RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena

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.Discipline -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/27/2011 20:08:55)
Roaring loudly as slush sprayed into his eyes, Dajaal was temporarily blinded as his prey managed to escape unharmed, without even being identified through the thick sheet ice. Wiping the ice away with his palms and feeling something touching his tail he turned around quickly in a blind rage to see a white haired mage wielding standing directly in front of him. This assault on Dajaal had gone too far, he decided, darkening the air around his hulking form as he locked his gaze on the mage's midsection, readying his tail for immediate venom secretion when he noticed a loud cry coming from his right. He would have to give up on the offensive for now and defend himself before he was taken out of the tournament. Turning his attention to the shrieking harpy plummeting towards him and direct his full offensive. Utilizing his tiger style combat techniques he took one step back and grabbed straight for his assailant, attempting to grab her and hold her still with his massive claws so he can inject his venom directly. Realizing this technique was going to need a firm footing he quickly took stance to reduce knockback, placing his armored forearms in from of him and growling as the sheer speed of his opponent caused him to skid across the floor a few metres, grazing the soles of his feet as he put his mighty size to work in halting the lightning fast harpy and lashing his barbed tail quickly down in an attempt to pierce his assailant's feathered midsection. 'Die, skyborn!' he yelled in a booming, gruff voice as he clawed for the harpy's arms. 'Your Wind Lord won't save you now...'

Krey -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/28/2011 0:13:22)
All in all, Marcos would have hoped for more out of hundreds of jagged, frozen shards ricocheting around the arena with all the wild abandon of a lightning storm. Many of the combatants were uncannily good at dodging, he had to admit! Clearly random assaults wouldn't do much for thinning out numbers—indeed, he was more likely to kill himself than any of these contestants, utilizing a combination of acrobatics, shields, and downright luck to avoid becoming very cold pincushions. Fortunately, he had a few seconds before he had to worry about any shards hitting him, which meant he had to get in gear and figure out how he was going to avoid becoming a pincushion himself... very quickly! The names of spellbooks flashed through his head, and he had just the right one in mind; well, almost in mind. The thought was there, forming, and then—poof! Gone. Why? It got really hard to think once he started sliding. The first thought to take the place of the name of the spellbook that had been on the tip of his tongue (more like the tip of his mind, but that just isn't as catchy, now is it?) was... well, ow. Magic was at work, that was for sure, and it was definitely coming from the area of that pillar. Rather, the spot between the two Eastern pillars, from where that girl was looking out at him. In fact, unless he was mistaken, that girl was the source. Ow. He bounced a few times, holding his weapon close to his body so that he wouldn't accidentally stab himself with it, and then got fed up. One hand slapped against the ground, and oddly enough, up he went, as if the force of gravity had decided to pull sideways today instead of down. And then there was ice. Lots and lots of icy projectiles bouncing around in the air, most of which just happened to be on the plane he'd just entered with his vault. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as they say, and there was only one escape from being burned. He'd always wanted to do this. “Secret Technique: Paper Mightier Than Shield!” The shout was loud enough to fill the arena (at least typically, though the chaos in the arena changed the story a bit), but no sooner had he started it than five great tomes appeared around him, each his equal in size (he never did understand why mages insisted on such grandiose books). Each was open, and bound in ice thicker than his closed fist. Together they formed a wide barrier around him, preventing any of the ice from touching him as he continued his flight... and then descent, once the girl had released her pull. He landed hard, sliding along the ground for a short ways and barely managing to keep his feet in the process. Preferring not to allow much harm to come to the books, he dismissed them all but one, and shifted towards the northwest pillar, pressing his back against it and turning to face the girl. The remaining book tilted forward, floating in front of him still but affording him a view of the girl, and he held his staff to the side in his right hand. “Heat Sink.” He spoke loud enough to be heard, smiling, showing teeth. This was a fun spell, though he doubted he'd be allowed to cast it easily. No hand gestures for this one, only words. “Eternus gelu.” Glaciadnil's Heat Sink was a particularly nasty spell, created by a mage who'd joined forces with an ice demon. It created a point devoid of warmth, which would suck heat from everything nearby, but would never warm up itself, thus creating a hole which would, ultimately, create a deep freeze in a closed environment. Marcos plan was to plant this hole in the center of the arena, but first he had to complete the chant and not get hit by any of his own icicles—or another combatant. Then he had to use the tip of his blade to actually plant the hole. Timing would be all-important, but success would quickly make the arena very uncomfortable for all involved; especially the area between the pillars. If he could pull this off, that area in the center of the arena would be just like home for him, and like a cold winter for everyone else.

superjars -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/28/2011 0:21:17)
Only moments after his fateful statement, it seemed like his wish had come true. The arena erupted in a cacophony of sound and movement, so that there was barely enough time for the large man to deal with what was right in front of him. A lithe, vivacious young woman, the sight of which brought tears to the corners of his eyes, had approached and challenged him, waiting for a response. Another time, another place, perhaps and things could have been different. But this was no time for gawking. Goshen looked past her briefly, taking note of a strange wolf-creature which seemed to be...signalling him? Unfortunately, he couldn’t read the wolves movements, nor did he speak any wolf languages, so trying to communicate seemed a lost cause. However, the glance did give him a vantage on a rather tenuous event that seemed to be taking place on the other side of the arena. Distracted by the breathtaking beauty, he likely would have missed this particular event, but it was hard to miss its effects as ice pellets began to fly in all directions; up, down, left and right, working their way around the large room. “Watch ou---” the large man cried out to the lady who he had just been about to accept the challenge of, but was cut off by the sudden movement of the rock beneath him. Instinctively, his magical abilities had triggered and the stone underneath him suddenly flowed out to the sides and back of him, creating an open shell around him to deflect the ice. When it had finished its movement, the boulder now appeared more like a tomb around the large man, curved sides taking the brunt of the icy foray, some shattering when they struck and others deflecting upwards at the edges. Unfortunately for the now unsteady brute, this also meant that there was no longer anything for him to sit on but air. His eyes became wide as he flailed about, reaching out towards the buxom babe (at least, at this angle, she appeared to be) who would be exposed to the rain of shards if she did not move away from them. He could feel his fingers brush against hers as he reached out to grab her wrists, but it was at that moment his behind connected with the pavement, wrenching his arms backwards and driving the air from his lungs with a loud “Oof!”

Ryu Viranesh -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/28/2011 0:25:05)
After extending her invitation to the earthen giant, Leira cocked her head towards him, expecting that he wouldn’t keep a lady waiting for very long. However, instead of answering in the boisterous manner that she’d expected the man almost looked like he was going to break down and weep, as though her simple offer of combat had been too much for him to handle. Perhaps she had been wrong in assuming that such a broad, burly male specimen would have the heart of a warrior; she’d never imagined that someone that appeared to be so built for battle could be so much the opposite. Before Leira was able to call him out on it, she heard a sharp crack behind her and her world became a wonderland of whistling and whirring shards of ice. The man before her let out a cry of warning, one that came almost too late. “Watch ou--” The sudden advent of the whirlwind proved that not everyone in the arena was willing to be honorable and courteous like she had been, not that she’d expected such in the first place, but also that it could be conceivably more difficult to have a true one-on-one match than she’d anticipated. She supposed that she’d have to work for it, but before that she’d have to work on surviving this maelstrom of virulence. Leira dropped to her knees and brought her body into a tight crouch, both minimizing the amount of surface area that she was exposing to the icy bullets and keeping herself lower to the ground, thus making her less likely to be hit. However, before she could take any further precautions, she saw the friar of stone reaching out his hands to her, offering her protection in what appeared to be a cocoon made out of earth. Not one to take help that she might not be able to repay, Leira still believed that in this situation, it would be better to swallow her pride than become a pincushion. So she stretched out her own arms, trying to grasp one of his hands so that he’d be able to help pull her over. Unfortunately, it seemed that the man had problems of his own, as the wind was suddenly knocked out of him and his arms started to recede. Not willing to give up on the opportunity, Leira leapt up from her position, her legs coiled and ready for such a spring. Unfortunately, this position left her open to being struck by a pair of the ice magician’s boreal bolts, one tearing the fabric of her vest over her abdomen (to the left of her stomach, just a short, thin breach really), and the other cutting open the skin on her right cheek. Neither hit was particularly substantial, and in her opinion, they were more than worth protection from the rest of the storm. Her gambit proved successful and she latched onto his arms; unfortunately, she hadn’t realized that her saviour was in fact, falling himself. So with a whooshing sound, Leira fell down and pinned the friar’s arms at his sides. A tad disoriented from the drop, it took Leira a couple moments to get her bearings, but when she did a smirk rose to her lips. If she wasn’t in a combat tournament, this would have been quite the compromising position to be found in. “So,” she began, mirth plain in her voice, “how’s the weather down there?”

