=EC 2014= Cellar Arena (Full Version)

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Ryu Viranesh -> =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/15/2014 4:17:00)

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

This year, the Championships were expected to draw in a record breaking crowd, Bren’s streets packed to the brim with a sundry of spectators. They wandered from place to place, taking in the sights and sounds of the city before they retired to their seats to take in the sights on the sand. One of the most popular destinations for many of these crowds was a nondescript building of blackened steel, passers-by gazing at the structure with both curiosity and more than a bit of trepidation. For as many years as could be remembered, the space that the building now occupied had belonged to the Spike Arena, one of the five fabled battlegrounds that made up the Championship Arena Complex. Yet, as promised at the previous year’s Championships, the Spike Arena was no more, and instead this mysterious new arena was to take its place. None knew what awaited this year’s combatants on the inside, but plenty were eager to find out, tickets for the event long since sold out.

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


The Architect began his rounds through the Arena complex before the sun had crested the horizon; his promotion to Tournament Administrator was a very pleasant surprise, but all that it really meant was that he had even more work on his plate that day. So, best to get started early.

The evaluation of the Cellar Arena was, in truth, more of a formality than anything else. Though Marcos was careful to make sure that all of its enchantments were in working order, he knew that he had little to worry about with when it came to this arena. Its original builders had done an impeccable job on the design, and beyond a few minor adjustments made over the years, the Cellar had remained largely the same over its long tenure. Grunting in satisfaction, the Architect waved for his retinue to follow after him, the attendants scrambling to keep up with their superior’s breakneck pace.


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

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

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

The upper gate closed with a loud, ominous clang.

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

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

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

Perhaps.

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



Lazo -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/15/2014 19:29:39)

The hair on the back of her neck bristled at the dry breath of sorcery permeating the room. Were it not for the illumination and the mirrors placed along the walls, Pithy would have likened the sensation of walking into Cellar Arena to that of walking into a well-maintained crypt.

She gathered herself swiftly, the pause little more than a moment to take in the layout of the arena. She saw little that she had not learned from the few inquiries she had posed while topside. Irritation gnawed at her. Having arrived only recently, the time for preparation had been scarce. All she had managed to gather about the competition were nonsensical rumors about a ferret competing in a separate arena.

It did not show in her proud stride, head held high almost contemptuously to the eyes hidden behind the ten mirrors. The svelte woman reflected on the surfaces was not moved by things as petty as doubt. In the enclosed space of the cellar, the sound of Pithy’s black boots striking the smooth stone echoed like strikes of a hammer. Pointed ears protruded from the cascading waves of black hair that concealed much of the right side of her face, explaining the sharpness of what remained visible of her pale features. The blue robe she wore loosely over her shoulders, showing the white shirt and leggings covering the sculpted figure below, bounced with every step, the long sleeves free and lazily trailing behind her. A weapon’s handle peeked out from beneath, held confidently in the grasp of black gloved fingers.

Pithy chose one of the corners of the arena, comfortably standing where her back would not be vulnerable and from where she could survey most of the room. She was ready for whatever came her way.

An almost imperceptible tremor shook through her weapon’s handle. Her one unexposed eye, icy blue, glanced its way, betrayed. Her discomfort – the idea of fear was instantly shunned when it crossed Pithy’s mind – could be given several justifications.

One was particularly insistent in its appeals.

Talent gathered in this place. Talent she had not faced since she had left her home. It would gather now as it had before, and powerful blood would be spilled for the pleasure of their spectators. Not those peering from behind the mirrors affixed to the room’s walls. The beady eyed, clamoring vultures were as inconsequential to anything but morale as their true counterparts. The true spectators and judges looked on from a separate plane. One hand absently rose to her right cheek. Skin crawled. Pithy wondered if the Elemental Lords had any reason to join this spectacle beyond that of the rest of the scavengers.

She drew her weapon with her right hand, the slender blade of the rapier reflecting light like yet another mirror, and held its point above her outstretched palm. A small icicle formed in a breath of cold air, held aloft by her magic. It remained atop her open hand, slowly twisting in place, rapier held at the ready as she waited for the rest of the contestants. There would be little place for discomfort once the battle began.



jerenda -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/15/2014 20:48:13)

The woman was strong and proud. She held herself with an aura of strength, at least, and walked through the crowd as if she didn’t see them, head held high. Her eyes flashed blue in the rising sun, her hair shimmered golden. The long leather sheath at her hip swung freely with her long stride, her long fingers resting lightly on the simple hilt. The smooth shifting of expertly crafted chainmail sliding against leather rang with every step she took.

Heads turned as she approached; perhaps because of her armor, perhaps because of the weapon at her side, but neither of those things were enough on their own, not in Lore, not in Bren, and certainly not in Bren on the day of the Elemental Championships.

Perhaps it was her uncanny beauty, drawn from arrogant, unconscious grace and the almost-alien features of her face… or perhaps it was the fact that the town’s many criers had been announcing a Wind competitor of her description for the past two days. Perhaps it was simply because it was Bren the day of the Elemental Championships, and the citizens gleefully stared at anyone who passed, notable or otherwise.

Whatever the reason, she paid no mind to the attention she drew. She neatly sidestepped the clinging fingers of thieves, circled a man who leered at her, and at one point neatly dropped a hawker selling wares who got too close with a thwack of her sheath to the inside of his knees, all without seeming to notice them. Julianna’s mind was elsewhere.

She would have walked straight to the Finals Arena, too, had one of the many administrators ensuring the games ran smoothly not caught up to her. “Ah! Julianna, Wind, oh dear, your arena is this way.” Julianna blinked, coming out of her trance, and looked down at the woman who had darted in front of her path, waving her arms.

“Come on, now, you’re in the Cellar.” Julianna allowed herself to be led to the right entrance, a heavy metal grate that seemed to lead into darkness. She glanced at the row of healers and gravediggers, standing side by side, and nodded at the most senior gravedigger.

At least they are prepared. Julianna glanced at the words on the scroll, feeling that if they were going to offer advice, she should be prepared to take it. No healing… Perfect. Without any further delay, she descended into the darkness.


Someone had arrived before her, a woman of about her height wearing a blue robe with a simple white tunic and leggings underneath it. Her sword hand held a drawn weapon of the type Julianna favored; her other hand held a small icicle, spinning slowly above her open palm. She had chosen to stand in a corner of the room, facing the doorway so she could see. Julianna didn’t disagree, and drew her rapier as well as she stepped into the Cellar.

