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=Elemental Championships 2008= Grand Finals

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8/1/2008 14:38:33   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


 The arena is large, with rows upon rows of seats for spectators above a perfect octagon field of red sand. The crowd slowly gathers to watch the incredible displays of sorcery and swordsmanship. The wealthier viewers sit in front-row seats, surrounded by armed bodyguards and personal mages, whilst the commoners are forced to watch the bloodshed from a more considerable distance.

The air is filled with anticipation, excitement, and the buzz from the invisible protection fields the guardian mages produce to keep wayward projectiles - be they metal or magic - away from the crowd.

It's not such petty protective magics that are most prominent sight of the arena, but rather the eight pillars, incredible manifestations of the Elemental Lords' power, and the gates behind each that put such things to shame.

The gates themselves unimportant, only what's behind them being of any relevance - for behind them were the eight champions, now healed and restored after the battles that granted them such a title, who came here to fight for their own glory and the glory of their elements. Few sounds came from behind the gates - unlike before, there was but one man or creature behind each, and there was no one they could express whatever emotions they had to there... Everyone knew that a Lord only chooses a single follower to battle on - the one who he sees as most worthy of the privilege, and thusly everyone knew that this would be a battle to remember.

And, as a reminder of that fact, the eight grand pillars stand - if not to communicate to all those who gathered of the Lords' might and grace, then at least to provide some distraction for the blood-thirsty crowd.

An ancient oak stands in the sandy arena, or at least, a trunk of one, for the only visible branches grow straight into in the stone platform above. Indeed a monument to itself, the Pillar of Earth seems to be eternal and vivid at the same time. Beside it, a silver statue of defender with a spear stands, ready and vigilant... Stories, some true, some false, but all wondrous, tell of how that man had fell in years past, and how his death was honoured by the Lord itself as the defender of the otherwise harmless Pillar.

Surrounded by a shimmering veil of superheated air, a stream of flickering lava - who could have guessed melted stone could burn? - flows constantly from an invisible spot from the platform above, and disappears just as mysteriously into the sand bellow. The Fire Pillar's heat is indeed making all the nearby cool drink vendors happy, and the rest of the crowd suffer, drenched in their own sweat.

Small translucent fish play in the Pillar of Water - a lazy waterfall, which, while providing an aura of coolness and relaxation for all of those around, does not spill one drop of it on the red arena sand.

The Darkness Piller can not be seen - either because it simply sucks all nearby light it in, making its surroundings signficantly dimmer than the rest of arena, or due to the fact no one really wants to look at it, seeing how doing only rewards one with piercing pains in the head and the taste of bile in the mouth...

The Pillar of Wind can not be seen either, but it most certainly can be felt and heard... A whirlwind (though more of a miniature tornado) spins happilly around, messing up the elaborate hairdos of the ladies in the stands above.

A white patch of snow in the red red field with a humongous slab of ice in the center - even a penguin would probably lose a limb if it were to touch the Pillar of Ice.

A silent hum and standing hair are the only warnings one gets of the pillar of pristine steel standing in the sand - the Pillar of Energy, of course.

The Pillar of Light seems to be ethereal - a light as bright as no one has ever seen, and still one that doesn't hurt your eyes - rather on the contrary, as its soothing effect is possibly even greater than that of the Water Pillar's.

The Arena is spotlessly clean, with not a drop of blood or gore anywhere... Either the scarlet liquids were washed away during the course of the year... or they simply became one with that red sand below your feet and in your shoe.

As the crowd mingled in anxious anticipation of the announcement and arrival of the Champions, a lone tournament official strode out into the sands. In a deep voice, amplified several magnitudes to cut through the din by a helpful staff mage, he pulled out a scroll. "Ladies and Gentlemen, even now the Champions are being notified of their advancement and are making their way to the arena! However, rather than force each and every one of you to wait, I have here the list of those advancing!" The din reached a new uproar that would not settle for all the 'polite coughs' in the world to get their attention.

"For Earth...magnificent! We have a returning Finalist! Roch the Crusher!"

"For Fire...we have Enya of the Frozen Plateau!"

"For Water...the fearsome and large Torelle, the Maelstrom!"

"For Darkness...the mediator of maladies, Karddicj!"

"For Wind...the elusive Djaak Hiirst!"

"For Ice...why none other than the tundra dwarf Seyrinth Mountlock!"

"For Energy...the sultry feline familiar, Slash!"

"And at last, but far from least...For Light...the dwarf who was forced to brave the heights of sky. Sabadhai Gelam!"

Upon reading off the last of the champions, the mildly portly announcer scampered to hop out through the small, mostly hidden official's gate before the Finalists would arrive...The gates begin to open, with loud cheers from the crowd.

You will either become victorious, or become sand.

< Message edited by Ronin Of Dreams -- 8/4/2008 14:24:32 >
AQ  Post #: 1
8/1/2008 17:27:35   
damselindigital
Member

Enya floated upon a cushion of warmth.

An incredible sense of comfort and safety overcame her, assisting in dissolving away her sense of confusion. She was no longer at the arena she had fought within so recently, that was clear to her despite the complete lack of any distinguishing features in her surroundings. In fact, the area itself appeared to be uniform in a muted and gentle red with no beginning or end that she could perceive. It pulsed in gentle rhythm.

My heart… It’s beating in time with my heart…

Knowledge came to her, but not through means detectable by any of her five senses. She suddenly was aware of facts that she had only been able to judge before based upon her own limited perceptions. The logic imparted to her felt strange, foreign, but she could not deny the truth of it, and the reality caused her to weep.

Enya did not lack the respect of her tribe; it was the girl. The way the young one had behaved and carried herself had surpassed any sense of honor and status that her abilities as a Flamekeeper had imparted. This, in turn, had caused the young men to overcome their sense of reverence because she had turned herself into an object that could be possessed. Enya had avoided that, and thus remained solitary in her position due to the reverence it inspired in her people. The woman was indeed respected and because of it, lived a life that was in its way deeply and wholly alone.

No, not alone.

That thought too originated from a source that was not a portion of herself and she felt a tendril of heat caress her cheek. She had been chosen not once, but twice, and, come what may, her Lord was with her. The power she wielded for the lives of her people was at His grace and choosing, and now she would serve Him again as representative upon the red sands. Her Lord’s answers and gifts were not precisely what she had traveled so many fathoms to this tournament to obtain, but in many respects, it was far more than she could have wished for.

Now if only she had a mortal beside her that she could spend the remaining years of her life with.

That was a thought for another time, however. Perhaps such a man could be found but this time and place were not suitable for that search. True, she had allowed herself to become repeatedly distracted in her last battles, yet for now she would hold her respect and love of her Lord in her heart and risk her life for His honor.

She whispered a soft prayer.

“My Lord, allow me to remain strong in your name so that I may return a portion of all that you have granted me in my life. Forgive my doubt and distraction in this place that was designed for your glory. I give thanks that I might bring the truth of your kindness and strength to all who come here today or hear tell of these forthcoming events. May I bring you pride.”

As she once more sensed the gentle touch of heat upon her cheek, Enya opened her eyes.

A gate was before her and beyond that a monument to the destructive and terrible force of her Lord, Fire. She smiled then at the beauty of its nature, which was only part of the whole that her Lord commanded. The inexperienced might view the prominently displayed aspect as the truth of the whole, but Enya was well aware that the comforting warmth she had felt earlier was no less proper.

The time for soothing heat was gone now, however, and the woman knew that she would need every ounce of the lethal potential she had available to her if she was to truly seek to honor her Lord. Her garments had been restored to the state they had possessed prior to the first swing of a sword in the arena known as Spike; so too had her body, for the injuries she had sustained and costs she paid had vanished as if they never had occurred.

The sheath for her spears, however, was not as full as it had been at her arrival to this contest and one of her bolas remained missing. She understood, just as she had come to the realizations about her tribe, that their loss was the cost of a different kind of blessing. Her knife and one spear, slightly longer than the others so that she could locate it in times of haste, had been strengthened. No longer did she need worry about a single stroke from a metal weapon splintering the bone into useless fragments. These paired weapons would now be just as strong as their steel counterparts without losing the familiarity that Enya had with their wielding.

A quiet word of thanks parted her lips as she felt the comforting presence leave her. Her Lord could do nothing further to influence the results of what was to come and, while Enya mourned His departure, it strengthened her resolve to prove herself in His name.

When the gate before her thudded open to a roar of approval from the crowd, a sound which was entirely foreign to the woman, she strode confidently forth, bolstered by the faith her Lord was showing in the foolish girl named Enya.
AQ  Post #: 2
8/1/2008 18:48:10   
Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer


 The sultry feline familiar very likely would have had some very cross words for the announcer or whoever it was who had come up with such a ridiculous description of her. Still, that was the last thing on her mind at the moment. Slash's eyes opened, regarding the small, gloomy room she found herself in warily. The familiar stood reflexively, noting with surprise as she did so that she was able to put her weight down on her left front leg easily. She glanced around the empty room with dawning comprehension.

She was healed, and she had been pulled from the Arena she was in. She had been Chosen, she was the the Champion of Lightning. The cat glanced around with interest, remembering what Alex had told her of his experience last year as the Champion of Water. He had been given a vision, a message, and a boon from the Water Lord; the cat wondered idly if she would be granted such an audience, or sorts, or if the healing was all she would get.

"Hello, Little One." Slash turned back towards the door out of the room, where before there had been nothing, stood the bent, wizened form of an old man. A man in simple yellow robes carrying a gnarled wooden staff. The familiar's head tilted to one side questioningly. This man was familiar, in fact, he was the very image of the first wizard that Slash had served as a familiar for. "Its not him, of course." The lined old face smiled kindly. "Simply a vessel remembered by you."
"For what purpose?"
"Purpose? Why for the purpose of having this very conversation, that is why." He paused, as though waiting for a response from the cat. Recieving nothing but silence didn't seem to trouble the man, who merely smiled and continued. "I am pleased with your effort thus far. In the smallest of vessels I have seen a measure of courage deserving of forms far greater." He paused again, but still Slash made no reply, and so he continued. "It is my intention then, to provide you with a form more fitting the courage you have to this point shown."

