RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena

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Postmaster General -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/23/2010 20:47:42)
The little beast was quick. Short steps dodged the lash and then increased the distance between itself and Elias. As if the furry critter had seen it, a flash of bright light shot between the combatants, narrowly avoiding an explosive collision. Hawthorne's intentful charge had left him tunnel-visioned and so he did not see the ilumination until it had passed by. The bright flash blinded the offender, halting his advance immediately. As he rubbed his eyes and regained his vision, he contemplated, I be nearly overtak'n by the rush o' the hunt. I cannot allow myse'f ta be drawn in so recklessly again. The moglin, while normally a defensive fighter, was quite sure that his opponent would not rest until one of them were killed, so he quickly took the initiative of the momentary pause in his opponent's advance. Radnav quickly unsheathed his hidden black blade from inside his wooden walking stick, quickly flinging the sheath directly at his opponent in an attempt to distract him as the little Moglin made his move, which consisted of moving in at suprisingly fast speed and leaping over his opponent, attempting to cut off his opponent's head vertically as he twirled over him. The sheathe flew towards the oncoming assailant. A quick, upturned elbow deflected the projectile's full force hit Elias' forearm, causing him to wince slightly as the makeshift armor bowed under the pressure. Radnav sailed through the air, closing in for the quick kill. The short range of movement for the pirate's defensive ploy left him with enough time to see the attack and roll to the side in avoidance. This movement lost the momentum that the reckless charge had given Hawthorne. Now, the infested combatant had to take a second to rethink his strategy. It seemed his earlier evaluation had run true and the former proved to be true: he was indeed a confident fighter. Banter was an easy way to get into the old creature's head, and it could be done easily in the midst of combat. Although the earth champion's backwards logic was enough to turn the mind games right back around on Elias. "So, ya li'l pipsqueek. Ya think ya cin hold yer own agains' me?" The crazed outlaw made a jab towards the Moglin in mid air. The saber shot through the air in a bloodthirsty quest for flesh. The moglin finished his sumersault on his feet and spun around, his black blade shimmering somehow as he quickly regained his compostured and assumed another defensive stance. "Underestimate me, you do. Deathwish, you have" the old moglin nodded sagely, provoking him again with his free hand. Elias sneered. "It seems yer head already be all jumbled. Take this!" The cutthroat belted out a battle cry as anger over took him. He started approaching the furry master but quickly caught his temper. Instead, he preferred the safe route: another slash of his blade. The sword itself shone slightly in the sunlight. The blade was made of a rock he had found back on the deserted island. The hilt was made of a powerful, exquisite crabshell. The blade itself was decorated in spiral shells, which, upon further inspection turned out to be poison spikesnails. The creatures adjusted themselves occasionally but did little more than decorate the hilt of his crude sword. Radnav stood clamly as his opponent approched the small moglin, gripping the black blade in both hands. The moglin's sword was somewhat unusual, even though it was made of a black meteorite. The Moglin's blade was based off of a Jian, meaning that the sword was well rounded in most style of sword play, both offensive and defensive. Radnav brought his blade to bear with the portion of the blade closest to the hilt to block his opponent's slash, allowing him to use more force to shove his opponent's blade to the side to parry the attack. After parrying the attack, the Moglin unexpectedly jumped backward again instead of following through with the attack, returning once again to his provoking stance. "Sloppy, your movements are." "You wanna see sloppy?" The renowned captain said as he brandished his whip. The tail twirled in a liquid motion before tensing in shock as Elias sent it towards the gremlin. Once again the Moglin stood calmly as his opponent readied the whip, but instead of trying to block the whip or dodge and counter, the small moglin used the MF to soar into the air and landed on a spike on the wall that was out of reach of the whip. After turning around to confront his opponent, the moglin tossed his sword like a boomerang, using the MF to control the sword as it roated round and round in the air as it went straight towards the buccaneer. "Wha?" the baffled Elias let out as he witnessed the encircling sword. He narrowly escaped by pulling off his guantlet and tossing it in its path. The flimsy glove was just enough to distort the tragectory, sending the the blade far enough to the right to only glance Elias' shoulder.

Clyde -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/24/2010 0:25:59)
A two-inched sized figurine made out of ice was perched in the center of Norr's left hand. The figurine would dance as Norr controlled it with his right hand, with each subtle motion of his fingers moved it in some way. When he slowly used his index finger to making a stirring motion, the figurine began twirling around and around. He had begun to get lost in it's timeless beauty until the figurine fell in his hands. As it laid there dead in his hands it started to melt and left nothing more than just water that dripped out of his hands. To Norr's surprise the water froze again, this time it froze his hands and it spread. He was beginning to panic, he lifted his head towards the sky and wanted to scream, but his lungs were frozen and as he... "You're going to be late!" Norrand's eyes clinched together tightly before slowly opening. A bit agitated, he turned towards the window to look for the sun to see it's position in the sky. He was staying the night at one of the local inns, "The Salty Lizard", before heading to the Elemental Championships. In one swift motion, he threw his covers off and had jumped right out of bed. Some struggling and a few expletives later, he had finally gotten dressed. After he grabbed his sword and shield, he started to head out... "WAIT!" Norr stopped at the door on Cyros' command. "Aren't you forgetting something? By the bed." "Oh yeah," Norr approached the bed and bent down to his knees. He brought his hands together and started chanting under his breath. Cyros looked at this in astonishment and groaned. "What are you doing?" "Praying to the Elemental Lord of Ice, so he can give us some luck in this tournament." "You don't need to waste your time, we do not follow any Elemental Lord." "No, you don't follow any Elemental Lord, space creature. I believe in our Lord..." "Ugh, whatever. Just grab that talisman by the bed that suppresses your powers. You know, before you freeze everyone to death at this Inn." "Oh, right..." Norr said, embarrassed that he had almost forgotten something that important. After he had grabbed his talisman, he ran out the Inn. Not even thinking about stopping to sight see, he continued running in hopes that he wouldn't be too late to miss all the action. He was so deep in anxiety for the upcoming battles he hadn't noticed that he was knocking people over as he ran through the city. When he had finally made it to the front gates, he registered for the Element Championships. The officials pointed him to the Spike Arena and he followed eagerly. At the entrance to the Spike Arena, he looked down at his feet before he dropped the talisman to the ground. He knew he wouldn't need it anymore after today. Depending on the outcome, he would either be dead or would never need to suppress his powers again. "You ready?" Cyros asked. "Of course," Norrand smiled as he began walking through the front gate. ~Spike Arena~ At first the roars of the crowd were abrasive, but within moments Norr had already gotten used to it. All he could hear now was the sound of battle. The clashed metal, the calamity of magic tossed about, and the tension rising with each passing moment. Norrand was anxious, his stomach felt like it was turning upside down. He reached for his shield first before placing his left arm through the two tightly placed strapped loops on the back and grabbing the attached handle. The arena itself looked it was straight out of a nightmare. Spikes around the walls, a menacing pillar, and the dried blood splattered everywhere. It gave the arena a gruesome appearance. Norr couldn't help but feel a bit nervous as he took each step down the stairs. With the spikes would he even have enough room to fight? How strong are these other contenders? These were only a handful of questions Norr had going on through his head. Each footstep he took had left a frozen shoe-print behind that would disappear within seconds as he walked. The thought of drawing his sword had crossed his mind, but he thought it would be too soon to see if he was going to need it. He figured his shield would be more than enough unless things got out of control. "Draw it, now!" Cyros ordered Norr. Willingly he did it, figuring that Cyros would know best. Norr knew that they needed each other, without Norr, Cyros would be as good as dead. However, that did not stop Cyros from taking command from time to time. That nightmare from earlier this morning ran through his mind a few times. He knew it was a warning that his symbiotic companion will try to kill him, but what could Norr do? They shared a body and mind at times. Whatever Norr thought about, Cyros knew as well. When he had reached the bottom of the stairs the first contender he saw looked like an average person. Wearing a brown leather jacket and pants, just about six foot tall. He didn't look strong at all, but appearances were always deceiving. He was fighting some black haired girl wearing some silly colors and a noticeable flaw that ran down her face. She was a fire contender. Norr could feel it. He really didn't want to start off fighting his opposing element, but it wasn't like he had much choice. Unlike the patient and defensive Norr, Cyros was an opportunist. Whenever he saw the opportunity to strike he would take it, with or without Norr's permission. They were close enough together that Cyros could likely get both of them, if not one. Norr's right arm had rose unexpectedly, as he took a step forward he pointed his sword towards them. The blade started glowing a light blue, charging cold energy within it. "Cyros! What are you doing!?!?" Norr yelled at Cyros in his thoughts. "Haha! Isn't it obvious? I'm taking the initiative. You're passive and patient style gets horribly boring at times." After a few moments of charging the attack, he swung the sword in a downwards slash. It had created a cold blast flying forward, it wasn't cold enough to instantly freeze anyone, but it was strong enough to deal some pretty decent damage. At the most he had hoped to hit the girl, but would be satisfied if it hit at all. In the heat of their moment, Cyros will chill them out!