The woman could prove a good opponent, and their fighting styles would be similar. Julianna could handle the magic. Yet she felt unwilling to strike first, to start this battle. She had always had a hard time beginning a fight. She headed to the other side, walking around the nearest pillar to stand midway down the right wall. Corners were fine, but she felt like having open space around her for now.

Julianna turned toward the wall. The mirrors protected her; from here she could see practically everything in the endless reflections, even the dark-haired woman in the corner. Perhaps one of her competitors would be foolish, and assume that because her back was turned, she was unprepared.

Besides, she was curious. She tapped the mirrored surface with the tip of her sword, watching the way it reverberated. How unique. She resisted the urge to laugh. Magic was such a strange and wondrous thing.



EmbraceTheDarkness -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/16/2014 0:20:17)

“You make it out of there you hear” The innkeeper said in his gruff voice
“I will” Gavin told the man
A young boy, the innkeeper’s son, ran up to Gavin from behind the establishment “You’ll teach me how to use a sword when you get back won’t you?”
Gavin smiled “He’s got determination” Gavin dropped to one knee to be level with the boy “I promise” the boy's face lit up and he ran back off behind the inn
Gavin rose and looked to the innkeeper “I’ll pay you back for the room”
The innkeeper shook his head “You have enough things to worry about”
“Thank you” Gavin sighed “Well I best be off, the people are waiting” He said before turning away from the inn, his white cape billowing in the soft breeze

***

He pushed his way through the crowd and witnessed as a women knocked a man to the ground with her sheath, Gavin offered the man his hand and helped him to his feet before pressing on to the arena. The day had moved slowly, the anticipation had been eating at him for the entire week. “Are you so eager to die” the innkeeper had asked him – maybe Gavin was.

The people all eyed him curiously as he passed, women turned to whisper to each other before giggling and walking off. Men looked him up and down, grunting or laughing in response. Gavin ignored them all, the commotion going on around him was distracting enough as the herd of people walked to the arena.

Gavin stopped before the steps to the arena, the darkness seemed to call his name. He tilted his head back and let out a long breath of air and began his descent.
“Lord, cast your light upon me. Lord defend me, grant my sword strength to win the coming battles. The lords are just”
His footsteps rang out as he stepped down into the darkness, pausing before the entryway
“The gods are cruel” he whispered and stepped inside

Two other competitors had arrived before him, both female. One stood off midway down the arena, touching the wall with her blade and watching as it reacted. The other had positioned herself in a corner, sword drawn with a small ice crystal floating above her open hand. He silently hoped a male competitor arrived, he may have left the order but he was going to try and stick to his oath to be chivalrous. Gavin went to the corner opposite of the mage, drew his sword and waited. He would not be the one to start the battle, he would let his challenger come to him, whether they be male or female, he was willing to do whatever he had to ensure he won.

“The gods are cruel” he thought to himself with a grim smile



The Extinguisher -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/16/2014 1:12:59)

Bren is not, what’s the word, comforting. Human’s have some strange practices, but I’ll never understand their need to spectate on violence. I cannot judge someone for wanting to fight, but I question the need to glorify it so. If it were up to me, our only audience would be each other. Unfortunately, it’s not up to me. I guess I’ll just have to block them out. Pretend they’re not there. Shouldn't be too hard, if I read where I was going correctly.

I descend into the arena, pit would be a better word for it, and I’m assaulted by the dryness of it all. The room reeks of magic and death and all in all I’m looking forwards to it. If I am to die here, at least it will be interesting. Could do with some more water though. But I've long learned that everything in these lands could use some more water.

Luckily, I was not the first to arrive. Three more, eager to fight. Maybe not eager, as they all just stood there, waiting for someone to make the first move. Backs to the wall. Defensive. I shouldn't be so dismissive though; a animal with no where left to go is often the most dangerous.

I quickly sight up (is that the right phrase?) the competition. A rapier and an icicle. Interesting. Must be cautious, who knows what else she is capable of. Although thinking about it, this applies to everyone here. Another rapier, with exposing armor. Back turned, but clearly watching the mirrors. Probably a trap, but joints are easy to stab and keep you out of a fight. Potential. A large sword, covered in armor. Respectable, but a fight of attrition is not what I want right now. I sigh, still standing near the entrance.

I sprinkle a small vial of water on the ground. Sentimental value, but it makes the place feel more like home. More like a place I’m willing to die. And I turn towards my foe. I've been waiting for this for a while. A chance to fight and a chance to prove myself. There will be no more waiting, no more hesitation. I unsheathe my great-sword, and walk briskly towards the woman in armor.

Waiting time might be over, but I’m not going to charge into a trap like an idiot.



Lazo -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/16/2014 3:57:22)

Pithy studied the new arrival with a narrow gaze, the icy spike roused from its lazy twirling to follow the woman’s fluid, confident motion with its gleaming point. Her eye stopped at the woman’s sword hand, considering the rapier, before moving up to her eyes.

Blue, she noted, and eyeing Pithy much the same way Pithy was eyeing her. And familiar, too familiar by far.

There was something decidedly queer about her features, and the way she moved. Human, but not quite. Briefly, Pithy wondered if the blue eyed woman was related to her people.

The thought considerably darkened her already grim mood. She almost hurled the spike in outrage when the woman turned her back on her. Dismissed, as if she was not worth the attention. There were more pressing matters to concern oneself with. What point was there to addressing one’s own reflection?

Reflection?

She glanced at each of the mirrors, stopping once she found the eyes of the swordswoman. The reflection shivered as she tapped it with her rapier. Pithy sneered at her own reaction, chastising herself for not thinking of the possibility when she saw her turn. Cleverness, not overconfidence.

Good. She was of a mind to test this one.

Steps resonated from the arena’s entrance, and the point of the icicle swung towards the noise as she broke away from her reverie.

The third contestant was easily to place. He had the feel and look of a paladin. She had seen his kind before, rarely lacking their cumbersome armor, often white or gold or a combination of both. All the better to allude to their allegiance. This one still seemed young by human standards, and would not have been surprised if young girls fawned and giggled at the passing of their knight. Pithy found him utterly uninteresting beyond the challenge his armor would pose, and only kept an eye on him until he stopped at the corner opposite to her. Yet another contestant unwilling to take the first step.

The following contestant was different in ways she did not need her eyes to notice, and in some ways likely closer to her than the other occupants of the room. Her eyes however, did notice something she could not detect otherwise. His stance was unlike those that had come before. Less… guarded. And he was eyeing other woman.