He motioned curtly with one hand, and Slash twitched as she felt an unfamiliar energy surge through her. "I suggest you prepare yourself, this is likely to hurt." And hurt it did. Slash growled, twitching and jerking spastically as the power surged through her. Her bones crackled and shifted, muscles tearing and mending as the familiar's form was altered, growing in size and power. A moment later, Slash's eyes opened, and she panted softly, rising back to her feet. She felt, stronger, faster, better. Her body had grown in every way, changing forms from a cat to that of a lioness, all lean muscle, deadly claws, and fierce teeth. "Tell me, what do you think?"

The lioness took several experimental circuits of the small room, feeling the power of her new form, the play of muscles under her skin, and the soft tread of her padded feet, killing claws retracted. She stopped, sitting and looking at this man, this representative of the Lightning Lord. "No."
He frowned. "No?"
"No, I cannot."
"If it is a matter of the agreement with your current master, I can certainly-"
"It is not that."
The man's frown deepened, and an edge of frustration entered his tone. "What, if I may ask, is the problem?"
"There is no problem, only that this form is not what I am. I entered this competition, as you said, in the smallest of vessels. I intend to finish it that way. To change my form is to change who I am, and to do so would mean that I am not the Champion I was chosen as, therefore I must refuse."

The yellow robed man smiled, and Slash had the oddest impression that she had just passed a test of some sort. There was a moment of wrenching disconnection, and with a lurch Slash realized that she had returned to her original cat form. The old man was nowhere to be seen though, but in his place was a lingering sense of approval as the gate before her yawned open.

Slash paced out of the gate at a stately amble, ignoring the ripple that ran through the crowd as seeing such an odd competitor enter the field. Even after her relative success in the Dropoffs, there would still be doubts about what she could do. Still, she ignored the crowd, walking slowly around the Energy Pillar, rubbing one furred cheek against it and luxurating in the feel of electricity sparking and dancing across her body to send her hair crackling out in every direction. The familiar rounded the Pillar and continued forward to sit before it, faint arcs of electricity still dancing across her fur as she turned her eyes to examine the competition entering the Finals Arena.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 3
8/1/2008 20:45:17   
The Dragon Knight
Member

Whatever response his worthy opponent might have had became lost in a myriad of colorful lights. He found that he could no longer feel the weight of his body; indeed, when he looked down he found that he could not see it at all. He was a disembodied consciousness, being carried on the currents of another plane, a realm where mortal man held no power. It was a frightening, yet exhilarating thought. He knew, instinctively, that this euphoria was in no way caused by the Nymph. He knew, with a certainty that could not be explained, that he had been chosen. He had served his Lord well, and Torrelle firmly believed that it was his final choice to show mercy and compassion that had earned him the right to be the Water Lord's representative. At the same time, he felt a twinge of sadness. If circumstances had been kinder, he would have enjoyed helping the creature to find its way back to wherever its home might be. Perhaps, he thought, he might have the chance to apologize to her properly, once this was all over. He sincerely hoped so.

He had no idea how long he floated in that featureless realm. He was surrounded by a diffused light, constantly shifting in varying tones of blue. The way the light moved reminded him of the crystal clear waters of the lagoon that was his retreat. He felt as though he were beneath the waves in that relaxing place, the sound of surf crashing against the hidden shores echoing faintly in his mind. Indeed, there was sound in this place as well; a distant rumbling, as of the ebb and flow of the tide, speaking to him of the boundless power of the sea. He felt that power wash over him, overloading his mortal senses in a burst of pain that bordered on the exquisite.

During that momentary feeling, he was infused with a wealth of knowledge. He had felt a calming touch, as if a gentle hand were placed softly against his roughened cheek. He knew that touch well, and the memory of it would have brought tears to his eyes, if he were corporeal. As the wave of power crashed into him, the soft voice spoke, comforting him, telling how proud it was of him. It spoke of things that had been, and of things that could never be. It spoke of pain, of loss, and of great joy. It spoke of the past, the present, and hinted at the future. Yet, all the while, it also spoke of an undying love and devotion, of emotions that transcended any fleeting thoughts of mortality. Forever was too short of a word for something that bound two souls together beyond death.

The voice of his dearly departed wife filled his ears, and if he had been breathing it would have caught in his throat from joy and sadness, a mixture so potent that it could rend the heart in two. She knew of his passion, of his journey for vengeance, and of the compassion and honor he had shown to others along the way. She wanted him to keep that honor, and to continue on a journey in her memory; but not of revenge. She had lost so much of him already, and to follow through on this path would only destroy the last little bit of the man she loved. If it is a journey he sought, her voice intoned, then seek the power to show the world that there was someone who would stand up to tyranny and fight for those who were preyed upon. Let them know the power of the waves and the fury of the endless seas! Show them that both mercy and ruthlessness are required in order to right injustice.

Let them know who you really are.....

Her final words rang softly in his ears. He opened his eyes and found that he was human once more, and tears had, in fact, stained his cheeks. He raised a slightly trembling hand and brushed them away, a small smile on his lips. The pain from his wounds had disappeared, and he saw now that his armor had been mended. He drew forth his blades and examined them both with a critical eye for detail. The longsword seemed unchanged, but his short sword had a silvery sheen to it that was new. He sheathed the longer blade once more and then flicked the flat of his short blade with a finger. The slightly musical quality of the chime that rang out answered his question. The steel of the sword had been reinforced with another metal to give it properties that made it far more conductive both to magical energy as well as to more common types of energy. He had no doubt that this would come in handy.

He completed his inspection of his accouterments, noting with satisfaction that the studs of his armor had been replaced, and all of his reservoirs refilled. Not that it was likely to matter, he thought. His medallion was pulsing with power, the symbol of his Lord reacting to the presence of the nearby Water Pillar, which he knew lay just beyond the gate.

The roar from the crowd grew in intensity as the announcer made them aware of the victors of the previous matches. So, Roch and Enya had both succeeded. He was glad to hear it, while somewhat sobered by the thought that he would be facing the woman once more, and the Crusher as well besides. The names of the other contenders he knew not, but it likely did not matter. The unusual civility that had possessed the Spike arena this year was unlikely to carry through to the Finals. This was the true test of strength, and he could not afford to be found wanting.

Taking one final deep breath to ready himself, the Maelstrom of the Western Seas slipped the short blade back into its scabbard, and then strode out into the red sands of the arena, his stride confident and sure.

The sight that greeted him was spectacular. Even though he had heard many tales of the Grand Arena, and of the pillars that it housed, he had never been able to fully comprehend the majesty that was the Power of the Elemental Lords. He stepped in front of his own pillar, feeling the slight spray from the never-ending waterfall fill the air. He was more than pleased. This was far more to his liking. His battle in the Spike Pit had been decidedly lopsided, restricted in material as he had been. Here there were no limitations, and while this was likely true for all of his competitors he found that he was looking forward to showing off his true capacity for power.

The Pirate Lord grinned, his excitement manifesting itself in a sweeping bow to the assembled, raising a great cheer from those spectators that had come to view him as their champion. As he did so, his left hand grasped the medallion at his neck, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the silver metal, offering a silent prayer to his lord as he activated the hidden enchantment of the device once more. No physical change took place as he did this. Once more, he had awakened the sleeping powers of the Water Lord, and was preparing himself for the battle ahead.

Standing tall and proud once again, his eyes took in each of his competitors in turn, offering the Fire Champion, Enya, a gracious bow and a smile in honor of her recent victory. Then, with the pleasantries out of the way, he purposefully drew his blades, holding them loosely to the sides while he awaited the arrival of his remaining opponents.

< Message edited by The Dragon Knight -- 8/2/2008 3:50:27 >
AQ  Post #: 4
8/1/2008 23:08:27   
Beebote
Member

A grin of satisfaction began to creep across Djaak’s features as he watched his strike close in on his electrified opponent. Then, suddenly, he felt himself stiffen upright as all weight left his body. For a split second, he feared he had once more been struck from behind, but this sensation was not painful, in fact it was quite calming. Djaak felt like he was both riding the world’s most powerful hurricane and drifting on the calmest breeze at the same time. It was hard to describe, even to himself.

When he regained his motor functions, Djaak found himself in an unadorned room with a huge gate directly before him. From beyond the gate came a dull roar. It took a few seconds before Djaak recognized the sound. It was a crowd, a veritable host of bodies shouting all together. Then came a loud voice announcing a string of names, none of which Djaak recognized, save his own. It all meant one thing; the Wind Lord had indeed favored him as this year’s Champion of Wind.

As if to follow up this realization, he felt a draft of wind from behind him. Slowly, cautiously, he turned around. Standing there, at the back of the room was an old man. At least, he seemed to be old. His face was young, but his eyes were ancient, as was the white hair that fell around his face, stirred by unseen winds. Without asking, Djaak knew who he was. Djaak was standing in the presence of an avatar of the Lord of Winds. Instinctively, Djaak dropped to one knee and dropped his head.

A breeze caressed his face, and in it he heard a voice. “Djaak Hiirst. You know who I am.” It was a statement, not a question. “You have displayed the skill and power to be my representative in this arena. You have shown great skill in displaying the wrath of My Element. However…there are several issues which must be addressed here and now, before you enter the Grand Arena.” Djaak cringed. He heard a note of displeasure in his Lords voice.

A great updraft slammed into his face and chest, forcing him to stand. “While you rightly identified the monks with which you lived as having mistaken my true nature, you have also failed to see my true nature. For, I am Wind, the ever-present element of two natures. The wrath of a windstorm, the soothing sea breeze, the rising updraft, the rending whirlwind: all of these am I. Not just the peaceful as the monks teach, nor just the destructive that you are so fond of, but both are my nature.” The Wind Lord’s face was grave as he approached a thoroughly frightened Djaak.