Nightly -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/24/2010 8:40:23)
Ire sighed and rubbed the last vestige of sleep from his eyes. Turning on to his stomach, he pushed off of the bed and quietly stood up and gathered his clothes. Carefully arranging his tunic to cover as much chain mail as possible, he then knelt down before his bed, clasped his hands together, and offered a quick prayer to the Light Lord. Feeling a brief wave of nostalgia as he remembered a certain time that was better left unsaid, he stood back up and grabbed the twin katanas that were his primary weapons. Checking, and then double-checking, to make sure that the spell on the katanas was still active, Ire smiled as he readied himself to go to the arena. As Ire moved methodically through the streets, he calmly took in the sights around him. So far, that had only meant inns and taverns, as well as a few food stands here and there. Most of his attention was diverted to just watching the exotic people he came across. Being stuck in a chapel for most of your life meant that you saw very little of the outside world and most of these sights were new to him. As he moved through the crowds, few people noticed him, but in a town like this there wasn't much you could do that would make a person look at you out of interest. He knew that the arena he was fighting in, Spike, was in the general direction that he was headed so Ire decided that he could just let him mind drift and follow the general flow of traffic. Eventually the crowd "dropped" him off at the arena. Even from the outside the arena was intimidating, but Ire knew that the inside was even worse. Ire's time at the chapel had left him with a lot of knowledge, some of which was about the arenas themselves. He knew from his readings that this arena was appropriately named the Spike Arena due to the large amount of spikes that dotted the walls. It created scenarios that made the combatants think about two things, their enemy as well as the wall. Normally, the best position for fighting was in a corner so that you could only be attacked in one direction. However, in this arena, you would be attacked in all directions. Get cornered, and you would be impaled by the wall. "Hmm. I should try and turn the spikes to my advantage. I need to plan how to get someone in a corner," Ire thought. The whole time these thoughts had been going through his head, he had steadily advanced into the arena. Now, as he looked around, he noticed for the first time, the crowd. He heard the roar. The primitive call for blood. He smelled the blood from the previous combatants, even tasted some of it. The feeling left him sick. It was disgusting that man had turned to such primitive means to honor their lords. Such was a world that Ire lived in that eventually, due to his prowess with the swords, he to was forced to fight for his lord. Turning his attention to the other combatants for the first time, he slowly looked around the arena for a lone participant. Or at the very least, a lopsided fight. Eventually, his attention turned to a fight between three people. Two males, one female. It appeared as if one of the males had just entered the fray, thus upsetting the natural balance. "Why can't you all just wait for your turn. Rush rush rush rush rush! Everywhere I go, people sticking there noses in others business where they don't belong!" Ire crossly thought. He had a stern set of moral values and was determined to uphold them, even here. Deciding to intervene before the man, an ice mage Ire realized, could attack the other two again, he launched an attack of his own. Curling his hand into a claw, he quickly pooled light energy into a small pulsating ball. Using his free hand, he carefully pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket, and placed them atop the bridge of his nose. Now prepared, he launched the ball of light at the ice mage's feet. Regardless of whether or not it actually struck the light mage, it would explode into a brilliant flash. More designed to hurt the eyes than the body. If indeed it did strike the body, then it would be like getting it by a lightly thrown baseball. Nothing major aside from a thump. The only part that mattered was the flash, and then blinding his soon to be opponent. Hearing his master's advice yet again in his ears, "Take out the eyes and the body will soon follow," Ire knew he took the right course of action.

Silver Lion -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/24/2010 15:03:12)
"You, girl, really enjoy blinding me." Anfur spilled the words out his mouth and cursed silently. The only thing he could see was a cloud-like darkness. His eyes were watered enough from the first heatwave the teen sent at him, now the only thing he could feel was a flame which didn't burn. He also felt the flesh in his leg deteriorating. It was a weird feeling which Anfur described to himself as boiling, although it wasn't even similar to that. The pain slowly went away, but the duration of this curse could be who-knows how long. He just couldn't take the risk. He began to wave his hands in front of him, trying to somehow get out of the fire which possessed him. As he did that, he crouched -- the flames fading away with movement. Anfur looked around; the whole Arena seemed darker and more mysterious. In front of him, only a shadow of the former victim of his rushed trap laid silent. His knees slowly bent, left hand crossing to his right shoulder with his gauntlet ready to aim, hit and unleash the energy Anfur still had. It was a defensive position, nonetheless, a simple and basic one yet effective for this kind of situation. His eyeballs still rotated, only to find that the agile one rested on one of the Arena spikes. No, his instinct said otherwise than to chase after the first target that was obviously much faster than him. Saving her for later, his body rotated after feeling an unusual and unnatural breeze. The before wary mind even became more on the watch as he saw something slashing through the air itself approaching Anfur with blazing speed. The caster was in the distance, his weapon touching the Arena soil. I didn't see this guy before... Must be someone new. Pfft, coming for the best at first? The only smart thing to do was to evade the attack, hide in the "dark" and ambush the young man with an unusual hair color. Magic, magic, magic everywhere I go! I have to find my inner focus and channel the Wind magic within me, as well.... Otherwise I might just let go and die. He felt less pain in his leg with new second of this day. Anfur felt his leg once again, and the feeling was good. Of course, it was still an injury but the worst part of it ended -- time to finally show what Anfur has in store for his attackers. The icy wave was only a few feet away from him, it was another "now or never" problem. With determination, Anfur bounced himself on the ground to his right, making a small flip in the air just to slow down his speed. Both hands in front of him grabbed onto the ground as his legs went up in the air, body now appearing as a column. Not risking another injury he might not even anticipate, he let his legs go which fell in front of him. His back now gazed at the sky, but not for long. Anfur was already backing on his feet, feeling more confident than ever. Outstanding performance by yours truly. No need to thank me -- you haven't seen nothin' yet. "Aha, you didn't expect that coming did you, newcomer? You'll see now what I can really do." That said, Anfur's hand delved deeply into his belt pockets, only to retrieve a sharp dagger. Wind give you speed, my little one. With the end of that thought the fingers performed a silent command. The dagger cannoned out of Anfur's hand and headed straight for the ice-sided lad. It had an interesting rotation, and seemed to have the spin of a tennis ball. Was it the way Anfur threw it or was it magic? The assassin then ran away near a spike wall, observing the reaction from afar -- thinking of a way to strike.

Alexandria Serthes -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/24/2010 16:42:27)
The black-haired girl smiled a bit as the wind assassin turned his attention to another attacker. Good grief, who taught you how to fight? Never turn your back on an opponent who's not thoroughly killed! She thought, releasing the second arrow, which flew toward the white robbed man. She slipped her bow back into the quiver and grabbed the spike's rusty sides, lowering herself down as far as she could before jumping down to the ground. She slipped her bow out again, sighing inwardly; it would be so much more fun to just slice open their throats! But trying to kill them from a distance meant that she was more likely to stay alive, which was a point that had been beaten into her by her mentor at the beginning. Quickly she pulled out her bow again, knocked an arrow and took aim at the inconspicuously dressed man who had thrown what looked like a ball of light at a contender with snow white hair who had apparently attacked Simonaque's original opposer. The green-eyed girl released the arrow, wondering what would happen. Next she chose the ice representative as a target, and knocked not one, but two arrows, aiming for his chest. Added to the double arrows' threat, she sent a heat wave at him as well, grinning at the thought of what might happen if her spell didn't dissipate before it reached him. Finally she focused on her original attacker. Quickly she made her way over to him, moving as close to the wall as she could, often slipping over spikes or ducking under them. The brightly dressed assassin slipped her bow back into the quiver, shaking her head slightly at the need for the ranged attacks in the first place, taking out her dagger as she drew closer to him. "Hello there," she said quietly, moving her dagger towards his throat, though the blade didn't touch him. "I think you may need some help here. And who better to help an assassin than another assassin?" she pulled back her dagger and slipped it back into its sheath with a sigh. "I suggest teaming up... For the time being, that is. Take out these two idiots and then get back to our merry little death match, alright?" she waited, every muscle tensed, ready for an attack. Did she trust him? No, but alliances in the arena were a good idea, even though they were only temporary. She didn't like the idea of having to fight three at once, especially since she was used to focusing on only one, and joining forces with another contestant would make things easier till she had to kill him. I wonder... Will he accept? Or will he try killing me? She questioned herself, watching him like a cat watching its prey, though her thoughts wandered ever so slightly for a second to one of her pet peeves: Is it possible to make it easy to carry a bow around without having to put it back into the quiver and so on every single time I'm done sing it or I need to do something that requires both hands?

