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=EC 2010= Cellar Arena

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6/20/2010 19:50:25   
Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer


 Cellar Arena OOC

Gorse did certainly look far more at ease once he was on the ground again, as Alex led the way through the early dawn to the next Arena. "Slash fought here a few years ago. I'm certain that you are acquainted with her abilities, yes Gorse?" The Redcap said nothing truly audible, though he grumbled something under his breath that was likely most uncomplimentary. The familiar's keen ears caught the words nonetheless, and Slash twitched one ear in amusement. Alex eyed the Arena silently for some time, then smiled, turning away. "Yes, well, you can't win them all Gorse. Now come, there are matters to attend to, and I did promise Eukara that I would find something for you to do."

~~~

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

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

~~~

It took the enchanters quite a bit of time to get out of the Cellar Arena, as it was quite a ways down into the ground. One could see the granite walls of the main part of the Arena Complex right above the now open heavy metal Cellar gate - the underground arena was placed right under the original, First Arena!

One of the now leaving spellweavers conjured up an opened scroll above the entrance, which would levitate there until the end of the match. Those who would care to read it would have found out that the place they are about to enter had more than just regular protective shield enchantments - rather, the ordinary enough looking mirror walls the fighters would find inside were of magical nature, and not only act as a protective barrier for the spectators behind it, but also make any projectile flung at it - magic or not - simply bounce off, much like simple a ray of light would from a regular mirror. On a more disturbing note, the scroll also stated that no wound would ever heal whilst in the Cellar, not even by ways of magic. If the group of healers and doctors standing about just outside the entrance were to be of any consolation, the shovels lined up against the wall and the priests near them were most definitely not.

As daunting as that may have been, most of those gathered here had never feared death - lest they would not be there at all - so they began descending the spiral stairway, leaving the shrieks and anxieties of a bloodthirsty crowd behind them - or rather, over them.

The upper gate closed with a loud, ominous clang.

The fight was about to begin, but first a quick glance would reveal the interior of the room - it was square in shape, with the mirror walls they knew to expect there... There were four humongous round pillars of plain grey stone, as wide as a man with his arms spread out, in the middle of the room forming a square shape as the room did. The floors, ceiling, and pillars had all been restored to a pristine, almost unnatural smoothness, without a chink or crack to be seen in the stone. The customary torches on the pillars were gone, however, and it took a moment to discern just where the pervasive soft lighting of the Arena came from. The answer was in patches of bioluminescent mosses that grew in irregular patches around and on the pillars, and along the edges of the mirrors. With the mirrors' reflection of the light, the Cellar far from the dark, damp place one would imagine a room of such a name to be.

It was actually very dry, uncomfortably dry, and there was something very unnatural to that dryness.

Could that have been the enchantment of never-ceasing wounds they sensed?

Perhaps.

But for now, it was time to forget such thoughts, and cause some wounds instead.

< Message edited by Kellehendros -- 7/9/2010 14:17:39 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 1
6/20/2010 21:44:12   
The Dragon Knight
Member

“Tsk. Can't believe this. I came all this bleedin' way and they stick me in some Lord forsaken hole in the ground. What d'they think I am, some kind o' mole person?” The grumbling could be heard from beyond the gateway leading to the arena stairs. The sound of leather shod feet lightly tapping against stone steps echoed dully into the cavernous arena. It was the start of the Drop-offs, and every spectator that could find space behind the magically reinforced mirrors was waiting with baited breath for the first of the competitors to arrive.

“This is ridiculous! I like big, open spaces! How the snark is a guy s'posed to get a decent swing in when he's tucked inside o' a closet like this? Ahhh, this is just me luck. Should ne'er have listened to that damn royal guardsman.”

The footfalls paused for a moment as they neared the gateway, and then the source of the cantankerousness came into view. Taking a few steps into the cellar, the rather thin looking man set the head of his weapon upon the stone floor with a resounding 'THUD' and leaned against the haft. Gazing about the arena, he reached up and casually scratched the stubble on his chin as he took in the room that might very well be the last place he ever saw.

“Huh. Well ain't this somethin' else? Never thought I'd have to spend the day staring at me own ugly mug.” The man was tall. Very tall. Around six foot eight inches tall. He was also dressed rather lightly, with nothing but a worn, sleeveless grey vest upon his torso, dark leggings, leather shin guards and some sturdy leather boots. His arms and body were covered with all kinds of scars, crisscrossing at random, and his left eye was closed. Judging by the deep scar that ran across the lid it was fairly obvious that it was now about as useful as a leaky boat in the middle of the ocean. He was surprisingly thin for one so tall, which made his weapon that much more of a surprise.

The thick, apparently metal, leather-bound shaft that he leaned against was almost as tall as he was. When one followed the shaft down to the floor, they found that one end was connected to what could only be called a massive metal head. One side extended into a slightly curved spike while the opposite side was flat. The whole head was easily two feet in diameter and over three feet long. It was difficult to say just how much a weapon like that must weigh. It looked like it would be several hundred pounds, at least, but if so then how could anyone possibly use it? Was it enchanted to reduce the weight, perhaps? Or was it made of some unusual material that was lighter than it looked? It was hard to say.

Looking around, the grizzled man caught sight of the floating scrap of parchment. He craned his neck back and took a good look at the writing, grunting to himself once he'd finished. “So, looks like there's more to this pit than I thought. Can't heal, eh? Well, doesn't matter. I wasn't planning on it anyway.”

It looked like he was also the first one there, which surprised him. He'd been far from thrilled when he'd been advised of his first arena, so he'd thought to take his time getting there. Well, didn't hurt to be able to warm up a little bit before the others arrived, he figured.

He picked up the hammer once more, the giant head swinging through the air with a deep whooshing sound as he brought it up to rest upon his shoulder, arm draped casually over the handle. He sauntered over to one side of the arena, tilting his head from one side to the other with the sound of cracking joints. At least he wouldn't need to duck in here, he mused. It was hardly ideal, but there were worse places he could have ended up. Even if he couldn't make full use of his abilities, the scroll had given him a couple of ideas that would ordinarily have been impossible.

As he let himself lean against the mirrored surface to wait for the rest of the contestants, one thought was buzzing through his mind: This was going to get interesting. . .
AQ  Post #: 2
6/21/2010 0:27:03   
Krey
Member

T'was the hollow of an ancient oak what held the miniscule frame of the fiery fairy, whose countenance was not quite as fiery while she slept. After all, would you want to set your bed aflame and awaken in a pile of ash? I think not! So, before she'd taken to sleep, the wreaths of flame had been doused (though not with water, that would be silly!) to protect the tree which, in turn, protected her throughout the night. It was only fair, see, as a fairy could make quite the delicious snack for a vast number of creatures, and Ember imagined that it wasn't a pleasant thing at all, being eaten.

But that's all before. Now it was morning, and the wee figure was waking up in the forest outside of the city of Bren. Why did she not stay within the city, you ask? Why, for a figure scarcely four inches tall, a tavern was no place to be! After all, the big people don't always pay lots of attention. She could be just minding her own business, bathing in a teacup (well, what else do you think a fairy would bathe in?), and gulp! A human, or something larger, could swallow her up and not even realize it! No no, the forests were much safer a place for a lady of her stature.

Still early in the morning, as the fairy stretched out in the hollow of the old tree, she offered a glance skyward, only to find that the leaves formed a canopy too tight to allow her a look at the position of the sun. “Oh no!” She squealed, in a voice rather like you might expect to hear from a squirrel (that is to say it was quite squeaky), “I'm going to be late!” She hopped from the hole in the tree (for that's what a hollow is, if you hadn't guessed) and her wings began to flutter, far faster than any eye could follow, and carried her to the edge of the wood with all the swiftness of a hummingbird.

At the edge of the forest, she chanced another look skyward, to find the sun still low in the sky. “Thank goodness!” Squeaked Ember in relief, realizing it was not even mid-morning, and she still had a couple of hours to reach the arena. There were things to be done, you see, for no good servant goes about their task without first offering devotion to her master! Before that, though... There it was. It was a quiet growling, which to you and I might sound like a tiny scraping, but to her was like a great rumbling. Little Ember needed to eat!

Back to the forest she flew, and snatched up the petals of a violet flower which she knew to be quite tasty, and plucked a buttercup in which to gather up the dew from the grass and the leaves. “Time to eat!” She squealed to herself as she settled into the grass, and began to nibble at the yummy petals, and to suckle at the dew-water tinged with a hint of the buttercup's nectar.

“Delicious!” She exclaimed, and stood up to her full height (which was only a little more than the blades of grass she'd been sitting in), so that she could take off and head for the city. Her belly was settled, and it was time to offer up her devotion, both to her master and to HIS master, the Fire Lord. So that was what she did. Up into the air she went, her wings fluttering like a bee (though they weren't quite so annoyingly buzzy) to carry her back out of the forest and into Bren.

T'was a shrine that she came to, one dedicated to the Lord of Fire. She fluttered before it for a few seconds, and summoned her master's power. His fire blazed to life around her form, creating wreaths of it which danced around her form from head to toe. She closed her eyes and began to dance. It was a beautiful dance, really, flames flickering this way and that, her body twisting and bending graciously as she offered herself in an ancient rite (which really was one she made up, and not nearly so ancient, though she'd not admit it) to the Lord of Fire. As she danced about in the air, she began to speak.

