RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (Full Version)

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Micosil -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/14/2013 15:41:59)

Scylla's path was suddenly interrupted by a shield of what was probably light, but her enhanced speed meant that she had time to react to it - barely. She curled up in a very specific way, turning her rotation vertical, then unfurled at a moment she desperately hoped was the right one, because smashing into a shield would be a really pathetic way to end her championship run.

So when her hand grabbed the edge of the shield and managed to flip her over it, a triumphant laughter - or more like a triumphant hacking cough - ran through her body, as she tried to get her bearings back before smashing into something else; feeling the speed rush from a successful charge turned evasion.

In front, mirror wall. Those things reflected stuff, so she should be fine bumping into it - one thing less to worry about. Behind, Light Mage and Other Speedster, duking it out until a short figure intervened, the same bloody dwarf as before, mucking things up as before. That guy was a royal pain in the backside. Focused as he was on the small guy, the barrier of earth heading their way was ignored.

Still, she oriented herself with her back to the mirror, hoping the bounce-off would be painless, watching her allies as she drew away from them... and then suddenly closer. Wait, that was it? That was all the bouncing felt like?

Well, her ally seemed to be under a bit more of pressure while she, Scylla, took a leisurely tour of the skies. The mage did seem to be pretty busy with the shieldbearer, so she had all the time in the world - relatively speaking to having to dodge light blasts - to carefully prepare her landing which, if her momentum kept as it was, wasn't all that far away.

"Takedown!" Asked her ally, and she grinned as she thought a snarky As soon as I learn to fly... She watched the fighter disengage - Wait, don't you dare... Yup, he'd dared get out of it, and now she was diving into a two man fight, on her own, and unable to alter her course much. Fun for everyone.

She braced herself for whatever was going to hit her as soon as she landed, more or less halfway between the two enemies and the wall behind her, which meant they had a huge advantage as each of their shots would bounce for a return trip. Bad news, all of it, so she dived to the side as soon as she hit the ground, putting her speed to use to flank them, trying to angle herself so missed shots wouldn't bounce back at her.

And then she saw it, the pile of rubble heading where both she and the shieldbearer had been seconds ago, where the melee had been happening. She had to hold the targets there, so she stopped suddenly in her tracks, and yelled out a taunting. "What, you ran outta magic juice? Try to hit me, slowpokes!" Her whole body was tense under the robes, ready to dive in any possible direction at a moment's notice. She hadn't managed to land three hits, or even a single one in fact, on the light mage yet, so she couldn't shift to Raindrop as would be appropriate, but she was confident her speed boost would help her dodge, specially given the tells both her enemies had, and which she'd already seen.



EmbraceTheDarkness -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/16/2013 15:43:39)

“Excuse me, Oneesan, coming through.”

“Stay well away from me and I won’t hurt you, wind woman.”

Those were the first mistakes his enemies had made, speaking to one another. He had heard one voice come from above him while the other was from somewhere behind him, he had also heard footsteps. He was not looking to fight two at once, but if it lead to that he would do his best to win. A quick sideways roll was all he could place his money on. He no longer had his attention on the shieldbearer, who from the last glance at him had jumped away from the fighting, though appeared to be making his way back.

A split second, that was all the time Meoden had to get away from the attacks. As he rolled away he could feel the wind rush over his body, it was a close call, but Meoden had came out alive.
"Must have been trying to get me in the back with their sword...cowards"
Gabriel also no longer had a still target, Meoden was hoping, more so waiting for her to smash into the dirt, or float away to the ceiling. He didn't care honestly, fighting one or fighting two didn't matter to him, he just knew that they all were going to bleed.

Meoden calmly looked over his two pursuers. He swung Peacemaker around onto his back, grabbing both of his hatchets directly after.

"Hello Ladies" he said mockingly before preparing for the fight



Tdub -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/17/2013 10:28:00)

Is’ira blinked. Her mind, racing with emotions, worries, doubts, and fear, could not comprehend what had just happened. True, her attacks had not hit, although one had unexpectedly harmed the shield-bearer through indirect means. However, it was unthinkable that her foe would flee from the battle with nary a half-hearted counter attack. There must have been something more.

This “something more” was found in the form of the woman that had previously been referred to as “Blue” by the shield-bearer. “Blue” seemed to have bounced from the mirror behind Is’ira, was now in a defensive position, shouting at the other competitors.

“What, you ran outta magic juice? Try to hit me, slowpokes!” The woman cried. Despite the woman’s deplorable manner of speaking, it was obvious to Is’ira that the outcry was a trap. Although she had not been on the world long enough to know much about fighting, the Explorer deduced that it was not considered an intelligent decision to encourage one’s enemy to kill you. “Blue” was becoming an increasingly dangerous threat, and Is’ira was wary of whatever trickery the woman had up her sleeves.

Is’ira tilted her head just enough to examine her surroundings without taking her eyes off of the woman. Her knee still aching from her previous foe, the Explorer glimpsed a horrific sight. The woman’s challenge was indeed only a distraction. The true threat came in the form of the whirlwind of rocks, just emerging from the shroud that had previously obscured her view of the danger.