Pithy began moving at the same time he did, her walk carrying her closer to the center of the room. Peace would be soon broken, and everyone seemed to move with the deliberateness demanded from imminent danger. As she moved, her eyes trailed to each of the contestants, then to their reflections in the mirrors. The icicle moved with her eyes, as if trying to guess her intention.

Then she reached her desired position. The other woman was between her and a mirror, from which she could spy the reflection of the odd knight creeping closer. Part of her hoped the woman would dodge. It would be a good time to test this arena’s hazards.

On an unvoiced command the icicle sped forward, its gleaming point eager to sink into a target.

Undeterred, she hastened her approach towards the woman. She was of a mind to test this one. Of a mind to test herself.



tommy2468 -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/16/2014 5:56:00)

Bren was exactly like every other city Nod had been to. The unwashed masses stared and parted ways for the tall disfigured woman. Her eyes were soft, but cautious. It was not uncommon for a "monster" like herself to be attacked by those who would wish to claim to be a hero.

Thankfully, she was not attacked. However, she was insulted by a small group of children, but Nod paid them no notice. Her mind was set on the path ahead to the Arena where she was headed.

In front of her she noticed a Paladin assisting a man to his feet. Perhaps he was an entrant to the Championships.

"Everyone is a potential enemy. But anyone can be a potential ally." She though to herself. But she was sure that one look at her body and the other entrants would immediately see her as a violent monster.

"My suffering is visible to all. But the true monsters will be hidden behind kind smiles."

---------


The entrance to the Cellar was exactly the way that she had imagined it.

It terrified her.

Old memories of an underground laboratory crept their way into Nod's mind, but she pushed them away as she clung to her Fox Wand. The strong, warm Alder pumping courage through her very veins.

Nod stopped to read a suspended scroll that hung above her.

"Wounds shall not heal while in the arena." She thought with nerves jangling around her skull.

"My wounds have never healed anyway..." She mused with a semblance of a smile on her slash of a mouth.

Nod pushed forward and entered through the gate into the Cellar and she attempted to take in as much of the situation as quickly as she could.

Already contestants had begun to set upon each other. A strange creature of water in armour was striding towards a female of great beauty. Nod envied the woman for her appearance and her natural slender body, but it was no time for her to think about such foolish things.

The female in armour had taken position near a mirror. Perhaps for defence, though Nod could not see how they could offer much protection.
Nod stroked her Tree Wand and it provided her with insight and understanding. The mirrors were a form of magical repulsion, protection and reflection. She would be wise to remember that for the future. And she would be wiser to remember that the armoured female must have come to the same conclusion. Powerful enough to enter the Elemental Championships, beautiful enough to distract male entrants, but also very intellectual. A savage combination to make a difficult enemy.

The water creature seemed a tricky being, but it's very existence in the dry climate of the Cellar was like a fish out of water. Nod tried to smile at her joke, but the remnants of her lips refused to enter such a comfortable position.

Nod could see the Paladin that she had seen from earlier. He had shown kindness to the fallen man, so why had he entered the competition?
"Perhaps he is a monster hiding behind a kind smile..." She pondered.

She knew that the same was true with the female elf, who was already halfway across the room intently staring down the armoured woman. Her contorted face was cold and harsh; beautiful but twisted. Both held thin rapiers, so Nod believed that they would approach each other to begin with.

"The armoured lady will have difficulty with two enemies approaching her" Nod thought to herself.

That left the Paladin alone in a corner of the room. He seemed content to stand and watch the other contestants battle it out before he begins to fight himself.

Nod decided she would use a similar tactic and she stood close to the entrance of the Cellar.
Perhaps her horrendous appearance would repel some of the newer combatants.

She stood by the entrance and prayed, "Lord of Earth, I have rarely prayed to you before but if you care then I am here for you. Allow me some humanity in such an inhumane place."




blankmaskara -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/16/2014 15:09:30)

To any typical person, Ross would seem to be a normal human. They would not notice the faint markings of runes in his pupils, nor would they be able to pinpoint the faint sound of buzzing and whirring that came from his body. These people would simply take a look at him for a few seconds, then leave. It wasn't like adventurers didn't have scars, nor a few runes decorated around their bodies for the sake of spell-casting after all. As such, this was a usual occurrence that he reveled in, being able to take full advantage of the situation. After all, one's ignorance could, and is, another's opportunity.

However, in the same manner, the relic hunter went down the stairs, ironically believing --as any other person would-- what lay below to be a large box of damp, cold cobblestone, with only a few torches as well as a few enchanted mirrors to keep it from being less than completely dark (with the mirrors being significant tools for reflection of projectiles, as he saw on the scroll right outside the entrance). The so-called Cellar Arena he thought of in his mind was a place of darkness, desolation, and oppression amidst humid conditions, just like how any other man would think of it to be.

He couldn't be more wrong.

Upon setting foot onto the arena, his eyes bore witness to a large arena of pristine stone surrounded by walls with several large mirrors, and a group of bio-luminescent moss-infested pillars right in the middle. The place itself was quite well-lit even with the lack of torches, and seemed to be in tip-top condition, aside from the dryness that hung in the air. All of these were details he lacked knowledge of, details that another could've very well used to his or her advantage if Ross were in another situation.

"Can't let that happen again. Can't let myself assume and believe so quickly," the cyborg thought, reprimanding himself for being misled so easily.

Breaking away from his train of thought, he took a quick survey around the area. There was a blonde woman of to the right side, tapping one of the mirrors on the wall. Meanwhile, a strange humanoid creature of water and a strikingly pale elf approached from behind. It seemed quite improbable to do such a thing, what with the blonde seeing them through the reflection. However, these people probably noticed this as well.

On the other hand, there was a paladin in one corner, and a strange, abnormally tall, yet disfigured woman in another. They didn't seem to take any action, preferring to prepare for any of those who wished to assault them.

No chances just yet. No fights, just people on edge. Everybody here has a sword of some sort, and the deformed one has a few wands... Most probably a spellcaster...

