose, at least. How humiliating. And then, as if he didn't have enough to worry about...he caught movement out of the corner of his eye as his target spun, hurling something like a giant dart at him.

Gill had a sinking, impossible feeling that he knew what the object was. His eyebrows flew up and he panicked, calling out in an undignified, high-pitched, horrified voice, "Nonono that's a BOOM--," connection. The next thing he knew, he was blasted into the air, feet swinging up behind him and over his head, flying backfirst and upside-down into the roiling lava flow that occupied part of the lead fountain.

----
What came out the other side was a lavaball, a screaming, smoking lump of angry glowing red rock. The scream trailed off, and heat seemed to bleed out of the falling object rapidly. Black patches appeared on the soft, glowing surface, spreading and hardening into a soild piece of stone. Streaming smoke like a meteor's tail, the egg-shaped black rock struck the far side of the fourth ring, careening into the fifth and shattering on the sixth, large chunks of cool, black rock scattering around the point of impact.

What stood up in the center of ground zero was a dirty, smoking, laughing silouette of a man. The laughter wasn't a bit tainted by madness, but the clear, boyish voice that echoed out was certainly out of place in the center of a combat arena. Far from harmed, the Gill that began his ascent again was thoroughly enjoying himself, his eyes wild, his arms swinging at his sides. Stooping as he walked, he grabbed a shining silver handle jutting from one of the larger pieces of debris, swinging it up over his head and down into a potted bush, crushing the unnecessary greenery and causing the solidified lava to crumble, freeing his weapon.

Waves of heat streamed from his body, distorting the air around his figure, smoke hanging thick around him.

Dragging the ax behind him haphazardly, he squinted up at the top of the hill he'd halfway fallen from. "Bombs," he muttered, sniggering. "He threw a bomb at me. Me! There's no honor in that!" Oddly enough, he seemed almost overjoyed by this notion. "Battle without honor or humanity." In a slightly more serious tone, he stated this to himself (the far side of the arena was mostly empty space, and the few he could see weren't taking notice of him yet) and began his ascent, content to slip out of the interests of the other competitors for a brief moment.
AQ  Post #: 22
7/23/2008 17:07:58   
xaxtoo
Member

"Stodgy man praying in the air like a donkey, braying in cacophony.
You have a horrid face, known to me as a crazy Halfarf, whose got a no-no-nose big as a sheep.
...
I gonna have some entertainment coming from you."

Singing merrily to himself and cradling the giant ball in one arm and the ball shooter in the other, Karddicj jumped down from the massive but not very tall pillar. He looked satisfyingly and hungrily towards the still incoming Halfarf on a collision course with his homeland. There's nothing more pleasurable than breaking in a servant. It's never too early to start working on the often rocky beginnings of employer employee status. Either fate or the Darkness Lord is favoring him, for the Halfarf is going to get a quick introductory lesson, familiarizing himself with the superior terrain he's going to see soon and often, and only touch again when he's allowed to go outside the lightning forceship to frolic of course. Starting things in this present manner of speedy training and painless for his part pleased Karddicj to no ends. Karddicj couldn't be described as an overly understanding master at times, usually his big ego blinded him to such trivial servant needs.

Luckily, Karddicj did not have to wait almost at all since climbing down. His plan worked to perfection as the Halfarf flew into his projectiles and crashed into the pillar. But quickly though, he grunted in a very high pitched shrill, something quite like a squeak. The Halfarf actually penetrated the solid rock and wasn't stopping! His plan shattered like the structure in front of him. Yelling a seriously elongated "Noooooo!", he let his ball and squishy thing fall and dove after the Halfarf in full stretch, meaning to intercept him in flight.

He judged wrong and barely missed the little creature when it left through the hole it made, and therefore the transformed patch and slowed down, which worked well for Karddicj, but unfortunately not slow enough for him to grab. The Halfarf landed a few feet away, temporarily out of reach.

Oh Karddicj frantically hoped the dear thing was still alive. If he wasn't, Karddicj would still give him despite not actually being employed a proper burial, for a servant of course which entailed more or less a fire and a memorial dinner. And since Karddicj was the only person to have know the little mite, he could forgo the memorial dinner and just burn him before drowning himself in the memory of the Halfarf and spirits.

Falling in the water, still wet as ever, Karddicj immediately rolled onto his back, and quickly palming his head, started howling loudly. Mostly his shouting was a spew of indecipherable stuff, yet intermixed with nonsense was a few select words and phrases such as "pain", "head", "unruly zap tackle", "call for a trainer" and "fading physical form".

To his massive relief while peering out from the cracks in his fingers, Karddicj saw the Halfarf unsteadily leveling himself back up. Karddicj would have sighed if he wasn't screaming. He would have almost laughed in glee too, for the little thing was finally showing potential as he moved around in a daze, quite unsteadily and more importantly quite comically. However, the life of the thing is threatened for he already made an enemy with his lightning bolt.