Acting fast, Is’ira turned around and dived to the floor. The sudden movement was enough to cause a renewal of the pain in her knee, resulting in a grimace on Is’ira’s face just before she hit the floor. The rubble flew over her head in the direction of the mirror wall, where it would undoubtedly rebound and cause even more havoc. Getting up on her knees, Is’ira felt a sharp stinging sensation on her right arm. Looking down, the Explorer saw her own blood flow down from a cut a few inches above her elbow. A small rock must have cut me. It doesn’t look too deep.

Is’ira raised her hand, preparing to heal the cut before she opened it wider in combat. Just before she cast the spell, she remembered the chilling words of the scroll outside the entrance to the Cellar. Although that was only read a short time ago, it seemed like ages that Is’ira had been in the violence-filled Arena. Her healing magic would be completely ineffective here. Without even her body’s natural processes to seal the cut, the blood would continue to flow from her arm. The wound might even become worse over time. Eventually, Is’ira would pass out from blood loss. If she were to pass out, she would be killed in seconds. I need to slow the blood.

Without hesitating, Is’ira took her right sleeve of her shirt in her left hand, and pulled. The fabric only came down to a few inches below her shoulders, but it would be enough. The sleeve tore quickly, and Is’ira wasted no time in wrapping it around her arm. Stretching the cloth to its limit, she folded the end of the strip into the band she had created. The blood flow would not be stopped, but it would slow it down to the point where it would take considerably longer for her to bleed out.

The white cloth turning red, Is’ira began walking towards her ally, Meoden, limping slightly. At least, she assumed he was still her ally. He is the only Earth contender I know of in this Arena. That rubble had to have come from Earth. Is’ira shook these thoughts from her head. Perhaps it was her shield-bearing opponent, or the woman with the knives. Still, that did not make much sense. Could Meoden really have wanted to sacrifice me in order to get a shot on the rest of the group? Is’ira decided that she would not end the alliance, but would be wary of the dwarf.

As she walked, she saw her “ally” was under attack, seemingly by the woman with the harpoon and the ceiling woman. She noticed that they were not attacking together, so they must not have been allies. It would be easier to attack them one at a time.

Stopping behind Meoden, Is’ira began channeling energy. This time, it was not a Light Shot she prepared. Instead, a yellow ball began forming in her right hand. The Light Orb took considerably more energy to create, and may not be used more than once, depending on the amount of time they would be in the Arena. When the ball was ready, Is’ira lifted her hand, and threw it at the harpoon woman with deadly accuracy.

Were the Light Orb to hit the woman’s throat, as Is’ira intended it to, it would explode, and likely break the woman’s jawbone, collarbone, and neck. Even if the woman were to dodge, the explosion would still be enough to possibly do some damage. The Orb travelled slower than a Light Shot, and Is’ira hoped that Meoden would not wander into its range.

What, you ran outta magic juice? The words of “Blue” echoed in her head. Certainly, she still had a fair amount of energy left. However, she had used a considerable amount of magic during her time in the Cellar, and Light Shields took much energy to create. Is’ira hoped that she would not be forced to retreat from the battle in order to let Lumine recharge.

The throw of the Orb had caused more pain on her arm and knee, and as Is’ira gently touched the red cloth wrapped around her arm, she wondered how much more of this she could take.



Ronin Of Dreams -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/18/2013 16:15:57)

Kieran watched warily as the sheer wall of rocks, stones, and shards ponderously cleared through the melee, wincing slightly in sympathetic injury. The slight stinging pains along his leg were proof that rock didn't need to be large in order to harm, after all. He could hardly tell what Scylla was doing to escape it, though her taunt rang clear as day despite the cacophony. That made him grin. It was so difficult to luck into battlefield allies who were both trustworthy and had a good head on their shoulders. The Light Mage, frustratingly enough, did seem to have chosen wisely in her dive for cover and was less battered than he would prefer. Afterwards, she intrigued him by choosing to regroup with Meoden.

Intrigued? Nay, excited him with the opportunity it presented him.

Their new position had reset the melee almost perfectly for his purposes. They were very nearly in a direct line from him, and his allies had easy means of getting aside. Oh, true, Eyra was in there as well, but she hadn't seemed quite as friendly or helpful as Gabriel and Scylla had up to this point. She might get caught in the ravages of his other spell, but...acceptable losses. The only other nominal hostile, KJ, fell into the category of mutual disregard. His presence by the pillar - or rather his absence from the area Kieran was planning on filling with deadly Wind - was also fine as far as he was concerned.

Kieran had once noted that Meoden seemed to weave his magic with hand motions - a somatic gesture of ritual - as a potential weakness. In truth, it was only a weakness if the magic absolutely required the caster to complete such a ritual. His spells, however, were not hampered as such by required needs, and could function just as well with the expenditure of Power to fuel the desired effect. The use of Wind through Gust was a minimal investment for what in truth was a minimal aid to his motions. The way his opposition had gathered again, however, was leading him to consider a different approach.