Nightlark -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/28/2011 14:25:32)
There was good news and bad news. The good news: The attacks hit home, and Kainrahn felt the satisfaction as the attacking wolf yelped in alarm. It seemed to be injured, but not out. Yet. he thought. The bad news: The dark shield was beginning to weaken, and Kainrahn sensed that a few more blows would make it dissipate completely. Thankfully, it had blocked the ice shards coming in from that direction, melting them on contact with the dark energy, but there were still quite a few ice bits flying around everywhere. He could either reinforce the shield and risk being attacked, or wait until the shield ran out and try his luck with the rest of the ice bolts. I don't know what the other wolf is doing, and I can't take my eyes off this one, even if it is injured... I guess I should just wait it out. The real wolf's arrival sealed his decision. There was no way he could create a shield if there were three wolves attacking him. The real wolf seemed to be glaring at him, possibly angered by the fact that Kainrahn had disabled one of his wolves. Hey, they asked for it. At least he knew where the second shadow was, since it had exposed itself to cushion the original's landing. The original didn't attack, though, and sat down. Right... Big red alarm flashing right now... Is he waiting for me to make the first move? He didn't know much about how the original fought yet, so it would be unwise to attack. Instead, he leaned back against the pillar, then let the screen of darkness part, revealing a smirk on his face. The man leaning back on the pillar looked like a normal guy in his twenties. There was nothing to suggest that he was really a combination of flesh, machinery and magic on the inside. In truth, Kainrahn was much older than twenty years old, but the magiscientists had managed to preserve that look. On the surface, Kainrahn seemed relaxed and slightly arrogant, but there was a tension in his muscles that suggested he was ready to take action if there was a threat. "So," he began in a conversational tone, "You're also serving the Dark Lord, hmm? What brings you to attack another one of your element?" He could probably work as a ally... Slightly reckless, easy to kill off if needed. Besides, it seems as if the ice mage is the real enemy here, he thought, his eyes quickly flicking over to where the ice mage was standing, apparently ready to cast another spell. Now that is one reckless man. He just doesn't seem to get that he's endangering himself as well, does he? "How about we work together for the time being? You've proven that you can fight... Or at least your shadows can. And besides, unless you want to turn into a wolf-sicle, our real priority is the ice mage." His voice seemed sincere, but the answer was in his eyes. Kainrahn would not hesitate to abandon the wolf if he needed to, or even kill it to ensure his survival. He shrugged. "It's your choice. But if you don't want an alliance, I can easily make sure that you don't go running around with others to hunt me down." Kainrahn raised a dagger nonchalantly, running a finger along the blade, but inside, he was concerned, as he heard the ice mage begin the casting of another spell. Damned ice crones. One day, I'll find a Fire contestant and ask him to dump them into a volcano and see how they like it. He began drawing dark energy from the obsidians and from himself, checking to see how much he had. Hmm... About four hours worth, probably a little more. Should be enough for some fun. Maybe a snake or something. This energy he held, ready for use, but didn't begin to craft the snake yet, waiting for a perfect moment. Have fun with reptiles, Sir Frosty. They won't hurt... Much.

Geddesmck -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/28/2011 15:21:21)
Most of the pellets quickly impacted, either against a pillar, the floor, ceiling or flesh. A dangerous number of the tiny balls of frozen death continued to cause havoc, but even they could not last much longer. The ice mage’s opening move had been spectacular and had certainly set the mood. Reeve itched to return the favour. But first he had to let go of the girl. She smiled at him, mischief dancing playfully behind those dark green eyes. She had transformed, the smile seemed to enhance everything about her. He had called her pretty before (although, really, that didn’t matter), but now she was something else. Reeve searched for a word that adequately described her. As he thought, he felt a smile of his own slowly creep across his face; a big, stupid grin born of exhilaration and relief. “My name’s Gabriel. Yours?” Reeve blinked and the words seemed to turn his brain back on. He was suddenly very aware of his idiotic grin, and of his hand wrapped around the girl’s, around Gabriel’s, waist. Heat invaded Reeve’s cheeks and he quickly separated himself from her with a rough grunt. His smile was replaced with a scowl even as he turned his face away from the girl; ostensibly to observe the rest of the arena. “Reeve,” he said, his voice, for some reason, slightly lower than normal. “This doesn’t mean we’re allies, just that...” Just that... What? he thought. Oh, I can’t be doing this now, it’s no time for idiocy and distraction. So what if she’s young and pretty, that doesn’t matter. Reeve let himself get up slightly, still half crouched for fear of incoming missiles. Various minor pains assaulted him, most from being dragged along the stone floor. He wondered if that had been Gabriel. He assumed it must have been. The sentence was left unfinished; Reeve unable to find the words, or the will, to finish it. “Heat Sink.” Reeve’s gaze turned to the source of the words. The ice mage. He stood in the centre of the arena, a massive ice-bound book before him and a long, bladed staff in his hand. The mage began to speak the nonsense words that signalled the casting of a spell and Reeve felt an unintentional flutter of panic. The mage was looking in his direction. At the best of times Reeve disliked mages. When a mage almost killed him, and then proceeded to try again, Reeve got slightly beyond dislike. His panic was replaced by rage in a flash and before he could even really think, Reeve had his sword in hand. With speed, but no real grace, Reeve left his cover and charged towards his chosen foe. The blade in his left hand and the metal claws on his right sparked with the electricity running down their length. Reeve’s attack was inelegant; he simply aimed to place a large piece of electrified metal through the mages torso, but he thought that should he be successful it would prove effective. If it didn’t work, he had other plans. Angelic. The thought came so out of the blue that for a moment Reeve wasn't sure what it meant. He smiled when it came to him. Yes; angelic described her perfectly.

superjars -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/28/2011 18:50:26)
“Uh...” Goshen stammered, face turning several shades of red as he lay there, somewhat helpless (not because he couldn’t move, but more because of the embarrassment of the situation). He finally pushed out a weak, “Wh-wh-what?” while at the same time trying to swallow the large lump that had formed in his throat. That had not worked out at all how he had planned, and now, the girl who had only moments ago been his first challenger was now lying on top of him. And she didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by the situation. Regaining his composure, the earth combatant muttered, “It’s just fine,” as his earthen magics kicked into gear, pulling the inner layers of his stone tomb and gathering behind his back, elevating him - and the girl who lay atop him - into a standing position. Ice still shattered around them, but the amount was greatly reduced from when it had first been cast and those stray ones which headed their way were easily intercepted by the rock that surrounded the pair, exploding into millions of tiny fragments that floated to the ground around them, as if the sky was filled with tiny crystals. For a moment, Goshen stared into Leira’s eyes, his mouth open as if he wanted to say something. A quick step back and an involuntary hand through his hair showed the depth of the uncomfortable feeling this encounter had left within him. He closed his eyes briefly to collect his thoughts, pushing the feelings of uneasiness down into the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t allow such conceptions to stop him from reaching his goals. Home awaited him at the other end of this tourney, but only if he could push his emotions aside and win the thing. “Now, where were we?” he spoke softly, keeping his eyes fixated on the ground at his new opponent’s feet, avoiding meeting her alluring gaze. He would be glad to begin battle against this one and leave all these annoying feelings behind. Battle! That’s right, she had been challenging him to combat before that happened. He coughed lightly into his hand and spoke, this time in his clear, booming voice, raising his eyes to meet hers as he did so, “I accept your challenge! Shall we begin this fight?” To anyone who had never seen his magic before, what happened next would likely be very shocking. As if the earthen boulder he carried with him came to life, it began to flow over the ground, slithering towards its master and wrapping itself around him. It twisted over his feet, for the moment rooting him in place, and spiraled up his legs. At the same time, the tomb in which he had before been encased in began to shrink, the material being used up to cover his large form. The viscous stone flowed up his back and chest, accentuating his paunch and powerful muscles. Next came his arms, stone melting over his forearms and triceps while leaving his elbows free for movement. Last, but definitely not least, the stone made its way around behind his neck and up to the top of his head, covering his hair and leaving only his face exposed. The remaining stone flew up from the ground, coalescing into three melon-sized rocks which began to slowly circle around the now-armored figure. To finish off the bizarre raiment, a long wooden staff - longer than Goshen was tall - rose from the stone covering his right arm, growing until he could grasp it easily and hold it before him. The thing seemed sturdy, as if made from a single tree, and scrawled upon it were myriad runic symbols and characters, dark and foreboding against the otherwise clean, brown wood. This whole process only took a short time to accomplish. While it transformed him, he kept his gaze directed around the arena at what was occurring elsewhere, standing ready if anyone might consider this an opportunity for a sneak attack. With a few practice swings and spins of the implement, he was finally prepared for combat. He settled himself into his normal combat stance, low to the ground and steady as the earth itself. With a gesture and a smile, he spoke to the woman, clearly and passionately, “My dear, I concede to you the first move.”