Nex del Vida -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/24/2010 20:20:06)
The massive fist slammed into the ground. Illian was far out of harm's reach this time, having evaded the intended attack only to subject himself to another injury. Thankfully, his opponent did not seem to be gearing up for another charge--the boy didn't think he could have survived many more of those. In fact, the Energy contender seemed... drained, somehow. The telltale sparks flowed upwards, averaging out their frequency over the beast's entire body rather than concentrating in its limbs. It took one deep breath, then slowly detached the silvery scythe from its back. "Well, I see you've survived my feral mode. There are not many who have been able to do that, so you should consider yourself blessed or lucky or whatever." The deep, gravelly voice surprised Illian--he had not been sure if his opponent could speak until this point. Then he realized what his foe was saying. Feral mode? So that's not how he normally fights... excellent. I can probably do fairly well against that scythe. It introduced itself as former Grand-Chief of the Brazzik people named Cassivo, a rank Illian had never heard of before. "I am Illian Fairweather, Chosen Warrior of the Fairweather clan. It is an honor to meet you, Cassivo of the Brazziks." As the two parlayed a short burst of light flashed through the arena. Another light contestant? He didn't want to turn his head and break his adversary's gaze, so he made a mental note to find out who had cast the spell later. I want to get a chance to speak with another follower of the Light Lord who has made his or her way to this competition. Illian grinned and slid his other dagger out from between his shoulder blades. He conjured two broadswords and held them at waist level, pointing slightly downwards. The fingers of his left hand still stung and the littlest one would not bend all the way, but he thought he could still swing a sword. He twirled the broadsword in that hand lazily to test the theory and it proved accurate. "Now that we're on more even footing," the boy said with a small smile, "May the best fighter win." He feinted to his right, where the blade of Cassivo's scythe lay, and then pushed off in the other direction, using the edge of one of the blood ducts to accelerate faster. Bringing both arms back and to his right while still in the air, he aimed a double-bladed swing at his opponent's side--right at the place where several of the wires that constituted Cassivo's skin were broken from his earlier Starburst. He would use the momentum from the hit (if indeed the swords connected) to push himself away from a possible swing of the dangerously long-ranged scythe.

Ultrapowerpie -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/24/2010 21:47:11)
The small moglin showed no sign of frustration from the deflection of the blade. In fact, he seemed slightly bemused by the attack. Instead of trying to make the blade come back and attack the man again, the moglin did two things at once. First, he used his MF abilities to make the blade spin back in his direction with one hand, while with the other hand he called back his scabbard, which while the outside was made of wood, the inside was made with metal so the blade wouldn't chafe the wooden stick, thus allowing the tiny fuzzy master some control over his scabbard at a distance as well with his sword. However, because the scabbard was covered with wood on the outside, this dampened the effects of the MF, and thus prevented the Moglin from doing much with the scabbard at too long a range. With both instruments in hand, the little moglin paused to take a good view of the surronding arena. The moglin saw two pairs fighting each other, but what concerned him was a small group of 4 fighters still near the entrance. The moglin was fully aware that temporary alliances would be forged in this big arena in order to improve survival in this forsaken place, though the spikes did not really concern the moglin. In fact, due to his short size, the spikes meant excellent places to retreat too when one needed to catch his/her breath. Radnav stood on his perch a little long, and decided to observe the battle a little longer, trying to decide if now was the time to change places and try to form his own alliance. However, while he was observing others, Radnav launched another spinning sword assult on the bucaneer to keep him offgaurd.

Clyde -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/24/2010 23:50:41)
Another fighter? Norrand had already known about this new contender, he was close enough within his Radian Chill for Cyros to sense him. He had witnessed his so called sneak attack miss, quite gracefully in fact. How he was able to dodge and throw in a attack, Norr would never know, but now wasn't the time to sit there and attempt to figure it out. That dagger was flying at him at an insanely quick speed and behind him the latest Light contender must of had an attack ready for his back. "Good going, Cyros! We're surrounded and everyone's trying to attack us!" "Quit your crying! I like these odds." "Cyros, I need your help!" Norrand took his sword and swung it up. With Cyros' help Norrand summoned a six-foot tall, three-foot wide wall that was roughly under one inch thick reaching from the floor. Summoning something that large, that quickly took a lot out of him. Hopefully it would have blocked all attacks coming at him or the light contender behind him. Norr felt a cold pain in his chest and his legs weaken. He rolled to his left and onto his knees before leaning against his ice wall to keep him up. The refreshing cold, felt good against his back. It was refreshing for him. His breathing had became heavier, he wasn't sure he would be able to get up. "Just a little rest," he said as he rested upon the ice wall. Completely unaware of the light ball next to him, Norr's eyes twitched as a reaction to it hitting the floor and expanding. Naturally, he lifted his shield up in an attempt to protect his eyes. He was able to block the worst of it, but wasn't fast enough and the light had gotten him in his left eye. It felt like someone had thrown handfuls of salt in his eye and he couldn't get it out. After he swore to himself, he tried rubbing the light out. Sadly, he knew this would not help, but it was out of habit. The ice was thick enough to make any vision between him and the other opponents unclear and blurry, but anyone on the other side would see the light for as long as it lasted. "You have got to be kidding me Norr," Cyros mocked. "You can't be done yet. We haven't even started!" "I'm sorry Cyros, but you're alive aren't you?" Norr responded trying not to be too disrespectful. He looked at the Light Contender, it was like looking at half of a picture, with his left eye blinded. "Not for long! What's stopping that Light contender from attacking your blind and helpless self? To make things better, there's a heat wave heading for your ice wall!" "Haha. He might, but maybe we gave him the chance to live on a win this thing?" Norrand smirked. "Now's not the time to joke! Get ready, that wall won't protect you for long!" When the heat wave had hit the ice wall, it was able to melt some of it instantly. Luckily, Norrand was close enough for his Radian Chill to quickly re-freeze it. If that weird-colored assassin wanted to bring down this wall, she needed to use something a lot stronger than tiny heat waves. Norrand hoped the wall would stay up long enough for him to recover, uninterrupted. Deep down he prayed that the Light contender would find the wall as a sort of short-termed peace treaty.

superjars -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/25/2010 1:02:57)
Illian. This opponent was impressive enough to warrant Cassivo learning his name and giving him a quick study. While he listened to the man talk, he used the extra energy pulsing through his mind to search through the information he had gained both from watching the other combatants arrive and from the primal thoughts that his feral mode was able to formulate during their battle. There wasn't a whole lot available to him at this point, but he'd add more as they fought more. Although it was extremely powerful, the bestial form was not very capable of taking in data for him to analyze. For now, he simply compartmentalized what he had and let the energy pour back into his body. His rival reached behind him and brought out a second knife to match the one he already carried and then suddenly the upper blades of both had disappeared, replaced by golden swords much longer than the originals had been. As the short man pushed himself into motion, Cassivo's eyes followed his path, moving to the left, then blinking quickly as his opponent vanished from his sight. His head snapped to the right as the man came leaping past. Instinctively, The Brazzik allowed the movement of his eyes dictate that of his body, pivoting his left leg forward, turning his body to face the wall. As he did so, he saw the man suspended before him, the twin swords coming slashing down towards his stomach. Had the proud warrior the energy to do so, he might have been able to press an attack with the man's awkward positioning, but it was all he could do to have moved his one leg and to now raise his right arm to put his weapon between his opponents and his body. As the three weapons collided, the beast felt his own give a little, the shaft of his scythe pushing back into him. It held there a second before the blades were gone, his opponent carrying on past him by the power of his own momentum. Given a short reprieve, the beast turned inward, focusing the energies flowing throughout his body and pushing them back into their proper balance so he could fight the other man on equal ground. Talking to the man had given him the desired effect; it allowed him the time he needed to recover from the unbalance that coming out of his feral mode threw him in. With a wide grin on his face, once again able to direct the flow of energy in his body, the creature pushed his head to one side, muscles straining and spine making a loud cracking noise, while at the same time channeling energy down his arms, sparks jumping from one protrusion to another, and into the shaft of his weapon. The electric charges arced their way in both directions, moving down to it's blunt end, and also moving up to roil around the blade. Pushing up on the shaft with his right hand, he let the head of the scythe drop towards the ground before deftly twisting it in his hand, bringing the blade back around. He set the upper section of the weapon's pole into his right hand, twisting it in his palms so the blade pointed directly at his adversary.