Where spells are a matter of complexity, power, and ritual then compared to a mere Gusting it was true that Scything Exhalation required something more from Kieran. Yet despite his resources of both internal reserves and the runic tattoos that formed an external source both still being relatively untouched, Kieran was loathe to waste power unnecessarily. Instead, he chose to blend a bit of each with a touch of ritual to empower his spell. Runes along both forearms flared softly before being consumed as he drew his hands into formal motions and moved his feet into wide, arcing motions. The somatic reinforcements would, ultimately, be a minor aid to the spell itself but every iota of vyrdin saved could make quite the difference later.

His motions might draw some attention, but Kieran was not too concerned. Of the combatants present, the grand melee seemed to have embroiled all but the energetic nuisance in the path and subsequent aftermath of the redirected rockwall. It was difficult to adjust his motions to maintain both distance and shield facing towards KJ, but that too was a welcome effort. “Blue, aware! Lady of Flight, arise and away!” Perhaps not the most diplomatic of warnings, but his shout was about all he could spare them as he worked the magic that now faintly sang in his blood. With one last half-step to his right, Kieran honored his spell with a final somatic component, and ‘blew’.

Unlike most spells seen so far within Cellar’s confines, Kieran’s Scything Exhalation was in no way a ‘fire and forget’ grade of ability. No, this was an active stream of wind-force and pressure that pushed through the dry and dank atmosphere with destructive glee. There was no visual flare to it, not like the bright and colorful licks of fire from a red dragon’s breath, just the merest of distortions to the air. Like the haze of heat off of sand or the world seen through another’s corrective lenses. Nor did the effect bend. Cellar’s lack of circulation left very little to impede or impair the ever growing cone of conflicting pressures before they would naturally disperse. The spell was not instantaneous, either, for Kieran held it for the span of several heartbeats as he shifted the stream ever so slightly from left to right of his targets.

Of the two, Meoden was by far the safer of his primary targets. The heavily armored dwarf was simply a far smaller and harder target for pressures to wound. With a great deal of luck, perhaps one of the needle forms might puncture an eye, or maybe a blade nick a critical strap to his gear and slow him down. More likely, it would be no more than an annoying breeze as the metal would shear away any fury of the spell. By comparison, Is’ira had presented herself as an extremely tempting and vulnerable target. Having just cast a spell of her own, more significant in appearance than the shots he himself had blocked, she was not just soft of body and form. She was distracted, and there was a significant chance in his mind that she would be too drained for the same shielding spell that had protected from Scylla’s portion of the earlier combined assault.

Kieran took a deep breath as his spell completed. Though he still had substantial reserves, that spell still took something out of him. He shook his head to clear the wave of fatigue, causing his long, braided hair to spill over one shoulder and hang limp. Still far too early to rest easy, and they likely still have surprises yet in store...



xaxtoo -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/19/2013 0:58:27)

Speed! Feet pound floor, then feet pound floor again. Quite monotonous, but the speed, so glorious in that it brought about a little bit of air circulation about his face, his body, his wound felt a little better. That single moment, the world felt a little better and KJ did feel the oppression of being in a life or death situation. Yet a fraction later, that speed, such amazingness of perfectly working muscles boosted to working beyond their intended effect so energetically, brought about some amazing pain. His arm, his chest and his right side of vanity muscles all burned as if someone cut him all over.

The air around KJ betrayed him. The blessing that was wonderful circulation suddenly had his balls scream a warning way too late to matter as firstly he was going way too fast to notice such subtle pressure differences, and secondly there was no way he could've stopped anyways. Luckily, he was fast enough to get through it in a mere moment. He had noticed the lone contestant that did an even better job of escaping the craziness than he, but why did that guy attack? Just leave and be done friend, your life is intact. And even more confusingly, his lightning babysitter remained complacent to still shoot in the opposite direction.

Not possessing the killer motivation detection system the floating lightning ball has, KJ had to turn to deal with the new problem. Turning brings about a different sort of dangers as now everyone else would be behind him, and so his physical positioning became awkward, not trusting enough to completely expose his back to the sordid smorgasbord behind him, yet still making sure he is facing the new threat. And the only constant was that he still is moving, much slower and still towards the wall. While sidestepping, his free hand opened all his pockets on that side, letting loose all the balls he can comfortably.

Before attempting anything that might damage relations further, blue question marks, wiggling with intentionality and somewhat forcefully hopefully to convey the level of urgency and importance, appeared over KJ's head. He tested his now damaged other arm slightly by small movements of the halberd, subtle stretchings, like at an event when the boredom is so great yet actually moving around would cause some hurt feelings. This stimulated the cuts as more blood came out, coating KJ, covering one side of his body so now he is half glowy, definitely a giveaway for a person hunting, which luckily wasn't him at the present. At least the pain is manageable, maybe he'll even get a little scar out of this and add to the elaborate fantasies that would later be his grand adventures, assuming he survives, which he will, most definitely.



jerenda -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/19/2013 1:21:28)

The earth pulled at her, trying to uncurl her limbs, unclench the tightly furled ball that was Gabriel. Her limbs trembled, her fingers ached, and her eyes watered as she tried to keep them open. It was vital that she be able to see… There!