Postmaster General -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/28/2011 21:13:41)
The barbed tail shot quickly towards Fenrys' breast as the massive hands reached out to grab her. Another slight change in her center of gravity gave Fenrys' attack a slight rotation, slight, but just enough. Shooting forward toward the shadowy entity, enveloped in shadows, the Dragoon darted into the blindess, wincing with pain as the oncoming tail lashed out and slammed the side of her ribcage. Her shift of weight also changed enough of her trajectory to send her straight into the beasts grasps. Now, nearly hanging upside down as she held fast to her weapon, Fenrys turned her head to just make out that the beast was now looming directly over her. She let go of her spear, continue its course, careening to the ground. With relative grace, the Ave landed and knelt on one knee. Another pulse of pain shot through her body, spreading rapidly from her right side. Blood had begun to ooze slowly from the wound. Fenrys' mind shot back to the note above the Cellar entrance. That's no good. An injury this close in? She'd need to figure out a steady strategy to compensate quickly, or this would be a crippling wound. Thinking fast, Fenrys jumped back, rolling in a backwards tuckroll and grinding her fresh injury into the ground. Another screech erupted from the combatant, and she was still not out of range of her opponent. Apparently, the pilgrim had bitten off more than she could chew with this opponent, but Fenrys knew that challenges were where true growth could be attained. Looking around quickly, Fenrys tried to take in her surroundings. She spied the reflection of the glowing moss as it gleamed off the ornate, golden head of her spear. It was now more than a few body-lengths away, but without her weapon, Fenrys' combat skills were limited. Now, in her dire situation, the warrior closed her eyes and prayed. "Lord of Wind, lend me your breath so that I may expose your glory to those who are ignorant." Concluding her zealous prayer, Fenrys returned her gaze to the demon, a bright light shining in her eye. Forgetting her injury, the red warrior leapt up, flapping her wings with amazing agility, and causing light gusts in her enemy's direction.

Edgemaster Scion -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/28/2011 23:13:52)
The shield faded away as the icy shards began to subside from the battlefield. Now was the time that Calestern had to strike. He had options: the Light Lord servant, though it appeared that she'd made an alliance with an Earth-aligned human, and as much as he felt that she would be an easy kill, he had to remember not to judge by appearances. Then there was the large Darkness demon at least 50% taller than him. He'd created some sort of disruptive field blurring Calestern's view of him. It appeared that he was already battling, and would likely be focused on his current assailant, a strange-looking harpy with phoenix-like feathers. Why any Lord would choose a spawn of a human altered due to their past actions was beyond him, but that wasn't important now. The flamboyant harpy let out a screech of pain, indicating that she'd been injured. These were his options. Would he aid the demonic Darkness-Lord servant who could possibly crush him in one fell swoop? Or would he aid the now-crippled disgraceful Wind-Lord spawn that likely wouldn't be able to defeat the giant? Not being one to help anyone who wouldn't be of use to him, his choice was clear. Carefully sheathing Wraith, he charged at the harpy at her right flank. With amazing speed, he thrust himself into the air, spiraling before unleashing a harsh slash at her. He felt a something, an object or force, slow his blade. He didn't care what he hit, bringing Eclipse to round forward in a harsh arc.

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/29/2011 2:44:50)
The pelting was finished and still the ice mage drew power. Rain had a point. The wolfs eyes narrowed but his posture changed to that of a quick decision. Never look a gift horse in the mouth. That brought to mind, why did Nightfall target another of the dark lord? Was it some kind of test? He pondered this and a quick look into a different mirror indicated the blurring form of the demon and an injured harpy. A harpy, probably wind then. And indeed wind poured out. But harpies, were part human, and part bird. They could understand some of the animal languages of the forest. A torn decision of 3 options. Go help the harpy, and most assuredly make an enemy not only of rain, but of a demon. Go attack mr.boulder from behind which might also end in failure. Or attack the ice mage and get rid of that troublesome opponent. He gave a quick brief glance at mr.boulder, an ear drooping slightly, Then he gave a forlorn look towards the harpy. He decided something there. He decided that if necessary he would use one of his weapons, specifically the one that goes Boom, to perhaps give the half human creature, a chance of survival. He'd have to keep one ear in her direction though. That decided the two copies vanished with a wave of Nightfall's head. He turned away from Rain and headed in a casual walk straight for the mage. Again the mage started to speak. The wolfs ears went up and he continued his quiet march. His ears were picking up sounds here and there, Ducking under a shard here, leaping over another one as it came flying at his legs. Nightfall was really mad now. Someone else was involved in an attempt to take out the mage. For now, rain was ignored, but not forgotten. Why would the dark lord want that man out of the way? Nightfall had not yet used a single weapon besides his own claws. He intended it to stay that way in case he really needed to use his other weapons. Nightfalls eyes followed every motion the mage made. Silent as wolves can be, Nightfall approached from the unguarded side. A quick glance in a reflective mirror told Nightfall where the other warrior was, and a slight sideways glance told nightfall where Kain was, and another right-handed glance told man turned beast where and how that flying harpy was doing. Now focus returned to a substance that was cold enough to kill. Nightfall stared motionless and lunged forward aiming his face for a bite at a spot that would hurt most. What every mortal man wishes to protect most. A lunge right at Marcos's private area. Both ears swiveled now listening carefully. But Nightfall's eyes were on his prey. No longer was man turned wolf in a good mood. His desire to kill was higher now. His anger was higher too. That, was dangerous for every other combatant now because angry nightfall means more likely to miss hitting me, nightfall. The movement came without a sound from Nightfall, no alert would Nightfall grant this frosty foe.