“Lord of Fire, grant this your servant the power to take the arena this day. Let the flame of my Master strike true, that your glory may be shown supreme, through his power granted to your servant.”

Her dance slowed to a halt, and she floated in the air before the shrine. A little midair curtsey followed, then a giggle of joy before she flicked her body 'round and made for registration. T'would not be long now.

Registration was swift (though to watch the poor fairy struggle with the wooden token of registration was a sight to behold), and she soon found herself making way to the Cellar Arena, tucked underneath the original First Arena. A surprised squeak found its way from her lips as the upper gate closed with a loud clang, and she found herself locked within this cage which, really, was rather a large area to her.

As she studied the surroundings, she noticed a large scroll floating above the entrance, and flitted up to study it quick. “Oh my,” she squeaked, “what an interesting arena!” In her case, a lack of ability to heal was no real handicap—so much as a hit from many of her competitors would surely mean her end, so getting hit was, obviously, out of the question! Morkengraamir would be quite cross if she were to die here, and she couldn't have that! Reflective walls though, those could be useful. Why, she could bounce flames this way and that, creating rather a nasty web of fire!

Oh wait, she wasn't the first here! There was another, the whoosh of a hammer swinging through the air told her, and she fluttered down to greet him, hovering a couple of feet from his face. “Wow!” Squeaked the fairy, “how do you hold it up?”

Wait wait wait. This was an arena, and this here was a combatant. Maybe she shouldn't be talking so casually to him? Well, what harm could it do? She giggled, once again curtseying in the air, “I'm Ember. I know why we're all here, but there's no reason we can't get acquainted, right? Looks like people are still arriving anyways!”

And so, there floated Ember, mere feet away from a man what could easily crush her. Her fiery orange hair whipped about in the faint breeze created by her wings, and she was dressed in a shirt and a skirt made from the tiny scales of a crimson dragon's tail, wreaths of flame ever swirling 'round her form.
AQ  Post #: 3
6/21/2010 0:55:56   
demonhunter
Member

Just outside the edge of town, a small furred face poked out of the opening to a hunter's tent. This face was followed by furred arms, torso, legs, and a two foot long tail, revealing a creature that many would dismiss as an animal, were it not for the clothing. And the knife. And the way the creature was downing the last of the water from a canteen.

Jonathan Longhair was a sight to see in these lands. Few Jakkai ever left their homes, and so were often considered myth and rumour, as they generally don't allow human visitors. But here was such a creature, a hunter, no less, preparing to enter the town for the event of the year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some time later, his tent packed up and stowed where (hopefully) none would find it, Jonathan found himself standing outside the Arena he'd been delegated to: the Cellar. Amethyst eyes studied the scroll carefully, then glanced over at the various doctors, healers and priests standing around near the entrance.

"What have I got myself into this time?" Jonathan muttered, his voice low pitched and dry.

He made his way into the Arena, one hand on his knife, the other... well, loosely held at his side, really. Not much else he could do with it at this point. He glanced around the inside, noting the mirrors, and the other occupant... Wait, make that occupants. And here I thought I'd be the shortest one here, he mused, smiling slightly as he noticed the fairy. A fair assumption on his part: Few sentient races that he knew of were less than three feet tall, and fewer still were inclined to take part in combat with larger beings.

He made his way around the edge of the room, carefully positioning himself on the side opposite the current occupants, in a spot where he could see them, as well as the entrance. The knife at his waist slid smoothly from its sheath to rest comfortably in his hand, ready for battle.

This would be fun...
AQ DF  Post #: 4
6/21/2010 2:30:38   
The Dragon Knight
Member

Ed let out a yawn. He was a big man, and it was a big yawn, loud and long. His mouth opened wide, his eyes squeezed shut, moisture creeping out of the corners, and it had the volume of a foghorn in the middle of the desert. Why there would BE a foghorn in the middle of the desert was, of course, a mystery, but that didn't stop the big man from finishing his yawn at his own pace.

He blinked and smacked his lips, looking around the arena with slightly bleary eyes. He hadn't really gotten much sleep the night before, and the dry stuffiness of the cellar made it difficult to stay awake without somebody to talk to or trade blows with. Ah well, he reasoned, there would soon be an abundance of activity to keep him awake. Well, he hoped.

He'd been waiting for a couple of minutes already, having strolled in when most people would be having their breakfasts, but it had already begun to feel like hours. He hated waiting. Life was too short, he felt, to be wasted. He had lived by the three Golden Rules of the Irregulars his entire life; 1) Live Each Day As Though It Were Thy Last, 2) Do Unto Others What Thou Wouldst Have Done To Thee Unless Thou Has A Good Reason To Do Otherwise In Which Case Do Whatever The Snark Thou Feels Like, and 3) Do Not Eat Big Jim's Lunch. These rules had served him well all his life and he was not about to change now.

He picked up the warhammer and idly twirled it through the air a couple of times as a way to pass the time. Sighing, he set his head back against the enchanted glass and gazed towards the curved ceiling. How long were they going to make him wait? For a man who prided himself on being the fastest in his family, the wait was agonizing.

Just then he heard a peculiar sound, like two pieces of reed being plucked at an incredibly fast pace. He glanced around the arena, trying to pinpoint the noise, and soon caught sight of a most peculiar sight. There, hovering before the floating piece of parchment, was a tiny flame wreathed figure, darting about like some hyperactive bird. Of course, he'd seen any number of hyperactive birds in his time, especially when Wee Jim would leave his glass of FizzCo™ Flavored Carbonated Sugar Beverage out on a fence post for the birds to drink. This one, however, was shaped more like a wee person, with legs, arms, a head and everything! How neat was that?

As he eyed the tiny creature she, for it was clearly a she unless wee creatures like that appeared different for camouflage purposes, flitted towards him and began to hover a few feet away from his face. Her curiously high pitched voice was a perfect fit for such a playful looking little flutter bug and he couldn't help but let out a deep, hearty laugh at her introduction. The scarred man's laughter was more of a guffaw, really, and had the same sort of quiet, introspective quality as a suit of armor falling down a set of stairs made of other suits of armor.

“Well 'ello there, little Ember,” he replied in his deep baritone as his outburst faded, the volume of his voice matching his stature, “it's nice t' meet you! You're absolutely right about that. Me name is Ed. Although, that be me full name. Me friends call me Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim. Since you seem to be the friendly sort you can call me whatever you like!”

He lifted the hammer up and held it before her eyes so that she could examine it if she wanted to. Aside from the size, it looked like a very ordinary warhammer, scarred and pitted from use, the flat head slightly rounded from frequent bashing against unyielding surfaces. “As far as liftin' this here hunk o' metal, I been using her since I were smaller than Wee Jim. Course, back then it were a bit more o' a struggle, but I guess I've just got used to the weight, y'know?”

The friendly giant of a man laughed again, encouraged to have found such a pleasant person in such an unusual venue. When the laughter subsided he tilted his head to one side to regard the diminutive figure with a curious expression. “I hope ye'll pardon me for being so direct, but, wha' exactly brings ye here? Ye'r no bigger than me hand and all. Na' to say that ye can't be takin' care o' yerself, but it seems a wee bit odd that ye'd choose a place like this to demonstrate it.”

He shifted the weight of the hammer down to the ground, the head thunking heavily against the stone, as he put a hand up behind his head for a pillow. As he did, he noticed the entrance of the small furry hunter and its subsequent movement to the far side of the arena. Not-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim lifted his other hand in a gesture of greeting, leaving the hammer untouched at his side. After all, there were hardly enough here to start the fight, and he was more than happy to enjoy the company before they went at each others' throats.

As he waited for the tiny winged person to answer he reached into a trouser pocket and withdrew a small (by Jim Standards™) silver flask, which he then proceeded to unscrew and take a short drink from. Smacking his lips again, this time to spread the taste of the powerful brew around, he sighed contentedly and politely offered a sip of the flask to his miniscule companion.
AQ  Post #: 5
6/21/2010 6:32:35   
Micosil
Member

When the sun's first lights entered through the window of his tavern's room, Tyon's calm meditations were broken, shattered to pieces by a single, anxious thought, brown eyes snapping open.

It begins today.

He could feel his heartbeat rise, his muscles twitching in expectation, whole body tensed in preparation for the fights. It would seem that spending the whole night meditating had done little for his nerves, but he'd had little say in the matter, since those very nerves kept him from sleeping. Still, he felt ready for the fight, and was certain that whatever sleep he had missed on wouldn't hinder his fighting ability. After all, it wasn't the first time he spent a night out of any bed and, if the Mother wished it so, it wouldn't be the last. For a couple of seconds he idly wondered whether he should wear normal clothes to get to the Arena or simply go with his fighting gear, and in the end, he decided to wear the latter - he'd probably look a bit odd, but he was sure that, in this city and during the Elemental Championships, it wouldn't be so unusual to see someone wearing only brown leather pants. The obsidian shard lodged in his chest shouldn't bring too much attention either, judging by the records of previous contestants, though one could never be sure about that. In fact, he got the feeling that he'd probably draw more attention due to the few scars he had than anything else - the only large ones came from the time he'd been buried under a pile of rubble, and they were pretty faded by now thanks to the amount of healing spells he'd received during his training.