The dwarf threw himself sideways, diving into a roll to avoid the flying Angelborn. Immediately Gabriel released the gravity pull on herself, restoring her weight to normal. She hit the floor in the same breath, her momentum carrying her forward – but not, thankfully, crushing her.

Her enemies were all behind her, so she turned the forward roll into a diagonal one, angling her hips to the side so that she came up facing the way she had come. Her anger still boiled, but there was no time to indulge it. Directly ahead of her, only just clearing the earthen shroud the dwarf had raised, was a ton of rocks. And they were all barreling straight towards her and her opponents.

It probably wouldn’t be a danger to the dwarf – his element was Earth as well, and he had created most of the rocks that were about to engulf them. So, with the few seconds she had remaining, she ignored the dwarf’s comment and turned to the warrior woman. “Let me get one thing straight – my name is Gabriel, and I fight for the Earth Lord.” She even used his common name, just to be absolutely clear.

Then the storm engulfed her. Earlier, when she had pulled on it she had gathered a general sense of the shape and size of the rocks she redirected. It was a slightly backwards use of her powers. She couldn’t pull on a single object without knowing where it was, but if she got ahold of it she learned more about the size and location of the object. Granted, she could create a cylinder of force anywhere regardless of what objects were or weren’t there, but if she maintained the cylinder she tended to get a sense of where the individual objects were as they fell towards her. It tended to be uncomfortably vague, but she had high hopes for it to work this time!

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel twisted to the right, a large slab of rock narrowly missing breaking her nose. She ducked, a smaller boulder whistling through the space where her head just was, and then leaped high, bending almost completely in half to clear a stone that was looking to break her kneecaps. As she landed, she brought her shield up in front of her, prepared to redirect the last piece of the rubble as dodging to the side would probably crush her.

Unfortunately, she had forgotten that her arms were blistering under the armor she was wearing, and when the rock hit it was her arms that gave. She hadn’t locked them, thankfully, so they didn’t break, just bent and hit her stomach with a force that knocked the wind out of her. She might have fallen backward into the rockslide if she hadn’t immediately latched onto the far wall with her gravity pulse. She couldn’t see it through the dwarf’s wall, but she knew where it was.

The air cleared, and Gabriel took another deep breath, careful to breathe steadily and not gasp for air. She was shaking despite the lack of cold, and her hip was stinging where the dwarf had cut her. Great, it’s probably got dirt in it now. I wonder if that counts as bandage enough to stem the bloodflow? Probably not. Still breathing deeply and as steadily as possible given her recent brush with death, she glanced around the Arena.

Her energy opponent was nowhere to be seen, although stray bolts of lightning flickering out of the corner of her vision reminded her that there was still more going on in the Arena than her smaller battlefield could account for. Hikari-chan was hiding behind the dwarf, and she was fairly certain she’d seen Shirushi-san backflipping out of the area before the rocks had hit, shouting his shortened commands at Ao-san.

Yes, there he was right now, some of the runes on his arms glowing and… vanishing? She didn’t have time to ponder, however, as he shouted again. “Blue, aware! Lady of Flight, arise and away!”

“Lady of Flight?” That was probably Gabriel - nobody else had been darting about on the ceiling. Well, she wasn’t in the habit of arguing when her allies told her to get the heck out of there. She swayed and fell forward, making it look like she had fainted, turning the motion into a roll that took her into the air as she held to the ceiling. Something swept behind her, a soft sigh. Odd - she didn’t think there were any air currents in the perpetually dry Cellar.

Ah well, she would figure it out later. For now, she needed to take a step back. And potentially clear up something. Lady of Flight wasn’t exactly a terrible nickname, but she wanted to be sure it wasn’t... misunderstood. With that in mind, she went spinning toward Shirushi-san as soon as she hit the ceiling, pulling on the top of the wall beyond him.

She released when she was a few feet away, lowering her weight steadily as she fell so that when she hit, it was with lightness and grace. Standing a few feet to his side, far away from the energy mutant, Gabriel nodded to Shirushi-san. “Very nice. The name’s Gabriel, earth. Got any more clever plans?” The compliment was vague - the question, worse, as it gave her the appearance of weakness, and privately Gabriel cursed her lack of social skills. The ability to carry on a conversation with grace hadn’t seemed like the most vital skill to develop when she was in training to stop a civil war.



Micosil -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/19/2013 16:13:57)

Scylla watched the light mage, hoping her taunt would make her press the attack, but she seemed to have noticed the ruse and had managed to mostly dodge the deadly avalanche that was going to crush her. Disappointing, but still a good showing, seeing how Scylla had come out unharmed and the magic-user had not.

She was returning to her charge, determined to remove the wizard from the fight once and for all, pretty much realizing that whatever was going on in other parts of the arena she had no longer any clue who her allies were, with the exception of the two original ones... and she was certain that even those were dubious cases.

It was much easier to tell that the mage was, in fact, a target, and since everyone'd have to fall sooner or later, it was a good idea to start out with her - not only did Scylla's closer range give her an edge there, but the wizard's attention seemed to be drawn to other people. A huge mistake, which had already cost her the earthen blow, and which would cost her even more, if she had any say on it.