jerenda -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/29/2011 13:53:14)
The man was smiling back at her, the incredibly foolish grin those narrowly escaping death invariably contracted, and Gabriel felt her smile widen as she spoke. Abruptly, the smile dissolved into a fierce scowl, and he dropped her on the floor, moving away quickly and turning to look at the rest of the arena. The young woman took the chance to do the same, glancing around at the mirrors to make sure nobody was coming up behind them and take stock of the situation. Huh. Someone had left a knife lying near the pillar across from her. How careless. She reached up and slipped the shield off her back, giving the knife a gentle tug. It came skittering across the floor willingly, and she set her shield against the ground to receive it. Oh, but her ally was talking. She really had to pay more attention to these things, especially if she wanted to make any more friends. “Reeve,” he said, his voice harsher than it had been a moment ago. “This doesn’t mean we’re allies, just that...” Gabriel couldn’t help it, she laughed. Careful and delicate, she plucked the loose knife from the base of her shield and tucked it into her belt as Reeve stood. “Don’t worry, I completely understand,” she said seriously, looking at him with the remains of laughter dancing in her eyes. Someone else was looking at her, however, and the Angelborn turned to face the mage. He was looking directly at her and smiling, and expression that had far too much teeth and no humor in it at all. “Heat Sink.” She had no idea what a heat sink was, but it sounded like an incredibly bad idea to let him get away with casting this spell too. Gabriel picked herself up, moving into a defensive crouch and returning his gaze with equal fire to his frost. Reeve abandoned the idea of defense, blowing past her and charging directly for the mage. Ah well, it would protect her from the consequences of her latest decision. Gabriel kept her eyes locked on the mage, reached out with her power to him, and gave two powerful yanks. One second each, with a heartbeat in between. Ideally, it would throw the mage heavily off-balance as he stumbled forwards, not once but twice, and leave him wide-open for Reeve’s attack. The instant she released the second time she took off, running not directly for the mage but angling outwards, with the goal of running around the northeast pillar and coming up behind the mage’s back. She wasn’t entirely sure what she could do once she was there, but she’d figure it out later. She found herself running for a man completely covered in earthen armor. My… opponent? I suppose… but I don’t have time to eliminate this kind of competition. Especially when he is engaged with another. The other was a pretty girl, shorter than Gabriel, but reminded the young woman very much of herself, or what she would look like if the Angelborn’s hair was longer and the intense expression of desperate determination didn’t haunt her features. Gabriel trained her eyes on the mirror instead of the two combatants, hoping that her approach wouldn’t be seen as aggressive. And yet… somewhere in the back of her mind… a tiny corner that wasn’t occupied with trying to remember where everyone was and formulating contingency plans in case such-and-such a thing happened… Gabriel wondered. Eternal gel?

Nightlark -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/29/2011 14:40:52)
Kainrahn didn't wait for the wolf's response. His eyes were now flicking back and forth between the mage and the wolf, not that anyone would be able to tell, since the screen of darkness once again covered his features. "Heat Sink." Oh for the Elemental Avatars' sake, what is he doing now?! As soon as the wolf showed the first sign of indecision, Kainrahn darted out from behind the pillar and charged, daggers out at his side, right at the mage, with the intent of planting two knives into the guy, or at least tackling him and breaking his concentration. From there, he would work it out. After all, he was a rogue, built and trained to fight in close quarters, and from what he could tell, the mage was a scholar, not a warrior. Accelerating from a standstill to full speed within seconds, the rogue threw his full force at the mage, noting that the wolf was also heading the same way, albeit more cautious and much slower than he was going. Out of the corner of his eye, another combatant was heading the same way, a young man covered in chains. Pouring more energy into his dash, he lunged, stabbing at the mage with both daggers, the twin blades aimed at the ice mage's chest. The wolf was almost at the mage, too, and in a few seconds, it was also in the brawl, trying to hit the mage. The other man would be here soon, he realized. In fact, he was almost within attacking range. Very close. Too close. Frowning, he sent a bolt of dark energy at him, attempting to intercept him before things got messy. As of now, it was unclear if the combatant was attempting to kill him or the mage, but he didn't wish to take the chance and find out when the guy lashed out with his first blow. I don't need another one to finish off after I take care of this mage. The wolf will be enough to keep me occupied... I'll choose my next target when I'm ready, not when they're ready.

Starstruck -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/29/2011 17:07:10)
Tantatto, attached to the wall, punched it in frustration. The mage was preparing another arena spell, something entitled Heat Sink that the underwater ninja suspected would cool the arena considerably. Good; the cold improved his reflexes, made him lean and limber. It would be excellent if a Heat Sink was placed in the Cellar. Unfortunately, there were those who had decided that a Heat Sink was undesirable, and were running at full tilt towards the mage (they hadn't been properly introduced, realized the ninja, hunching up his limbs for a flying leap). That wouldn't be good. Tantatto flew off the wall at a remarkable speed, not even hitting the ground before he grabbed the nearest pillar and pushed off again, springing to the opposite wall at double his original speed. He bounced off of that wall and hurtled straight at the mage. Naturally, as he was quite far away from the magician, he landed on the ground, but he ran towards the mage with lightning speed and jumped into the air again, waiting until he was directly above the guy. "PULSE!" he screamed, the plate in front of his mouth muffling the noise. His arms clashed together, and then separated, drawing the force of mind from his core and spreading it out in all directions save down (to be polite to the ice mage, who was currently helping him. Even if he didn't know it.) Any competitor caught in the fifteen-foot Pulse would be knocked back to the very edge of the technique's range with Ice-themed mental energy without a very good reason not to be pushed, and those not in range didn't really matter anyway at this point. Tantatto landed smoothly on the ground in front of the ice mage, one hand touching the floor of the arena gently. "So, we meet again, huh?" he said sarcastically, using the echoes from the Pulse to find his enemies (for the mirrored walls directed the Pulse right back to him while he was still in the air, and he had a pretty good idea of where everyone was). "Have you thought about an alliance yet, or are you still intent on dying on your own? Because I can definitely leave you here to the three peop-...I mean, the two people and the wolf, who are striving for your blood. And probably mine, for getting in the way. You know what, don't even respond, just get that spell done and we'll call it even. If you like, I can even leave you alone until you attack me again."

.Discipline -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/29/2011 18:36:22)
A toothy maniacal smile crossed Dajaal's face as he pumped his poison into the harpy, leaving it to squirm for a while after withdrawing the barb. He felt the gusts of winds from Fenrys buffet him and was just about to move in for a killing blow, pushing against the wind, when he noticed a warrior wielding twin blades slash forward at his quarry. This was unexpected, but could work to Dajaal's advantage, enjoying this aid and noting something very dark about this warrior he decided that he would not attack him, but would instead watch this battle unfold, assessing his abilities and seeing how he could be used for the advancement of elemental darkness. Dajaal decided that a battle on two fronts would be a lot harder for other competitors in the arena, his chances of ensuring survival and bloodshed would be significantly improved by an alliance with this warrior... Dajaal would find it difficult to fight smaller, faster enemies and perhaps having a way to take them out would be beneficial, he would have to offer an alliance quickly to ensure he was not made into a target himself. 'You... brother in darkness... we fight together...? We'll show them the power of the Dark Lord.' he growled at Calestern, pointing his claws to the ground as an act of non-aggression. Hoping the warrior was helping him out of something more than just bloodlust or the promise of an easy kill, he didn't know for sure, but had some reservations about killing any creature aligned to his Lord and feared losing his favor, so would stay on the defensive for now until things got a little more dangerous for him.

Postmaster General -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/29/2011 22:11:51)
Beloved Wind Pilgrim, beware. Your life is threatened by not just one, but three. A wispy figure appeared between the demon and Fenrys. It pointed first to the dark beast who had just slashed her, and summoned a vortex of wind to act as a cursor over the enemy. Next, it pointed to the ice mage, creating a similar cursor over his head. The mage is attempting to summon up a huge amount of power. Next, the silhouette moved to the right, bringing a third assailant to the harpy's attention. A sword-wielding foe, already airborne and rushing towards her current position. A second wisp appeared beside Fenrys, offering a hand towards the ailing skyborn, attempting to help her regain a battle stance. Fenrys shifted her legs and turned her halberd to face the oncoming aggressor. With a newfound, and surprising agility, she placed the butt of the spear down into the ground, angling the blade towards the swordman. The first wisp stood near the demon, promising to keep an eye on the creature, while the second made its way closer to the frosty scholar. The harpy now stood alone, letting out a loud battle screech as she braced herself for the oncoming attack, in pain from her freshly inflicted wound. In the seconds after, even more wisps appeared, first appearing by every enemy in the dungeon, then standing near all the visible mirrors. Before long, the figures were filling the entire room, clouding the harpy's vision and shaking her to the core. Fenrys closed her eyes, wiping them to try and clear her vision. "Please Wind Lord, relieve me of this affliction!" In a panic, Fenrys ducked out of her stance and rolled to the side, attempting to place her back against the wall, finding no comfort in the slight protection. Vision still clouded, Fenrys began flailing around. Swinging her weapon around madly in an attempt to secure herself. "What have you done to me demon!"