With no opportunities to be seized at the moment, Ross decided to take a walk towards the left side of the arena, creating two small orbs of pressurized water around him. He thought a fight would break out soon near the right wall, although he could be wrong. Besides, if the others wanted to wait, he could. He could wait all day and keep his distance. Sooner or later, someone would open up his or her defenses. Surely, somebody would...



nield -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/17/2014 1:55:27)

Ineria marvelled as she walked through the streets of Bren. The structures a far cry from what she knew. She ran her hands along the stone, comparing how different the feel was to the buildings of ice she was used to from her home. It had been some months since she left Illistria, but she had not yet been in another city, only small towns and villages. And everywhere she had gone, she had heard tell of battles fought and glory won. Whispers of competitors disqualified and Champions victorious. Rumours and tales of the Elemental Championships of Bren. Her curiosity piqued, and her wish to test her strength in battle surging, she had made her way to the famous city. The Championships were as yet a week off and Ineria had already signed up, but the wonders of the city called to her. Its differences from her home so alien, yet so intriguing.

"Home..." She murmured to herself, thinking of events that had seen her take flight to begin with, the Illustrious Illistria in hand. Betrayal in the courts, and the prince, the only Illistrian who had never given her grief over her gender, the only one to not perceive her as some abomination, lay dying, blood seeping onto the icy floors, bade her take the royal symbol and flee. "Begone from here, Ineria..." he had whispered through broken lips. "And never come back, Fate be damned." He had died then, cradled in her arms. She had sat there sobbing, her light tunic saturated and her daggers stained crimson from battle with the would-be usurpers. She had been a swift fighter back then, and had trained in the art of the sword and shield, and armour since, to better protect the spear that she now carried wherever she went.

Ineria snapped out of her reverie, and smiled ruefully. This was no time to be getting caught up in the past. This was a time to look to the future. Though, perhaps the immediate future. Hunger was starting to overcome her, and the sun was beginning to set in the sky. She had already purchased some healing potions for use during battles, though she resolved to use them only in dire circumstances, or should she be defeated dishonourably. She made her way to the nearest of Bren’s six major inns, ducking her head to enter the doorway (Which she found rather marvellous: Back in Illistria she was considered short and cleared doorways with ease, but everywhere she had been since leaving had always short doorways, and very rarely now did she find herself NOT ducking to pass through) and rented a room for the next week. Or, rather, she would have, but when she mentioned she was to be competing, the innkeeper, an older gentlemen with a soft, melodic voice told her that the room was on him. Ineria protested, but he was insistent, though in a passive way. Ineria did, however, pay for her food and she sat down to eat.

As she ate, Ineria became aware of a pair of eyes on her. She turned and saw a woman, very short, at least by Illistrian standards with red hair and bright green eyes. Ineria felt something from the woman, a sense of being near an open flame. Ineria offered her a smile, but remained where she was. She noticed that the woman seemed to be contemplating her, and, as she finished her meal, stood up and went over to her. “Nothing wrong with being friendly, Ineria. Even if she’s in the Championships and you fight her, here and now, you’re just two people.” She muttered to herself and knelt next to the woman, which brought them to eye level of each other. “Greetings. I am Ineria.” She said, warmly. The woman responded: “Sorcia. Please, have a seat. I have fruit coming.” So Ineria took her up on that offer, getting to her feet, then sitting down. “That is kind of you.” She said, smiling. This close, the sense of being near an open flame was greater, but Ineria noted it was not a hostile feeling, but a passive one. It’s her element… Fire. she thought to herself. “Are you here to compete in the Championships?” Ineria asked, when nothing else came to mind to say.

“I am” Sorcia said, as one of the older waitresses set down a platter of fruit. “I came here to experience what my master always remembered. What about you?” Ineria smiled. “I come here to test my skills in battle, little more.” She said as she picked up a piece of fruit and admired it. Ineria ate the fruit, its bitter taste quite to her appetite as Sorcia also ate a fruit. Ineria listened as the woman spoke; “My Master always said that testing your skills is a lifelong endeavour, and that by not testing it, you do yourself a disservice. Tell me, you adhere to the Lord of Ice, yes?” Ineria nodded in response. “Aye. Ice is a part of who I am, as a matter of fact. You are of Fire, yourself, if I’m not much mistaken?” "Yes, you are very correct. I thought I felt something from you. My master also said I would always be able to recognise my perfect opposite." She laughed softly. "Even though we may have to fight each other later, it is nice to sit down and have a civilised conversation. My master mentioned an allied force when he participated. What are your thoughts on that?"

Ineria blinked. The idea had never even occurred to her, though thinking back, some of the stories she had heard about the Championships had mentioned fighters who worked together, despite the ultimate goal of being the sole victor. She stroked her chin thoughtfully, then spoke. “I must admit, it was not something I had given any thought…” Then she grinned. “But it certainly would be interesting.” "My master said that though his partner won in the end, it was one of the most honourable fight he had ever had. He used it constantly to teach me. You know, two opposites, in a partnership, would be interesting." She smiles. "That is if you think it is worth exploring." Ineria opened her mouth to respond when a rogue thought hit her. What if this was a set-up? What if Sorcia wanted to make an alliance, simply to- No. Ineria closed her eyes and shook her head imperceptibly. Sorcia seemed honourable enough, she was sure this was no trick.

Ineria’s smile returned and she nodded. “It sounds like a wonderful idea, Sorcia.” "Well, that was certainly easier than I thought. Here, I was formulating some grand argument to talk you into it." Sorcia sat back, relaxing. "On the field, I was always much more comfortable with someone to work with." Ineria laughed, mirth dancing in her eyes. “I’m much used to fighting on my own, but I have fought alongside another, once before…” her eyes dropped, sadness tinging them as her hand briefly played over the spear across her back. She snapped out of it and grabbed a piece of fruit, raising it in mock-toast. “Here’s to a grand tournament, and to allies.” Sorcia also grabbed a piece of fruit and joined the toast. Ineria bonked the fruit she was holding against Sorcia’s and then bit in, the tangy sweet flavour dripping down her chin as juices overflowed. Taking a bite as well, Sorcia laughed a bit louder. "This is crazy. This whole thing, but I wouldn't trade it for the world. If we are in the same arena, whether at the start or middle or end, we will be a force to reckon with. I do hope, very much so, that we begin together.”