“The day you were cast out of the temple, you slew a dozen of my followers. True, they were misled in their teachings, but then again, so were you. However noble your purpose was, I cannot let the death of twelve men go unpunished.” The Lord raised his hand in front of Djaak’s eyes. “For the death of twelve faithful servants of Wind, I claim…your sight.”

Suddenly, the world around Djaak went black and all color drained from his blue eyes. He dropped to his knees, bringing his hands to his face, but he could not see them. A thousand questions raged in his mind. How was he to fight? Why his sight? Above all, how could he have been so blind? Then, once more he heard the Wind Lord speak. “This will serve to remind you of your failure to see the truth. But you have also been faithful to both me and your cause. You have done more to bring awareness of my destructive nature than sullied my peaceful nature. Such service deserves an equal reward. For faithful service to your Lord, I grant you…your sight.”

Once more, Djaak found himself staring at the earth before his face. He raised his quivering hands to his face. He could see them. He looked up at his Lord and saw that He was smiling. “Djaak, your eyes will remain white like one who is blind as a visible reminder of what has passed here between us. Go now to your destiny, secure in the knowledge of my true nature. Display my power here, and you will never be forgotten. Remember that, Djaak Hiirst! Display my power, and you will never be forgotten.” With that, the Elemental Lord of Winds vanished, leaving a very humble and sober Djaak.

A few minutes passed as Djaak processed all that had just happened there. Then, he straightened up and turned to face the door. His burn was healed, his clothing, restored, and blades all accounted for. The gate ground open and Djaak strode into the arena. Before him rose the massive Pillar of Wind, but, despite its awesome size, it paled compared to what Djaak had just experienced. Djaak walked around the pillar and stood in front of it, facing the center of the red-sanded arena. He looked around at the other fighters. There were none here who he recognized from his previous fight. Perhaps he was the only one from Sky.

The others in the arena represented Fire, Water, and Energy. For Fire was a fur-clad woman armed with some kind of primitive spear. Deceptively little threat for one who had been chosen by Fire. Of Energy, there was little to see, save a feline. Again, it seemed to pose no great threat, but he knew to have been chosen, there was something about it that reccomended it to its Lord. The Water Champion was easier to assess than the other two. Two blades, one of which was obviously enchanted somehow. Djaak nodded to himself, making a note of it in his mind. None of the other champions had entered as yet. After a breif pause, he raised his hands to the sky and uttered once more the prayer he had uttered in Sky, this time, with much greater appreciation for what he was saying:

"O Lord of Winds and Eagle's Flight, lift me up, and with Thy Wing
Grant me Wisdom, Grant me Might o'er man and beast and anything
That keeps You hidden from their Sight. This is what my heart does sing."

< Message edited by Beebote -- 8/2/2008 14:46:13 >
Post #: 5
8/2/2008 3:08:21   
Guardian of Nekops
Member

In the bowels of the earth, Roch was stripped of the remnants of his armor and relieved of his weapon by many unseen hands, which then began to pack rock and soil into his wounds, and sculpt it on his face where his beard should be. Just as two years prior he was not in a cave, or an open space in the ground of any kind, but encased in solid stone that somehow permeated him, and through which those who catered to him moved freely. As before, there was no air, no light, and no space to move beneath the crushing pressure of the Earth, and while his body still craved these things the lack of them did him no harm.

Yet that which had been comforting to him two years back was no longer so, for there was one crucial difference… the Lord of Earth was not there. The hands that administered the healing soil to him and now began to reshape his armor about him were mere servants like himself, and the overwhelming weight that was pressing down upon him was no longer his Lord’s embrace, but mere physical fact. He had been Chosen, yes, and he was indeed being prepared for battle in the Championship, but he had lost his Lord’s favor.

When his armor was returned to him, the ley lines that crossed over his heart to remind him of his devotion were empty. Not only lifeless but hollow, displaying the mockery his faith had become of late. What the Lord of Earth had given him two years prior had been taken away, to be replaced by Air, of all things, at the very heart of his armor. A tear welled up in the Crusher’s eye, held in place by the earth that pressed against him even there.

My Lord is just. I have honored Him with my lips these past two years, and have never ceased my preparations, but my heart has strayed nonetheless. I have deserted Him, leaving even Lore itself in service to Unity, and in doing so I have lost the purity of my earlier faith.

Even now, what am I here for? Is it truly because I wish to serve my Lord, or do I just feel this is where I belong, where I will find meaning in my life again?

Roch strained against the encasing earth and his reforged helmet, attempting to bow his head despite the stone that kept his neck stiff.

It was wrong of me to return so. My Lord does not wish to see me, and He is just.

Roch felt Impact pushed gently back into his gauntleted hand by the hands of Earth’s vassals, and he would have sighed if he had the breath in this place. He would be sent to the fray but not to victory, a sacrificial lamb without the blessing of his Lord, there only so that Earth would not be shamed by the lack of a Champion.

Then the power of Earth swept over the Champion in ever-increasing tremors, the footsteps of a being whose feet never left the ground. The servants left Roch, withdrawing politely from the presence of their Lord, but he was held in place by the solid stone about him and infusing his being. The warrior’s heart beat fast and panicked, for he was not even able to kneel, but was trapped standing of all impudent things before the approaching Lord of Earth.

When the pressure upon him became as much, and as much again, as he could bear, Roch found it suddenly suffused with warmth as the mighty arms of Earth held him close. At his Lord’s touch, the channels in his armor were restored, the metal now coursing even more strongly than before with the special sort of life that only He could give.

"I am pleased with you, Roch the Seeker," the Earth spoke in rumbles, in the grinding of stone on stone. "What you did for Unity helped save all, even I, though it seems to you your impact was small.”

The pressure of the Earth began to fade about Roch, and he felt himself rushing upwards at great speed through the solid rock, and then through sand. Red sand.

"Do not fear, and do not doubt."

The mountain of steel that was the Crusher burst through the floor of his chamber behind the Gate of Earth, gasping for breath. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he straightened to his full height and stomped mightily with each foot, first his left and then his right. Alchemic arrays activated on each boot, sending short spikes down into the arena sand to make sure his footing remained true.

The Tree of Earth stood before him beyond the open gates, and he stepped towards it mechanically, still trying to process what had just occurred in the deep places of the Earth. He did not react to the roaring of the crowd or to the glory of the Pillar and its defender, but instead stared stone-faced at the center of the arena as he took his place beside the silver statue.

“I will not fail you,” he whispered softly at last, his eyes brimming with tears.

Scanning across the Great Arena, his eyes fell upon Enya at the Pillar of Fire, right beside his own Pillar. He smiled slightly to see her safe and well, not to mention succeeding thus far in whatever venture this competition was a part of. Somewhere in the back of his mind registered the fact that he would have to defeat the lady to fulfill his own charge, but he could even so wish her no ill will. Taking a knee, he planted one armored palm on the red arena sands with a flash, and then held the other there with a steady glow. A river of sand began flowing peacefully across the arena between the two pillars, carrying the crude tablet of red glass that he had just created to rest right before Enya’s feet.

The slate read, “Good luck,” and was signed “Roch.”

< Message edited by Guardian of Nekops -- 8/2/2008 11:01:24 >
AQ  Post #: 6
8/2/2008 12:17:23   
damselindigital
Member

As Enya paused before the Pillar of Fire, she could not help but notice the arrival of the individual on her left. It was the man with whom she had battled initially in the Spike Arena, apparently chosen to represent Water. As she watched, he bowed respectfully to her. She returned the gesture in kind and was contemplating moving to speak with him when he drew his blades. Truly he did not appear ready to use them yet, but Enya felt that he was likely not looking for an ally for the early and chaotic stages of what was to come.

Nevertheless, she offered him an inviting smile should she have read his motivations incorrectly. She had judged him as formidable during the time that their weapons had clashed, and the loss of his assistance, at least until the number of competitors had been reduced, was something she was not ready to forgo entirely at this juncture. It was her hope then that he understood the welcome that was present in the proffered expression.

She did not miss the presence of two others while contemplating these things. Wind appeared to have claimed a champion whose skin was the color of the darkest night and a small creature of a type that Enya was unfamiliar with appeared by the pillar of Energy. Neither of these individuals had she seen before, so their participation called for caution until she could ascertain their combat prowess. Certainly if they had succeeded in progressing, they had to have some skill.

What captured her attention next was the arrival of the representative to her right. It was he, the man who she had taken the most note of within Spike, the one who she had been willing to brutally avenge with the possibility of his falling. Even now her heart beat quickened upon the sight of him whole and well. Realizing then what was occurring in her distraction, a blush of shame rushed to her cheeks. Unlike her intentions upon entering this tournament, she now was here to honor her Lord. Her own personal feelings were not supposed to have an effect on what was to come.

But, perhaps, she could indulge herself just the slightest amount while carrying out her Lord’s will.

Something was sliding across the sand towards her. Granted, Enya did not truly know what the sand was; only that walking upon it was not unlike treading through new-fallen snow atop a layer of permafrost. So much here was new to her that she might have stood gape-jawed as she took it all in should circumstances been different. She did not have the luxury for such frivolities of time, however, and she knelt to examine the gift the chosen of Earth had sent.

Though once again at a loss for the substance that composed the gift, Enya studied it carefully. Her lips moved slightly, shaping each syllable, as she read the three words. She was glad for her training in reading and writing, for few of her tribe had the knowledge of such things. To fulfill her duties as a Flamekeeper, however, such instruction was required and for the first time she was thankful for the long hours she had spent in practice. She smiled to herself as she repeated the last word in a quiet whisper.

“Roch. Roch. So that is his name.”

Her heart swelled to know it and she decided then upon a plan. Still kneeling near the pillar she placed a hand upon the ground. The heat produced by the pillar such a short distance away was more than intense enough for her needs. She claimed it as her own and knew that this was the right thing to do. Truly, she could have attempted to utilize the monument itself but such audacity felt wholly and deeply disrespectful to her. The Pillar was her Lord’s and though she had been chosen as His representative, she had no right to attempt to lay her own mark upon what was meant to honor Him.