Krey -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/30/2011 0:32:14)
“Grant me a chill deeper than the deepest north, colder than the ice of the frozen tundras.” His eyes moved constantly, monitoring the area around himself using the mirrors which lined the walls. Where he stood, back against the pillar, he was confident that there was nothing to surprise him. Everything was visible, either directly or through the mirrors. The arena was his, and there was nothing anyone could do to wrest control of it from him. In the end, ice would rule the Cellar. It was only a matter of time. People were starting to react now, just as he'd expected. Of course, he'd expected his opponents to put some actual thought into their motions. Instead, the man who'd used himself to shield the woman from his first spell charged at him, apparently in rage. Rage was good. Marcos could use that to his advantage. The energy contestant—for that was what the crackling of electricity across his weapons suggested he was—was shortly joined by another combatant, sheathed in shadows. Darkness, perhaps? With him, another approached, trying to be sneaky. It was a wolf, failing miserably at hiding, simply because Marcos' back was to the pillar, and the mirrors granted him a full view of the area around himself. This was too easy. “Profundus Congelo,” he said, continuing his chant as if the approaching contestants meant nothing. What he didn't expect was the tug. He lurched forward suddenly, his book moving with him. He took a quick glance at the page so that he could finish the spell without looking at the pages, and then dismissed the book, his eyes meeting the girl's for a split second. She was grinning, a fiery grin to counter his own. She'd used this trick before, and he hadn't quite been ready for it then. Now he was, and he knew just how to use it to his advantage in this case. Another tome, as large as he and bound in ice as many of his books seemed to be, appeared just beneath him. To his surprise, the tug stopped for a split second, but soon enough struck once more. With his elbow hooked on the book's cover, he just slid. Rather, the book slid, the lack of friction between ice and the ground allowing him to escape through the throng of would-be attackers, easily avoiding all of them as he continued his chant. “Demons of frost gather in your midst, preparing for you a tomb of everlasting ice. Frozen death, Estus Subsido!” Clear of the attackers now, he planted a foot against the ground, lifting himself up just beyond the center of the pillars, and dismissed the book which had moved him likely further than the girl had intended. He spun 'round, thrusting his staff forth, so that its tip hovered directly at the center point between the four pillars. The blue gem between staff and blade glowed brilliantly, and frost spread up the length of the blade faster than the eye could follow. An ear-piercing ring signaled the completion of the spell; its effect? Floating at about the level of Marcos' chest, directly in the center of the arena, a blue orb shimmered, lines of frost swirling around it. The area immediately surrounding it was unbearably cold, though even that was nothing in comparison to the area actually occupied by the shimmering sphere. It wasn't just cold. There was no heat at all within the small orb, barely half a foot in diameter. To touch the sphere would be to lose whatever part of the body came in contact with it. It was going to get cold in the arena, there was no denying that. The downside was that his evasion had left the mage exposed. He was in the middle of the arena now, having made himself a major target. Or so it seemed, until a pulse from the weird... thing, from earlier, sent him stumbling into the pillar in the southwest corner of the arena with a grunt. A bit of pain in his back from the solid impact, but now he had a full view of his surroundings again. He took a long breath, fighting the wave of nausea that came over him as punishment for expending so much energy so quickly. Best recover swiftly—there was no way these foes would allow him time to catch his breath. As for the strange creature? He just smirked, apparently overcoming his brief moment of weakness. “I don't need allies,” he replied, “worry about yourself. You'll live longer that way.”

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/30/2011 1:56:24)
Just before Nightfall had success, someone stole it from him yet again, only this time with some kind of attack that pushes opponents back. He let out a strangled cry of surprise before toppling backwards onto the ground spinning away from the pillars in the process. Rolling just as quickly as he fell. Nightfall's ears flattened across his skull and both deep red eyes held blood-lusted rage. Nightfall was really getting tired of these stupid magical user guys. A quick eye movement to a mirror revealed frost coating the middle of the pillars. Better not get close to that sphere. His nose picked up Reeves scent and his ears swiveled in direction towards a harpy injured. One ear half-drooped for a second. She would have understood. Too bad she wasn't of his element. "That tears it!" Nightfall thought staring across at ice-mage. "You are dead!" Nightfall's eyes turned towards the nearest reflected mirror, made a quick mental calculation, Left paw suddenly making a quick, flicking, upward motion and out came a flying, curved 2 bladed weapon that richoched right off one mirror, into another, bounced off a third and finally flew straight for a meet and greet with ice-mage's neck. While Nightfall's weapon was flying, Man turned wolf performed that wonderful 3 wolves from 1 trick of his again, expending very little energy to create 2 copies of himself. But since each of his copies had exactly what he did, His mental command was to have Nightfall A: and B: toss out both of their Frisbee like weapons too which also bounced off mirrors aimed for mr.ice mages stomach and above and to the right in case he moved in that direction too.

Geddesmck -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/30/2011 14:32:43)
Agony kept him pinned to the floor for what seemed hours to Reeve’s tortured mind. Even as the pain slowly released its determined grip on the black haired combatant, he struggled to pull his thoughts together. It took him a few second to even remember what had happened to leave him in such a state. He’d been charging the ice mage; hoping that the direct, obvious attack would force the caster to abandon his spell weaving, even for an instant. Unfortunately for Reeve he was not alone in this plan and the space between the four pillars quickly filled with those aiming to end the mage’s life. As annoying as such a development was, Reeve was not complaining. The more pointy implements that attempted to taste the mage’s blood the better. One of the new attackers was a wolf. Reeve had noticed the creature earlier, but paid it little mind as it had barely even looked his way. Now it moved towards its target with impressive stealth, but the mirrors and ample light made its approach all to obvious. The other attacker was difficult to describe. His whole being seemed covered in deep, impenetrable shadows where there should have been none. The shadow man ran with supernatural speed and quickly got within striking range of the ice mage. He seemed to notice Reeve’s approach only as he got very close, but his reaction was immediate. The events after that jumbled together in Reeve’s addled brain. He remembered sensations and images, but the memories themselves were indistinct, even though no more than a few moments could have past since they took place. Pain; terrible, crippling pain had assaulted Reeve. It started in his left shoulder and spread quickly, feeling like his bones were being burned slowly from the inside. He knew something had hit him, probably from the shadow man, and knocked him off his feet. That had not been all though. A rush of numbing cold had engulfed the Cellar arena seconds later, both body and mind affected by its touch, enough to momentarily removed Reeve’s pain. Somehow Reeve had then found himself knocked further back even as the pain returned, his prone body being flung outside the central square formed by the four gigantic pillars. Unsteadily, Reeve got to his feet, checking himself briefly for new injuries. He'd picked up grazes, bumps and bruises, but so far nothing too serious. A quick look told Reeve he’d somehow found himself on the eastern side of the arena and some distance from the nearest foe. He cursed under his breath, angry that he’d been unable to stop the ice mage; a fact evident since the room was suddenly much colder and an ominous looking ball of blue light hovered threateningly in the very centre of the arena. He found himself with limited options. He could, he supposed, leave the mage alone and find another target, but that thought didn’t sit well with him. Reeve knew enough about mages to know you never turned your back on one unless they’d stopped breathing and sometimes even that wasn’t a good enough reason to ignore them. Plus, there was always the chance that the Library had sent this mage after Reeve. It’d been a long time since he’s seen one of their agents, but it wouldn’t surprise him. Still, all this considered, Reeve was still reluctant to try attacking the mage again straight away. The centre of the arena was suddenly very crowded. The shadow man, three wolves (Reeve had seen three earlier too, but wondered where the extra two kept appearing from), a tiny blue creature, the ice mage himself and a ball of foreboding magic, were all between the relatively small space (in relation to the rest of the arena) between the four pillars and Reeve had no intention of diving back into the fray where everyone else was potentially hostile. Not as we was anyway. Reeve pulled his long sleeved shirt over his head and let it drop to the arena floor, revealing his heavily muscled torso. The removal of the shirt revealed also the dozens of ugly old wounds that adorned his body. Along his back were countless overlapping lines of scar tissue that ran from the top of his back to almost his waist and on his chest were innumerable marks with varied origins. Small bars of metal were pierced under Reeve’s skin in line running to meet similar piercings that ran down his arms. All of this was noticed only after one spotted the head of a steel spike slightly protruding from Reeve’s chest. It was obvious to all who saw that the metal should have been piercing Reeve’s heart, yet the man lived and moved as if it wasn’t there. Letting his hand examine his belt, Reeve noticed he no longer held his sword and indeed he saw it lying dangerously close to the ball of blue energy. Even as he spotted the weapon, Reeve’s left hand was removing an item from its place on his belt. The spike was about three inches long, perhaps slightly more, and not much thicker around than a finger. It was made of a metal that was very dark and reflected little light. Small as it was, the spike looked dangerous. With a fluid movement, Reeve used his right hand to pull the steel free from his chest while his left plunged the new spike into the space it left empty. For the briefest of moments a small cavity could be seen with part of an un-beating heart visible. As dramatic as the action appeared, Reeve showed no reaction more than a grimace and a curse. Now things are going to change, he thought as he felt his body begin to channel energy through the new metal. New powers were being fuelled and with them new possibilities opened. It had been mere moments since he’d struggled to his feet, but suddenly Reeve felt ready to bring the fight to his enemies, fear and uncertainty vanishing before his new power.