The next few minutes were a blur in which he barely noticed what was happening around him. As in a daze, he walked out of the tavern and made his way to the Arena, his thoughts running wild in circles as he unconsciously drained obsidian out of the earth, his every step heavier, and when he registered, he had to be told twice that he was assigned to the Cellar. In that precise moment, something broke into his train of thought, hijacked it and derailed it:

Cellar. The closest to the Mother. It would seem luck, or maybe fate, smiles upon me. I feared I'd be assigned to the Sky arena... which would've made this fight that much harder.

In a much lighter mood, with his anxiety replaced by eagerness, he made his way to the arena's entrance, hoping to be the first... only to be greeted by the sight of several other contestants already . How that had happened he had no idea - though, in hindsight, it did seem possible that he'd walked past the same shop twice on his way to the arena... or maybe thrice...

Whatever the case, there was no point in wondering about it now. If there was a time when you'd have to live the moment, it was now. He passed his hand over his short, brown hear a couple of times and focused on the instant. For the first time since he'd left the inn he actually paid any attention to his surroundings, and was greeted by the sight of a large fellow with a hammer nearly as big as he was and a little something which floated in midair and was on fire. Will'o'wisp, perhaps?. There was also a scroll providing useful information about the arena which was promptly read and, once that was done, he walked towards the talking couple, their voices as much a contrast as their aspect.

I should stay at a safe distance while I talk with them but... oh, who am I kidding. If that guy with the hammer wants to hit me, I'm going to be in for a rough ride anyways. Earth ward me, that thing's huge. And I shouldn't underestimate the flying whatever, either. Why am I walking towards them again?

Despite his better judgement, he approached them both and, as he prepared to draw two large blades from his forearms just in case, he spoke:

"Excuse the interruption, but I was wondering... well, I'm new at this." He felt himself go slightly red and hoped that the light wouldn't be enough for them to see it. There was also the problem that with that sentence he'd strayed off from how he planned to guide the conversation... but he couldn't just walk away now without looking like a weirdo, so he tried to rescue it as far as possible. "So I was wondering whether we could make an alliance. If, you know, none of us fight for the same element..." His voice trailed off, looking at the guy with the hammer. He looked like a typical earth fighter well enough, so he was probably out of luck, but asking couldn't hurt. That hammer, on the other hand, would be mighty good at it. "Well, I'm fighting for mother Earth." He added after realizing they'd need his own element to decide.

< Message edited by Micosil -- 6/21/2010 6:33:01 >
Post #: 6
6/21/2010 11:31:39   
Ruin
Member

Feng entered the arena, he was fighting for his elemnt on this day, Earth. He had seen many battles, wars, duels, but he had never been in the Elemental Championships. He didn't know what to expect, except blood and death. He didn't want to be on that part of the equation, but knew he would be at a partial disadvantage to those with powerful magic. Feng could only control the natural Earth around him, but he was in luck.

As he walked down the spiral staircase he looked at the arena in front of him, dismissing those inside. He would deal with the enemies as they came, knowing one's surroundings were much more important. The mirrored walls, the moss on the pillars, the pillars themselves. He was talking it all in and analyzing it, trying to think of some plan before the blood-drunkness set in and he would lose almost all control of himself.

He overheard one of the other contestants saying he also controled Earth, this came to a huge surprise to him. He had heard that most every Elemental Chamionship had one of each element, but he wasn't sure if such rumors were true, or maybe he was just speculating himself. He shook his head to get out of the daze he had put himself in and resumed his solo-tour of the perimeter.

The mirrors, he could tell, were of magical nature. Why would they put flimsy mirrors in a place they know is about to erupt in sheer violence? The answer: they didn't. He opened his mouth and let his tongue flick out, the forked tongue could feel the dryness in the air. The unnatural dryness, something else that must have a magical nature to it. He checked his weapons throughly. His kanabo on his back, a weapon that most did not use, but it could bludgeon anything that he swung it at. His sickly broadsword, dark green in tone and ready to go.

Lastly, he checked his armor, adorned with two large shoulder pads that looked like the heads or serpents. The dark green tone went along with his snake-like behavior and appearance. As he put his hand across his almost bald head and scratched the scruff across his face, that was no longer than the hair on his head. His tall stature and toned body flexed as he stood up and put away his broadsword and helf his humungous kanabo over his shoulder with one hand.

He now watched the other contestants, he knew they would be a challenge, no matter what they appeared as. If they made it here, they were a force to be reckened with. He knew he was in for a terrific fight, with death being the only punishment, and he didnt mind those odds.

It was time for the slaughter...

< Message edited by lycanknight570 -- 6/21/2010 11:33:00 >
AQ  Post #: 7
6/21/2010 14:23:22   
Krey
Member

Blink. Blink blink. Blink blink blink went the wee winged woman's watchers. (Eyes, for the layman) “Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim,” she repeated, squeaking every syllable with nary a hint of trouble, and for a moment fluttering there as she mulled over the lengthy title in her mind. “I like it!” She squealed finally, and followed with a little giggle as her lips spread into a wide grin. (Especially wide, actually; Fae can be quite expressive)

She began to spin around slowly in her place while she thought about the questions he'd given her, and even then she watched the rest of the arena (Ember was quite the multitasker, you see) as it began to fill up. One came in and made his way to the opposite end, a rather furry friend (or was he a fiend? Time would tell), and another was reading the scroll above the entrance. Still another was wandering, most assuredly investigating the arena and preparing for the combat to come.

“Oh!” She squealed, realizing she'd gotten distracted and whipping around to face Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim (as she rather liked that name), grinning wide. Now, though, her expression went serious (or as serious as a playful fairy's expression could get), and she nodded to the hulk of a man. “I am here to honor the Lord of Fire, and in that bring glory to my master, the Great Dragon, Morkengraamir, by whose grace I have my strength and yet live today. In life or in death, I will serve my Master well.”

She nodded again, and then someone interrupted. An alliance, he said? Turning to look at him and study him a moment, she frowned. “I've no intention to form an alliance,” she said rather coolly (though still as squeaky as ever) for a creature who'd been so playful and innocent right along. “My only rule is this, that I participate in single combat. In everything, I will bring honor to my Master. Good day.”

She nodded, turned once more to Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim, and t'was then that she realized her large acquaintance was offering her a drink. Well, she wasn't a very big drinker (actually for a drinker she was quite small!), but Ember was the sort what considered it rude to decline an offer without a particularly good reason. So lacking such a reason, she giggled and nodded, flitting close to take a sip from the flask (but she kept far enough a way that her flames wouldn't burn his hand). Blink. Blink blink. Blink blink blink. That was strong stuff!

Around in a wide circle fluttered the fairy, thumping away at her chest to try and ease the burn of the liquid working through her system, and then followed a great cough (actually a rather small cough by our standards) which launched the powerful vapors from her throat. These met her flame and suddenly the area 'round the fairy lit up, as a great ball of fire (and actually this was rather great as balls of fire go) launched from her towards the wall on the far side of the arena, to her right, where it bounced off and flickered above the head of the furry one, then went on to the third wall and finally struck on a course right for Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim's head!

Quick as a bee the wee fairy flitted into the path of the fireball, and reached out with a tiny hand. Her flame reached out to catch it, wrapping it around her diminutive form to calm its force and for a few seconds, the wreaths which swirled around her doubled in brilliance. This created rather a lovely show of dancing lights and flames what lasted until she brought the extra burn under control and quelled the added fires.

Turning in place to face the giant of a man again, she blushed furiously (and not just on her face either, but her whole body) and curtsied in apology. “IamSOsorryI'mnotusedtodrinkingsomethingthatpowerfulIreallydidn'tmeantodosomethingsounderhandeditwon'thappenagain!” She twittered, the words spilling into one another until she could take a deep breath and finally calm herself.
AQ  Post #: 8
6/21/2010 15:54:21   
The Dragon Knight
Member

She was an amusing little scamp, this firebug. Of course, Ed didn't believe in fairies, so he was really having a difficult time trying to figure out just what she was. Ah well, it wasn't important. She was here for an honorable reason and that is what truly mattered. The Jim grinned in delight at her show of loyalty to her Lord. It was rare to find people, of any size, these days who were willing to go that far for honor and glory. She was certainly worthy of being here, he mused.

The approach of the half-naked man drew The Jim's attention. He took in the man's lack of equipment and restricting clothing in a glance, his gaze lingering on the obsidian shard before settling on the newcomer's face. A magic user, perhaps? Or was he a martial artist? Hmmm, perhaps he could create weapons out of thin air? In this place, Ed knew that nothing was outside the realm of possibility. He'd heard of the Championship for years, of course, and had been absorbed in the tales of powerful foes with all manner of otherworldly abilities.

The man's speech was somewhat humble, almost nervous it seemed, as he addressed the giant and the fluttering sprite. Not, of course, that Ed was actually a giant. No, that would have been silly. A giant couldn't possibly have fit down that narrow stairway, let alone move about in a room this size. He listened to the words of the shard carrier, and before he could speak the little woman-shaped firefly had piped up with a refusal.

The hammer's owner laughed at the woman's seriousness, made all the more entertaining by her playful nature. Indeed, she reminded him of the stories he'd heard of the mythical fairies, but everyone knew that those didn't exist. He finally chuckled and gazed down at the polite fighter in front of them with a twinkle in his eye and a grin upon his lips.