The gesture was easily disguised by her examination of her gift and shortly after she was finished, Enya stood. She wanted to take the tablet with her, to keep it close to her heart, but now was neither the time nor the place for such sentimentalities. It was left there, near her claim, and that too seemed correct: her Lord, this man, and herself. Wondering if anything could ever truly come of such, or if it was only a comforting fantasy, she crossed the sand to speak with Roch.

Forgetting her confusion about his identity from earlier, for such no longer mattered, Enya beamed.

“Sir, you are honorable and kind, but I fear the same may not be said for all those who will be present within this arena today. Would you not fight, axe beside my spear, to ensure that we both might live out the day and continue to honor our Lords? And should a time come where we must struggle against one another, let it be done only so far as quarter is given.”

Every word spoken was a heartfelt wish. Yet beneath it all was the beginnings of a trap of her own. She only hoped that if ever there was cause for her to spring it, Roch might find it within himself to forgive her.
AQ  Post #: 7
8/2/2008 14:33:14   
Guardian of Nekops
Member

Roch blushed heavily behind his helmet as Enya knelt to read his tablet, a tender smile growing on his lips as he witnessed hers. As she rose and began walking towards him, her face alight with apparent joy and good humor, his heart began to flutter in his steel-bound chest despite himself. What few moments like this there had been in his life he had always managed to squander, and he was quite nervous despite his recent accomplishment and the symbols of power that surrounded him.

It was not often, after all, that such a skilled and independent woman paid him any mind, let alone suggested a partnership. It was all he could do not to stammer as he replied, bowing to her with smile and blush still in place, “I would be honored to fight at your side, Enya Chosen of Fire, and to ensure your life as you ensure mine.”

He rose to his full height then, and as he did so the thrumming power in his armor brushed against his heart; a grim reminder that brought a more somber look to his face. Though he had promised nothing that he could not fulfill to either the lady or his Lord, there would likely come a time when he would have to fight against his lovely ally. Despite his sincerest wishes to the contrary, showing mercy did not come easy to he who wielded the lethal Axe of Gravity with its overwhelming force. Already his mind began to turn upon the girl, weighing different options and strategies as it hunted for one with the least chance of harm and the greatest hope of success…

No, he decided, forcing himself to dwell on happier thoughts. The time for that has not yet arrived... we are allies for now, try to take joy in that.

Smiling down at Enya once more, he offered the blessing, “May our Lords be honored by what we do.”
AQ  Post #: 8
8/2/2008 15:30:27   
Beebote
Member

Djaak continued to scan the competition with his whitened eyes. A swordsman of the sea, a woman of the north, a feline familiar, and a monk of Winds; that’s quite a motley crew of warriors, if I do say so myself. He mused. It was at that moment that the Champion of Earth entered the arena. A huge man in heavy armor with a massive axe; it screamed of earth in all its solid strength. This one would strike heavy and hard, and if it connected, he likely wouldn’t have to strike again. Djaak decided he would keep his distance from that one.

However, the Champion of Fire had no such intentions and approached the huge man, holding a brief conversation that seemed to end in an alliance. Djaak’s mind raced. Even if it was temporary, an alliance here, in the grand arena would guarantee that he would not be caught off guard from behind like he had in Sky. His mind immediately leaped to one of the present champions to be his ally.

Djaak reached out to the Champion of Water using a channel of air to convey his voice across the distance so that only he would hear him. As Djaak spoke, it would sound like a he was standing right in front of the man. “Hail. I am Djaak Hiirst, Jampione o’ Winds. You ahr da Jampione o’ Waht’r. I also t’ink dat you ahr a man o’ da sea. Long time, our elements haf work’t togedah, bot’ to aid ships on dere way, and to dash dem to pieces. Een bot’ cases, da two elements combine ta do more den dey could on dere own. I would like ta see dat kind o’ powah display’d ‘ere. Would you not also wish ta see da fury of da hurricane at sea unleashed ‘ere? Togedah, we could dash our opponents ta pieces and den…we face each uthah in a batt’l o’ unrivaled glory. Waht do you say? Shall wat’r and wind combine forces?”

Djaak ended his offer of alliance, but left the wind channel open for the champion’s reply. Djaak would be satisfied with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. A ‘yes’ meant he had an extra pair of eyes and blades. A ‘no’ meant that he would have to display the full range of his powers in a tougher, but more glorious battle. It would all rest on the Water Champion’s response.
Post #: 9
8/2/2008 16:16:25   
damselindigital
Member

An urge to indulge in a quick-stepping dance overcame Enya as Roch related his agreement. It was either that, of course, or to embrace the man who towered over her, regardless of his heavily armored state. However, in her excitement, she did not fail to miss the shadow of concern that came over his face for a few brief moments. While she was not certain as to the source of that expression, she did know that her heart did not wish for him to dwell upon it. And so, forgoing the reactions that had come to mind at his words, Enya became even bolder.

She took a quick little step to the side and, grinning more broadly than she ever had before, pulled back a hand and slapped his armor-clad behind.

“None of that worrying stuff, now. It’s you and me from this point on, cute-buuuuuuah…”

The vowel was extended inordinately long before Enya trailed off, a bright red shade flushing her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to voice aloud that particular nickname and it took some doing in order to recover her composure. Trying to cleverly disguise her discomfort, she loudly and repeatedly cleared her throat.

“Well, we’ll have to show them what we can do together, won’t we?”

Despite her small slip-up, she was still rather proud of herself. The maneuver had been executed near-perfectly, and now she had a claim upon the metal of Roch’s backside. She didn’t plan to use it, at least not for a long time, but she was aware that it could serve a dual purpose in what was forthcoming. This composed the second of the three claims she could hold within her mind and she could only hope that they would serve her well.

Still grinning broadly, Enya massaged the stinging palm of her right hand and watched his reaction.
AQ  Post #: 10
8/2/2008 17:31:01   
xaxtoo
Member

Karddicj was in a spot of trouble, quite a large spot at that, for his head felt like it was ready to burst from the pressure exerted by the holiday pudding. It was time to be gone, yet right on the verge of phasing away, he was suddenly pulled from the goo, away from the skeleton. It was so sudden Karddicj almost thought he would sick up, but since he was already purging himself. Wait, he wasn't anymore? No that has somehow stopped, the flow of acid and plates just ceased, like it never happened. Gone also was his knife wound, head trauma, and scratches from the skeleton's fingernails. He was immersed in a bath of light, ominous and foreboding, hiding rather than elucidating, coming from everywhere all at once bestowing upon him healing and approval. Perhaps this was what a beaming smile from the Darkness Lord felt like, resembling taking a shower with dead bugs. If Karddicj still had lips at this time, he would have smiled, but oddly, the lack of such a basic feature didn't seem to affect him at all.

The light, odd as it was, fluctuated wildly, disturbing vision and confounding senses, everything twisting horribly until it was beyond a creature of Karddicj's level to behold without falling down sick, hypothetically of course. Karddicj closed his non-existent eyes and thought of the glory and fun in the Final arena, which had to be the reason for this odd light. Abruptly, the sensation of joy of having pleased the Lord left him, and he felt solid again. He spread his hands to begin a bow. The flourish jerked to a stop when his eyes finally opened to see not a different arena, in fact he could barely see, darkness greeted him.

Suddenly three neon glowing signs colorfully pierced through the pitch black, each shining incongruently within the darkness like some cheap advertising. The signs all read the same, "Pick Me". Beneath the signs, Karddicj shockingly noticed three cages, each containing large shadows of something barely alive and barely moving. Uncertain and more than a little scared, Karddicj approached the things imprisoned. Closer, the image surprised him to the core. Never in his life had he seen something that's quite like the view sitting in front of him right now. In every cage, sprawled on the floor languidly was terrifying thing, each in its own right.

The first cage contained a creature wrapped in a cloak of shadows, hiding every feature save the face, which looked like the image of death. Karddicj have only heard stories about these terrifying beings associated with armies of undead. When this evil champion of death enters a fight, the very ground changes into wastelands. Walls never helped for they just passed through them like no barrier. The thing noticed Karddicj and a long arm with a giant claw that looked like it belonged on a giant griffin appeared to separate from the dark cloak and reached for him. Karddicj hastily stepped back and was surprised the cage stopped the claw from reaching him. Nevertheless, he quickly moved away from it, and every once in a while still sneak a wary glance in that direction to make sure it still stayed in that cage.

A black dragon was held in the second cage. Surprisingly it didn't look quite sleek nor serpentine--the body simply looked too big for the wings to carry it. It was different to what Karddicj is used to, and he walked by without a second glance.

The blue gaze of the third thing followed him to the cage. It glowed with burning intensity while it looked up at him, weak but not subdued. Karddicj's breath caught as he saw that it was indeed a demon lord, native to his homeland, the most deadly fighter at the bug's disposal. He had seen these on the battlefield, unpleasant memories. Whenever one appeared, a group of warriors, six at the bare minimum, would surround it while lightning catchers hurled bolts of lightning one after the other at it, barely causing much of an effect. When the fight ended, remaining wounded warriors would bury the dead, always two or more, and burn the body of the beast. Karddicj by himself would stand no chance against the thing, not even phasing would save him for it possessed the skills to follow. He fought one once, but he had the help of two lightning giants then. They had brought it down, and to his chagrin made the final blow. But now trapped as the thing is, he can deliver that fatal blow.

Looking down at it in awe, pondering what that power might feel like and trying to make a decision between all three equally deadly beings, one of Karddicj's hand moved to wrap his head pensively. But it never got there, Karddicj saw with a great deal of surprise and relief that the hand held a dimly gleaming katar. He knew right off that it was one of his two he always carried with him. Both were dipped with a deadly poison that would not affect any of his race and nothing in this room. Seemed like the decision was made for him already and a sharpened edge is still deadly. Bending down to a knee, Karddicj swung the blade back. The thing still stared with hatred at his face, but he ignored that, instead bringing up the memories of friends that had suffered at the hand of these things, he brought the blade down through the cage bars, right between the creature's glowing eyes. Then he slid the blade along the creature's face until he felt the essence of the thing flow up his arm, a tingling sensation he still isn't used to. A few moments later, he could feel the entire creature in every inch of his body, lying dormant, waiting to be tapped. Not thinking on the repercussions of using it now he pulled out the katar and pushed himself up. Just when he got back on his feet, all three cages, remaining prisoners, and signs vanished.