Nightlark -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/30/2011 15:54:39)
So close to success, and yet so far away… he thought, as yet again, the mage escaped danger and managed to cast his spell anyways. There was a subtle shift in temperature as a glowing blue orb was planted in the middle of the arena. Whatever that is, it isn’t good. Not. At. All. Kainrahn briefly considered blasting it with magic, then dismissed that idea. Who knows what it’s made of? He was about to take off after the mage, but was knocked off balance as he was about to take off, and the mage got away to one of the pillars. Joy. Why do I lose him TWICE? I must be losing my touch… A small shiver ran through his form. It’s getting a bit cold, isn’t it? Then his eyes flickered to the blue orb. Oh… so THAT’S what that’s for… Pushing himself off the ground, he spun around, trying to find the source of the attack. His daggers were still clenched in his hands, although his knuckles were slightly scraped. The small blue creature that he had seen earlier stood where the mage previously was. Right. A wolf, a weird guy in chains, probably energy, considering how his weapons were cackling. I don’t think it’s them. So it’s probably the blue thing. Besides, he’s shown that he’s an Ice competitor, so it would be a plausible reason that he wants to help the mage get away. Unfortunately, as you can see, Kainrahn has had a rather bad day. His prey had escaped twice, and he’d been attacked by a guy of his own element. Now added to that was the fact that he had been thwarted by a three foot tall… blue thing. It was simply too much on his sanity, and his limited patience did not tolerate the stretch. To put it simply, he snapped. All of a sudden, he lost any sense of control or logical thought, and simply unleashed his rage. His fury at this small creature thwarting him and allowing his target to escape channeled his energy, the air around him boiling with dark power. Black ropes jumped from his hand, moving towards the blue creature and homing in, ready to bind the blue thing. The more it struggled, the tighter they would be. Add the fact that the dark energy would cause pain and suffering as it held it there, and the blue creature would be in a painful situation, with no way out of it, if the ropes succeeded in their duty. Five full minutes of pain. Wonderful. Kainrahn began prepare bolts of energy as well, pushing his energy stores to the limit, ready to cast them at any time. He showed no signs of pain as the wound in his side throbbed slightly. Dark fire ran along the blade, the energy gathering there as he pushed it through. And now, you will suffer. The bolts of darkness exploded out of the blades, easily a dozen in number. Nowhere as many in number as the mage’s ice bolts, but they would hurt. A lot. They spread in an arrowhead formation, one in the front, then two flanking that, and so on, circling and spinning as it headed for its target. It would easily trap the small blue thing, as there were ones on top, ones on the bottom, and not to mention the sides. Even if it somehow managed to dodge them all, it certainly couldn’t evade the black ropes, quickly eating up the distance between him and the creature, which would follow him until he somehow magically removed them, or they simply dissipated, but Kainrahn had confidence that their speed would overtake the small creature. The mirrors would work to his advantage this time; the bolts would reflect off of them until they hit something, or lost its speed and hit the ground, which he wasn’t about to worry about right now. There was a drain in his dark stores as he had released them, but it didn’t matter much. There was probably still enough for another one or two, which he would be saving until he needed to use them later, as an emergency option. And now begins the hunt. Kainrahn’s eyes were glued onto the blue figure now, for he didn’t plan to lose this target. As soon as it made a move, Kainrahn would be ready to follow, ready to kill. His other senses would have to keep him informed of what was going on around him. This ice creature was now his target, his prey. And like prey, it would die.

Ryu Viranesh -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/30/2011 19:02:44)
Her question appeared to have flustered the man beneath her, or maybe it was the very fact that she was on top of him that irked him so. Regardless, he was clearly uncomfortable enough that he’d been reduced to a stammering heap, his face turning a bright, beet red. It took all of Leira’s willpower for her to control her urge to break into a fit of laughter; it had been a long time since she’d seen something so thoroughly amusing as what currently lay in front of her. She wasn’t a mean or spiteful person, but it was impossible for her not to be a little amused at the effect that she appeared to be having on her would-be opponent. This thought caused her mind to grind to a halt as a crucial fact reasserted itself; no matter how amusing this accident might be, this man was still going to be the person that she fought in this Arena. “It’s just fine,” finally replied the warrior in a low voice as they were suddenly tilted upwards, probably under the influence of his earth manipulation. Leira stumbled back a few steps to put some distance between them, the action also inadvertently giving her a perfect view of the scintillating snowfall around her. It seemed that they had both managed to survive the ice magus’ barrage relatively unscathed. As she turned once more to regard the man and assess his condition, their eyes met for a brief instant. The next moment his were closed, almost as though he’d closed himself off from not only her gaze, but from the entire arena and all of its distractions. When he opened his eyes once more, he’d apparently found his resolve (despite the fact that he’d averted his gaze from hers); his next words confirmed Leira’s observation. “Now, where were we,” he started softly, his voice slowly gathering strength with every word until he’d regained his earlier enthusiasm, finally returning her stare with equal fervor. “I accept your challenge! Shall we begin this fight?” As though his acceptance was an unspoken command, the shell of earth that the man had formed to protect himself shuddered and then began to flow onto his body like some type of slime. It was clear that now the man was getting down to the business at hand and it was time for her to do the same. As she watched the living earth’s progress, it quickly became apparent that her opponent was donning a suit of armor; most warriors carried such with them and it seemed that this man was no different, though he had a cleverer method of transport. Leira gave the sturdy sediment one look and shook her head; she was going to need all the force at her disposal in order to crack this nut. So with a little regret that she’d have to reveal what she could do so soon, the girl pulled off the gloves that she had so carefully taken the time to slip on before entering the cellar. Then, despite the threat taking form before her, Leira took the time to ever so carefully return the gloves to their place beneath her dagger, her lips momentarily arching as she brushed off the mitts one last time. When she raises her eyes once more, gone are all remnants of her previous attitude, replaced by a light just as harsh and unyielding as the stone that made up his armor. Her eyes weren’t the only part of her body to glow, as Leira’s skin began to emit a phosphorescent light that haloed her form with a beautiful golden color. This illumination brought her Lightbringer heritage to the fore; it accentuated her pointed ears and slim figure and made her skin take on a rich golden cast that could never be found on a human. In short, she appeared to be a being that had descended from the heavens into the dark depths of the earthen crust. Leira raised her left foot and took a full step forward, bringing her arms into a ready position before her as she did so, narrowing her gaze at the titan of stone’s now complete armor. The shell also brought out many of the man’s defining features, all of which clearly marked him as the earth’s property. They were from two different worlds, one divine and the other terrestrial, and now these worlds were on a collision course from which it seemed only one could emerge. The man swung his newly drawn weapon, an engraved staff of some kind, several times in front of him as though he was marking his territory. Apparently satisfied with the display, he smiled and spoke, his voice charged with emotion. “My dear, I concede to you the first move.” Leira returned his smile as she slid her right leg forward to match her left, showing that she was just as eager as he was for what was to come. An honorable fight and an honorable opponent weren’t things that people expected to find in a tournament where the goal was to tear your competition limb from limb, but she had been lucky enough to obtain both. Now it was time to prove herself worthy of these gifts and to show all of the Lords above, not just her own Lord of Light, what she stood for. This was the Elemental Championships and though she fought for and venerated Light, the victor was given the blessings of the entire pantheon. Leira took another step forward, again with her left leg and stared right at the man before her, past his circuit of defensive stones and into his life-producing brown eyes. “Thank you, I believe that I’ll take you up on your offer.” As soon as the words left her lips she exploded into motion, twisting her body to the left and shoving her right leg forward as the corresponding arm came around in a hook aimed at his broad torso. However, a few inches before her limb would have made contact with its intended target it would simply blink out of existence, giving her opponent a nice view of the smirk now present on her face. Out of the corner of his eye (if he’s still looking forward) he’d see a bright flash of light before her disembodied arm would hurtle out of the glare, right towards the right side of his helm. If this light-enhanced blow connected, then the embarrassing situation they’d been in earlier would be the least of the warrior’s worries.