Nex del Vida -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/25/2010 2:32:14)
As Illian jumped, Cassivo turned with him. The scythe swung up and blocked his blades, forcing him backwards and down. As the boy landed the metallic warrior flipped his weapon elegantly, changing the direction if its menacing blade as well as appearing to pump it full of energy, sparks flowing down his arms and into the scythe. Those sparks... they always move to the part of his body he's using at the moment. Does that mean that he has to drain one part of energy to fill another? That makes sense... when he kicked me, the concentration of sparks in his legs spiked. I'll keep careful track of where the sparks go from now on. The scythe now buzzed and flashed with the deadly electricity being poured into it. One touch from that could be lethal. But my light shield seemed to render his energy--if not his strength--useless. That will at least make the scythe touchable... though I probably shouldn't touch it if I can help it. With a grim inward chuckle, he dispelled the broadsword and sheathed one dagger. Time for some trickery. He reached inside himself and summoned a double, standing in exactly the same place as he was. Without a moment's notice he dashed to his left in a curving path along the wall, sending the double in a straight line in the same direction. As soon as he started moving he flung up his left hand as well as the double's and cast Starburst. Though the mirage was intangible, it looked just as solid as he did and so the bright flash of light would be just as effective. Hopefully this ploy would let him get away from the vicious spikes on the wall and back out into the open. Cassivo thought it odd that the man just stood where he was, seemingly waiting for the big creature to slice him in half. Wonder at the strangeness of the man's inaction suddenly turned into surprise as the man ran off to his right. And to his left. The warrior's head swiveled from one to the other, his jaw dropping open slightly at the sight of the twins running in opposite directions. He suppressed the shock and made a split-second decision and took a quick step towards the man who was running away from the wall of spikes. As he took that first stride in the man's direction, however, he suddenly faltered; the man had created a globe of light in his hand which quickly expanded in a burst of brilliant light. A hand released its grip on the shaft of the scythe to fly in front of his eyes, but it was too late; it had already had the desired effect. As he put his hand back down to grasp the weapon, he also blinked his eyes several times, his vision moving from nonexistent to blurry with a big dot in the middle. After a few more, the blurriness finally dissipated and the spot faded, returning his sight and he looked around quickly to see where his opponent had gone. While the Brazzik had been blinded, Illian had conjured a spear of light in his hand and the hand of his double. He had cut at a sharp angle after getting a good distance away, so he was now standing midway between the pillar and the wall. His double was a good fifteen feet away, and they were both around twenty feet from the monstrous assailant. I can match his range using this spear, Illian thought, But I still can't win a head-on fight with him. I need to trick him somehow. He focused, pulling more magical energy and forming it into four more doubles. This took a bit more concentration, so he preemptively raised his spear and the double's to ward off potential attack. Two of the new doubles he placed around the original double, two around himself. There were now six copies of Illian in the arena, all wielding identical spears of light. He grinned with six mouths and gestured with six hands. Come and get me. And me, and me, and me, and me, and me.

Silver Lion -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/25/2010 8:23:26)
The ice mage was persistent, the control he had over his elemental power could be admired by many. Within a second's wink he was armored by a huge wall around him. The shell protected him from Anfur's dagger assault -- it pierced the wall lightly as it's edge peeked into the inside of this icy hedge, while the rest of the dagger glued itself to the wall. One dagger completely wasted, yet once the wall melts down, the small weapon could be of use later on. Anfur noticed that one part of the ice shell completely died. Proof that the rest will soon fall. From the long haired assassin's right arrows started to reign down on the group. One was rushing through the air headed at the same mage which blocked Anfur's dagger while the other one was headed towards an unusually dressed... elf, as it seemed to Anfur. His eyesight jiggered with him as he tried to solve who this new figure is. Yet the assassin remembered of a sudden flash which occurred a few moments after the dagger escaped his hand. Flash... That's a Light contester right there! Maybe I'm wrong, but it's either that or... No time for thoughts; the wave of thinking inside his mind broke out as he looked for the source of the arrows. Nothing could be seen. Suddenly he felt the stain of cold metal below his chin. His eyes looked down, only to notice a scrawny hand holding a dagger -- an assassin's weapon, for sure. His right hand instinctively pushed itself backwards, grabbing whoever was behind him with the strong gauntlet. Anfur wanted to turn his head around, but there was no need for it. He knew who it was. His ears heard words and that dagger quickly backed down, although he still held the teen's right leg with his claws. After that -- silence. He knew that the girl was suspicious, and so was he. But to maintain balance out here one had to listen. Anfur inhaled. "Ahh... So -- you are wiser than you seem, girlie. I see no reason for me to end your life just yet, but I realize that you are very light on your feet. I'll agree with your alliance partially, no?" The tired man stopped, let go of the young one's leg and turned around, taking an offensive stance. He looked deeply into her eyes, and took another deep breath. His tone was pretty low, and Anfur began whispering. "You know how we assassins can handle ourselves. See that guy over there, the elf-like one? Distract him by whatever means necessary. I'll take care of him. Oh and, by the way -- the name's Anfur." With another shrug, he turned around to look at the battlefield and the two who were now his enemies. An ally was by his side -- that’s good; there was probably no way for the wind combatant to survive out here alone. He had faith in the little girl, knowing that all assassins are always lethal. He put his life on the line letting her help him, who knows what she might have planned in that crazy head of hers. Alas, it was too late now. His mind already commanded - Anfur readied his gauntlet, once again. "You know what to do."

Alexandria Serthes -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/25/2010 9:42:12)
"Mine's Simonaque," she said, sighing inwardly and ignoring his use of the word 'girlie' for the moment. There would be a time to cremate him later, but for now, she had a mission; distract elf-boy. "Distraction? Easy!" she murmured, then darted towards her target, who wore sunglasses but other than that didn't seem to stick out in any way. When she was within fifteen feet of the elfin contender she made a quick motion with her hands, forming a ball of heat. The air around it showed its size, small and very hot, it was taking up quite a bit of her concentration to maintain. Not wasting any time, she sent it flying through the air, headed straight for the simply dressed man. How do you fight elf-boy? Is it wind, fire, energy, darkness, ice, water, earth, or light? Do you jump or duck, twist or charge? Do you hit and run, or beat down? How do you survive when you've been attacked by something you cannot see, but only feel the heat? Will you melt? Is it possible to fix an arrow that's been crushed? Thoughts went wild in her mind, and she was on the lookout for any clues, the slightest hints, that could lead to an answer to any of them, especially his element and whether or not he knew anything about fixing arrows, although Simonaque supposed that her broken shaft could wait, she preferred having a total twenty-four at her disposal whenever possible. She yanked out her sword, feeling the steady thrum of warmth as her hand touched its worn hilt, the feeling like that of a friend's hug. Her feet moved lightly over the ground, her scarred face bright with energy, ready for a fight. Yet there was serious preparation going on as well, though not as obvious. She was moving her right hand behind her back, preparing a small cloud of dark flames, which, if necessary, she could use to protect herself with or blind the elfin opposer. "Would you like me to politely challenge you, or shall we cut to the chase?" she asked him, holding her sword up in a defensive position with one hand, the enchanted sword's whitish blade perpendicular with the ground, its pommel pointed slightly inward, so it wasn't quite parallel with the young assassin's waist. Behind her back she held the small ball of condensed flames, insubstantial and seemingly harmless, easily concealed within her closed fist. That's the only part I really don't like about this championship; all the challenges. If people were to just fight each other instead of wasting time with petty words, this entire contestant would go ever so much faster. But no, people have to with respect and nice little words as if they were talking around a nice warm fire in a dainty little cottage. Most never even think of surprise attacks! Ah for an arena full of assassins... Would that it would happen, since we all know how to fight properly. It would be so much easier to understand... The green-eyed girl thought, smiling slightly at her strange ideas.