He wanted to ask what was going to happen to the other two, but he doubted he would receive an answer, so he turned around and walked. Before two steps, he tripped over something round that squealed when he stumbled over it. Lying down, he felt around with his free hand. He wasn't having any luck until the thing seemingly rolled into his grasp with a joyous "wheeee". Realizing that it was the ball he had left for the Halfarf--please let the little bugger be alright, he cradled it and pushed himself up once more. It shook in his care, with excitement no doubt. The little thing has a perverted sense of ownership as was very happy indeed it got its servant the kicker back. Karddicj wanted to knock it around for thinking that, but that would only bring it more joy, so he had resigned himself to the eccentricities of a wacky fabrication.

Carefully sticking the katar back into himself through the slit, Karddicj continued walking. Suddenly his feet crunched on sand and light shone on him, not unnatural this time, yet still blinding for being in sharp contrast with the darkness he just left. He shaded his eyes with a hand and blinked away with mad fury until his vision returned. Turning around he saw the Darkness Pillar. With curiosity overcoming a sudden nausea, he tried to stick his head back in. It bounced back after hitting a barrier with a resounding "thud". So that was that and he turned from the pillar, but not with a sudden desire to climb it.

He took in the arena, eyes measuring the distances between the pillars, to the walls, everything except the people. Only when he felt for certain he can recreate the arena in his head, did he look with any interest at the people. Not that helped much, he didn't recognize a soul, hardy warriors and one lady frostling too big to be a snow witch, who weirdly was standing by the fire pillar. He'll be careful with that one until it lets lose her first frosty cackle. Dropping the ball to the ground, he placed his foot on it. It quivered, he quivered, both equally excited to be underway. Normally he'd already be underway, but something told him to wait. Manners? Darn that!
AQ  Post #: 11
8/2/2008 18:23:57   
Cheeseliker
Member

Sabadhai had been moving forward, about to strike Bootman, when all of a sudden, all he saw was Light. It was all over him, in fact, it was him. It was disconcerting to the dwarf, floating around without a body, encompassed in Light. A peaceful feeling arose within him though, and he knew, this was no mage's trick. The Lord that had set Sabadhai on such a different path from his brethren, had seen fit to choose him. Sabadhai was humbled, and would've bowed if he had had a physical body at that point. He sensed a powerful, but calming presence nearby.

You have walked a strange path, Sabadhai Gelam, a hard path. A path no other dwarf has walked. You have sacrificed much to be here. Even the great Lord of the Light did not foresee these events, but you have proven yourself more then worthy to represent our great element. Your path may or may not end here. That is up to you, dwarf. Are you ready? Sabadhai did not hear the words, but felt them in his very being.

"I will show everyone what the hardiest of races can do with the most powerful of elements." He did not know how he responded, with no voice, but he did. He sensed pleasure from the presence.

Go now, but remember, though Earth be strong and Fire be burning, though Water be flowing and Energy be shocking, though Wind be blowing and Ice be cold, and though Darkness hides in the shadow, all are illuminated by the power of Light.


The Light surrounding Sabadhai disappeared, and he found himself in a small room, a large gate before him, and beyond that, the glowing, beautiful Pillar of Light. His axe and shield were gone for now, unneeded. Sabadhai closed his eyes, breathing deeply, as a single tear slid down the side of his face. He lifted his right hand to the sky, balled his fist, and swiftly struck himself in the chest, a dwarven battle gesture. He held his fist there and nodded.

"For you, my brethren, who could not understand. I forgive you." He whispered. The gate came open, Sabadhai's hand dropped to his side, and he opened his eyes. He walked slowly out onto the red sand. He knelt, taking a handful, and lifting it close to his face. It felt good to be back on solid ground. He turned his hand, and let the sand fall back to the ground. He stood, raised his hands to the sky, and closed his eyes as he turned to the sun. He let the calming rays of sunlight warm him. He felt energized, refreshed and ready to fight.

He walked in front of the Pillar of Light, and gazed at his opponents. He was surprised to see another dwarf, but pleased. He noticed a man from before, the Wind Champion, but one he had not battled. The others, he did not recognize, but all seemed powerful opponents. This would truly be a test, a challenge for the dwarven monk.

Sabadhai cracked his knuckles. "Well laddies," He grunted with a smirk. "Let's get it on."

He looked to the Darkness Champion first. A humanoid, though with a strange dark armor of some kind. Too bad the Dark Pillar was all the way across the arena, for Sabadhai would've liked to challenge the Dark Champion first, but he did not like the thought of running across the entire arena, leaving his hide open. Not to mention, that would also mean leaving the Pillar of Light, where he was strongest. He reached behind and touched the Pillar lightly. Immediately, he felt imbued with even more power. He realized none of the champions would want to leave their own Pillar, for it would leave them at a disadvantage.

But it seemed, one had already left their own pillar. The Fire Champion had joined the Earth Champion and seemed to be flirting. Sabadhai spat in disgust.

"Your Lords should be embarrassed." He muttered. He turned back to the Dark Champion, an idea forming in his mind. Perhaps running across the arena was a bad idea, but there might be another way. He reached his other hand behind and touched the Light Pillar, feeling the energy. He didn't want to take his hands away, but had to, revealing small balls of Light upon each finger. He hurled them at the Dark Champion. Ten small orbs of Light, that, if any hit, would only cause a blinding flash that would disorient someone for a few moments at best. Mere distractions.

Sabadhai turned to face the Light Pillar. "Lord, I wish to use your Pillar as more then just a decoration. I hope that you will let me." He prayed, then stepped into the Pillar. It was not solid, at least, not for him. He was blinded at the moment, bright Light all around, but he was calm. He could feel the energy building up around him. He felt himself rising higher in the Pillar, and breathed deeply. What was about to happen next would be a bit nauseating.

Sabadhai felt the energy reach the point he believed would be needed. He gulped, and readied himself. Then he unleashed the energy. And was launched like a rocket out of the Pillar.

"Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhhhh!" He couldn't help yelling in fright, as he flew through the air, limbs flailing. He was headed straight at the Dark Champion where his little balls of Light would soon be arriving. It was an amazing feeling, traveling at that speed through the air. He could only hear wind rushing past, and could barely see with the win flying into his eyes. He flew like a rock, which is to say, not very gracefully. He felt himself slowly losing altitude, and prepared himself. He hit the ground hard, but rolled with it, up to his feet in a flash and still running, keeping up momentum. He was breathing hard, exhilarated by the flight through the air, adrenaline pumping, and ready to smash the Dark Champion to bits. A two-handed battle axe made of Light appeared in his hands, hopefully strong enough to rip through the strange exoskeleton the Dark Champion wore. Sabadhai's balls of Light had closed in, and he wasn't far behind, ready to smash his (hopefully) soon-to-be-disoriented opponent.
AQ  Post #: 12
8/2/2008 21:29:04   
The Dragon Knight
Member

The red blush that suffused Enya's cheeks brought a wide grin to Torrelle's face, his eyes twinkling with mischief at the somewhat touching reunion that he was witnessing. While the Earth and Fire champions outwardly made an alliance, the friendly camaraderie between them a rather refreshing change from the constant bickering seen in most fights, the tactical portion of the pirate's mind was idly wondering what plans they had each made in the event of betrayal by the other. Ah well, it was no concern of his, although he would have to be careful about approaching either one of them now that they had apparently joined forces.

His practiced eye analyzed his competition as each person, or creature, entered the ring. He was more than a little surprised at the sight of the cat, rubbing up against the Energy pillar as if it were greeting an old friend. That's right, he thought, Slash, the energy chosen for this year, was a familiar. Torrelle's forehead creased slightly as he pondered that. Who would send their familiar in to battle like this? Still, despite the lack of support that the beast's mage counterpart might have been able to provide, he had no doubt that this animal was fully capable of putting up a fight. After all, it had managed to make its way through an arena of foes to reach this point.

The odd creature that stood before the pillar of Darkness was an enigma. He had never seen, nor heard of, anything quite like it, and he briefly wondered what sort of abilities and personality this being might possess. From his own experience, Torrelle knew that Darkness users were often misrepresented as being consummately evil in nature. That was not, in some cases, the truth. Oh, of course there were any number of 'evil' beings that loved the raw destructive power offered by the Lord of Darkness, but there were also those who preferred to worship the Dark Lord due to his subtlety as well. Considering the lack of any outward indication, Torrelle simply accepted that he would have to wait and see what this one was all about.

At that moment a disembodied voice reached his ears; a ventriloquist's act worthy of admiration. The Maelstrom's eyes flickered about the arena, finally noting the keen interest that the Wind champion had in him. The Pirate Lord turned his head to look directly at the man, sizing him up with the respect due to anyone who had managed to make it this far. The man's ebony skin and obsidian hair was a stark contrast to the white clothing that he wore, which made his offer of an alliance somewhat ironic. Torrelle's own jet black clothing with its gleaming silver studs, joined with his own platinum blond hair and lightly tanned flesh provided a perfect counterpoint to the wind user. The idea was interesting, to say the least, bringing forth a mental image of the symbols for Yin and Yang; two halves of a whole.

Djaak was his name, he had said. Interesting. The sound of the moniker was decidedly foreign, as too was his manner of speech. Despite the Maelstrom's travels and years at sea, he was at a loss to place this man's origins. Still, odd speech was no indication of honor or trustworthiness. In actual fact, Torrelle knew that there was a distinct probability that this man was attempting to lure him into a false alliance in order to strike him at an unexpected moment. Well, let him try if he wished, the swashbuckling spellsword thought. After all, there is significant merit in his words. Wind and water combine to form some of the most destructive powers known to Lore, and many a ship and coastal city has been wiped off the map by the combined efforts of the elements.