“Ack, I'm afraid I must agree with me new friend, here. As good o' you as it is to offer, I'm afraid I must decline. Me fighting style is a bit too, ack, what's the word.... wild, I guess, for fighting alongside o' others. I cannae promise you wouldn't get caught up in me battles. You only have aught to fear from me should you choose to face off against me hammer. Me name is Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim, and I'm here to show the lads what the power o' Wind is all about.”

Just then, the fiery headed pixie took the proffered sip from his flask. It was only once she'd taken the sip that The Jim realized that he probably should have warned her first. As she careened about in mid-air, coughing and choking and, generally, trying very hard to breath through the thick alcohol fumes, he reflected that the Irregulars' home brew, called Slag, might be a bit too powerful for normal folk.

Because of their nature, the Irregulars had learned to live in the harshest of conditions, eating the harshest and most inedible of foods and drinking the most powerful of beers and ales. After a while, of course, these simply became too weak for their palate, so the family of warriors had worked for years to come up with a suitably powerful substitute. The result of this experimentation resulted in the destruction of several acres of woodland, a large crater, and the alcoholic concoction now known as Slag.

Closer to lighter fluid or kerosene than it is to alcohol, Slag is well known for its peculiar properties; namely its combustibility and persistent flame. It is usually stored in stone bunkers at least twenty feet below ground, with only one barrel to a bunker, and no bunker being closer than fifty feet to another. This is because Slag barrels have a disturbing tendency to spontaneously burst into flame, triggering a massive explosion. In fact, several people each year disappear, leaving only a pile of ashes in their wake, and it is said that they sampled the Irregulars' brew and lit up like a Roman Candle. The main headquarters of the Irregulars have an eternal flame in the center of their meeting lodge, and it is rumored that it was the result of a young Irregular lighting a lamp too close to the War Leader's private stash. That was twenty years ago, and the flames have yet to die down.

It wasn't the fireball that surprised Ed. He actually had expected something of the sort once he'd realized his own stupidity. What did surprise him was the fact that it wasn't the result of this wee winged warrior exploding first. The ball of flame pinged around the room at high speed, much like somebody had popped the cork off of some Noble's bubbly alcoholic beverage. As it sped back towards the big man, Ember darted in front and handily neutralized the bolt with a bit of flash and dazzle.

Her shocked and positively mortified expression, along with her avalanche of an apology, was too much for the man, and he half doubled over, howling with laughter. He slapped his knee a couple of times and finally pulled himself upright again, pounding his own chest and trying to catch his breath through the tears.

“Ah, ho ho ho! Ah, me!” he exclaimed, wiping a tear from his eye, “No need to be like that, wee one! Tis me own fault for not warnin' you ahead o' time about what was in the flask! A lesser man would have probably burst, and then I'd be havin' to clean the grime off o' me nice clean trousers. I'm not always thinking, it seems. Terribly sorry about that!”

Ed grinned sheepishly, his face flushed with amusement. Here was this big, scarred, powerful man, about to fight in the deadliest competition in the history of Lore, and he was just standing there, seemingly oblivious to the other competitors as he shared a laugh with a fighter one twentieth his size. Stranger sights had likely been seen before, but the big (though not THAT big) Jim didn't care. Regardless of what happened when the fighting started, he was glad he'd come to this place. If they both survived the battle, the fastest of the Regular Irregulars fully intended to invite the little squirt back to his home land for a visit, and to meet the rest of his family. They'd never believe that one so tiny had entered the Championship and survived a mouthful of Slag unless they saw her with their own eyes!
AQ  Post #: 9
6/21/2010 23:19:14   
demonhunter
Member

It seemed the other competitors in the Arena were content to stand around and talk for the moment, waiting for the other fighters to show themselves. Which was all well and good, but establishing friendships is best done at an inn, not in an Arena. An Arena was a place for battle and bloodshed and the taking of life; two of which Jonathan was excellent at doing, and one which he was pretty good at doing.

He kept a wary eye on the other competitors who seemed to be gathering at the opposite side of the Arena. Should they choose to attack him en masse, he would need to move fast. So it was that he observed the big one offer something to the fairy... And the results of her accepting it. He hit the ground, ducking under the fireball that shot his way. Perhaps unnecessary, but he preferred to be cautious. Jakkai fur wasn't exactly fireproof, and he didn't like the smell of burnt fur all that much.

When the fireball had been neatralised by the fairy, he stood up again and dusted himself off, before moving to place himself next to one of the pillars, so he could duck behind it if he found another fiery assualt headed his way.
AQ DF  Post #: 10
6/22/2010 1:19:09   
Guardian of Nekops
Member

Jarvis sat in his cell, staring across the gloom at the three lonely scratches he had scraped there with the nail he’d pulled free from his cot. Three days in to a six month sentence… now that was a sorry state of affairs and no mistake.

To be fair, he wasn’t being treated poorly… far from it. He had been given three good meals a day, a little bland but very nutritious, a bed he felt was more comfortable than was standard in such situations, and even visiting rights. Granted, there was nobody left to visit him, and that was the reason he was here in the first place, but the thought was appreciated nonetheless. His crime was understood… even expected, and the soldiers of the Infinite Empire seemed almost apologetic about punishing him for it.

After all, who among them had not lost someone, had not put to the sword someone they wished they had not? Who would not desire to reverse the cruel hand of Causality and, just once, bring back someone who should not have passed?

For such was the might of Reprieve, that glorious relic of the Light for which the once-Worker had come. The crystal’s glow brightened with each passing year, basking in the light of the sun itself until a hundred had passed and it could be used… just once… to resurrect anyone whose remains were near it. It could bring a slaughtered army back to life, hale and whole to return to their families. Restore entire lands felled by plague to health and vigor. Take a town razed by fire and sword, reduced to bare earth and ash, and give it back its most precious resource… its people, alive once more and ready to rebuild, to begin again...

Or it could ease the guilt of one, lonely man, whose stupid, cowardly instincts caused the death of a dozen men rushing to fight the flames. Not only that, it could give his family back to him, bring back his darling wife and bright-eyed, adorable son…

But only once. Just once, in a hundred years… two lifetimes, if the Lords were not kind, and all knew they so seldom were. One miracle, a single, solitary spark of hope for all mankind to fight for, for the entire world to covet, and for all men to take a swipe at.

Jarvis had failed, miserably. His silver collar with its obsidian stone attested to this fact. If he ever came into contact with the Light of Reprieve, the collar would turn him undead… just for a moment, but that would be enough. For the undead, Reprieve was not salvation, but judgment… harsh and instant. He would never last to bring the artifact back to his home, where he could use it to bring back his family and assuage his guilt. This doorway back to the way things were was forever closed to him, it seemed… not that he ever had much of a chance. He was far from the first thief to hear of Reprieve, after all, and the Infinite Empire had long since prepared for such.

Tentatively, the Worker reached out a hand towards the window, letting the force of his will lean, straining, against the stonework. In the old days, he could have Nudged the bricks and bars straight out of their places, shattering the mortar and the rivets that held them there; such power was necessary, if one was going to help build the sort of vast buildings whose construction Jarvis had been a part of ever since he finished his apprenticeship. No longer, of course. The gift was still there, and he could still feel the stone blocks, and the bars of the window, and the mortar in the cracks, but there was another barrier, every bit as real, that kept his mental strength in check. The most perfect match for his talent, in fact… his own mind, his own soul not willing to let his will hold sway. Never again, not after the havoc he had wrought.

Not after… after what happened to his poor wife… his poor boy…

“Uuugh… that’s some real angst you’ve got there, kid. Mind keeping it to yourself? It’s giving me a real headache.”

Blinking at this rude interruption to his melancholy, Jarvis swiveled his head meaningfully towards the annoying, high-pitched voice. It appeared to be an imp of some sort, dark purple with a meager aura of shadow swirling about its clawed feet. The creature appeared to be just too small to punt effectively, which further added to the insult. “Who are you calling kid, runt? And what are you doing here bothering convicts, anyway?”