jerenda -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (6/30/2011 19:45:47)
Gabriel forced herself to stop being so paranoid about everyone and waved to the couple fighting in the corner, on the off chance that either of them were looking at her. She skidded to a stop near the northeast pillar, however, canceling her half-baked plan and starting at the fireworks with an expression akin to horror. Not only did the three people charging at the mage completely fail to injure him, but he had somehow escaped and come up behind them – and she had a sneaking suspicion how he had managed to make it there. She took a step forward, reaching out with her right hand, slightly desperate now. Her intent was to whip that staff out of his hand before he could complete his maneuvering, but her single step forward brought her into the strike range for Tantatto’s pulse. Gabriel stumbled sideways, the main force of the blow deflected by the warriors between her and the small blue creature, but the backdraft was still enough to make her lose her balance. Instinctively, she latched onto the northeast pillar and pulled before she could topple completely. Her power struggled through the blast, sending the young woman flying towards the pillar. Now the sideways force acted as somewhat of a cushion- in dead air, she would have gained more momentum and possibly been seriously injured. As it was, the wind was knocked out of her, and she felt dizziness sweeping through her. She didn’t let go of the pillar, clinging to it with her powers for stability as the pulse rippled past her. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, increasing her heartbeat uselessly, now that the immediate danger was past, but she stayed pressed against the pillar and prayed fervently for the pounding in her head to recede. An ear-piercing ring sang throughout the arena, causing the noise in her head to spike almost unbearably. Gabriel refrained from crying out only by clenching her teeth together compulsively, lips drawn back in a silent snarl. Afterwards, the arena seemed almost peaceful by comparison, and she forced herself to let go of the pillar. The young Angelborn settled back firmly onto her feet, turning around to place her back to it and surveying the arena. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down like that- pain wasn’t important if it left her open to attack. The mage was, yet again, directly across from her with his back to a pillar. The shadow-cloaked man was fighting the small blue thing, and there were now three wolves, all of whom had launched flying objects at Marcos, objects that reminded her very much of her wooden boomerangs but with blades. In the center of the room, at about chest height, was a swirling blue orb that seemed to promise certain doom to anyone who touched it. Although it was tempting to pull the annoying ice mage directly into his own creation and figure out what it did that way, she was reluctant to do something so obvious after the way he had played with her last pull. Lying almost directly below the sphere was a five-foot sword made of solid steel that seemed familiar. … Reeve? Where was her ahem “ally,” after all? Gabriel glanced around, feeling slightly panicked, before she caught sight of him. He seemed to be fine, standing in the eastern side of the arena and- taking off his shirt? Why? She was completely distracted from her bafflement by the torso he revealed. Muscular, yes, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. Crisscrossing his well-defined muscles lay a network of scars, numberless lines twisting around each other and testifying louder than words to what kind of a history lay behind this strange man. The strangest part of it was that, jutting from where Gabriel would have sworn his heart should be, was a metal spike. Shouldn’t he be… like… dead? Completely oblivious to her presence, Reeve plucked one of the spikes hanging on his belt with his left hand. In a single motion, he pulled the spike from his chest and drove the new one through it. For the briefest of seconds, Gabriel could almost see the cavity where it lay, complete with something dark red deep within him. Feeling no pain, breathing no air… Horror swept through her, as some deeper instinct screamed out, repulsed by the thing, whatever it was, residing inside this being she had called human. Gabriel froze as she battled her instincts, common sense warring against fear of the unknown. It probably wasn’t long, but it seemed like an eternity inside that frozen moment. Shut up, shut up! He protected you, and you’re not human either! You have no right to judge! Shut up! Her eyes flickered with anger, a scowl forming on her face, but she won. The Angelborn walked towards Reeve, forcing herself to look into his eyes with no trace of any emotion besides anger. Anger was safe. Anger she knew how to deal with. Why was she angry? She had a legitimate reason to be mad at him, she was sure… oh yes, that was right. Trying to get himself killed. “Alright, Mr. I-Work-Alone. Clearly we're in desperate need of a plan, unless you want to be skewered by the pretty boy's icicles. What have you got?” To her surprise, Reeve looked at her and instantly blushed. Although, on reflection, she shouldn’t have been surprised when he started to say “We’re not al…” Gabriel didn’t even try to respond to that. She just raised one eyebrow and glared, using her extra inches of height to the best of her advantage. With a sigh and a sag of his shoulder’s Reeve was defeated, ‘Okay, fine. I have an idea, but I’ve no idea if it’ll work. I need you to keep Mr. Frosty busy for a while, I’ll work out the rest.’ He moved as if to walk back into the fray, but paused as he remembered something, ‘Oh, and, err, don’t move anything I drop.’ For some insane reason, he was still blushing as he walked away. Gabriel shook her head at him, but she felt some part of her relax. She didn’t have to be in charge… And she was definitely willing to keep Mr. Frosty busy. Her anger vanished, replaced by a wicked grin. Gabriel headed into the center of the arena, summoning Reeve’s sword from the floor as she went. She had to pull on it a little at a time to make sure that it didn’t hit her in the stomach, but instead came dancing willingly across the floor to her, where she could pick it up. Aeons, but this thing was heavy! Could she really throw it? No, probably not, but maybe... She was heading from the east towards Marcos’ pillar, not attempting to hide, since there was no point, but definitely giving that evil ice globe a wide berth. Gabriel pulled back on the sword with both her hands and tossed it at the ice mage, but from the moment it flew outwards she knew it was a terrible throw. It was just too heavy for her to aim properly- that is, if she wanted to hit the ice mage. It went flying across the room anyway, dipping downwards towards the floor as gravity took its toll. Maybe it would skim past his toes if she was lucky. “Aeons,” she cursed, then she slipped the new knife out of her belt and tossed it at him. Her aim was dead-on this time, the slender, wicked projectile whispering through the air and flying directly for his left thigh. Yes, she should aim for his center of mass, but the wolf’s projectiles appeared to be aimed for his stomach and she didn’t want to knock those out of the way. She didn’t see why he shouldn’t get his fair shot at the mage if he wanted it. “Hey, ice mage!” she shouted, pulling out another knife and flipping it in her left hand. Her right hand beckoned to him as she smiled menacingly, but there was no power behind the gesture. “Come out and play.”