And then, mid-charge, came the bellow - "Blue, aware!". She gave the shieldbearer a dirty look. Aware of what exactly? He seemed to be doing... much of nothing, really, but a very mystical much of nothing to be sure. Magic, most likely, and judging by both his speed burst and the fact that there seemed to be nothing much happening... air magic. The very moment she realized that, she stopped straight in her tracks, flipping backwards to avoid the whatever. Will you people let me actually hit someone, thank you!?

She still didn't manage to avoid it just completely, and a few well placed windwaves torn through her robes and into her flesh - and by the deeps, did that thing hurt - but she'd managed to get out of its range by the end of the flip, so she had the time to carefully observe the technique, which seemed to only have a minor tell in the slight air distortions. That made dodging really hard if one didn't see the spellcaster, and judging by the damage it inflicted...

Oh, blast it! Lighty! She realized immediately that, distracted as she was, the light mage would've probably had a hard time to dodge, even more if the stream was actually directed to her. And with how hard that thing hit her just by staying to the side... Chances were the light mage was dead, which she hoped wasn't the case.

She set in motion towards the caster's last known position almost instantly, resenting the small but painful wounds as she moved - if the mage had been hit by the stream, if the mage hadn't blocked it, if she hadn't dodged... a lot of ifs, but there was a chance that the wizard, who seemed to be more enthusiastic than experienced, was bleeding to death right now, having misjudged the threat of this tournament. If she was still up for a fight, then all was well and she'd be able to use her speed in a charge; but if she wasn't then someone had to take her to the entrance and the medical team, and everyone else seemed much too busy trying to put the others in that very same state to worry about it. Sheesh, talk about overkill...



Tdub -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/21/2013 17:33:20)

It was all going by so quickly. The Light Orb sailed through the air, spinning straight for the woman’s body. As Is’ira watched to see if her aim was true, she glimpsed something out of the corner of her eye.

Is’ira knew enough about magic to know when it was being cast. The runes on her previous foe’s arms were glowing in a similar manner to the radiance of Lumine when a spell was cast by the Explorer. The safest option by far was to attempt to block the spell altogether, although she knew not what it would do.

In a flash, another Light Shield came into existence. In an attempt to conserve the energy she had left, Is’ira had made this one smaller, not quite body sized. Is’ira heard the explosion of her Light Orb somewhere off to the side, although she would not dare to take her eyes off the task at hand. Crouching down, she attempted to fit all of her figure behind the shield, although she was not quite successful.

The first thing she felt was a sudden change in the air. The Cellar had already disoriented her with its dry aura. Now there was something…. different. Something she had never felt before. Instantly, her wounded right arm began to ache. Is’ira winced as she tried to figure out what was happening. Something in the air was irritating her wound.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp sting on her left elbow, which was sticking out of the Shield. Attempting to pull her arm back in, she felt another, this time closer to her shoulder. Is’ira did her best to avoid crying out, a tactic that failed when a small gash appeared on her upper forearm. Finally, Is’ira managed to fit her entire body behind the Shield, although she was likely to topple over at any moment. Her right arm was throbbing, her knee was in pain due to the almost squatting crouch she was in, and her left arm was stinging badly. Is’ira closed her eyes, and waited for the end.

And then, without warning, it was over. The attack seemed to have ended, and Is’ira cautiously dissipated her Light Shield. Her left arm was bleeding, but not quite as badly as her right arm had been. The Explorer did not feel the need to bandage this wound as she had the other one. Grimacing as she stood up, Is’ira bore the pain of her bruised knee, finally looking around to survey the damage.

Her attacker seemed braced, or perhaps just prepared, for any attacks that might come his way. She would decide what to do with him later. The woman who had earlier declared her allegiance to Earth seemed to be talking with the obviously Wind-aligned competitor, and Is’ira turned her attention away from the two.

The gruesome sight before her made Is’ira sick to her stomach. Oh, lords. I could not have done that. Did I? The woman from earlier, the one who had thrown the spear-like object, was lying on the ground, obviously dead. One could not simply survive without a head. At first, Is’ira hoped that it was the shield-bearing Wind competitor that had finished the woman. But as she stared, it became painfully obvious to the Explorer that it was the Light Orb.

It seemed that the woman had attempted to dodge the incoming Orb. Perhaps she had hesitated, seeing the runes on Wind’s robes glow, as Is’ira had done. Perhaps she was simply not fast enough. Whatever the case, the Light Orb had struck the woman on the side of the neck, instantly exploding upon impact. The force of the blast was enough to separate her head from her neck completely, most likely shattering her ribcage, damaging vital organs, and killing her instantly. The poor woman had not even had time to scream.

Blood pooled by the headless corpse, which had been thrown straight downward, not quite clear of Wind’s attack, causing a few more cuts around her body. To Is’ira, it seemed as though all the blood of the world had come to rest alongside the corpse in the depths of the Cellar. Putting her right hand over her heart, Is’ira grieved with regret. Death was not her intent in coming here. And yet, Death was present. Knowledge had been her motive, yet blood was her method. Choking back tears, Is’ira managed to speak two words. ”Ilsisi Ramybeje.” It was a Syaldian phrase, and one that translated very well into the language of this world.