The dark imp grinned toothily, its visage disturbing though not exactly frightening. “Not convicts… convict. Singular.” Reaching for a battered little pouch at its side, it eased the bag open with a clawed hand and reached inside. “The name’s Itch, and I think I have the solution to your problems. Just stick with me my boy, and you’ll have your life back in no time…”

~~~~~

The black-cowled figure that strode with such purpose up to the gates of the Cellar Arena bore very little resemblance to the poor man of honest face who had broken out of prison so many days and leagues ago… that was, after all, much of the point. Shadowy black fog billowed out from beneath the hem of his robes, hissing with poor grace as it was left behind him to wither and burn away in the harsh light of the sun.

Perched on his shoulder and clinging to his hood, Itch hissed, “C’mon, kid… just take the soul gem. Could really turn the battle in your favor, and you can use every advantage in this fight. I can’t afford to have you give less than your best, and you can’t afford to die, so just take it already.”

“I told you already, you insufferable nuisance… I’m not touching that damn thing. I will fight, and I will wound… might even maim and kill, if it comes to it, but I am not torturing a poor man’s soul for dark power. I refuse to contemplate it.”

“I think it’s a woman, actually…” the creature mused, lifting a small black stone up to the light and examining it thoughtfully. “The choking humors, then? Could be very useful, enclosed space like this...”

Jarvis fumbled beneath his cloak as he walked, soon grasping and withdrawing a roll of parchment that appeared much more dirty and hastily scribed than it did dark and mysterious, and replied with a firm, “No.” Really picking up speed now, the man marched up to the healer who seemed the most competent of the lot and thrust the scroll into his hands, elbowing his way through the rest of them.

With understandable confusion, the healer called after him, “Uh… sir! What’s this for!”

“Watch, and you will know,” came the reply, the competitor neither stopping nor slowing as he reached the stairs and started down them. His voice beginning to fade and echo as he moved down into the depths, he added, “Or else it won’t matter.”

Not one to be easily discouraged, Itch tried once more, “At least take the demon blood, kid… there’s still time for it to take effect. See, I can inject it for you right now, won’t feel a thing, and you’d be AMAZED at the things I’ve seen it do…”

“No. Go away. I hate you.”

“But… but surely this ring…”

Jarvis turned towards the little creature, his grin broad as he descended still further towards the waiting arena. “You know, Itch, you’re braver than I thought… “

Not used to this sort of praise, the imp replied uncertainly, “Erm… thanks?”

The Dark competitor’s eyes glinted merrily behind their gauze of shadow. “They’ll be closing the doors in a minute, and then you’ll be a competitor in your own right, just like me. Won’t that be exciting?”

“Err… “ The demon gulped, then frantically scrambled down from Jarvis’s ever-lowering shoulder and up the stairs. “Err… Seeyakiddomeproudgoodbyyyyyyyye!”

Chuckling softly to himself, the Worker continued towards the arena, leaving shadow in his wake as he descended. Reaching up from beneath his robe, his hand undid the silver clasp and replaced it… knowledge was power and he certainly wanted to deny that power to his competition as long as possible, but fighting in the robe would be too unwieldy to be practical. He needed to be able to drop it at a moment’s notice.

Above his head, higher up the spiral, Jarvis heard a “Noooo! Waaait!” just before the clang of the metal doors rang down. “Looks like he made it after all,” he whispered with a smirk. “Incorrigible scoundrel.”

Mere moments later, the Worker’s foot slapped against the hard stone floor of Cellar, the soft green glow of the moss doing its best to illuminate his face but really failing to make much headway. He did not stop, for standing right by the door was a tactic even the stonemason knew to be folly; instead, he crossed the arena with a steady, even stride, not moving his head left or right but letting his eyes flit briefly to take in the other competitors. A peaceful, almost companionable gathering had formed to his left… he’d have to watch that, and break it up if he could. After all, it should not be hard to impress upon them the folly of trusting people who came here to kill you…

As he passed through the pillars, Jarvis was caught off guard by the little furry thing, obviously intelligent, which had taken up a position near one of the pillars. Sort of like a Dwakel, only a crossbreed using a… moglin or something rather than a Drakel. The thing looked fast, and sneaky, and puntable… might well have been waiting in ambush. Though he wouldn’t impress any gods by fighting the poor little creature, it could likely cut him deep with that little knife…

Thinking quickly, Jarvis pulled his robe apart and flung it at the furry thing’s face, hoping the plain black cloth would halt any aggression in its tracks. As he continued past the ambush the man drew his rapier and sidestepped around it, turning to keep his eyes on the tiny being even as he backed away. The sickly green lines that writhed through the blade illuminated the hollows of his eyes, filled to the brim with soulless, magical darkness, and his careful footwork was obscured by the dark smoke that now, freed from the robe, flowed down from twin armguards of shining black metal to coat the ground.

“Out of my way, runt,” he sneered, lifting blade and hand to hold the thing at bay. “I’ll not have you underfoot.”

The time for compassion, and for trust, and for friendly words had long passed… this was the Elemental Championship. There were lives, and souls, and power beyond reckoning on the scales now, and Jarvis simply did not have time for niceties. This little furry fool was not worth his time, and could walk away if it was smart, but if it expected an ‘excuse me’ out of him in this place it had another thing coming.
AQ  Post #: 11
6/22/2010 2:51:48   
demonhunter
Member

Another arrival now, and the loud CLANG of closing gates. Was everyone here? He didn't know.

This new arrival... He looked like trouble. Trouble that was headed right past him. Trouble that seemed to overreact to his presence when it noticed him.

A robe tossed at his face caused him to duck instinctively, his prehensile tail rising to try and keep it from covering him completely. He was able to push it aside somewhat, causing it to land on the ground beside him, rather than on top of him.

Now the newcomer most certainly looked like trouble. Glowing hollow eyes, black smoke... Definitely a Dark element, Jonathan mused as he moved his knife hand around behind him, shifting his left hand on the ground to better support his front end. Crouched now, one hand back, with the edge of his knife glinting wickedly in the light of the torches, he looked for all the world like a wild predator that had been taught to use a blade.

The dark one spoke, sneering mockingly. Jonathan's scowl deepened. This one...

"Just 'cause yer taller than me doesn't mean ya get to be rude, human," Jonathan shot back, putting as much venom as he could muster into that last word (despite the fact that he honestly had no hatred toward humans), "I've brought down bigger 'an you before, and by the Lords, you make one more crack about my height and I'll do it again."

The attentive would notice, as he spoke, that small sparks of electricity were jumping between the fingers of his left hand... Less so in his right, as the sparks that would normally be there were instead travelling through the metal knife. Jonathan was preparing his spells. He had a feeling he'd need them.

< Message edited by demonhunter -- 6/24/2010 23:26:22 >
AQ DF  Post #: 12
6/22/2010 8:15:42   
Micosil
Member

Both contestants rejected the offer for an alliance, pretty much as expected. He nodded at both, and after watching with unrestrained curiosity the "Fireball incident" he felt a smile creep on his face. Listening to the big man's explanation about its effects on other people, he made a mental note to avoid it if at all possible, as his body underwent another change to prepare for expelling shards though his chest and abdomen. This downtime had been helpful in more ways than one, but now that he could hear taunts being exchanged behind him, it was doubtless that it was over. Time to challenge someone.

He looked around. Two people were already caught up in their own fight, and he wouldn't intrude on someone else's fight if he could avoid it, so those two were ruled out. Then there was this couple he was standing next to - even though he'd been taught to attack the one he saw as a greater threat first, he didn't really want to attack the big wind fellow. Of course, it was because he was a nice fellow. The hammer had nothing to do with it, most certainly. And then there was the little flamy thingie, which would've probably been a decent match if it weren't because, well, it was too small, and that meant hard to hit. He could probably force a draw in that fight, but he didn't want to begin his career in the Elemental Championships with a draw. He wanted to win.

And so, his gaze turned to the only other fighter in the arena, who was standing apart from everyone. Watching his suit of armour, he probably wasn't one that'd soak hits like a sponge. Two weapons he wore, a club and a sword, and judging by the handle both of them could be used with two hands, though as of now he was holding the club one handed. Perhaps he could use both weapons at once?. There were also snakes engraved in his pauldrons, but whether they meant something or were just a fashion statement, he didn't know. But now that he'd seen that, he started to realize that the guy had a certain resemblance to them - bald head, or perhaps shaven. Maybe he worshipped them? What kind of Element was represented by snakes, anyhow?. Still, Tyon nodded to himself and, wishing luck to the odd fighters he was leaving behind, he started walking towards his target. From a safe distance, enough to make him have to run for a whole second before catching up to him, he said:

"You, the guy with the club. Name's Tyon. Shall we?"

The weight of the obsidian he'd stored up slowed down his movements, but he was frankly unconcerned with that. He'd already prepared the route for slightly less than half of his payload in a single, spreading burst, and that'd lighten him up enough to dodge the first assault, or so he hoped, and was waiting for his opponent to make the first move before releasing the storm of shards. The mechanics had taken a while to control back at the training field - creating a shard underneath the one that had to be expelled fast enough for it to be thrown outside wasn't as easy as it sounded when you did it in several places at exactly the same time - but it'd been worth the while, and now it was one of his main weapons. The speed of the shot was more or less the same one he'd achieve throwing it with his arm, but the precision wasn't as good - which was just as well, since they had different occasions to shine.

Tyon took a defensive stance even before he'd finished talking, hands to his sides, slightly raised, and facing his opponent, ready to block, dodge, or even counterattack, depending on his enemy's reaction. As soon as his mind finished his version of the soldier's prayer - Mother Earth, let that other guy die before I do. - it shifted gears, all worries pushed aside in preparation for combat, all kindness buried under a cold layer of calculation. There was no room for mistakes or hesitation here, and he knew it.

< Message edited by Micosil -- 6/22/2010 14:06:58 >
Post #: 13
6/22/2010 14:12:09   
Krey
Member

