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dragon -> RE: =Elemental Championships= Fountain Arena (8/14/2007 22:50:08)
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Ok, there was no way that swords clashing had ever been a good sign.
Certainly, if he had a choice, this was the last way Valedren'el would choose to enter. He had no chance for alliances before the battle, and no chance to warm up, unless he thought this through. Fountain Arena, the arena he had been wary of from the beggining. He would much rather have fallen off the sky arena then be put an arena where every element had a chance. No matter, he knew the ways of war, how to fall and rise again, how to force those who defied him to admit their mistakes with the blood that would soon drench their clothes, and the fear that would soon soak their souls. His anger was the source of these feelings, but alas, he was much more cautious about controlling his emotions then he was currently letting on, and he needed to gain control. This was no time to fight inner battles, this was a time to get himself on one team and let loose. He settled down, feeling his blood pulse through him, woven with earth magic. He breathed deeply and opened his eyes. Their black depths showed no change, but there was one deep inside. He would fight. He would win. Today, he thought, is the day I conquer.
To the stragglers outside of the arena, he looked like a competitor, although a very odd one at that. His hair lashed around in the air close to his head, lunging this way and that, as if it were alive. A correct assumption indeed, as the leechthorns sought foreign blood to feed upon. His black eyes seemed like they could bore a hole into you if they watched you to long, but it seems no one ever stuck around him long enough to find out. His cloak was blowing gently in the cool breeze, whipping freely behind his figure. The enchanted white cloth about him was made to further harness his earth magic, though with all the power he held within, he rarely needed foreign assistance. He gently reached back and brought up his hood, covering the thorns, vanquishing them to the harsh darkness. The cloak was odd though, translucent in appearence. This was due to its enchantment, the magic had invaded the cloak and turned it clear with its power. You could barely make out the tattoed dragons that seemed to crawl up his body, two of them. Chances are, they did move, though he would never awknowledge this fact. You could see under the cloak he wore black pants, baggy cloth covering, keeping him light and maneuverable, and providing him with a weak defense enchantment. He would rather he have that then no magical protection at all. You could see the handle of a dagger protruding through the front of the whipping cloak, seemingly normal, though the blade was not visible. Upon his back he wore a scythe, but it was fairly stunning in appearence. It was double bladed, one blade on top, and one on the bottom, one on each side of the scythe, and the bottom one appeared upside down so that the scythe could be spun, and both blades used.
Valedren'el was nearing the arena now, almost sauntering to the gates. He looked around at the outside of the arena, disturbed only by the growing sounds that flowed from the arena like a breeze, carrying the heavy scent of blood. He smirked, for just a moment. A masscre, he thought, an organized massacre. His forte was hunting, had been since he had come of age in his village. Now he simply hunted beasts who would hunt back. Beasts armed and determined. But no more than he, he imagined. Resuming his emotionless expression, he walked into the arena, wearing a harsh expression of a scholar on his face. Scrutinize he did, as light was finally shed on the true level of bloodshed already present.
The air was splintered with the hollow sounds of clashes. The crowd roared, but he forced that noise into the back of his mind, into the expanse if things he wouldn't consider. Even with his eccentric features, he doubted the roars of the crowd were directed at him. Most likely they were directed at the war fought before his eyes. The fountains were still peacefully flowing, though one seemed broken. He wasn't sure if this was an intentional obstacle, or whether it had been broken by one of the projectiles, magic and artificial, that could be seen whizzing through the air. The ground was trampled, plants drooped as if crying at the chaos around them, other ripped apart as though they had given too loud an outcry and had been punished. No matter, thought Valendr'el, for his power was one that came from within. Surely, he would need the earth, but beauty was a thing for those of a peace he had not known since he was a child. He bent down, examining the earth with one hand, the other hand on his dagger. He was not sure how long it would be before he was attacked, but he knew in this chaos it would not be much longer. He hustled to the side of the arena, and pulled out his dagger. Now the blade shown to all who wished to see. The serated edge had been quite obviously newly sharpened, and the regular edge had undergone the same treatment as well. The blade move silently and quickly through the air, like a beam of light might pierce the barrier of leaves in a forest as the sun rose and fell. Leaning back, Valendr'el once again scanned the mighty expanse of chaos, and as he did he ran his hand softly over the edge of the dagger. The top blade on his scythe pulsed on his back, and a stream of blood ran over its edge to the pointed tip, dripping softly into the soft soil that lay beneath. The ground soaked up the blood, seeming as bloodthirsty as some of the competitors. The sun bounded through the fountains, making them sparkle, but that was nothing compared to the sheen of drawn blades.
He scoped the competitors, now those present generally giving up the secret of their element. He saw all kinds, but he knew that it was fighting skill and style that would determine the outcome in this arena. He saw a winged, angelic like figure, but this was certainly a peaceful disguise as her inner beast roared through the air, through the sound of her flute. Music magic. That was a very distinctive style, anyone who took the time to master that kind of magic was a threat. His eyes criss crossed the arena. He saw a few other like himself, pinned against the wall of the arena. He saw two talking, and he zeroed in on this. It was odd behavior, as if they were a team. He had heard of this happening, but to see it so soon surprised him. He was not sure if he would ally, for he did not know the power his opponents had.
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