Rest in peace.

Is’ira steadied herself. She could not give up. She could not let Meoden down, and she could not stop learning. This woman had known the risks of entering the Arena. Is’ira could not let the woman’s death stop her from competing. If Is’ira let her guard down for too long, she would end up just like the woman. Before she started back in the fray, Is’ira knew she had one more thing to take care of.

Surrender.

Is’ira knew she had no means of attacking the Wind opponent. Even if she could gain an advantage, it would be gone in moments, and the warrior of the Air would become victorious. Is’ira did not come here to fight losing battles. She had come to learn. And what she was learning right then was the art of acknowledging the better fighter. Turning to face the Wind fighter, she bowed her head in a slow nod, hoping that the man would notice her. On Syald, the extended nod was a sign of respect. She knew it was different on this world, and yet she hoped the man would know her intent.

Briefly, Is’ira wondered if she was committing treason to Light. She shook away the thought. After all, it was not Light surrendering to Wind. It was simply the acknowledgment of a better opponent with the hopes that he would not continue the attack. Is’ira hated showing weakness, and was fully prepared to fight the Wind competitor, and yet she knew she would lose. It was not failure. It was strategy, something she had to learn.

That finished, Is’ira completed her glance through the Cellar. Although there were several interesting actions in place, what stood out most was the charge of Blue, as Is’ira had now decided to call her. The Explorer was not surprised by the charge, as Blue did not seem like the kind to give up. Neither am I. Is’ira noted, preparing a spell.

Fueled by the pain in various placed, enhanced by the thought of the woman, head nowhere to be found, and enraged by the sheer frustration of the occurrences, Is’ira raised her right hand, yelling out as she extended her arm to let a Light Shot fly, Lumine glowing as the attack sliced towards Blue’s face. Is’ira took a defensive position, prepared to dodge should the woman get too close.


“She has killed.” Ma’hony said, sighing. “That world has an aura of violence. We cannot allow our people to go there.”

“What do you want to do?” The scribe asked, unaware of the gravity of the situation.

“Send word to the Council. Make sure this story is clear to the other scribes, and then deliver this message. Is’ira Beliard has died. The world is far too dangerous to allow any others to go. Work on the mass-transport portal must stop immediately.”

“But, sir….” The scribe stopped, thinking. Why would Sir Ma’hony lie to the people like this?

“Do it!” Ma’hony cried, causing the scribe to nod and run out of the room. It was clear to Ma’hony that, were the violence of that world to come to Syald in the form of Is’ira, chaos would spread until the perfect society they had built was all but destroyed. One way or another, Is’ira Beliard would not return to Syald.



EmbraceTheDarkness -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/21/2013 23:49:30)

"...and I fight for the Earth Lord."

Meoden glanced at Gabriel, confused. He much like everyone in the arena probably thought wind, but Earth? That wouldn't have been his first guess, but hey, the world is full of suprises. Gabriel appeared less concerned about him, seeing as his mock had simply been rolled off like it was nothing. His guard was still heightened though, even with Is’ira at his back.

Meoden was unsure what to do, he could attack and risk being pitted against two attackers at once that were much faster than himself, or he could attack someone else, like the mutant. Things were coming to an end in the arena, and he knew it. His ally, had just shortly arived from behind, thankfully. With the added support Meoden decided on what he would do. He began to make his way towards his two foes, before he was able make his first attack, his sight was blinded by a cloud of dirt.

"My own damn shroud!" he shouted frustrated as the dirt whirled around him

Meoden shielded his eyes, standing still as he waitied for it to pass. That's when he realised the shards of rock. The first projectile ripped across his cheek, the blood seeping into his beard. He felt a smaller shard smash into one of his boots, hurting his ankle for a moment. The third shard wizzed over his head, barely missing his temple.

"If I had to give someone a word to describe this arena...Insanity is the word I'd give to them"

As he dirt began to disipate, he could see that Gabriel had gone. Meoden looked around for the other lady when he noticed a headless heap on the floor, Meoden was indeed a fighter but even such a gruesome death as that could turn your stomach. He quickly shook the thought away as he felt a change in the atmosphere. The area around him had gained a sudden pressure to it, while Meoden could not explain the feeling, he had enough sense to know it wasn't good.

A second later Meoden felt a warm oozing in his elbow as he tried to detect what the pressure was. He glanced down at his arm, shock rippled through him when his eyes locked onto a large gash that was dripping with blood. He quickly ran a few metres away, hoping the best for his ally the entire time, though from the quick glance he shot her, she appeared to have hid behind a shield made of light.

After he was some distance he spun back around, his ally was standing up, looking down at the headless body with a mixture of emotions, all not pleasent. She brought her right hand over her heart and spoke words that Meoden could not understand, though he could sense that she was upset in a way. Meoden watched she turned slightly, slowly bowing her head, he could not tell at whom though.