One, two, one two... In, out, in out... Breath... Ah, much better. The fairy's back arched in... And then out, as she took deep, deep breaths in a supreme effort to bring her excitement below explosive levels. (It was a little early in the competition to be exploding, you see.) With her newfound calm, she giggled, shaking her head at the massive man with a maul before her. “No, it's okay. No harm done!” She grinned wide, fluttering in a proud little circle to display the truth of that statement. “I'm pretty resilient to fire,” she squeaked, as if the wreaths of flame encircling her form didn't give that away.

But wait, she'd noticed something in her little display of resilience, and following that thought she turned to investigate. There was the furry one... And he was locked in, if not combat, quite an aggressive staring contest with rather a dark looking human. As for the man what had offered an alliance to the fluttering figure and the massive mountain of a man, he'd been quick enough to break away to his own thing and challenge the only other remaining fighter to arrive so far.

That left... Suddenly she flitted away from the great big man, spinning about quickly to face him as she placed herself a good yard and a half away, and followed with a graceful mid-air curtsy. There was nobody else to challenge, and in a tournament such as this, there was no glory in fluttering about like a fiery little airhead. It was sure to be a difficult task, bringing down such a brute of a man, and it was honestly a little sad after she'd gotten along with him so well, having to choose him as her first target. T'was nothing left of it now but to do it, though.

“Well then, Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim, it seems the other players have paired off, and I've no wish to be booed out of the arena for flitting about like I haven't a care.” The right hand came up to her side, and her fingers splayed out, forming one tiny little fireball... Then another, and another, and another, 'til there were six of the miniscule missiles bouncing in a circle above her hand as if she were juggling them. Of course, there was no way these tiny bolts of flame could do any harm, so it seemed they were just part of the fiery fairy's flourish.

Now the left hand came out, flicking forward to point at the brute of a man. “On my honor, I, Ember, servant of the Elder, Morkengraamir, do at this moment challenge you, Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim, to a duel! May your hammer meet my flame in a glorious battle, and may the most worthy servant reign victorious!”

T'was then that she flicked her right hand downward, sending the six burning spheres to the ground below her. They hit in six points, one below her, while the rest arced outward to form a wide circle, with the furthest being just before the great brute's feet. The little spheres of flame continued to burn, and the fairy settled herself down just inside of the circle, beside the one nearest her. Her wings came to a stop, and that allowed a chance to look at them proper-like to see that there were four, like the wings of a dragonfly. The light of the fire flickered against and through them, diffusing into a rainbow of colors which cast itself onto the fairy's back and onto the ground before her.

“What say you, Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim, servant of the Wind? Will you accept my challenge?” Of course, the fairy didn't consider that this might look like a trap. After all, honor was paramount to the wee woman. She would never use such an underhanded tactic!

Well, that and the flames were far too tiny, and spread out far too much to be a lick of use.
AQ  Post #: 14
6/22/2010 15:23:46   
The Dragon Knight
Member

“Aye, wee lass, that I can see,” the big man chuckled at her resilience and watched her little dance with a smile. However, beyond the tiny woman's little display, Ed's eye caught sight of something he had been expecting. Off towards the center, near the pillars, a newcomer had just attacked the furred creature without so much as an introduction or a by-your-leave. The Jim knew that not everyone had the same sense of honor that he did, but even so, such a cowardly surprise attack made this man no better than a bandit.

The little creature had responded with anger and aggression, and that pleased the Irregular. It meant that it wouldn't back down from a fight. Of course, considering where they were it wouldn't have made sense for anybody who wasn't prepared to battle to have been there.

He glanced around the room, counting the number of opponents that had gathered. Six, so far, including himself. He was surprised; there should have been more than that. Ah well, he thought, no sense in worrying about it, especially now that the tiny fire starter had darted a few yards away from him, and turned to issue a challenge. He'd suspected that this would happen ever since they'd been getting on so well. She knew, just as he did, that the other would be more interested in a proper duel than in sneak attacks and underhanded trickery.

He watched the hand-high warrior create a circle of tiny fires around her and settle to the ground. It was obvious that she was quite serious about challenging him, and it would be immensely rude of him to refuse. Besides, he was there to fight, wasn't he?

Suddenly, the giant of a man threw back his head and let out another hearty laugh. His spirits were high, and this little fairy-like creature had managed to remove all traces of his previous grumpiness at being stuck under ground. How could he stay upset with such an entertaining opponent before him?

He stopped laughing and looked down at the small figure with a smile. Reaching to the side, he grasped the handle of his hammer and swung it easily up onto his shoulder once more. Stepping forward, he entered the small ring of flame that the girl had conjured, stopping just inside of it. Still smiling, the surprisingly skinny (for a man of his size) fighter raised his left hand to point at the diminutive sprite that stood defiantly before him.

“Well, wee one, I kin see that you're serious 'bout this. Who'm I to refuse a wee beauty like yourself? I'll fight with you, thou I dare say you may have the advantage here. Regardless of how things turn out, I must say it's been a true joy to meet you here. You do your Lord proud, little'un.” Ed cracked his neck to one side and stepped back out of the circle of fire, his hammer still left laying lightly upon his shoulder, arm draped lazily across the shaft, the only difference this time being that he had one foot further forward now. His stance gave off an air of confidence, and his grin was one of eager anticipation.

“I been waitin' for things to get started. Come! Show me what you've got, Wee Warrior of Fire!”
AQ  Post #: 15
6/22/2010 17:18:42   
Ruin
Member

"You, the guy with the club. Name's Tyon. Shall we?"

What Feng saw was a man much smaller than himself, already in a defensive position. Feng didn't even move his eyes to the man's eyes, he just kept looking forward. They were both Geomancers, and to Feng that meant one of two things. One being that they are the double in the arena and maybe the weaker one should be destroyed immediately. The second, they both controlled the same element, a fight using Earth would be futile.

"Well Tyon, the names Feng. We both control Earth, in case you didn't already know. So a fight using our element may be futile. I suggest we either finish each other now, or part ways for now and agree not to fight 'til we're certain it will be one-on-one. We could be interrupted, so I suggest the ladder idea." He hope his point came across. If they both died now, Earth wouldn't have a chance in Lore.

He wanted to have a true duel, no interruptions, and he wasn't quiet sure if they should battle now or wait 'til the finish. On the other hand, they could be killed before they got a chance to duel. His mind was boggled with this Catch 22 he was stuck in...

"Honestly, it's up to you human. And by the way, it's a kanabo, not a club. And I suggest you learn the name, since it may be the last thing to carress your frail body." He stood in the same position ready to dodge any attack that may come at him. Snakes did have the fastest reflex of any animal.
AQ  Post #: 16
6/22/2010 21:42:44   
ringulreith
Member

Liam stirred slowly, blinking his eyes furiously against the morning light. Groggily standing up, his limbs still stiff with sleep, he nearly cursed. He had overslept, and now he was going to be late for the elemental championships! Of all things to be late for, the elemental championships! Mentally bombarding himself for not waking up early, he set about his tent, readying his gear for the upcoming events. He discarded his night clothes in favor of a more appropriate outfit; a pair of brown leather pants, a clean white linen shirt and a thick sleeveless leather vest. Not exactly what you’d call a warrior’s wardrobe, but it would allow him to move freely and without hindrance. He pulled on his boots, making sure that the hidden knife in each was secure. Finally, from under his cot, he grabbed a belt that he clasped around his waist, with a small cloth pouch on both hips, each containing his weapon of choice, the meteor hammer, neatly wound up and ready for use.

With his sleep gone and his preparations done, excitement for the upcoming tournament settled in; and along with it the knowledge that today, he would either come out a champion or most likely die. This was not foreign to him, though, for he was a fighter of many years, and the prospect of death was a familiar one. Quickly splashing his face with water from a basin, he strode out of his tent confidently, ready to face the challenges that would face him. Having camped at the base of the hill overlooking the famous arena where the championships were held each year, the walk there was not a long one, and mostly free of civilians. He had taken it upon himself to thoroughly learn the arena’s layout the previous night, so he was familiar to where his arena was. Handing his token over to one of the arena mages, he continued on his way towards Cellar.

The sound of the crowds grew gradually louder as he approached, like the buzzing of an approaching bee, and followed him as he passed the threshold of the arena gates. Before him was a long, foreboding spiral staircase, plunging down into the belly of the earth for who-knows how long. The prospect of being so deep under ground, so far from the world, slightly disturbed Liam as he approached the stairway that would decide his fate. Something in the corner of his eye halted him, and he looked up to see a scroll floating above him. Deciding that it probably was important, for why would a floating scroll be put here other than to pass on a message to the contenders, he quickly read over it. Though he found it interesting that the mirrors of the arena would reflect magic just as well as light, or indeed that there were any mirrors at all, more intriguing was that wounds could never heal in the arena, by means magical or otherwise. Not that he was planning on wounded.

The descent down to the cellar was a long one, growing ever more silent as the din of the spectators faded into a faint humming sound. At last, Liam reached the end of the stairway. Before him was the fabled cellar arena, its stone surface unmarred by battles, with the four large pillars situated in the center covered with incandescent mold instead of the flames from the stories. The famous reflective walls, too, were lined with the strange plant, so that the room was suffused in a dim light. As he had expected, there were already some contestants in the room, already in small fights of their own. The first he noticed were an unusual pare a short animal-like thing and a strange man, obviously fighting for darkness, with hollow eyes and dark smoke billowing behind him. He gave these two no notice, except making a mental note to avoid the smoke trailing behind darkness. His eyes quickly flitted around the room, counting three, no four, as a miniscule figure wreathed in flame caught his eye, others: a tall man, wielding a very large hammer, facing off with the aforementioned fire contester, and two men facing off, one wearing white armor and another bare-chested with a large black rock imbedded in his chest.