Ineria nodded, wiping the juices from her face. “With any luck. Though woe be to our opponents if we are!” she said and laughed. “Ah, but it grows late. Perhaps I shall retire for now.” She said, standing up and smiling down at the shorter woman. “May we find glory in battle, and fight with honour.” She said, reciting an Illistrian Battle-pledge. Sorcia stood as well, placing her fist over her heart and bowing her head slightly, before looking up at Ineria again. "And may your rest bring you victory, for in our sleeping moments, the battle begins." Ineria bowed and headed to the room the innkeeper had given for her. The bed was woefully short, obviously not made for someone of Ineria’s height, but she curled up beneath its blankets nonetheless and slept. And the week passed, coming up to the day of the Championships. Ineria sightsaw around Bren, marvelling all the time as she did at the craftsmanship that went into everything. Then, she found herself standing before the Cellar Arena. Much of the competitors had already entered, she learned, and she read the scroll outside. “No healing…?” she laughed as she pulled out the potions she had bought. “What a fabulous waste of money.” She murmured to herself. Ineria looked up as a familiar voice came from nearby. “Read the healing part too, I assume?” Ineria smiled ruefully at Sorcia. “Aye. And me having bought some potions, too.” Ineria looked slightly nervously over at the gravediggers.

She shook her head, and with it, her fear. “Well, apparently the other competitors are all down there. Shall we go join the battle?” “Hold onto them. Surely there is more than one arena to work in? Maybe they will work there." Ineria nodded: she hadn’t thought that far ahead, but Sorcia was on her toes. Ineria saw her look around, then focus forward, on the arena. "It is what we are here for. Time to meet those we must get through to test our skills." Ineria nodded, and descended into Cellar. What struck her immediately was how… different it was from what she had expected. She was expecting dark, dank and cool, perhaps even cool enough to give her an edge, but it was… dry, and well lit, bioluminescent moss providing copious lighting, reflecting off the mirrors that lined the walls. And it certainly was not cool enough to even allow her to frost the air with her breath. She took note of the other competitors, one along the wall, facing the mirror as two approached from behind. A Paladin stood in the corner, and Ineria took note. “He seems like a fair, honourable fight…” she muttered to herself. She noticed a man standing off to the side, two small orbs beside him, and a strange woman by the entrance. Her visage was broken by burns and scars, and Ineria felt a pang of sadness for the woman.

But this was a time for fighting. Her left arm tensed as she closed her hand into a fist, bringing her shield out in front of her, her right hand drew her sword from its sheathe and she spoke, loudly addressing all in the arena: “May you find glory in battle, and fight with honour.” It was a battle-pledge, and therefore something to be shared with all opponents. Then she walked, approaching the paladin at a brisk pace, but keeping a wary eye on the other competitors through the mirrors. She had no way to know how any of them would fight. Honour might not mean anything to any one of them.



Eukara Vox -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/18/2014 0:50:22)

“Are you sure this is what you want, Sorcia?” Her mother, Netha, asked softly.

Sorcia had heard this twenty times over the last weekend. “Yes, mom. This is what I want to do. Master Nerysi spoke of this all the time. It would honour his memory and efforts if I attended.” She tied her boots, then began buckling the reinforcement straps around her ankle and up the leg of each.

“I heard that most people die there.” Lystre said as he stared at the ledgers.

“Master Nerysi said that many do not. He didn’t. He was allied with an honourable mage, who when it came down to it, bested my Master but spared his life. Not everyone dies.”

“But, people do. How do you know you won’t?” Lystre continued, scribbling something on a line to indicate an expenditure.

Netha shivered. “Don’t speak like that!”

“Mother, she could have died a hundred times over already. YOU let her go off and fight in wars and battles. You let her train with Master Nerysi. You… You asked for this. Reacting like her wanting to go off to this tournament is a crime is ridiculous. If you wanted her to stay home like a good girl, you would have done things differently a long time ago.”

“And we would be destitute, or dead!” Netha yelled at her son, her voice a mix of sorrow and regret. “I did what I had to do to make sure we survived.”

Lystre shrugged, turning the page. “As you say, Mother.”

It took everything for her to not react to her youngest brother. He hadn’t been old enough to know the pain of hunger. No, they never starved, but they had known hunger. The spoiled brat was a baby. By the time he was old enough to remember anything, she had already earned them a place where there was food and a home.

She got up, dressed and ready to go. Ignoring her brother, Sorcia walked over to her mother and kissed her on the forehead. “Mom, I will be okay. I have spent years training. Please, just have faith in me.”

“I always have, love. I always have.”


It had been a long journey, both on foot and by paid caravan. Nothing, save death, would have kept her from attending the Elemental Championship her mentor and benefactor spoke of with such strong memory. The city itself wasn't anything new to her. She lived on the outskirts of a great city herself, and they were all the same. This one, perhaps, was different because of this annual competition. She had been there a short seven-day, and all she saw were hopefuls, boasters, self-absorbed peacocks with illegitimate shadows and would-be fighters with weapons that wouldn't have carried them in battle.

But, there were also many who were worthy of such a competition.

Oddly enough, there were many children about, even with such a throng of people and that seemed out of place. Unless, of course, children in this part of the world were accustomed to such violence early on. Sorcia was not sure how to think on that. Maybe for after the Championships...

The Silver Stone was full, as usual. She was grateful to have been in town for so long, as it afforded her the ability to secure a room in the inn where the ownership cared about the establishment enough to kick the ass of anyone who behaved like a moron. Meals were relatively quiet, meaning that the usual conversations were held, people gathered, but drunken idiocy was not present. No one bellowed, no one pranced about like a half-witted warrior with a death wish. It was nice.

It was also odd that, when the very tall woman walked through the door, no one even blinked. Sorcia knew all kinds would be gathered here... but this had to be more unusual. She had to be at least a foot... no, more than that... taller than Sorcia. And she was blue. She'd seen green. She'd seen furry. She'd seen orange... that was a weird story. But not blue. And, the moment she walked in, Sorcia felt a weird aversion and attraction to her.

She grinned to herself and took a sip of her ale. She was Sorcia's opposite. Her mentor told her that when she ever met her perfect opposite, she would know. But, the woman was a fighter like her, which meant it wasn't technique, or even the evidence of magic. It was elemental.

Surprised when the woman smiled at her, Sorcia returned it. This was the first smile she had received outside the owners of the Silver Stone. The smile only increased the duality she felt towards the woman. Sorcia waved down the owner’s wife, requesting a small plate of fruit. Perhaps I should approach her. I don’t think that is taboo…

The blue skinned woman seemed to be lost in a moment’s thought, then got up and headed towards Sorcia. Gods, she is tall… Kneeling next to her, the woman spoke in a warm voice. “Greetings. I am Ineria.”

Kneeling put Ineria at eye level easily. It was a bit disorienting to have someone kneeling and be that even with her gaze. Sorcia’s curiosity went through the roof. Who were the people she came from? Were they all this tall? Why hadn’t Master Nerysi ever mentioned warriors like this during the nights of fire and remembrance?