superjars -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (7/1/2011 0:19:49)
Thankfully, the woman did not attempt to attack him during his preparations. It probably wouldn’t have really affected him much anyway, but he would have lost a lot of respect for her. Now, he didn’t have to.worry about how she would handle the rest of their fight; she had proven that she was a woman of her word, a trait he was very fond of. One which he hadn’t found in many other people. While he awaited his challenger’s attack, he started to feel an itch down in the center of his back, right where he couldn’t reach. He was tempted to drop his staff and reach for it, but he knew that would definitely leave him open to any attack that the golden-haired beauty - who was suddenly glowing! - would toss his way. He tried to coerce some stone around to itch the spot, but it seemed his magic was focused on keeping him safe from attack, rather than bending to his whims. It was really too bad that the terramancy he practiced had in many ways become a living thing, reacting to his desires almost immediately after he thought about them. Unfortunately, that also meant that many times he couldn’t get it to do two things at once, leaving him to, at this current moment, suffer through the annoyance to his back. It was at this point that several things happened at once. First, Goshen’s gaze was attracted to a newcomer rounding the pillar, another young lady, as beautiful as the one standing before him, but with a much different look. He caught himself staring at her, his gaze drawn away from what should have been his primary focus, but he just couldn't help it. Many long, lonely nights on the road, both back at home running from raiders and hiding in caves, as well as travelling through other inhabited worlds these past few years, meant that females in his life were a rare commodity. And now there were two of them in the same arena as him. It was like he was in heaven! However, the second occurrence worked to detract from the first: a bright, detached fist came flying at the side of his face, causing him to flinch away from the woman. To be honest, the large man had been so focused on admiring the gripping girl that he hadn’t even noticed his opponent attack. The blow sent him reeling, staggering backwards, little blue birds flying haphazardly around his head. Bluebirds that happened to have the faces of the two females he’d been until recently admiring. Bad idea to let his mind distract him from what was going on. The force of the blow actually caused him to spin all the way around as he unintentionally backed away from the glowing woman. Thankfully, the stone armor he wore absorbed and dispersed most of the physical damage from the blow, but the hits to his pride were just as bad. He shook his head lightly to clear the cobwebs and send the bluebirds fluttering away into the air. Well, quite the hit that young gal could dish out. Part of him was very impressed and a little turned on by this girls ability. But now wasn’t the time for flights of fancy; a battle was ensuing that required his full attention and it was about time he got down to business. Time to see how the girl was at taking hits, instead of just giving them. He sent the three boulders floating up before them, then with two quick jabs and a headbutt sent them hurtling haphazardly towards his antagonist, following behind them ponderously with his staff outstretched to strike in her stomach, doubling her over. The rocks were aimed at her head and chest, but were meant more as a distraction than an actual danger. If she dodged those, he intended them to pass through the middle of the arena, and perhaps cause some mischief of their own.

Geddesmck -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (7/3/2011 7:05:30)
It was cold. Very cold. And getting colder. The ice mage had really made himself a nuisance. That was what mages did. That and torture innocent children. Another surge of anger filled Reeve’s mind with images of bloody murder, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. A direct attack wouldn’t work; mages were tricky. He had plans, but they would not come to fruition until he had time to prepare. In the meantime, he had another target in mind. The shadow man was still occupied with the odd, short creature. Reeve felt his face pull itself into a snarl. He remembered the pain the shadow man had brought all too well. That was his target. It was an effort of will not to just charge straight in, but Reeve held himself in check. He inspected his equipment quickly: the five rings on each hand, the chain wrapped around his right forearm, the spikes held at his belt next to the two steel daggers. It was enough, he hoped, for what he needed to do. He slipped three of the rings off his left hand and let them sit in his palm, simultaneously drawing a dagger with his right hand. He took a deep breath. And then he was airborne. The spike he had placed in his chest was made of a metal called anakion, a metal that was not particularly uncommon, but was generally considered useless because of how brittle it was. It wasn’t useless to Reeve. A spike of anakion converted Reeves’ electrical power into kinetic blasts; blasts of pure force that he could shoot from his body at will. He’d just sent some such energy from his feet into the ground at his feet. The result was impressive; the black haired man flew through the arena’s air, coming uncomfortably close to the ceiling and closing the distance with the shadow man in a matter of moments. He landed heavily were yards from his target, a quick blast of energy slowing him down just enough before he landed to prevent broken bones. With a roll he closed the last of the distance and struck out with his dagger at his (hopefully surprised) foe.

Krey -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (7/3/2011 11:22:20)
The Heat Sink had been a total success, though unfortunately none of Marcos' opponents had been silly enough to touch it. The temperature was on a steady, if slow, decline; he couldn't see his breath yet, but it was only a matter of time. Now, it was time to focus on thinning some numbers, though they seemed to be doing a decent job of that themselves, at least as threats to his life were concerned. Where moments ago he'd been the focus of four separate combatants, now that he'd fired off his spell and that weird little creature had stepped in to try and defend him (poor misguided thing), it seemed he was down to two active opponents. Before, he'd felt somewhat challenged, what with so many competitors gunning for his life. Now just two? One of whom happened to be a wolf... Or, three wolves? There were definitely three identical wolves now. Did that mean he had five opponents? Those wolves looked very similar, and two seemed to have come from nowhere... Perhaps, just perhaps, this was no mere wolf? The wolf had thrown something. Rather, the wolves had thrown somethings, and he could hear them ricochet off the mirrors. Coming for him, it looked like. Wait. The wolf had thrown something? How in the frozen hells did the wolf throw something? Better, how did all three throw something? Not worth worrying about, for it was not just the wolf—the girl was still gunning for him, and she threw... a sword? It skittered along the floor uselessly, stopping just at his feet, before she added a knife to the number of projectiles headed his way. Hers, though, was a straight shot, while the wolf's flying blades bounced throughout the room in what he imagined would have to be a very lucky shot to come near him. Oh and she was taunting him! How fun! Well, first he had to get clear of those blades. And... Now! He stepped left, dipping down (and just avoiding a beheading by that first blade) to pick up the sword in his free hand. The movement to the left was enough to get him clear of the second set of blades thrown by the furry creatures, and as for Gabriel's knife? Well, that zipped between his thighs to bounce off the pillar behind him with a loud clink, and he appeared none the wiser. He held up the sword, smiling as his eyes fixed on the girl and a book took form before him. This was a small one, barely too large to fit into a pocket and bound in leather rather than ice. It was already opened to a page. “I'll have to pass on coming to play, but since you were so kind as to give me a gift, I'll have to do something in return. Behold Giggly's Book of Icy Show. His spells, while meant for theater, are surprisingly useful in combat. Let me show you.” His smile showed teeth again, a threatening grin as he began to chant a fairly simple spell. “Tripudio glacies vesica. Take this blade, sharp and pointed; make it dance, ice anointed.” He tossed the sword into the air with relative ease, and it spun end over end as it arced through the air on its way to the ground. The point would have hit, but it stopped in midair, frost developing along the length of the blade as a blue glow engulfed the weapon, and a solid crystal formed at its pommel. It flicked up, point towards Gabriel, and then flew of its own accord, straight for her chest. “Keep that sword occupied for a while, will you? I have a wolf to kill. By the way, if you get bored, destroy that crystal at the pommel. Don't take your eyes off it, now!” That done, he turned to the wolf, grinning. “Here puppy, puppy, puppy!”

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena (7/3/2011 18:29:42)
Ice mage had been foolish enough to inform Nightfall exactly how to break that flying sword spell. It was only a matter of concentration. Nightfall B focused a mind of shadows and similarities on a glowing pommel and oh, what luck it just happened that Nightfall B's ricocheting blade which missed such a man of magic had bounced right off a mirror at just such a moment and as sword went to the left, Nightfall B's mental command of telepathy moved his own bladed weapon in just enough of a movement to completely destroy the center. Nightfall B's eyes returned to prey and Nightfall A and Nightfall all stared at the mage. It would have been a brilliant plan had such a mage really known what Nightfall was capable of. Fools. Nightfall glanced across mirrors looking to see where everyone was at. Where were his allies? That moronic fool of an assassin had gone after the little blue creature. And the others? The demon was busy with harpy still, Mr.Boulder was still busy with his opponent. And only this lovely looking female to assist Nightfall in taking down a mage! Nightfall took a step back and a wolfen body made of fur sensed something, someone. Could it be? The lord of darkness had come? had he heard such prayers? Nightfall's eyes stayed locked on prey while he heard a voice in his head, soft, and deadly. "Kill the mage. Show why darkness is here." Nightfall had no idea who or what had spoken to him, but such is the case and getting distracted would be foolhardy. Eyes across each wolf, identical in every way, narrowed slightly. Mental focus was easy to obtain for now. Each wolf sat down one after the other. Nightfall A and Nightfall's blades bounced off mirrors and stopped at a simple catch by each wolf's left paw. Nightfall B's blade returned a second later. There it was again, That same weird movement of a paw, more of a swipe than anything else upon further examination. Three blades flew out, Each more straight now, One going left, one going right, and one going straight ahead. But something odd happened. As the blades from left and right aimed at the mid-section of the mage kept on their attack it was clear Both Left and right blades were turning slightly inwards so that no matter where mage went, he'd be taken. Nightfall had to end this battle soon. The mage had to die. A faint growl echoed from lips that belonged to a black furred muzzle.

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