The wheels in his head spun as he reached a decision. Why not? Better an unknown ally that you can keep an eye on than an enemy that may just gang up on you with somebody else. Joining up with this person, even if only for a short while, may very well be the wisest choice. He could still see Roch and Enya chatting out of the corner of his eye, and he reasoned that this battle was going to be far more difficult than he had originally anticipated, for a number of reasons.

Not knowing what sort of ability this man had used to project his voice, Torrelle opted to make use of his own power with an ability he had demonstrated earlier, in the Spike Arena. Transferring the vibrations caused by his voice along the invisible currents of moisture in the air, he matched his new-found ally's ability with his own, his voice sounding clearly in the dark-skinned man's ear.

"An alliance would seem to serve us both best, I think. While I prefer an honorable duel to an all-out brawl, I somehow doubt that most of our other competitors will be willing to act quite so civilly. You have my word that, should we succeed in defeating the others, I will face you in a fair match to decide the final victor." No sound escaped his magical touch, and the words were only heard by the one they were intended for. Although the roaring from the crowd was far greater here than it had been in the preliminaries, he was quite glad that this time he was in an arena that was blissfully free of that blasted piercing shrieking noise.

His words had been chosen carefully, and were soon vindicated as the Dwarf of Light launched an attack upon the mysterious creature of Darkness. With dazzling speed, the dwarf catapulted through the air, on a collision course with the diminutive creature. Torrelle had to suppress the urge to laugh as the mischievous portion of his personality had a thought: At least the Light Champion was picking on somebody his own size.

With the first gauntlet thrown, so to speak, he knew that it would only be moments before the waves of battle crashed over him as well. He jabbed his blades into the red sand of the arena floor and dropped to one knee, scooping a handful of the gritty substance up and rubbing it into the palms of his hands for added grip. Thanks to the water he commanded, he could easily create another sword knot to prevent an opponent from disarming him, but he was using the action more as a diversion than anything else. It was time to prepare his defenses, and he had plans of his own to counter potential betrayal.

The medallion pulsed wildly as he began to grab hold of the water in the pillar behind him, using only his magic. To an observer, no apparent change had come over the pillar. It remained as it ever had been; a constant, never ending flow, appearing from nothingness and ending in the sandy floor. However, it was that very aspect that worked to his advantage. He issued a command to the water, molding it to his will, and drawing it down into the sands. Instead of simply ending at the sandy floor, the water now began to seep quickly through it, down to the layer of bedrock beneath. He kept it there, for now, drawing more and more of the water below ground, filling the cracks and crevasses of the hidden granite slabs beneath his feet. For now, this would serve as preparation. The water would continue to flow, to cover more and more of the bedrock in a layer of water, until he was ready to use it. The flow of the water was natural, so that even an earth user in tune with that depth of stone would see it as nothing more than the natural progression of ground water.

With long term plans laid, the young pirate stood once more, drawing his blades out of the sand and calling forth a visible display of power. Water swiftly flowed out of the bulk of the pillar, twisting in thick ropes as it coated both of his blades and charged his crossbow. Rather than use the water stored in the longsword's hidden reservoir, he had opted to use a more readily available source to start. The remaining liquid wrapped itself around his waist, forming a thick sash of water that swirled and pulsed with magical energy.

Whatever horrors these people held in store for him, he was determined to meet them in stride. He waited patiently to see what his ally would do, and for the first attacker to peg him in their sights.
AQ  Post #: 13
8/3/2008 0:45:41   
Guardian of Nekops
Member

Roch’s mouth opened wide into an ‘O’ of shock that was not entirely unpleasant as Enya’s hand slapped against his armored backside with a resounding clang. A faint tinge of warmth flowed up to his great heart through the channels in his armor as he heard her pet name for him, making him blush so furiously his beard threatened to take on the red tint as well.

He turned to the Chosen of Fire as he started his recovery, his shocked expression slowly shifting to a broad grin. When he saw her rubbing her reddened hand, however, a look of concern passed over his face.

“Are you…” he began, but then stopped mid-sentence and began to chuckle at himself. This was the Elemental Championship, a fight to the death for the glory of the Lords, and his concern for her throbbing palm was comical even in his eyes. The chuckle changed into a hearty, good-natured laugh as the absurdity grew upon him, and he eventually ended it with a happy sigh and a fond smile down at her for making him at ease at such a stressful time.

Behind him, a Champion cried out in fear as he started flying across the arena and Roch whirled to look. Light’s competitor had somehow crossed the entire length of the Great Arena as if thrown from a trebuchet and was charging the Pillar of Darkness like a madman. Surely the rest of the arena was soon to follow him into brutal combat.

Turning back to Enya with an almost apologetic look, he said, “It has begun. Time to move.”
AQ  Post #: 14
8/3/2008 14:06:36   
Beebote
Member

As Torrelle made his answer, Djaak nodded to indicate he had heard him. With an alliance secure, Djaak could now prepare himself for the coming conflict. It was at that exact moment that Djaak heard a loud…scream? roar?...come from the pillar of Light. Djaak instinctively went on the defensive as his eyes searched for the source of the yell. The yell came from nothing more or less than a flying dwarf; not just any flying dwarf, but the same dwarf that had been at the Sky arena with him. So, the Light Lord had chosen an earth-bound dwarf as His champion. That was unexpected, but Djaak guessed that it was no more surprising than the feline champion.

Djaak relaxed his guard as he noticed the dark critter at the receiving end of the dwarf’s flying leap. It seemed the eternal rivalry of Light and Darkness was going to be taking up all their attention. That meant two fewer people to keep track of.

Djaak turned and examined the Pillar of Winds. While most of the crowd in the stands nearby could feel the effects of the Pillar, he was now standing inches from it and he could feel the power of the swirling winds. As he watched it, Djaak allowed himself a grin. The Pillar’s winds were at least hurricane force if not stronger. That would be useful, especially once he began using his powers in tandem with the Water Champion.

For now, it was time to open the fight. Giving his ally a significant nod, then tilted his head towards the duo by the earth gate. They were the obvious first targets as they constituted the most dangerous presence, not to mention that they were perfect targets by the elements they used; Earth and Fire against Wind and Water. Plus, something in the back of his mind prevented him from wanting to double-team the feline familiar, though he kept her position in mind. He was in no hurry for a repeat of the shocking punishment he had received at the hands of the energetic mage at the Sky arena.

His intentions made clear to his ally, he initiated the attack, rushing away from his pillar at inhuman speeds towards the duo. Once more, he needed to see how they reacted to an attack. As he approached, he drew out two of his throwing knives and let them fly; one aimed at the fur-clad woman’s shoulder, the other at armored warrior’s chest. He expected his attacks to be avoided or blocked somehow. It was how they reacted that would determine how the fight would proceed.

Without breaking stride, Djaak drew out two more knives and continued his charge; eyes open, ears listening, mind engaged, ready to alter course at the barest hint of danger. This was the real deal. He had kept his cards close to his chest so far, but here? He knew he would have to drop a few just to survive.
Post #: 15
8/3/2008 22:15:32   
xaxtoo
Member

Patience has limits. As much as Karddicj might otherwise enjoy people not taking a free for all very seriously, he could feel himself age just watching the idle actions of everyone else. It had seemed that the witch had cackled and smacked too. Odd choice it was a heavily armored bear. Must have been a choice necessitated by winter. Karddicj stifled a yawn. Servants waited! Anymore inactivity he would have thought himself as important as one of them, unwanted until needed, filling just a role.

Oh Karddicj seethed at his current role. Killing time indeed, when there are 7 targets left. Yet how much dignity could he muster breaking what seemed a custom of getting acquainted with the smells and looks of one another? He wanted to lean against the Darkness Pillar; he wanted to shout in frustration; he wanted to really kick something; he wanted to start early and eat something midway through. But manners, manners, he wanted to introduce manners to his lightning forceship. Masons would be awed by the splendid engineering and sewing that went into his floating manor.

However, Karddicj had been a substitute before. So despite the lack of field time, he kept himself ready for the call up. Besides, he had obligations to his little toy, despite what the reverse feeling might be. His warmup exercise was hardly what he call sporting, but it did loosen up his body. Kicking the ball between his two feet, he had been dribbling it constantly for a while now. Occasionally, he would lift his knees up to his chest in a rapid succession, yet each time his leg was fast enough to intercept the ball on the way down. Despite this, his sense of idleness never grew any weaker.

Directly across him, a short critter seemed to suddenly appear at the Light Pillar and immediately threw stuff at him. The gall of the thing! Did it have no manners whatever this critter was? Certainly not a dwarf, Karddicj had strong suspicions about that. Too hasty, way too hasty when dwarves never sped anywhere. Well, whatever it was, it attacked him, signaling a beginning of joy and fun.

The thing wasn't done however as it quickly followed up the missiles by stepping into the pillar and flying out at Karddicj like a dead log with quite some speed. This attack confirmed Karddicj's suspicions, for dwarves never fly, like elephants never prance. They're far too grounded in beliefs and customs, both of which this thing broke. But it would seem Karddicj would have to categorize later if he wanted to avoid the balls of light, and he didn't envy getting hit one bit.

As soon as the dwarf looking thing took flight, Karddicj had stopped kicking the ball and estimated exactly where the thing was landing and predicted his ensuring series of moves. Acting like time didn't mean a thing to him, Karddicj carefully, taking pains to be slow about it, placed the ball exactly where he wanted. If his opponent didn't have manners, he would taunt the thing. Just before the dwarf actor landed, he took his kick. One would think with all of Karddicj's meticulous setup he would be able to hit the ball with a decent thump, but instead his feet barely grazed the top of the thing sending it lazily rolling towards the center of the arena. The ball would seem to crawl along the intended path of fake dwarf, at least initially. The direction wasn't true and the ball will harmlessly roll on by.