“Sorcia. Please, have a seat. I have fruit coming.” Well, there went her plan to be the hospitable one, the one to offer the cup of friendship. Her voice was beautiful, as was her overall appearance. Sorcia wasn’t sure if it as the pure exoticness of Ineria’s appearance or what, but she was impressed.

She watched Ineria stand and take a seat. “That is kind of you.” The smile given helped Sorcia relax. “Are you here to compete in the Championships?”

"I am. I came here to experience what my mentor always remembered. What about you?" The owner’s wife brought a small plate of fruit and set it down between them.

Ineria smiled. “I come here to test my skills in battle, little more.” She picked up a piece of fruit and admired it.

Sorcia stabbed a piece of yellow fruit, its tangy smell quite delicious. She popped it into her mouth and smiled, chewing. Once done, she nodded. "My master always said that testing your skills is a lifelong endeavour, but that by not testing it, you do yourself a disservice. Tell me, you adhere to the Lord of Ice, yes?"

Ineria nodded in response. “Aye. Ice is a part of who I am, as a matter of fact. You are of Fire, yourself, if I’m not much mistaken?”

So, my gut feeling was right. My opposite in element. "Yes, you are very correct. I thought I felt something from you. My master also said I would always be able to recognise my perfect opposite." She laughed softly. "Even though we may have to fight each other later, it is nice to sit down and have a civilised conversation. My master mentioned an allied force when he participated. What are your thoughts on that?"

Sorcia watched as the question seemed to throw the taller woman off. As she stroked her chin, Sorcia realised that this may never have occurred to her.

“I must admit, it was not something I had given any thought…” Ineria flashed a grin. “But it certainly would be interesting.”

An ally now would be quite useful, and comforting. She paused for a moment, then began. "My master said that though his partner won in the end, it was one of the most honourable fights he had ever had. He used it constantly to teach me. You know, two opposites in a partnership would be interesting." She smiles. "That is if you think it is worth exploring."

It was interesting to catch Ineria start to voice a thought, then catch herself, sharply closing her mouth as she rethought her words. It was almost like several emotions and thoughts clashed inside her head. As much as Sorcia wanted to know what was happening, she didn’t ask. It would have been rude to suppose their friendship was that close already. When she finally spoke, Sorcia was relieved.

“It sounds like a wonderful idea, Sorcia.”

"Well, that was certainly easier than I thought. Here, I was formulating some grand argument to talk you into it." She sits back, relaxing. "On the field, I was always much more comfortable with someone to work with."

Ineria laughed and Sorcia decided she really liked Ineria. “I’m much used to fighting on my own, but I have fought alongside another, once before…” Sorcia saw a sadness passed over Ineria before she recovered, picked up a piece of fruit and held it aloft. “Here’s to a grand tournament, and to allies.”

Sorcia picked up a piece of fruit and held it up to toast Ineria. "To a grand tournament and allies."

They touched fruit pieces, then took a bite together. Sorcia laughed loudly, a sort of euphoria taking over. "This is crazy. This whole thing, but I wouldn't trade it for the world. If we are in the same arena, whether at the start or middle or end, we will be a force to reckon with. I do hope, very much so, that we begin together."

“With any luck. Though woe be to our opponents if we are!” she said and laughed. “Ah, but it grows late. Perhaps I shall retire for now.” She said, standing up and smiling down at the shorter woman. “May we find glory in battle, and fight with honour.” She said, reciting an Illistrian Battle-pledge.

Sorcia stood, her meal and drink finished. She placed her fist over her heart and bowed her head slightly, then looked up. "And may your rest bring you victory, for in our sleeping moments, the battle begins." She recited her traditional sleep wish said between comrades on the battle field.


The rest of her time in Bren passed in relative peace. Sorcia left the city limits several times a day to condition and train. When the day came to stand before the door to her arena, she felt ready. Standing off to the side, she read the scroll and grimaced. No healing... not even magic. That took not only her healing vials, but one of her best spells off the table.

She shook her head, and looked up. She saw a familiar figure and moved forward. "Read the healing part too, I assume?"

Ineria smiled. “Aye. And me having bought some potions, too.” Sorcia’s eyes strayed over to the gravediggers with Ineria. “Well, apparently the other competitors are all down there. Shall we go join the battle?”

"Hold onto them. Surely there is more than one arena to work in? Maybe they will work elsewhere." Sorcia thought back to when Master Nerysi had spoken of the gravediggers, but it was still a bit shocking. She looked back towards the doors that led into the arena and nods. "It is what we are here for. Time to meet those we must get through to test our skills."

She stepped just inside the arena. It was interesting, to say the least. A cellar, surprisingly well lit and dry, with no trace of musty smells Dry would work for her well, though maybe not as well for her ally. The mirrors were surprising, and she took note that they were all around them. Sorcia knew mirrors. She had used them in a battle in the northern hills to get around the obstacles the geography had put up.

They reflected whatever was put to them; spell or visage, it didn't matter. Good thing the northerners were such warmongerers. She watched as Ineria gave a warrior's greeting and head towards the Paladin. She blanched slightly at the choice. Paladins were an annoyance. Self-righteous, ungrateful, the whole lot of them a royal pain in the ass... Sorcia stepped further into the arena, finally solidifying her place within it.

Her eyes fell on a woman who looked as if she had been through many trials, an experience that would be great to learn from. The biggest thing she noticed wasn’t really the scars, but the fact that the woman seemed to be pre-occupied, perhaps in prayer or thought amidst an arena of fighters.

Interesting…

She unhitched her mace from the belt at her waist and tightened her grip on the shield as she pulled it into place. The advance was swift, her purpose sure, as she began to spin her mace to build up momentum before unleashing a swift swing towards the woman's midsection. Even the short delay of closing distance wasn't wasted, however, as with a cast of Need Sorcia loosened her muscles to be as ready as possible for any reaction she would get from the woman. This is what she was here for. She just hoped all that she imagined at Master Nerysi’s feet was what she would experience once blows came to blows.



tommy2468 -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/18/2014 12:29:41)

Nod had been too busy in prayer to notice some of the newer arrivals into the Cellar.
Her thoughts had rested on the Earth Lord and the unfair dual attack on the armoured woman.

Nod was not aware of the entrance of a crimson haired woman, slightly shorter than herself. So the blur of motion out of the corner of her eye was a complete surprise.
She barely had time to think, "Damn!" before the woman was nearly upon her.