Nightly -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/25/2010 16:44:02)
The Wind Contender was completely open to the Fire Contender and yet she didn't attempt to attack him. This could only mean that they were working together. Norrand did not need to fight both of them, but it looks like he would have to. Unless the Light Contender took on his hint at an alliance, then maybe he would have a better chance against both of them. He had no time to just sit around and chat with him about making an alliance; he would just have to figure it out on his own. Norrand felt an unnatural chill course throughout his cold body. This was the usual feeling he would get when someone or something had entered his cold aura. This sixth sense was considered a gift and a curse to Norrand. He enjoyed knowing something before it happened, but he never liked the paranoia that came with it. Until he had found that talisman he had trouble sleeping well throughout the night. If any creature would move through it, Norrand would wake up in a fright and draw his sword. Those nights he stared at the night sky and wondered if one day he could ever control such powers. Now wasn't the time to reminisce. He could feel the fire girl getting closer with each step, seeing each movement clearly in his head. Was she trying to sneak around the wall and attempt an assassination? Maybe she was trying to attack the Light Contender behind him? Or was she trying to run away? To Norr and Cyros it hadn't matter which of the above she was trying. They knew that she had left herself completely vulnerable getting this close. The ice contender’s defensive shield was a bit of a surprise towards Ire. Rather than trying to dodge all of the attacks, it seemed like he chose to take Ire’s attack rather than the other two. “A smart move, if he knew what I knew,” Ire thought. As he watched on, he realized that not only had the shield meant to protect the ice contender, it was also there to protect Ire as well. “Hmm, well this does change things, best that I help the mage now. I’d rather not have me killing someone that tried to protect me on my conscience.” Seeing that the contender was tired from his magical output, Ire decided that he would be a more effective ally if he could see. Summoning up a sphere of light the size of an eye, he let it float over towards Norr. It moved at a slow enough pace that it wouldn’t be deemed threatening, but it moved fast enough to get to him before the next attack. This seemed to be happening. Now. Manipulating his wall would be child's play for Norr, the ice was already here, and it wouldn't take that much energy at all to change it. He dropped his sword and used his free hand to slam his fist against the ice wall. The top half dissipated before it reformed on the floor around him. This ice covered most of the floor around Norr and in front the entrance. He knew that fire assassin was already too focused to notice the ground beneath her freeze. At the most he hoped it would knock her off balance completely and leave her opened for the Light Contender to finish her off. Heck, if the Lords were smiling upon them maybe she would slide right into the spikes? The girl that Ire saw fighting early was now coming at him. With a slight groan, he saw the light reflecting oddly around her hand. Around the same time, he also saw that there was ice appearing around her feet. Obviously the ice contender was trying very hard to become Ire’s ally. Ire watched intently as the girl shot off what appeared to be a ball of heat. Smiling slightly, Ire raised his hand and a wall of light appeared before him. Angling it slightly, he made sure to position it so that once the ball would hit the shield, it would reflect away. Towards her partner. Grimly smiling now, Ire felt the heat approaching. As sweat was starting to fall of off his body, he felt the impact on his shield. The force of it made him stagger slightly, but as planned, the ball of heat headed off in the general direction of the wind contender. But Norrand wasn't done yet. There was still that pesky Wind Contender around and about. Norrand lifted his free hand again and smashed it against his ice wall. Ten or eleven splinters of ice appeared where the last half of the ice wall once stood - dangerous spikes three inches in length and half an inch thick. He shot them all out in hopes to have created a shotgun effect, leaving it hard for the Wind Contender to dodge easily. As soon as he was certain that the ball was headed in the right direction, Ire condensed his shield into the size of a baseball. Using the same move as he did on the ice contender, he threw the ball in the path of the girl, who he now knew was a fire contender. Hopefully, he had timed it right so that it would land in front of her, close to her feet. In his mind, he pictured the girl, blinded, and slipping across the ice. With that image in his head, he pulled out his two katanas and took off at a sprint towards the girl. Closely follow his ball of light. His muscles bunched in anticipation as he reached the ice, and he made sure to carefully navigate towards the girl, paying more attention to his balance than his speed. He planned on reaching the girl mere seconds after the light exploded, trusting in his sunglasses to block most of the light. “It is certainly turning into a fun tournament,” he reflected. "Not bad," Cyros said to Norrand as he picked up his sword. Norrand turned around before standing up slowly. His sword and shield ready to continue fighting.

superjars -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/26/2010 3:15:11)
By the Lords! He's multiplying! ran through the creature's mind as he turned to find six exact copies of his foe facing him. He looked from one to another, but could find no difference between any of them; they were perfect replicas of the original. For a moment, Cassivo stood in place, perplexed about how to proceed with this new development. Never in the wild had he fought any creature with abilities like this man's, so he had no previous data to make assessments from. The warrior was already impressed by the man's skill and prowess on the battlefield, but for him to be able to separate himself into additional forms as well was incredible to witness. For several seconds, the Brazzik man just stood there, watching in wonder as the six figures moved in unison, each one grinning and then motioning for the brute to attack. Before he did so, however, the former Grand-chief thought it prudent to think through some of the information he had gathered thus far and to take this opportunity to gather some more. His initial attack had been dispelled by the man's shield, so if these other five men were made of a similar stuff as that, he'd have no luck using his powers against them. However, if he had somehow actually split himself into several pieces, an energy attack at them seemed the most logical way for him to combat this foe, as it had worked against him previously. Either way, a testing blast would give him more information than rushing in there blindly and attacking them head-on, like his feral mode would most assuredly have done. Cassivo shut his mouth and concentrated. He siphoned small amounts of energy from everywhere in his body, small sparks wriggling like worms up his body, but focused behind him to stay hidden from sight. Sparks hopped from one protrusion to another along his back, arcing quickly to the back of his neck, where they transferred through his throat and into his mouth. His mouth swelled bigger from the heat and energy put off by the small charged ball roiling around inside of it; his cheeks puffed out similar to a squirrel and it was all he could do to keep the blast from pushing its way through his lips. After a few seconds he threw back his head, then whipped it forward, spitting out the bolt towards the nearest figure, watching to see what effect it would have on the waiting foe.

Postmaster General -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/26/2010 9:46:23)
The roar of battle had grown; a vast difference from the earlier quiet in which he meditated. A quick side-roll allowed momentary rest from the Moglin's surprisingly quick nature. Then, Elias's old nature came back to him, just for a glimpse. The idea was a long shot, but perhaps it would work. As he returned upright through the roll, Hawthorne's foot hit the ground hard. He winced and stopped to grasp his ankle. "Haps these old bones aint to be doin' these kinda 'crobatics no more!" The sea dog chuckled uproariously. He stood and sheathed his blade to allow for more specialized use of his favorite weapon, the whip. His stance was slightly sauntering. The apparent discomfort with his right ankle would surely bring about a challenge during this battle. Elias' eyes widened to reveal a crazed side to the captain. He partially unsheathed his blade on his hip. It protruded from his waist just enough to reveal the sharp blade. Positioning the blade just right, he began to slice length-wise through his whip. First half, then fourths, then eighths. The thick clump of seaweed soon spread like a medusa, tentacles flowing in every direction as Hellsbane flailed it around. For the rest of the competition, Elias would not wield a whip, but rather a cat of nine-tails. The modified lash dance along the ground as its holder slapped it in a probing fashion towards the opposition. He noticed the creature glance off towards the other contestants, contestants he had been keeping his peripherals on. "So, yer int'rest grows fer the other combatants, eh? Ye should focus on the battle at hand, tha's the one ye won't be 'scaping ye filthy landlubber!" Elias approached his opponent, closer and closer as he lashed in its direction. Each word of his taunt saw the tails of the whip licking like flames. Indeed, this was a clever modification to his favored weapon. "Can ye handle it?"