Finished with his observations, he began walking to the right, stopping mid-way between the entrance and the right wall. He figured it was a good position -- he was close enough to the entrance to see any new newcomers (if there were any), and he was at a far enough distance from the rest so not to spark any immediate actions against him. He spread out his legs and bent them into a slight crouch, so that he could move quickly and be ready to strike if he was attacked, and withdrew his weapons from their pouches. They were a curiosity, his weapons, a long chain made of some resilient biosynthetic metal that was both strong and flexible, with small steel balls at each end, a row of flanges running around the center of each. They were held at the center of their chain, so that each steel head was about three and a half feet from the hand. Liam held the one in his left hand with one head resting on his right shoulder, so that the chain traveled up his arm and behind his neck, and the second wrapped once around his ankle. The one in his right hand was already in motion, as each head span in an opposite direction above his head, ready to strike at any time.

‘It’s time...’
Post #: 17
6/22/2010 23:55:45   
Krey
Member

Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim's first reaction to Ember's challenge was to laugh. Of course, the fiery fairy knew better than to think that he was laughing at her (She wasn't one to jump to conclusions, you see). The nature of his laugh was too hearty, too pure to be in contempt. No, this was a laugh of pure joy, and one she was glad to allow her soon-to-be opponent. After all, the time for it would soon be past.

Into the circle he stepped, returning her gesture with a finger in her direction, and answering her challenge with praise, before stepping back and offering a summons of his own. She smiled, her wings becoming a blur as they fluttered to life once again and lifted her up into the air. A snap of her fingers severed the power feeding the flames what burned on the ground, and with nothing to burn they died out swiftly as the wee warrior brought herself up to eye level with the rather larger brute of a man (whom Ember didn't think was skinny at all).

“And a joy to have met you,” she answered, and spread her body out, eyes locking with the hammerman. There was nothing left to be said, and Ember knew that with the challenge issued, all that remained was to bring down her foe - and with any luck not be beneath him when he fell! Now that they were ensnared by the chains of combat, she would do whatever was necessary to drop the Jim, and she expected nothing less from him. The mirrors would no doubt be of use, and she had a number of tricks of her own what wouldn't require using the environment, but these she would have to save. Best to surprise him at the most opportune moment.

For the nonce, t'was her thought to start with simple moves, test her foe, see how he moved and reacted. For his part, her major concern was that massive hammer; a good blow from that would make a fairy pancake, and little Ember imagined she'd rather dislike a fairy pancake - especially if she was to be the fairy! Fortunately, as he'd said, the advantage was hers (Fairies are rather small targets, you see). She could move and react quickly; likely more quickly than the head of that hammer could move... she hoped.

Backwards she danced with a spinning flourish, her left arm raised straight up and her right outstretched before her as she put herself out of easy range of his hammer. A grin was on her features, her eyes wide, and as she spun she took the flame what swirled around her, gathering it at the fingertips of her outstretched hand. At the end of her spin, the flame had joined into one large ball of fire nearly as large as the four-inch Fae herself. “Fire!” She shouted (rather the squeaky shout, too), and launched the ball of flame in a straight line at her opponent's torso, while wreaths of flame began to spring up around her form to replenish what she'd used.
AQ  Post #: 18
6/23/2010 2:25:20   
The Dragon Knight
Member

Here it comes, he thought. He'd prepared for battle his entire life, as an Irregular, tasked with guarding his homeland from the vicious, vile and villainous (as well as surprisingly absent) barbarians that lived in the mountain ranges of the North. Every day he had trained, hiking up into the wind-swept mountains to challenge his body and soul, pushing himself beyond his limits! Of course, it might have helped if he'd ever actually had to fight an enemy before.

Sure, he was covered in scars, and sure he was missing an eye, and sure he was built like a brick outhouse, but the scars, the injuries and the muscles had all been as a result of getting into fights with his brothers and sisters. Hoo-boy, could his sister, Little Janice, throw a punch when she was angry. Little Janice was the youngest of his sisters, and was only 7'3” tall. He still remembered the beating he'd received when he'd accidentally broken her favorite tea set. He couldn't even think about it without his ribs hurting.

So, even though he'd never actually fought any of the barbarians (or anyone else outside of the family for that matter), he was so conditioned from his years of training and sibling abuse that if any barbarian did meet him they would likely devote themselves to a life of charity and helping old ladies cross The Street (the nearest village has only one road, named 'The Street', and is populated entirely by old people. Since most folks in the kingdom couldn't be bothered to take care of their elderly relatives, the neighboring villages decided to create a wonderful paradise for all of their elders where they could be abandoned and forgotten about. They made this place right next to the Irregulars' headquarters since, as the villagers thought, it was as far away from everyone as possible and nobody likes the smell of old people.).

Luckily for The Jim, his opponent was not a barbarian. Or, if she was, barbarians were much smaller than he'd been led to believe. The teeny terror had danced to about ten feet away and had summoned an appreciable sized flame. Ed finally gripped the handle, but did not remove the hammer from his shoulder, instead shifting his frame so that his left foot was forward and his body angled to the right. He watched as the wee wonder hurled it towards him with surprising force.

The grin never left the man's face as he brought his left hand up to grasp the haft as well and brought the enormous weapon around in a beautiful arc. The flat side of the instrument impacted the magically charged fireball with a curious sounding “fwoom,” sending it rocketing back towards its maker. It didn't much matter to the batter whether it was right on target or not; this was just the beginning.

Ed's grin widened as his arms reached the end of the swing. It was at this point that he let go of the impromptu bat with his right hand and let the heavy head's momentum pull the weapon through his grip until, right at the end, he firmly caught the handle once more. With the hammer now stretched out to its full six foot length, he took a step forward and put his strength behind a return swing. His arms were almost four feet long, and with that reach combined with the full length of his weapon, the great hammerhead was now able to breach the gap between the two combatants. He swung the weapon without hesitation and without mercy, showing his fiery friend that he was willing to fight her as an equal, with his full strength. He would never dream of insulting her by doing otherwise.

“Ye'll have t'do better'n that, lass! Don't you be holdin' back on me now!” he called out to her, his voice filled with the laughter one can only feel when they're putting their life on the line.

The gigantic maul made a deep whooshing noise as it moved with frightening velocity towards the little firecracker. The real question, of course, was whether she was fast enough to evade the head or not.
AQ  Post #: 19
6/23/2010 12:02:21   
Micosil
Member

"Well Tyon, the names Feng. We both control Earth, in case you didn't already know. So a fight using our element may be futile. I suggest we either finish each other now, or part ways for now and agree not to fight 'til we're certain it will be one-on-one. We could be interrupted, so I suggest the latter idea. Honestly, it's up to you human. And by the way, it's a kanabo, not a club. And I suggest you learn the name, since it may be the last thing to carress your frail body."

Tyon simply raised an eyebrow at his opponent. Did he really believe that someone in the Elemental Championships would be impressed or scared by his idle banter? Well, not that he minded being underestimated. Somehow, his foe thought that, wearing more armour and carrying two large weapons, he'd be able to close the gap between them. Or maybe he thought that Tyon's only resource of attack were his hands. Whatever the case, it would probably work in Tyon's favour. Judging by the current situation, there were two possible strategies to winning this fight - and nicely enough, they were perfectly compatible. A little detail popped into Tyon's thoughts: Feng had called him human. Rarely did humans refer to each other as such - in fact, never that he'd heard of. Feng probably wasn't a human himself then, though it really didn't change anything. After all, Tyon could hardly be more cautious than he was, and he still had no idea of what Feng's race would allow him to do. If, truly, he was not a human. He might just speak oddly.

Just a few seconds had passed since his enemy had stopped talking when Tyon decided to move onto the offensive. In a fraction of a second and without moving a single muscle, he fired the volley of shards from his chest - around twenty they were, spreading in a connical manner, their center being Feng. Considering the distance, they'd be able to spread and cover a decent amount of ground, and Tyon'd been careful so that they wouldn't bounce dangerously off the walls, so they weren't as strong as he could muster. Still, they made a nice first attack, he thought, as Newton's law kicked in and his chest was propelled backwards in a motion that he swiftly turned into a backflip, landing on his feet once more, further away from the berserker. As soon as he touched the earth once more, he started summoning more obsidian towards him, ready to move away from his enemy as soon as he tried to close in. Perhaps not a tactic that would be sung about, but as long as he won, he couldn't care less.
Post #: 20
6/23/2010 13:06:14   
Krey
Member

Unlike her hulk of an opponent, little Ember had seen much combat in her time as Morkengraamir's avatar. After all, an Elder Dragon has a considerable amount of business to attend to in rather a short amount of time, business that can range from diplomatic meetings to offering assistance to his struggling followers. Many of these tasks fell to Ember, and there wasn't one time she'd failed to please her master. As such, she was no stranger to a vast number of situations, and combat was certainly one of the more familiar. This was simply another trial for the wee servant of fire to overcome, and she meant to put all she had into doing just that.

As she'd anticipated, Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim reacted well to her attack, his hammer coming 'round in a great arc (one she was rather glad to be clear of!) and bouncing the ball of fire right back at the fluttering fire-fairy. This was actually rather a golden opportunity, and despite the slightly off-path that the fireball took, she flitted to the right in order to catch the flame. Out flicked her hand, towards the approaching fireball to draw it in and add it to the wreaths already swirling around her form.