The woman's well-built body pegged her as some kind of warrior, as well as her attire of leather, steel and chain-mail. However, Nod could feel some kind of magic emanating from the woman's body. What sort of spell the woman was using, Nod was unsure of, but she knew that if she did not act fast she would find out very soon.

With Nod so close to the entrance, she knew she was in danger of attack, but she had not expected such a fast attack.
Fortunately, Nod already held Tree in her hand from her desire for insight earlier.

With both hands on Tree, Nod pointed the wand at the ground before her feet. The strong stone ripped open as Shattering Earth took effect.

The powerful wave that shook the Earth pushed Nod further away from the chain-mailed woman. But not before her spiked mace bit into the fingers of Nod's left hand.
Blood flowed from the open wounds and Tree was thrown from her grasp. It landed several metres behind her, but she dared not turn her back on her opponent.

Her swift moves had taken Nod by surprise, but now there was no mistake who the woman was targeting. And Nod would not be taken by surprise again.

The effects of Shattering Earth continued and shards of stone shot up from the floor. The effect was not as powerful as Nod had wished, perhaps the stone was much stronger than she was used to. The shards would at least annoy her opponent.

Nod ripped Stag from her quiver and used it's calming powers to sense for Tree. Once she found it, she send a small wave to the stone beneath Tree, throwing it up into the air.
Nod caught it with her damaged left hand and placed it back into her quiver.

Nod began to use Stag to begin a healing spell on her left hand, when she remembered that healing spells were useless in the Cellar. "Damn!" She tried to mutter, but all that came out was a low growl.

Swiftly she replaced Stag and pulled out Owl. With Owl she could immediately sense the entire Cellar's magical properties. The magic in the mirrors, the spells cast to prevent healing magic, and the spell that the chain-mailed woman had cast on herself. A spell that heated up her muscles, enabling her to move much faster. Nod would have to be wary of getting too close to this woman, especially with her lack of armour.

Nod had promised herself that she would not be surprised again, but this was the first time she had faced a Battlemage and she was unsure of her next move.
The trouble with Battlemages is whether they lean closer to magic or to hand-to-hand combat. Nod believed that the woman's first actions would place her in the latter group, but that could have been something to test Nod's abilities. If so, then she had showcased them quite clearly.

"Damn!" she thought again, as she recognised so simple a manoeuvre. If the Battlemage struck Nod more powerfully, then she would have gained a physical advantage. The Battlemage did not, but she did gain an insight into Nod's abilities.

"Come on Nod! You have survived so much and still you make so many mistakes."
Nod thought of the elderly half-blind man that had saved her life and some of his words included, "We make mistakes to grow stronger and smarter. But if someone tells you to stare at the sun, then that is a mistake you'll regret for the rest of your life haha!"

Nod assessed her situation again. She held all of her wands, her left hand was damaged but not severely, she had put space between her and her opponent, and she had discerned several things about her opponent.

Her thoughts turned a lighter shade, "I may have revealed some of my abilities, but I have found out some of her's too. She seems to prefer a close fight, so I shall just remain further away."

With this Nod pulled out Fox and slowly retreated backwards. Nod stayed close to the mirrors, because she was still unsure of her opponent's desire for a close fight and the mirrors could reflect any magic away from her.

Nod took a deep breath and held Fox to her heart; it's courage strengthening her once again.

She gathered her mana and focused once again on the ground beneath her. The stone groaned and complained, before it raised into a mass in front of her.
The stone cracked as it was crushed into a denser mass. Nod then tapped the stone mass with Fox and as she watched the stone mass shifted into a fox of stone. It's teeth and claws outstretched.

Though it had no life of its own, the stone fox would move in a straight line to her enemies. Not as fast as simply hurling a boulder, but far more confusing and disorientating to most enemies. It required a bit more of Nod's mana, but she still felt strong and the results may be better.
The fox began moving forward, slowly at first. Its legs did not move, for it was pushed by Nod's command over the stone it was made out of.

The stone fox picked up speed as it slid across the floor, like some oversized and far more dangerous chess piece.

Nod speculated, "Let's see how the Battlemage reacts to such a dense material. Perhaps she will reveal her element as well. She may be a powerful rook, but a knight can slip past any defence..."




jerenda -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/18/2014 13:57:58)

A paladin. A paladin had entered the Elemental Championships. Julianna supposed it made sense; there was no rule forbidding entry to paladins (not that she had read the rules), and paladins had to have things they wanted badly enough to risk their lives here. Still, she hadn’t expected it. She wondered if he was as devoted to his ideals as Anaen had been. She wondered what his Code said about being here, about killing someone whose only crime was walking into this room. About being killed here.

She was relieved when he passed her by to take up a defensive stance in a corner. She would not attack a paladin, not if she could find any other recourse.

And it appeared that she could. The next person… creature… contestant to enter headed at a steady walk toward Julianna, after sprinkling a vial of water on the floor. It seemed to be made entirely of living water that swayed forward with each step it took, but judging from the armor confining its aquatic form (and, more importantly, the greatsword), it definitely was a contestant. That was really all that mattered.

Julianna smiled. Her sword hand shivered with delight, causing the tip of the rapier to bounce off the mirror again. Her attention snapped back to that, to the slight ringing sound and the almost-weightless quality of the reversal. It was so peculiar. She couldn’t wait to send something heavier at it.

She still had a few moments before it came close enough for her to do anything, so she was free to watch the next person - a disfigured woman with limbs that seemed deeply out of proportion - enter and step to the side, but she found herself not caring. She could feel her heartbeat pounding louder, her battle focus narrowing, and she didn’t try to stop it. It had been so long...

A towering blue-skinned woman with purple hair stepped into the room and boomed “May you find glory in battle, and fight with honour,” shattering the silence. Now! Out of the corner of her eye something small and white moved with speed. Julianna swept out her left foot and dropped into a low crouch, setting her first plan aside. The shimmering white object bounced off the mirror above her head: an icicle.

She rose in the same fluid motion, putting her weight on her left foot to bring her right forward. Meeting the eyes of the dark-haired woman approaching her, she stuck her tongue out and struck out at the mirror in an arrogant gesture. She cleanly missed the mirror, an arc passing just in front of the silvered surface. Instead, the magic that moved inside her flowed down her sword and followed the arc, leaping out to rebound against the mirror. She’d aimed it at her opponent’s torso, a gesture that would cut cleanly across the woman’s fine robes had they been standing face to face, but she had no way to follow the invisible gust of air once it left her hand, and no idea what would happen to it if it missed. Either way, it wasn’t a concern of hers.