Ultrapowerpie -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/26/2010 14:05:03)
The moglin seemed unphazed yet again by the dodge roll of the opponent as the blade boomeranged back to Radnav. He noticed that his opponent seemed to have injured his ankle, giving the Moglin an idea about the condition of his opponent. Begin a Moglin allowed Radnav access to healing abilities, one of the reasons he could perform such acrobatic stunts at his old age. Fortunately, the Moglin knew how to ration off his magic and conserve his energy when needed. The Moglin watched with an interested expression as he saw the conversion of the whip to a Cat o' nine tails. The Moglin had heard tales of the weapon, but had not actually fought one, particularly one the length of his opponent's. The Moglin began thinking of a plan to counter the ninetails when his opponent continued his banter. "Narrow, your vision is. Death, it will bring of you," the moglin replied, finally setting on a plan of attack. The Moglin leaped over the head of the bucanneer and twirled around, wielding the sword in one hand and the scabbard in the other. He quickly threw the scabbard directly at the opponent, hoping to disorient and confuse him, or at least tangle up enough of the tails for the swirling sword to cut through a few parts of the whip as the Moglin let it fly. The only drawback to this plan was that he was now within striking distance of the whip, so if his plan failed he could potentially get hit by the ninetails.

Silver Lion -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/27/2010 10:46:07)
Anfur's ally rushed to the light contender, her speed gracious as the wind itself. Even though she represented the Fire Lord, it was clear that wind is still the best tool of the assassin, not pesky flames and lava. Nonetheless she listened to her truce buddy and charged -- better something than nothing. Things looked pixel-perfect in Anfur's, apparently clouded, mind. Distract the elf. Demobilize him. Finish him off as a team. Dash to the ice mage and execute him. Although the plan folded carried a clearly noticeable mistake. Surely the two would react and not let their lives end without some kind of opposition. As soon as Simonaque began sprinting towards her destination, Anfur's eyes locked on her and he began jogging towards the same target. His knees were bent, his arms stood bravely alongside the long-haired one as his master-plan unfolded with every new step. He sped up, but stopped in a flash. Anfur heard a low sound, which seemed like a beat to a heavy surface. The only thing which confirmed it was ice, liquid ice as it appeared to Anfur, which expanded silently around that snow-haired wizard... And around the feet of the teenage girl. Without a doubt she could easily slip and get injured. Her balance was the key, as she might not even know what is conjuring beneath her focused self. Anfur's lungs became filled with newfound, fresh air which shortly after escaped with a bang. It was the assassin's job as an ally to warn her of the danger ahead. "Simonaque, watch out!" He shouted as loud as he could, the noise might have as well spread all the way across the Spike Arena. This time stealth had no part in this battle yell, it was merely an alarm before his so-called "friend" stumbled upon a cold defeat. Was he noticed for this shout, or was it just something else? The thing which caught his attention first was a huge bright-yellow plate which the elf-like warrior created. No, his eyes only noticed a sphere of... something, bouncing off the light shield. It was fast, lightning-fast, and it headed straight towards him. The light contender got kicked out of Anfur's eyesight, as did everything else -- only the flaming ball reflected in his pupils. Wait... that shape of the ball appeared so familiar. It's hers! Shortly after he noticed that hurling flame his mind registered another sound, a familiar sound. Without time to concentrate on the sound, his body fixed itself to evade the new threat. Although the whole situation turned into a dead-end trap -- a horde of ice needles danced in the air, again towards the wind assassin. Anfur felt as if he was chained to the ground. His reflexive self ducked and he laid on the ground -- one of the best ways to ignore an air rampage. Unfortunately, three icy spikes homed in his right arm. Blood poured down Anfur's skin as his left hand piped out two of the three menaces. The pain was unbearable and Anfur groaned as he stood up. It could have been a lot worse, he thought. "It's time for me... To make you... Bleed..." He mumbled, one ice spike still resting in his arm. Trying to focus on something else than the agonizing pain, his fingers picked up two daggers. Simultaneously they were slung, both headed towards the elf. As the daggers flew towards Anfur's prey, he sprinted hastily towards the same person, his fists hungry for hand-to-hand combat. Surprisingly, one of the daggers shifted its route, and it headed in between Simonaque and Ice combatant. Not the most precise attempt to strike, but it was a hidden one. Anfur still headed towards the same target, his fingers clinging onto the final dagger which slept in his belt. His arm was colored red, his gauntlet stained with blood for the first time. Anfur prayed to the Wind Lord, still searching for strength in his right arm... The coin of battle was now on the other side, the side favoring Anfur's opponents.

Postmaster General -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/27/2010 21:03:07)
The arms of the whip were too fargone to retract in time to defend the incoming blade as it flew through the air and darted towards Hellsbane. The captain clumsily sauntered back to avoid the strike, but was unable to act quickly enough to completely evade. The sound of splintering wood resonated throughout the stadium as Radnav's projectile weapon shot down and into Elias' foot. Surprisingly, the pirate did not yelp out in pain. Instead, he smiled; the smile led into a crazed, bloodthirsty laugh. Elias pulled back, leaving his foot behind, still staked into the ground by the scabbard. Further inspection showed that the appendage left behind was a wooden prosthetic. The leg had been hastily fashioned to compensate for the leg he had lost long ago. The time he had on the island had provided plenty of opportunities to develope a fighting style to make up for this combat short-coming. This style focused on balance, measured strikes, and perfect rolls to create an impossible scenario for his opponents. This style, aptly named 'Flamingo Style' for its characteristic stance, had been perfected thoughout the islands exile-like existance. Practiced movements had taken down many wild animals throughout the tropical rainforests. Now, however, the Flamingo Style would be tested against its first worthy opponent. As Radnav descended his arc over him, he unleashed a second raining weapon. Hawthorne assumed his stance. His complete leg used as a base, while the other was bent and created a figure-four leg stance. His right hand, still holding the ninetailed lash, was angled backwards in a readied position. His left hand, currently unencumbered, was raised and pointing towards his opponent. The sword flew down, slicing through two of the lashes of Elias' whip. The blade embedded itself in the ground as he passed towards the Moglin. Radnav was now only a few feet off the ground, poised for his landing. A quick snap of his wrist and the whip was coursing towards the moglin. If the arms were to connect, the angle that the tentacles took would send the moglin straight backwards. Closer and closer to the spikes enumerating the walls. As the whip began its bloodlust search, Elias let go of his weapon, allowing it to steer its own course as it continued its momentum towards the moglin. A quick roll and the captain was directly in front of the mog master. He propped himself against the ground with his shoulder blades, extending the length of his body as his foot prepared to connect with the tiny creature's midsection.

Alexandria Serthes -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/28/2010 6:41:46)
Perfect, right on target. She thought, her green eyes full of delight. That's when things started going wrong; the next thing she knew she was slipping over a newly formed floor of ice. Her left foot slipped out from under her and she hit the ice, her head bouncing back up a bit as her sword flew out of her hand, skittering across the ice. The ball of black flames was released and spread over her head, sinking quickly down to blind her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a bright explosion go off near her, and felt her eyes water at the intense light. Slightly dazed from her fall she didn't react immediately, instead looking into the darkness of her own flames as their insubstantial tongues licked at her face. Then she stood carefully, getting as firm a grip on the ice as she could, bobbing her head up and down a bit to reduce the cloud of flames that now surrounded her head, trying to ignore the dull thudding sound in the back of her skull and the patches of purple and black light that were forming from the light attack, making it harder to focus on anything. As soon as she could see a bit she began moving across the ice, using it to slide along slowly, not removing her feet from the ground. The light contender (at least, she was pretty sure he was a light contender now) was sprinting slowly towards her, his weapons drawn, though he was slightly farther away than he would have been had she stayed put. Worried, Simonaque looked around for her sword as she drew her dagger. There! Close to a spike about one and a half feet in length. But now wasn't the time to take it slow. Instead of trying to glide to it she sent a small ball of heat at the ice around it, then followed after it, sliding a bit. The plan was for her little heat ball to melt the ice nearest her sword so she wouldn't slip into the spike. Vaguely she noted that Anfur had attacked as well, but that wasn't her main concern. No, her main worry was what would happen if her plan didn't work properly. But then the ball spread a bit and hit the ice, turning it to water. The black-haired assassin slid off the ice and reached under the spike, feeling a warm aura emanating from the sword's hilt. Thanks be to the lord of fire. The girl thought as she pulled it from under the rusted metal and turned, walking back onto the ice. Best not be near the wall when fighting with another unless there was no other option. Hmm... Killing him should be fun, especially when it's fire versus light... She mused, her green eyes flicking to his weapons, interested in the style; she hadn't seen many katanas in her business. "So, light is it? This is most definitely going to be an interesting fight." she said quietly, her black hair hanging down in thick waves, her sword and dagger held at the ready. Very interesting... She added to herself, a determined look in her eyes, her jaw clenched as she watched him. It'd be great if he were to slide into one of those spikes... But that's not likely, which is a shame since it would make it easier for me. She thought, testing her footing cautiously; no need to give him another advantage. Not wanting to let him have the first move she formed another ball of heat, letting it spread a bit so it would be harder to entirely deflect, and then sent it after him, the distortion around it wider spread, though it wouldn't be as hot as the last one. Let's hope this works... Let's hope this works... Let me not get pulped... I don't want to be pulped... Pulping is not a good thing... Not to mention there are... Spikes! A thought dawned on her, quickly followed by a plan. She backed up a bit, her weapons held up. She wasn't going to try killing the light contender yet. No, first she would lead him towards the spikes, then she would use the spikes to her advantage, using the metal to enhance her attacks and make it harder for him to hit her. Not that it would make her job any easier, but she liked her chances better with her plan. Dancing on a narrow line between the dead and the glory... And I fully intend to come away with the glory.