Also as expected, the great hammer-wielding man stepped in to continue his attack, bringing the head 'round in what was rather a surprisingly fast return swing. Still, she had time to react, as she was a quick little thing indeed, and did she know how to weave! Under the path of the great head she danced, flitting beneath the shaft of the giant maul as she cut a path towards her opponent's torso. "Stay on target... Stay on target," she muttered, as the air moved by the force of the swing threatened to fling her out of control. Fortunately, she'd long since learned to compensate for air currents when moving so near a great mass.

T'was here that she used the extra fire that'd been returned to her by the hammerman. Rather than quell the extra flame, she gathered up the whole of her fiery wreaths at her fingertips. Instead of a large fireball, what she made this time was rather smaller, hardly an inch in diameter. The major difference? Contrary to a loosely contained ball of fire, this was a tightly packed bolt which would explode on impact with the force of rather a brutish punch; not to mention the searing heat it would unleash as the flames caught on whatever flammables might be near.

She came in close, flitting up along his torso at a pace that matched the speed of his hammerhead, and launched the little bolt of flame straight up at the great man's chin. With her tiny missile released, and her flame already building around her once again, she broke away to her right, making to clear the man before the bolt exploded - and before he could counter with that hammer of his!
AQ  Post #: 21
6/23/2010 13:09:57   
Ruin
Member

Tyon didn't give a response, Feng hadn't anticipated him being much of a vocalizer. As the shards of obsidian flew towards Feng he dropped the kanabo onto the floor and spun away from the shards. As most hit the weapon he had dropped the rest barely clipped the side of his armor as he spun to his opponent's side. As more obisidian was being conjured, Feng kept strafing and his broadsword in a deflecting position if any stray Earth were to come at him.

He held the broadsword in one hand, the dark dull green barely glistening, and with the other hand he made a fist and threw it upward. Taking the earth from below Tyon, he created a stalagmite that was quickly thrusting upward at his opponent. Not that he expected him to be impaled but it would at least move him and creat a lull in the amount of sharp obsidian that was coming at him. He got closer to the sharp spike he had created and got readt to intercept his opponent on the way down from his retreat.

Before his opponent landed however, he protruded his fangs inside of his mouth, this would be the perfect opponent to get with the venom. An opponent who flees is no fun at all, and he sure as hell didn't feel like chasing Tyon around all day while he fled as a coward. The venom would slow him down long enough for Feng to finish him. And he definitely had the physical advantage on his opponent, even without his weapons.

< Message edited by lycanknight570 -- 6/23/2010 13:10:13 >
AQ  Post #: 22
6/23/2010 20:39:03   
Guardian of Nekops
Member

Jarvis chuckled at the antics of his little foe, despite himself. Although he would have preferred to spare this one and move on to bigger game, he had to admire the fiery emotion that fueled it. Too much and not enough aggression for its own good, of course, but perhaps the creature would learn one way or another before the end.

There were times to fight, of course, and times to flee as well… what there was not was time to decide between the two. The time you spent choosing whether to attack or no, or which door to take, or whether you could get past the guard this time around or should wait for him to turn again on his round… these were the wasted seconds that shaved off, one by one, the chances for you to survive.

With a toothy grin, the Worker replied, “You are fierce, I see, with a stout little heart, but you are just not in my league. If you were, there would be a few things you would know. First…”

The impulse traveled from his conscious mind to the deeper parts of his self, his soul… or it would have, had it not been for the dark path that industrious Itch had made within his mind. Deep in his core Jarvis still grieved for his lost family, slain by this very action, and his heart likely as not would have refused to let the power flow if it had any say in the matter. As it was, though…

Space rippled in the palm of Jarvis’s left hand, pulsing out from it in a wave that left a darker tinge in its wake. Behind that Nudge was enough force to send a carriage flying across the room, although the effect was spread along a wide angle to ensure that he did not miss his target. The little creature would be flung across the arena, he was sure… right at the man who had just exploded in black shards, unless the Worker missed his guess or his foe managed to dodge the blast. The power of his attack would probably not be enough to bash the furry creature’s brains against Cellar’s mirrored wall, and this was by design… one did not impress either men or gods by stepping on a mouse.

“First,” he said once more, confident in both his strength and his wit, “Strike.”
AQ  Post #: 23
6/24/2010 12:39:24   
The Dragon Knight
Member

As he'd expected, the little woman was fast. As his hammer swung towards her, she had managed to duck underneath the hammer and was zooming down its length for a point blank attack. Judging by the amount of flame that encircled her form, Ed knew that the attack would not be pleasant. He couldn't stop the swing, he couldn't pull the hammer back in time to counter, and with his body leaning forward into his attack he couldn't get out of the way easily, either. That left him with only two choices; take the attack and hope that it wasn't going to be all that bad, or....

It was an instinctive decision. Before completing his swing, and as the fairy reached his body, he simply let go of the hammer. It flew from his grasp, the heavy head sailing across the arena towards one of the central pillars. Before letting go, however, he'd put forth a supreme effort to slow the speed of the swing, cutting its destructive force down to less than half. After all, he had an idea and it wouldn't be a very good thing if he were to be crushed by his own attack.

The hammer impacted the pillar closest to them in the instant before the firebolt would have hit him square in the face. What a trickster, this wee one was! Fortunately for Ed, when the bolt reached the same spot as his face, he was no longer there.

The Jim was suddenly thrown backwards, toward the mirrored wall, as if he'd been struck by a blow from his own hammer! He gasped as the air was driven from his lungs, and the room shook ever so slightly when the big man slammed into the southern wall. He paused for an instant, sucking oxygen back into his system, shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs, and then pushed himself away. It was very lucky that these mirrors were enchanted to be impervious to attack, otherwise he might have blown clear through the wall. As it was, he'd managed to slow the projectile just enough that the wall had simply acted as such, rather than reflecting him back.

"Ack! Now that'll wake you up in th' mornin'!" he laughed, stretching his arms behind and flexing his chest, his sternum popping as he stepped away from the wall.

The big hammer thrower lifted his eyes to view his miniature opponent, as well as the rest of the arena. Other battles were taking place, and things were heating up. Ed knew that any injury received in this place would never heal while he remained there, but that was fine. The truth was that he had no way of healing anyway. That, thankfully, didn't matter to him.

Most people are amazed by his size. More are impressed that he wields such a massive weapon so effortlessly. However, what no-one outside of his family had ever realized was that this Jim was tough. Not even Big Jim or Bigger-Than-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Na'-As-Big-As-Big-Jim Jim could take the same amount of physical punishment that this one could. The only members of his family that were more resilient than he was were Wee Jim and Little Janice.

So, while most people would never have dreamed of taking their own attack instead of an enemy's, Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim had done the unthinkable: taken the full force of the impact of his hammer hitting the pillar square in the chest, which had sent him flying backwards, out of the range of his enemy's attack. Of course, that wasn't exactly obvious to a casual observer, and it was such a dangerous idea that it would never even cross the mind of most fighters, so there was a fair chance that the people in the arena would mistake his sudden movement for something other than it was. He'd have to wait and see about that.

For now, though, it was time to counter attack. Ember was too small and too fast for him to hit easily with ordinary swings. Also, her small size allowed her to sneak inside of his range and attack him. His weapon was far too large for him to be able to use in such close quarters melee, so he'd need to be a little more canny.

This member of the Jims shook all over with excitement, the laughter of combat rippling out of him as he raised his right hand, fingers open loosely and palm pointing downwards. His grin was wide as he watched the hammer spring away from the pillar and fly through the air towards his outstretched hand. The little pyro was between him and his hammer, and if he was lucky she might not notice it coming up from behind. Either way, he already had an idea in mind in case she decided to attack him before the hammer arrived. Considering it was moving even faster than he had thrown it, she would need to attack and react in a split second before it reached him.
AQ  Post #: 24
6/24/2010 23:25:39   
demonhunter
Member

Not in his league, eh? Jonathan thought grumpily, Judging me by size. Typical human.

Jonathan was a fast little creature, as Jakkai often were. Lacking in size and physical strength compared to most other sentient races, they made up the difference in physical speed. Being smaller and lighter meant they had less bulk to move, and their physical structure made moving around on all fours as natural as walking on two legs.

So it was that Jonathan was able to duck behind the pillar next to him when the dark one attacked. Sharp eyes caught the dark tinge left in the wake of whatever it was, and Jon was prudent enough to take the path of caution.

Once behind the pillar, and out of his opponent's sight, he reached around with his tail and wrapped it around the hilt of his knife, freeing both hands for what was to be, he was sure, the first indicator that his opponent had underestimated him.

"I can see you're not a hunter," he remarked, focusing on the electricity gathering in his hands, "Only a fool attacks when he's in full view of his prey."

He'd established the charge in his hands previously. That was the hardest part. Amplifying that charge was a good deal easier. He did so now, keeping his hands well apart in order to prevent firing off his spell earlier than intended. Visible lines of electricity formed over his hands, emitting a soft blue light that he didn't even bother trying to hide.

Within a few seconds, he was ready. Jakkai weren't the most magically apt sentients in Lore. In fact, they're magical ability was quite limited. Where humans could learn and wield a wide variety of magics, Jakkai were generally limited to only one or two spells. Not exactly versatile, but it had its advantages. Only being able to use one or two spells, meant that they were very, very good at using said spells.

One last look over his shoulder to judge the pillar's dimensions, and he leapt, sideways, turning as he did to face his opponent's last known location. He appeared from the side of the pillar opposite where he'd been standing previously, arms out to his sides, crackling with electricity...

Before bringing his hands together in front of him, and releasing a stream of focused electrical energy, known simply as Bolt, on a straight path to where the dark one had been standing when he ducked behind the pillar.
AQ DF  Post #: 25
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