"Was that her way of surrendering?" The thought slightly crumbled as he saw her fire a spell at Blue.

Meoden swung Peacemaker up. Getting down on one knee, he leaned into the stock and let out a slow breath, he fired his final bolt, right towards Blue's left eye. Meoden swung the golden crossbow back over his shoulder. He pulled the hatchets from their sheaths for what he hoped would be the last time in the arena. Exhuastion was begining to ravage his mind, he could not let his courage falter, not this far into the battle. Ignoring the slight pain in his ankle and chest he ran towards his ally, Is’ira. He would help her take care of Blue in anyway possible.

"Don't think I'm for a second that I am going to let you have all the glory!" Meoden called, laughing shortly after.



jerenda -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/23/2013 2:58:02)

It soon became apparent why the warrior woman hadn’t replied to Gabriel’s declaration - indeed, why Gabriel hadn’t been able to find her after the dust had settled. Her body lay spread-eagled in a pool of blood, headless.

Horror rose up in the Angelborn, and with a deep breath Gabriel opened herself to it. The monks’ teachings were rather useful, even if they did have a habit of going off about heartbeats and silence and internal peace. The shock washed through her, followed by rage and disgust and guilt and yes, even a measure of relief. Gabriel rode the storm, allowing the emotions to fill her and unravel, their energy spent when they encountered no resistance.

Fear struck next, the cold clammy hand that grips the heart and constricts the throat. Pumping adrenaline tried to turn the fear reflex into fight-or-flight, but Gabriel went still further into Open Heart, allowing both adrenaline and fear to fill her and gain escape. Worry, wariness, mistrust and the twisting anxiousness of protecting others - none gained purchase in her soul. She was an island, swept clean by the waves, and instead of pounding against the cliffs of a hardened heart, the riot of emotions collapsed, their energy spent.

A heartbeat thunders loud when a heartbeat is all that you are.


The oddity was regarding him, with an expressive nature that defied all logic of normalcy, not to mention base physics. Floating blue text writhing like some many-legged insect just hovering over KJ’s head? It was a mind-bogglingly simple means of questioning the intent, and it took Kieran several long moments to realize that fact. Once he had ferreted out the meaning behind it, he gestured with his chin towards his proper targets...only then noticing the carnage.

Death was not something that really bothered him, but the sudden absence of Eyra’s head was still a shock of surprise. The thickening pool of blood around the headless corpse fought to grab his attention, and it was a great effort of will to disregard it as nothing more than an impediment to movement. He couldn’t afford to stare at its mutilation, further damaged by his own spell as it was, simply because there was no TIME. Not in combat, not in this arena above all others. His head tilted fractionally towards Gabriel, to ensure his words could be heard clearly.

“Kieran, beholden to Wind.” Something nagged at him, not because of her alignment, but a curiosity of how her powers actually worked. “You manipulate properties, don’t you? Which, or should I ask how?”

She smiled faintly. “Gravity,” she answered, gesturing. “I make things fall.”

His eyes glazed over for a fraction of a second in thought. Gravity? Then it hit him, from his studies of past Finalists throughout the years. Those whose names were constantly on the citizens of Bren as they recollected the past to lessen their anxiety for the present matches. “Ah, like Roch. A manipulation of mass and effect. That is...a considerable skill.”

Roch? A brief surge of jealousy vanished inside Open Heart. Other people can have gravity powers. It’ll help him understand mine. Again, a good thing and a bad, in a place like the EC. Her smile transformed into a full-fledged smirk as she replied. “Less so when you accidentally fling giant boulders at yourself.”

“It is said he wore armor the weight of large beasts of burden as if it were mere leathers. You fling giant boulders around like chaff off of wheat. How, save ‘gravity’, is beyond me. Considerable, regardless.” Idly, he shifted the straps of his shield in his hands, holding it loosely and giving it a bit of a spin. “...flinging giant boulders...hrmm...”

Well, that sounded like an impressive skill. If she could wear heavy armor, instead of the lightest possible combination of protection and flexibility... her eyes crossed as she attempted to figure out how much weight-shifting it would require to wear a horse - or multiple horses, even! She shook her head sharply. It was irrelevant. Her powers would be useless if they were occupied all the time with making her armor wearable.

“I’ll have to explain it to you later. As much as I can, anyway. I don’t really understand it, myself, but sometimes you don’t have to understand a thing to make use of it.” That was definitely not one of the monk’s rules - she was pretty sure that Rule #9 was in direct opposition to it, but they couldn’t explain it either.

Head tilted to the side, she studied the battleground. Her posture had relaxed as she grew less wary of Kieran, something she would have scolded herself for had she noticed. “Those two are attacking Ao-san--er, Blue. They do like teaming up, and Blue-san looks very irritated. Maybe we should give her a hand? You seem to have fairly formidable skills yourself, Kieran-san.”

Kieran nodded in shared recognition of that fact, displeased at how Meoden continually went to Is’ira’s aid despite leaving his back wide open to continued assault. It made almost no sense, almost like throwing an asset away, for neither utility nor advantage. Almost like a shield...wait a heartbeat, that might actually work. He began to pick up speed in spinning his shield, a glint of mischief flaring within his eyes. “You have more knives, I hope?”