Clyde -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/29/2010 13:25:39)
Cryos was pleased. Disappointed that the spikes didn't kill him, but he was happy with the result. After seeing some of the Wind Contender's blood had dropped quite profusely onto the rusty blue metal floors he grinned wickedly. When he turned his attention to the Fire Contender, he noticed that she did end up slipping on the ice. Even though it did not last long, it was enough to disorient her original plans completely. She did manage to melt some of the ice in order to retrieve her sword, but it didn't matter to them. "What's this?" Norrand thought to himself as he witnessed something quite interesting. The Wind and Fire Contenders continued pressing forward and had attacked his Light ally. They had completely ignored Norrand and Cyros altogether as they moved ahead. Maybe there were too afraid to fight this chillingly fearsome ice opponent? No. Both of them were just fools. They had left their backs exposed to Cyros and he wasn't going to let them get away with such a mistake. Norrand and Cyros would show them the power of Ice at its most wicked. A deadly element no one should take lightly, the ice would reveal their mistakes as clearly as the spikes that would be driven through their hearts. With a swift flowing movement of his sword he broke apart the ice closest around him before using it to stretch out the ice beneath Wind and Fire Contender's feet. This would serve a multitude of dastardly purposes in the Ice duo's plot, but for now he needed to help Ire. ~ Still moving at the steady careful pace that he had started with, Ire’s peripheral vision registered that the wind opponent that he had diverted the fire attack to was now moving towards him. He was still keeping tabs on him, Ire noticed that the man, whose right arm was bleeding rather badly, threw two knifes at Ire. Both of the knives seemed to take different paths, a testament to the man’s element. His first idea was to create a light shield to block the incoming attacks then to sled quickly past them. Suddenly, Ire’s direct vision picked up his previous target, the fire contender; throw another ball of heat towards him. His previous plan of “sled riding” into the fire contender seemed to go up into smoke; literally. ~ A realization had struck Norrand. Even with an attack from behind, he would not be able to save Ire from the Wind and Fire Contender's attempting to corner him in. He saw Ire running towards the Fire Contender with a light shield in his hands. Norrand smiled, he knew exactly what to do next. With his shield and sword hands pointing towards the ice, he brought his arms back quickly, and closer to his body. This movement turned the ice into a nice and slick ramp about four-feet high. He had hoped this would be good enough for the Light Contender to make a pretty decent escape from being cornered by his opponents. ~ Just as all of the attacks seemed to be reaching their grisly end, a large ramp made of ice appeared in front of him. Understanding immediately what to do with it, Ire readied the light shield in his hands, and jumped on top of it, all at the same speed he had been managing the whole time. Ire reached the ramp mere seconds before the knives and heat wave did. Flying over the top, Ire was seized with another thought, “flying through the air like this, I’m sure to be exposed.” Again, he knew what to do. Using the same technique as before, he exploded another ball of light. This time, it was brighter and lasted longer than the other ones. The purpose of the light was to make sure that no one could pinpoint his location exactly. Continued exposure to the light would cause a person to start seeing spots. ~ "Now for the cherry on top Norrand!" Cyros said as Norrand prepared his next move. Norrand tightened his grip on his sword and shield as he began making pulling motions in the air. In the Fire and Wind Contender's confused state he attempted to freeze their feet to the ice temporarily before his final move. After the third thug, he held on with all of his force before quickly pulling back as fast as he could. Basically, he was trying to pull the ice right from under both the Wind and Fire Contender's feet. If successful, they would fall forward instantly and onto their faces. Not only that, but his ice would return to him completely and be ready for another attack. ~ Landing with a rather hard crash, Ire rolled slowly to a stop before standing up rather shakily. “Get a grip!” He thought. Shaking his head, he looked at the two people who had been trying to kill him. Smiling slightly, he looked past them towards the ice contender who yet again managed to save him. Taking a step towards his two opponents, Ire titled his head towards the wall. A clear indication to the ice contender that he wanted to force his two opponents towards the spikes, and their eventual death. ~ "Whenever you're ready," Norrand said to his Light ally with ice dancing around his feet.

Silver Lion -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (6/30/2010 14:15:07)
"Hell...." Anfur's rushing towards the Light contender became gazing at a huge contraption which looked like some ramp. A huge, tall ramp made of pure ice. Speaking of ice, the liquid ice spread and widened, the metallic platform slowly became slippery, and the Wind contender was approximately two feet away from the frozen soil. The fire-aligned teen was still in that trap, far away from Anfur's reach. It would take him a lot of time before he could reach her, but even trying to do so would leave him as vulnerable as a snail. Anfur looked stunned; ideas were storming in his already overloaded head. And just seconds after the enormous ramp was summoned a blinding ray slashed through the assassin's eyes. His knees took over Anfur's weight and he silently dropped to the ground, his hands mechanically rubbing the eyelids in hope of curing the blindness. But /facts/ only showed that most of these visibility-restraining spells are temporary and deal no harm whatsoever -- they're just pretty distractions and a waste of time and spell Mana. Anfur did the smartest thing: he began rolling to his right to avoid anything which might be shooting at him, and patiently waited for the sourness in his eyes to wear off. Actually, it didn't last that long. A few seconds, it lasted. So it was just to hide him... Smart move. Anfur could only admit it to himself as he stood up and felt more pain in his red arm. The third spike had partially melted, though the pain didn't wear off. His hand was shaking, gauntlet claws tapping each other. Up, down, up, down, up and down they went. With a blink Anfur felt something catching his feet. His eyeballs looked downwards. Holy Lord, even the ice is alive! The skinny man wiggled with his legs, trying to escape. Nothing! The ice chained him more with every bypassed second. Anfur became annoyed, and his weak palm scorched towards the ice. A shattering sound echoed, and the plan succeeded. Even though his right leg was free, the left one was still trapped. Relatively easily did the assassin get out, with a few pushes to the side. He began scouting the Arena, devising a diabolical plan. Everyone was, apparently, focused on the new ramp, Anfur was now merely a side-plan. But, pity they didn't know that the brain, once its focus is locked on something, it takes time to bump back into reality. Thus, Anfur's bet was to take the advantage of this ramp to his own means. The unknown tongue spoke for itself, and Anfur went off in the conquest, the only thing trailing his speed was the shadow on the ground. Several moments after the wise assassin was was now a five-second sprint away from the Ice mage. Anfur appeared behind the man, his gauntlet ready for action. Left hand fist of the "speedy Appalachi" bumped the area around the Ice competitor's waist, with knowledge that with a hard punch to that body part bounds to carry at least one injury, if not more. Anfur continued making his attack swift -- the gauntlet needles at the fingertips raced towards their prey, hoping to capture the neck of their target. Finally, he laid low with a horizontal kick to the knees, his leg appearing as the finest blade in the land. The attack was executed exactly how Anfur had hoped. This time, luck was truly on his side. But he made it. How will this newcomer react… If he reacts at all?