Karddicj staggered while steadying himself and preventing a fall after that embarassing near-miss. To anyone looking, it would seem Karddicj had suddenly panicked and hastily sent his shot awry. Quite a little show of acting. Meanwhile his opponent had landed was barreling down on him with an axe that somehow magically appeared. The thing looked like a centerback with all that intensity and fury, but he had let the ball roll on by, shoddy defense that. Karddicj was never a power player, his finesse often fooled the defense into a completely different direction, and today the ball already was easily through. Turning to put his back towards the Water Pillar, he managed to look a little anxious and wide-eyed.

Still looking at the little fury of a dwarf look a like, he backpeddled with quite some speed, yet with just enough quickness to match the incoming thing, still a good bit away. It would seem Karddicj followed his poor showing with the kick with a cowardly yet cautious opponent-facing run, but with the angle, the short stout defenseman would close in. However, the light balls, providing they don't follow, would hit nothing except maybe Karddicj's scent. Smiling a bluffing smile, obviously strained and fake, he opened his mouth to jeeringly call out, "You should run more like me!" He couldn't resist adding, "Say, what are you?"

< Message edited by xaxtoo -- 8/3/2008 22:47:36 >
AQ  Post #: 16
8/3/2008 23:03:24   
Guardian of Nekops
Member

The Champion of Wind was next to throw his full fury into the fray, this time at Roch and his newfound partner. A dagger clinked harmlessly against his massive armor for the second time that day, falling useless to the sand at his feet. Looking in concern to Enya, he saw her artful sidestep and smiled briefly, both at her grace and at her continued safety. He would have no need to protect her from such trivial attacks, it seemed, and that pleased him.

Returning his attention to their fast-approaching attacker, Roch noted the man’s reckless speed and scant weaponry, and wondered what he could be thinking. The feet of Wind’s Chosen dashed across the red sand, Earth’s sand, at a superhuman tempo. Once he arrived, the man would have trouble even stopping in time to engage them, let alone doing any damage to them with those puny knives of his…

Trouble stopping… A fiendish grin spread across the Alchemist’s face as an idea came to mind.

Switching Impact into his left hand, Roch stood his ground and stared their charging foe down. He was waiting for his victim to get closer, and made no move to betray his intention.

To Enya he said calmly, but easily loud enough to be heard, “I have a plan. On the count of three, jump as far to your left as you can… make no move until then.”

“One.”

Roch tensed his muscles invisibly beneath his armor.

“Two.”

He prepared his mind for the Alchemy to come.

“Three.”
AQ  Post #: 17
8/3/2008 23:03:50   
damselindigital
Member

Enya eyed the oncoming challenger with contempt and confusion. He was either extremely confident in his skills or a fool, though she could not disregard the possibility that both were true. His first attack seemed pointless. A slight shifting to her left, barely requiring the step she took, and the knife aimed for her shoulder sailed harmlessly past.

She glanced at Roch with a rather baffled expression as the air rang with the impact of the other thrown weapon upon her ally’s armor. The purpose of the attack she was unable to fathom, and for the moment she was also left without a useful response. Anyone who moved as quickly as their oncoming adversary would likely have no trouble dodging her own attacks at range, no matter how she layered them.

Her personal planning was quickly cut short by the measured rumble of her companion’s voice. He had formulated a strategy, though time did not appear to be permitting for him to elaborate upon its nature. Without question, she was ready to comply with what he asked of her and as he began his countdown she attempted to appear calm and relaxed.

Yet before the quiet intonation of the word ‘one’ had fallen silent, Enya came to a realization. If he wished them to be as casual as possible to their attacker’s eye, she would endeavor to complete the illusion. After all, to be so thoroughly disregarded by one’s prey might be seen as both insulting and infuriating. If such feelings were stirred and made the Chosen of Wind reckless so much the better.

Thus Enya began to chat flirtatiously.

“Oh my! Here I completely forgot about that big suit of metal you’re wearing, didn’t I?”

“Two,” Roch intoned softly.

“Though I dare say, I don’t know why you wear such a thing. You’re so much cuter without it.”

When the final number was voiced, she was ready. From a casual stance, Enya leapt to her left, rolling slightly in the air. She came down on the sand with her shoulder leading and rolled, using her momentum to increase her distance from her initial position. So much power did she have behind the maneuver that by the time her boots once again touched ground, she easily was able to bring herself back to a stand.

As she looked to see what had become of Roch’s plan, Enya hoped that the distance was sufficient and he would remain safe.
AQ  Post #: 18
8/3/2008 23:05:41   
Guardian of Nekops
Member

Roch threw himself to the left with all his strength, taking full advantage of Impact’s aid in reducing the weight of his armor. He moved with remarkable speed for the mass of metal he carried, almost as unbelievably quick as the Champion of Wind dashing across the Arena sand.

Roch’s sand.

Slamming the Circle of Motion in his right gauntlet to the ground with a bright green glow, Roch transmuted the strip of crimson sand that he and Enya had just cleared into a moving river of earth. His trap was twenty feet wide and reached out all the way to the ground at their foe’s feet. The sand was flowing at a blinding speed towards the Pillar of Earth and its silent guardian, and would hopefully carry Wind’s Chosen with it.

If the charging fool could not overcome both his own momentum and the rushing ground beneath his feet, he would collide headlong with the Great Tree. Though the Pillar itself was not as deadly as most of the others within the Great Arena, it was not without its defenders… and the quicksilver guardian should easily be able to handle the disoriented competitor once his head had been bashed so solidly against the trunk of Earth’s Tree.

“This kill belongs to you, Lord,” he whispered reverently.
AQ  Post #: 19
8/3/2008 23:18:12   
Cheeseliker
Member

Sabadhai was hurtling forward, little legs sprinting away. He was a bit distracted as he closed in, from the recent flight through the air and the hard impact of the ground, but he still caught sight of the ball rolling by him. To do anything but continue to run forward would've caused the dwarf to lose momentum and probably lose his balance as well, so he let the ball roll by. Perhaps not the best thing to do, leaving an opponents object at his back, but there was nothing else he could do. He would just have to watch his back. Besides, the Dark Champion seemed to have aimed for the dwarf and foolishly missed, so the ball might be harmless behind him.

As Sabadhai closed in, the Dark Champion began running backwards, at a pace equal to the dwarf's but at an angle so they would meet soon. He obviously was not running away, but was running for some other reason. Some might believe the Dark Champion was being cowardly, running away yet providing some sense of defense. Sabadhai didn't believe it though. Running away, yet at the same speed as himself? And at an angle so they should meet? Dark Champions were tricksters, manipulators. Darkness hides what Light wishes to illuminate. Unfortunately, no light could illuminate the Dark Champions plan to the dwarf, but Sabadhai figured perhaps it wasn't best to continue with his own original plan.

The Dark Champion called out as Sabadhai quickly thought to himself. "You should run more like me!" Sabadhai's eyes narrowed. "Say, what are you?" The Dark Champion added, mockingly.

Sabadhai snarled. "I'm the first and last bloody dwarf monk you'll ever see!" He called out, taking a few last steps and hurling his battleaxe at the Dark Champion. It flew through the air horizontally, and would reach the man in a few seconds, if the man kept the same speed and direction. Sabadhai had stopped his sprint, and breathed deeply, catching his breath. The Dark Champion had wanted him to give chase, but the dwarf would not play into his hands.

Sabadhai calmed himself a bit, knowing he would need to keep focused, keep control, or this Dark Champion would trick him, and gain the upper hand. He couldn't let that happen. He was a bit sore from the rough landing, but still felt rejuvenated. He only missed the reassuring presence of his Lord's Pillar. But why should he? His Lord was with him, regardless of where he was.

"Come from your shadows, Dark One, and i will show you the Light!" Sabadhai called out, glaring at the Dark Champion. Whether the battleace hit or not, Sabadhai had no doubts the Dark Champion would still be alive. Now it was time to see what the darkly-armored man would do.
AQ  Post #: 20
8/4/2008 1:59:25   
xaxtoo
Member

If Karddicj's smile was strained, it quickly became quite genuine as the short critter slowed down, letting the gap grow between them. He had never wanted to have the axe close to him, but he couldn't really do what he wanted keeping Light Champion as far away as possible, so his compromise left him with his run. However, it was much better when a threat chose to eliminate itself.

When the dwarf actor answered his question, Karddicj was quite surprised, for he wasn't sure he was going to get a response other than a rough defenseman grunt, but he considered, mused even. The thing was a bloody dwarf monk was it? Nevermind that the name was a total misnomer as the thing was not bloody and was not a dwarf, which left monk as a only possible truth. He quickly attached a few choice characteristics for recognizing future monks such as reckless, bulky, short, bad tempered and beard question mark and filed the word monk away into his brain. Seems like he'll need confirmation, but he didn't fancy asking the monk to clarify, for the thing will likely react quite unfriendly. At least he'll know what to ask later should he find an expert on monks. He was going move into the next part of his plan, but curiosity made him put it on hold for just a little longer.

Just before stopping, the monk threw the axe with quite a bit of force behind it, directly at Karddicj before shouting at him to come from the shadows. The flying axe wasn't expected, but since the thing apparently gave very good advice, Karddicj, inwardly posing for Dark One, took it. His world turned black for a quick moment and he was gone.

Karddicj reappeared in his homeworld. He had intended something of the like along those lines right after learning about the critter anyways, but he was irked that he had obeyed someone else in the process. A good servant thought like his master, but Karddicj would not become one now! Yet he supposed life is quite important and he thought no more of it. One last dilemma presented itself in the form of that he might have misjudged the monk as unfriendly, or he might have to add the adjective stupid to his definition list. With his life on the line, he went with option one with an asterisk in place as a reminder to switch to option two if he gets attacked by the monk again.

Taking no time to look around, he doubled back turning a little to run towards the center of the arena, towards where his ball would have stopped. Once he gets a little more information, a more careful terrain analysis would be much more beneficial than what he could do now. Boosted in speed by the black home soil, his run took little time, much aided by the lack of so many obstructing pillars as before. The presence of pillars presented some problems, which only luck helped him avoid getting stuck in one just moments ago, but the next time he phased into his homeworld, the they will serve to be more strategic.