Her fingers flickered rapidly as she counted the knives stashed around her body. I lost so many... ah, but there are a few nearby. Readjusting her own shield, she tugged on a knife that she must have thrown at someone a century ago. It thumped solidly into the center of her shield for easy retrieval. “Eight. Whatcha got in mind?”

Kieran regarded Gabriel again, grinning almost wickedly, as the plan solidified within his mind’s eye. “High and Low, at the dwarf. We can give...’Ao-san’?...time to finish the mage off on her own. Least I can do, considering I think she’s a touch miffed at me now. That is, if you don’t mind giving me a bit of aid in hitting Low...” Gesturing with his chin again, he hinted at what he meant by pointing at his shield, still only slowly spinning from his changing grips.

“Can do. I’ll need to touch it.” Gabriel held out her free hand and brushed the shield, synchronising the movement with her own. She only needed a moment to coordinate and lock the gravity hold. Weightless would be too far. He needed to be able to throw it, so with a little bit of focus she cut its weight to half. Stepping back, she readied her daggers and let go of Open Heart.

“That’ll hold until I stop thinking about it. Throw well, Kieran-san.”

The sudden lack of weight to his shield surprised Kieran, but he grinned in approval after catching his shield and re-establishing his rhythm. “Oooh...” An acknowledgement of appreciation, albeit short as he focused on moving the shield. The squared set of paired straps made each spin of the shield transcribe uneven circles in the air in front of him, and it soon picked up enough speed to whip through the air.

His own movements became crisper as he adjusted to the task, angling his body to shift the shield off of a vertical spin and add yet more force. Soon, he twisted his body sharply, spinning about and moving the shield onto a horizontal plane before matching the force towards one sole direction. He let go. The shield a great silver bullet flying through the air, thrown with the purpose of an athletic hammer throw and the awkwardly graceful movement of a discus toss.

At the same moment, Gabriel leaped into the air, loosing a flurry of daggers aimed for the dwarf’s unprotected head and neck. She managed to get three off before she touched the ground, and threw a final one at the joint where his arm met his torso. It was a precision shot, aimed perfectly when it left her fingers but highly unlikely to hit if he moved. Still, if it managed to hit, it could very well cost him that arm.

Within sight lay the unmoving reminder of what would happen to any who failed to acknowledge such an attack. They would soon lie in a pool of their own darkening blood, a growing stain that spread long after the body stopped moving. Surely the warrior woman would have bled out by now. Surely.



Ryu Viranesh -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/24/2013 0:00:41)

Suddenly, out of the blue, or whatever the dominant color was at the time, multi-coloured sprites appeared, hovering down at rapid speeds to choice contestants. The swarm wiggled and writhed onto them, seeking entrance into the contestants through their ears, mouths, nostrils, and making the fighters emit a glow most spectacular from their eyes, ears, mouths, and even noses...

Their bodies grew transparent, the strange lights taking over everything, making them impossible to see, the light (the contestants?) rose up slowly, finally exploding into a gazillion of little marvelous pieces.

The Lords had made their pick, their chosen champions would proceed to fight the Final Battle of the Tournament...



Tdub -> RE: =EC 2013= Cellar Arena (7/26/2013 16:38:50)

Within moments, it was all over. At first glance, the lights that appeared seemed to be an attack from someone else in the Cellar, but it was soon evident to Is’ira that something else was happening. Her Light Shot attack had gone right through where her unarmed attacker had just been, and she ducked as the attack reflected from a mirror and sailed over her head.

Looking around, she saw that only Meoden and herself remained in the Cellar Arena. Wonderful. Just me, a dwarf, and a corpse.

Turning to her former ally, Is’ira spoke. “It seems those lights were intended to transport the finalists to their Arena. Not meant, I think, for us.”

It was not a problem. She had never intended to advance. She had come to learn, and learn she had. Besides, she doubted she would survive in the Finals.

“It has been an honor fighting by your side, Meoden. I hope to see you again.”

With that, Is’ira left the Cellar. Once out of the Arena and free of its enchantments, she would have been fine healing her wounds herself, but the mages outside insisted on tending to her injured arms and knee.

It was an easy task gaining access to the Finals Arena stands. There happened to be a few free seats available, and, although they did not provide the best view of the entire Arena, they were the only seats available for those who could not pay, and would have to do for Is’ira Beliard to continue her studies.


Soon after the tournament ended, Is’ira learned that she would not be allowed to returned to Syald. Although the news was sad, it could have been much worse for the Explorer, for she had learned that violence was part of nature, a way of life, and she doubted the governmental structure of her home planet could survive for long in its current state.

Although her underground efforts failed to impress the Light Lord, she was noticed by a certain Paladin, one who she had spoken to before entering the Cellar. He convinced her to enlist in the Order. She quickly learned how to use a blade, and now serves as a high-ranking member of the Paladin Order.

An excerpt from Elemental Championships: The Forgotten Competitors



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