Viking_Jorun -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (7/1/2010 12:37:43)
Eiro heard a whistling. Suddenly a cry of agony. Eiro looked up and the creature that was battling, well about to battle, Eiro was down on one knee with its paw clutched over its heart. Pain and grief was stricken all over its face. Eiro saw what had happened. An arrow struck the creature right in the heart. The Aerostratus Eiro shot at the creature simply vanished. Eiro had no further need for it. This creature was dying, and Eiro knew he could do nothing. The arrow must have come from that assassin with the bow. There was another distant whistling in the air. Eiro jumped backwards. The arrow whizzed by and struck the ground. It was that acursed assassin, again. I must be careful with that one. Seems as if that assassin likes to attack people when they're off guard. I should be very careful with that one. Eiro looked around. He had to enter another battle or he would end up mincemeat just standing here, waiting. All the other combatants were in battles determining their fates. Eiro couldn't stand here and let his fate be decided by those around him. There was a purple moglin with a long white beard in the distance battling, what seemed like, a pirate to Eiro. He seemed very capable of battling as the little guy was jumping all around the arena dodging attack after attack by the pirate. But, Eiro knew that this battle is where his Elemental Championship would begin. Seeing the death of that creature was behind Eiro. All that clouded his mind was that there was one last opponent to face. Eiro gathered his thoughts and ran right at the pirate, with spellbook in hand and stave ready to strike.

Ultrapowerpie -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (7/1/2010 20:39:31)
The Moglin soared through the air as he unleashed both his weapons upon his foe. He was mildy surprised by the prothestic limb, but continued the sumersault unhindered. He quietly saw the blade trim the nine lives of the cat to seven, however he was slightly less then pleased to see teh sword clank to the ground instead of returning back to his hands. No matter though, the Moglin could easily call back the blade and scabbard whenever needed. The Moglin felt that something was amiss as his opponent didn't seem phazed by the loss of his limb. In fact, he saw through the many sumersaults that the figure was assuming a stance similar to that of a flamingo, owrrying the Moglin a bit as his opponent obviously had something up his sleeve. As he got near the ground, the moglin decided that landing would be an unwise move, so he pulled a stunt that he hadn't relied upon in a long time, one that would probably exhaust him for a bit. Quickling gathering up his energy, the Moglin uncoiled from his rolling sumersault and made a strong pushing motion towards the ground. Using the power fo the MF, the Moglin managed to temporarily magentize his hands and the floor beneath him so that he could literally push himself away from the ground. The force and angle of the push propelled the moglin away from both the incoming leg and the whip that came through. Unfortunately, due to the sheer amount of energy that went into the force, the Moglin propelled himself quite violently into a wall and landed somewhat painfully on top of one of the 5 foot spikes protruding from it. He was still away from the squabbling foursome, but the pirate could come and attack the Moglin, provided the captain were to get on one of the lower spikes below. Conveniantly for the Moglin, another attack had already attacked the crusty sailor, buying the Moglin some time to perfom some healing magic to get back into shape, as long as no one else attacked him directly.

Alexandria Serthes -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (7/2/2010 14:54:32)
Simonaque hissed slightly, watching her target as she considered several options open to her. None of them appealed to her and she discarded them quickly. But time had run out, and he was on the move, running towards her with a shield of light. Suddenly, a ramp, made of pure ice formed in front of him, and he was down, sliding on it. A flash of light nearly blinded her at nearly the same instant. Really? This is going to be fun... She thought, an edge of sarcasm in her mental voice as the purple spots returned to hinder her eyesight. She moved towards the ice contender, where the source of her troubles were but stopped, feeling herself sink as the ice around her feet melted and refroze. Annoyed, she flicked a haphazard heat ball at it, which quickly spread into a small wave and melted the ice again. She stepped forward as soon as her feet were free, wanting to get out of the way as quickly as possible. Whatever trap the ice contender was planning, she didn't want to fall into it. The ice beneath her shifted and she almost lost her balance, but then, realizing at least part of what the white-haired man was doing, she held her dagger up for a second, then dropped it down into the ice, using the hilt as a handle as the ice was pulled towards him. When she was less than five feet away from him she yanked out the dagger and jumped clear of the ice, her sword flashing in one hand as she sheathed her smaller weapon... For now. But soon she would use the power in its gem to release her strongest move yet, with the ice contender as her target. "Do I have to say that I want to kill you, or did you figure that out on your own?" she asked him, smiling coldly. An interesting expression, coldly. Especially when applied to myself. She thought in slight amusement, remembering the first time her brother had seen her smile like that. She wondered, not for the first time, if he was watching from the stands, and, if he was, whether or not he recognized her. She formed two attacks this time, prepared to do whatever it took to kill this threat, this representative. Because if there was one thing she hated more than water, it was ice. Without warning she released not one, but two balls of heat, and then formed a small, condensed cloud of dark flames. Whether or not it would affect him or he would block them though... That was a different matter. A very different matter. But she wasn't too worried about that yet; any distraction would give her ample time to make sure that only one of them came out of this fight alive. Quickly she formed silent words, her hand resting on the pommel of her dagger, drawing the energy from it. Once it was used, it would take quite a while to return to anywhere near normal levels of strength, but it would be worth it. And if it wasn't, then it wouldn't matter much anyways. With a final word she released the energy, the ring of pure fire, fed by her dagger's energy formed around her and the ice contender, separating them from all others, including their allies. Just you and me now, brain freeze... Just you and me... She thought, smiling a bit at the idea. Now was the time to put to use all the training she had endured. She just hoped she'd make it out alive.

Clyde -> RE: =EC 2010= Spike Arena (7/3/2010 1:16:19)
"Look what you got yourself into," Cyros daunted Norrand as the situation got worse. "I let you do your thing and you screwed it up." Somehow the Wind Contender was able to get himself free and within those few seconds managed to get past Ire. Not to mention, he slipped his way right behind Norrand instantly. This fighter certainly lived up to his element and moved as fast as the wind itself. The wind was a free element and could not be trapped, but that wasn't what Cyros planed on doing. Norrand was shocked, that was true, but he wasn't out of this fight. Not yet. He would keep his cool in this heated situation. "Now, it's my turn." Cyros asserted, bringing a grin to Norrand's face. The ice that danced at his feet began to rise around him before it covered his entire body. It had clung to him almost like a second-skin if there was not already armor and clothes that already protected his body. His whole body from head to toe was concealed in ice, minus some holes for him to breathe and see. This would be the deciding factor that would determine if Norrand would either live through this insanity or die right then and there. When the Wind Contender's left arm connected with his ice armor, it did no damage to the ice. In fact, Norrand would not be surprised if he had hurt his hand trying to punch some pretty thick ice that was based on his armor. It did send some tiny vibrations that eventually led themselves to Norrand and it shook him up a little. Norrand hesitated what to do next, but Cyros didn't. On his whim ice spikes sprouted from the back of his armor down to the back of his legs that were an inch-thick and five-inches long. From a distance he looked like a light blue porcupine, but up close he had to have looked like a nightmare. He had his eyes still on the Fire Contender, but using the ice on his boots against the already slippery floors slid back to catch the Wind Contender completely off-guard who was possibly still reeling from the pain of punching Norrand. This time he wanted to hurt him and push him back. And he was successful. All Norrand heard was the sound of pain, though Cyros knew quite well what was going on. Two or three spikes had penetrated his torso, nowhere close enough to have punctured any of his internal organs. A few of them even had stabbed his left leg; about one or two in his thigh. It was the equivalent of being stabbed by an ice pick a few times. He would live for sure and would fall back only a few feet. Hopefully, now the Wind Contender would have learned his lesson before rushing into fights. After he had dealt with the Wind Contender Cyros turned his focus onto the Fire Contender. She had thrown a few heat attacks, gimmicks for sure. Norrand held his shield forward as he darted onwards, his motions looked like that of an ice-skater dashing across the ice. As he continued forward, he had left a temporary trail of ice behind him. He could feel his shield getting hotter with each move he blocked even though some of the heat had slipped past and slightly melted the armor around his left shoulder. His speed was beginning to pick up and he was completely unaware of the ring of fire trying to consume them both into solidarity. When he was merely inches away from the Fire Contender, he dropped his body lower, almost crouching down as he drove forward with his left arm out. He was going to bring the both of them out of that ring of destruction. His left arm was out so she could not try dodging to the left. His shield was still up so he could bash her and possibly knock her out at the speed he was moving. Whether she dodged or not, it did not matter to Norrand because either way it would work out for him. He would be able to slip through the ring of fire with a couple of burns, but he wanted to bring her down for good this time. If he did manage to tackle her out of the ring of fire, he would end it right there and then while she was on the floor. Right now, escaping that raging inferno was his first priority.

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