Arriving, he immediately phased back into the arena. Perfect, the ball was just a feet away, which he took to step into his light tap that will deliver the ball rolling towards the center of the arena. He directed the shot away from the fanatic running man and the transformed soil, which looked like tremendous fun to Karddicj as a slide. The ball will roll and stop close to the center, gaining enough energy in the process to transform that patch of land. Making a mental note to ride the slide, he phased once more.
AQ  Post #: 21
8/4/2008 12:31:43   
The Dragon Knight
Member

It's funny how it can sometimes only take a split second to regret a decision. It doesn't really matter whether the decision is a good one or not, nor does it matter how long it took to reach said decision. All that matters is that a single word or action can result in a startling realization that it might not have been such a good idea after all.

Torrelle had such an epiphany the moment his newly produced 'ally' decided to charge right across the open sands of the arena, in the direction of Roch and Enya no less. He stood for a moment, his mouth hanging open in mild shock, as he watched the man commit such a blatantly stupid action, in his own tactical opinion. It was certainly not in keeping with an alliance for the man to have suddenly charged at an enemy without discussing some sort of strategy, or at the very least informed his partner of the intended target in advance. Without an advance warning, Torrelle would be left scrambling to summon some sort of support for the Wind Warrior's idiotic charge at an armored monster and a nimble spear-woman.

There was also, of course, the fact that the young pirate had come to respect the woman throughout their interrupted duel. Ah, yes, the duel.... There was that, too. Never one to leave something half finished, he had been looking forward to the possibility of facing the woman as equal combatants once more, to finish what they had started in their test of skill. He still held out some hopes of it, but for now he would have to see what he could do to keep himself alive.

So focused was he on the swift moving Djaak that the pirate had completely zoned out from everything else for a moment. A loud yell from off to his side caught his attention, causing him to duck into a combat crouch and spin to face the intruder, red sand flying as his feet twisted. It was lucky that he had reacted so instinctively, as an axe made of pure, dazzling light spun lazily past above his head. Near the darkness pillar, the Champion of Light, an unusual element for a dwarf, to be sure, stood defiantly, his arm outstretched from the throw. Torrelle might have been insulted and enraged by such a cowardly attack if it hadn't been for the fact that this was the finals. It had to be expected that his competition would do anything they had to do to win, even at the expense of their honor. Well, let them fight as they wished and he would do the same.

While his first instinct was to counter the deadly attack with one of his own, the Pirate Lord suppressed his initial impulse and instead stood tall once more, his senses on high alert as he addressed the dwarf.

"Striking at a man without so much as a 'by your leave' is considered bad form, my friend. Who are you, oh servant of the Light, who would do such a dastardly thing? I had always thought that Light monks were above such treachery." Torrelle's face was stern, his swords held down at his sides as if he had dropped his guard. In actuality, he was purposely giving the impression that he was unprepared to counter an attack, hoping to catch an opponent by surprise. His magic was gathering about him, taking hold of the liquid sash at his waist, causing it to churn as he prepared his own assault. It seemed that he would be spared from having to work with the reckless Champion of Wind, at least for the time being. The Maelstrom had other priorities at the moment.
AQ  Post #: 22
8/4/2008 13:44:54   
Beebote
Member

Djaak allowed himself huff of resignation as he ran. Unlike his first opponent in Sky, these two were much wiser in their use of energy; something he should have expected from champions. Still, they had answered his unspoken question. He would have to take these two much more seriously than he had his opponents in Sky.

Djaak continued to close the gap. He was no fool. Running straight across the arena meant they saw him coming and were undoubtedly preparing a counter of some kind. His pace brought him closer, still they did not move. He could see the Earth champion talking and quickly amplified the sound waves so he could hear. But all he caught as he closed in was, “Three!”

The armored tank leapt aside much faster than a man in that much armor should have been able to move. That already had Djaak quite surprised, only to be compounded by the fact he was suddenly accelerating. Djaak looked down and saw the shifting sands beneath his feet, pulling him. Pulling him where? Time seemed to slow as his eyes darted ahead. The sands were drawing him, not into the embrace of the armored knight’s axe, but directly for the massive Pillar of Earth.

Djaak had no choice but to flow with it, his escape plan forming rapidly in his mind. Timing would essential. He sped towards the solid tree, crouching low, sand flying out behind him as he tried to reduce his own momentum. Just moments before he would collide with the immovable object, he jumped, harnessing his control of wind to change his orientation in mid air. Another gust of wind and his feet touched the pillar. He began to run…up. With the wind pushing him along, Djaak ran up about a quarter of the way up the massive tree before stopping, jamming his daggers into the wood to prevent his return to the ground.

From this new vantage point, he could see not only his opponents, but the others as well. From here, he would plan his next move. But first he saw something rather alarming. There was a massive axe of light speeding straight for his new ally. He was about to shout a warning, but it seemed the Seaman was aware of the danger and neatly dropped beneath it.

'Damn.' Djaak thought to himself, 'I won't be getting any support while that dwarf has his attention. I can stall here, but not for too long. No doubt the duo below is already devising a way to make me come down.'
Post #: 23
8/4/2008 15:45:54   
Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer


 Slash glanced about at the other Champions, all of whom were certainly taking their time to do anything of real worth. The Fire and Earth Champions were confering near to the Great Tree as though they were old friends. What was this, the Finals of the Elemental Championship, or a tea party?

The familiar was granted her wish for action a moment later, for there was a great screaming from the vicinity of the Light Pillar, and the cat watched idly as a Dwarf, presumably the Champion of Light, was catapualted across the Arena like some ungainly load from a catapault. It was, Slash relfelcted, good that Dwarves remained under the earth for the most part, especially if this was how they should appear in flight.

She watched the action from her place near the Energy Pillar with interest. A pair of skirmishes had broken out, with Light inevitably battling Dark, and the Wind Champion attacking both Fire and Earth. The flying dwarf's less than elegant landing cumulated in a running throw of some sort of light weapon that missed its intended target and managed to enrage the Champion of Water who mistook it as an attack on himself.

It was time for her to join the fray though, and while the Darkness Champion reappeared near the center of the Arena, kicking his ball towards its center, Slash ignored the odd creature. There was only one target that she had her eyes on at the moment.

The Champion of Earth was a mountain of a man, a mountain of iron and steel protection, a very attractive mountain. All that metal would make the Earth Champion a veritable lightning rod for Slash's lightning attacks. A faint hissing and snapping filled the air around Slash as she gathered power from the humming Pillar behind her. The familiar rose to her feet, arching her back as she poured out the power, forming a crackling globe of energy tethered to the Pillar. There was a roar of thunder as the ball shot off a bolt of lightning that sent up a shower of sand on contact with the ground. The bolt, rather than grounding out, held steady, a liquid torrent of lightning reaching from the glowing ball back to the Energy Pillar itself. Slash yowled, a grating sound of primal fury as the lightning bolt moved, slicing a furrow in the sand across the Arena as it moved towards the Earth Champion.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 24
8/4/2008 15:46:47   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


 The Quiksilver Guardian stood before the Pillar of Earth, sentient once more as it always was for the Elemental Championships where it otherwise was dormant in a form of stasis. It was only sentient for one sole purpose, the defense of the great tree that rose so majestically behind him. The tree had no inherent defenses, unlike its brethren pillars, which were able to batter or blind, burn or toss, even consume any who would otherwise come so close as to defile them by means of hand or weapon. Instead the Guardian was present, a defense not quite so immediate nor uniform in its methods and manners, but adaptable in its ability to respond effectively to any number of opponents or assaults upon the pillar. Thus, when Djaak began to come ever closer, ever faster, to the Guardian's wooden charge it began to move. It should have been a relatively simple duty for the Guardian. It should have been...

...yet it wasn't. The inhumanly fast construct stepped forward, throwing the replica Alcarde Spear forward with a full body thrust that brought it to one knee. A flick of its wrist extended the blade on opposing sides of the haft, creating a three foot expanse of sharp metal just behind the already lethal tip around Djaak's charging waist. The blow should have impaled the competitor, possibly even rip him in twain given Djaak's speed in conjuction with the already powerful thrust. A move that would end both the life of Wind's chosen and prevented any threat he could issue the Pillar of Earth in one succinct package.

It was impossible that the inhuman guardian should have been able to miss that blow. Djaak should have been impaled by his own speed, hung on the Quiksilver Guardian's spear. The threat to the Pillar of Earth removed. But no! Somehow Djaak not only was untouched, but past the Guardian and defiling the Tree itself! This could not be fathomed by the Guardian, and though its role was defense, the desecration of the Pillar of Earth could neither be allowed nor be unpunished. Whirling about, the Guardian shucked the form-memory it adopted whilst a statue, preferring to strike immediately and with vengeance on the hanging human. Its left arm lost its cohesive nature, elongating into a whiplike tendril to swat the man like an overlarge fly as he scanned the arena, and the spear soon followed as his other arm coiled about it and followed suit with all of the inhuman speed it could muster. Meanwhile its legs combined, curling about into the stable base of a snake tail as the Guardian's sense of anger altered its form to better serve its needs.

Such needs as slaying the defiler, as long as he remained within the Guardian's restricted reach around the Pillar of Earth.



At the Pillar of Ice, a sense of utter disgust seemed to permeate the chill air. Its chosen Champion had, to all apparent effect, ignored or declined the summons to attend the Finals. It was not optional. All knew that much, at least. That chosen was marked, no matter where he might be, marked with instant scarring of shame and patches of frostbite. Alive, true, but destined to live in far greater humiliation than any of the Purged. None spurned Those who did the Choosing, whether they indeed be the Lords or some form of Avatar in their name.

As an almost token gesture, a Snow Warrior was flung from within the Pillar of Ice itself. It, too, was marked, but it was there, and Ice had a warrior present at last in this year's Finals.
AQ  Post #: 25
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