When the thing moved closer, Karddicj quickly reached out with a hand, grasping the entire small leg of thing in a firm grip. Interrupting his yelling, he quickly voiced quietly to the little bugger, "Take the dive of your life. Play dead for a while."

With his voice picking up, he yelled anew, "Aha, I have you within my grasp Halfarf." And serving as a continuation of his song, he emphatically added in tones reminisce of a dying man echoing his final wish for all to hear, "Fade with me now!" With that, he swept the feet out from under the critter, pulling him into the ankle deep water, and hopefully hidden from the other contestants by the Fountain Arena's main attraction, the rising centerpiece.

Following his own advice to the Halfarf, Karddicj disappeared from the world of Lore. To his eyes, everything simply turned dark for a split second. The blackness quickly imploded with a very faint whoosh, barely enough force a stir in the air, and was gone from the arena, and taking with it the creature Karddicj.

< Message edited by xaxtoo -- 7/24/2008 15:19:07 >
AQ  Post #: 23
7/23/2008 18:02:46   
.Discipline
Member

Bolbi felt the cold grasp of the creature's hand disappear and the warm water lap up around him as he lay dazzled in the water. The creature had done him a great favour, by creating a situation in which the others thought he was dead, Bolbi could rise to the top unexpectedly. He moved further out of sight and lay face down in the babbling pond He quickly waved his hand to cast an underwater breathing spell, which was taught to him by the Drakel Mage with the wonky eye who always came by with a crate of Drakel Technology for the temple, which allowed electricity to convert the water into air.

Bolbi then shocked himself so hard that he showed no signs of being alive whatsoever, although when the ten minute period he had specified was up, he would be jolted back to life. This was a clever trick on the part of the mage, one that he knew would probably protect him from harm. If anybody laid a finger on his body, they would trigger the spell's defence mechanism and awaken Bolbi with a powerful shock, which, with Bolbi in the water, could mean a grizzly death for the assailant.

Bolbi lay there, silent, motionless, as not to be picked up by any creature. The orb on the end of Bolbi's staff grew dim, as if to signal that no harm could come to Bolbi at his current location. This was good, Bolbi could lay there, silently, dreaming. He made a silent wish before drifting off into a perpetual state of death... Lord of Energy, guide me safely...

< Message edited by .Discipline -- 7/25/2008 9:43:52 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 24
7/24/2008 12:03:49   
deltora94928
Member

Jake smiled as the bomb detonated in his hand just as his opponent realized what he was doing. He was blasted back and landed hard on the tier below the one he was standing on. He got shakily to his feet and looked around for his opponent. He heard screaming. He looked towards the direction it was coming from and gasped in horror. A smoking ball of cooling red lava careened down the arena. It began to turn black and gray as the lava hardened into rock. Jake watched as it smashed through two levels before coming to a thudding stop six levels below the top, four levels away from Jake's current position. Jake blinked and realized that he had just defeated his first opponent. He laughed and stared at the smoking lump.

His laugh cut off abruptly as the ax wielder stood up and began to laugh along. He was filthy, covered in bits of rock, mounds of ash, soot, and dirt. He was also smoking from several spots on his body. He began the ascent, giggling, swinging his arms, eyes wild. Lee took several involuntary steps back from the man. The thing reached down, grabbed a rock and smashed it against a pot, revealing his mighty ax. Jake found his own hammer and hefted it. He felt the heat once more, but it was no longer reassuring. If this thing could pass through lava, the fact that Jake's hammer burned like fire probably didn't make much of a difference.

Heat distorted the figure inside the smokescreen and made Jake uneasy. It reminded him a werewolf transformation. It looked like his opponent was changing into something, but it would be much worse than a werewolf. He dragged the ax behind behind him, letting it carve a rift in the ground behind him. He began to mumble something, but Jake didn't know or care what it was he said. He backed up a little more and scrambled up the tier behind him. He considered shooting him with an explosive arrow, but he found that his hands were shaking so bad that he would probably miss instead. He decided to make his stand in that tier and faced the man climbing up after him. He stood tall and made his hands stop shaking. He raised the hand not holding the hammer and bent his fingers, encouraging the man to bring it on.

As he lowered his hand, he realized that he probably wasn't going to live through this tournament. Very few were. He had joined at to young an age, he wasn't a full fledged warrior yet. He hadn't trained hard enough. Some of the people here had trained their whole lives to compete in this tournament. He had trained for about a year. Now was the time to act. If he was going to win this fight, he needed to bring it on, not encourage the other guy to. He pulled out his hammer and grinned, with more than a little madness in his eyes. He jumped incredibly high into the air, bringing his hammer high over his head. He hurtled down towards his opponent, a few tiers below him. When he was close enough, he swung his red-hot hammer down towards his opponent's head.

< Message edited by deltora94928 -- 7/24/2008 23:11:58 >
AQ  Post #: 25
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