The watery creature behind her was closing in, too close for comfort, hefting its blade. She rocked her weight forward onto her right foot and, instead of spinning around to face her opponent as might be expected, tucked her left leg up against her chest and pushed off the ground, leaping forward and kicking off against the mirror as she spun.

Kicking off a wall didn’t normally hurt, but walls didn’t normally send your energy back toward you. There was definitely more speed, but less control. Her rapier shot out, aiming for his left shoulder/chin/whatever, assuming that it was made up of body parts like a human. She was likely going to fall over as soon as her momentum died, but she could work with that. A maniacal grin spread over her face. She could work with anything.



EmbraceTheDarkness -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/18/2014 21:23:04)

Challengers began to step into the Cellar one by one. The next arrival was a man or creature of some nature, clad in armour. Gavin watched as the humanoid being unsheathed his greatsword and had started making their way towards the woman with her back turned. The woman Gavin had stood opposite of had also began to make her way towards the unwary challenger. Gavin opened his mouth to alert her but decided otherwise.

I'm here to win...For Isabella. People are going to have to die, he reminded himself.

The mage reached a position behind the woman in armour and fired off an icicle spell.

I just hope she can dodge.

Gavin turned his attention to the new challenger that had arrived, another female. Gavin glanced away as the dim light from the moss illuminated her face, revealing the scars. The girl remained close to the entrance and seemed to be mentally telling herself something, perhaps a prayer?

Another male challenger had arrived. He was a decade or so older than Gavin from what he could make out. The man wore a thin set of clothes and Gavin made note of the old boots.

He'd be easy to cut into, Gavin thought to himself

The man used some form of spell causing a pair of water orbs to appear on either side of himself as he made his way over to the left side of the Cellar and seemed unwilling to get involved in the combat that was about to ensue.

Gavin was so occupied with seeing what the man was doing he never noticed the final two challengers arrive, followed by the ominous clang of the gate. Both were distinctively female as well as already being allies. So soon? The lady with purple hair turned and began to make her way towards Gavin, while her friend with weapon drawn, turned and made her way to the girl in prayer. Gavin returned his attention to the lady making her way to him. Gavin noticed her pale blue skin and how she was nearly a foot taller than him Do women naturally get that tall? he asked himself. What made the matter worse was the fact that she was dressed in full steel and mail. She unsheathed a large blade and shouted towards Gavin.

"May you find glory in battle, and fight with honour."

Honour... the word sounded funny to Gavin as he prepared to fight her I'm about to fight a woman. My vow is shattered, you will find no honour here.

Without a second thought Gavin snapped his fingers causing a bright light to flash through the cellar. He leaped towards the woman and snapped his fingers again; another flash blasted the dim room. Gavin danced around behind her and swung for her long, exposed hair.



nield -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/19/2014 1:14:04)

Glancing in the mirrors, Ineria noticed Sorcia attacking the woman with the disfigured face and saw her react. Saw the woman with two opponents bearing down on her jump and kick off the wall Hmm... that's in interesting enough tactic... I'll have to make note of that, whether I use it or my opponents do. The man to the side seemed to just be standing there for now. But none of that was really important. What mattered was the man in front of her, who snapped his fingers.

Ineria's eyes slammed shut, and she felt disoriented, staggering a little. She felt the blast of a second flash of light hit her eyes and bounce around the room, when she felt a weight drop from her. She didn't understand what it was, until she opened her eyes and looked down. Her jaw dropped as she saw her mass of hair clumped on the floor. Gavin's swing had cut her hair off just above the shoulders and Ineria seethed with rage, as she tried to calm herself.

Touching an Illistrians hair... how DARE he... and to CUT it off?! To allow another to touch her hair would be one of the ultimate forms of trust between Illistrians, to allow another to cut it is reserved for their life-mate. But she tried to calm herself. There was no way this man could know how dishonourable his action was, but as she swung around, her shield heading directly for the man's face, her rage was evident for all to see.



The Extinguisher -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/19/2014 21:50:27)

I knew it would be foolish to think her guard was down. The woman ducked quickly. Why though? I don’t need to wonder for too long, as the icy projectile is heading straight for me. Too fast to get away? I shift to the side, and it clips me on my ear. The cold ice and warm blood is an interesting mixture. I don’t like it all that much.

I try to find who threw it, and see my foe send something, looks like wind, towards them. A threeway fight to the death is not what I had planned on, but admittedly, it’s not that much different that a regular fight to the death.

As a note to myself, I need to start paying more attention to what’s in front of me. Specifically, what’s coming towards me very quickly. Stupid stupid. Of course she wasn’t going to ignore me for the ice mage. I don’t have much time to react. I might be able to throw myself out of the way, but putting myself prone like that seems unthought. If I counterattack, she’ll most like still hit me, but I could avoid a more serious injury. And I won’t hit her vitals, but trading small blows would leave me standing.

No more time to think. I send a small spell through my sword, no time for anything powerful, but it should push her back a little if it hits.

As I swing towards my now flying foe, I feel her rapier pierce my shoulder.
My ear is still bleeding.
It’s going to be a long day.



blankmaskara -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/20/2014 6:33:41)

With the snap of a finger, The arena had erupted into battle.

Ross recoiled as the burst of light from the paladin enveloped the room, shielding his eyes with his arms, although not before noting what was happening around him.

Near the entrance, one of the newcomers, a red-haired lady dressed in chainmail, struck out with her mace, grazing the hand of the disfigured woman. However, the spellcaster seemed to recover quickly from this and started forming a stone construct of some sort, recovering the wand that had fallen to the floor along the way.

At the right side of the arena, the girl with blonde hair quickly evaded the icicle from one of her attackers, letting it rebound towards the water-like being. However, she wasn't done yet. As this happened, she also managed to jump and twist in the air, pushing her legs against the mirror, going towar--

FLASH!

Bloody paladins with their light tricks. Got to put taking him down somewhere on my to-do list...

Recoiling a bit once more, Ross stopped shielding his eyes and took another survey of the room.

The icicle from earlier seemed to graze (or was it hit?) the watery being by his ear, and not long after, the blonde followed up, headed straight for his shoulder. Meanwhile, at one of the corners of the arena, purple locks of hair started slowly falling as--

Can't keep the Water Lord waiting for long. Practically the everyone is involved in battle now. Everyone but me at least. Maybe, I could insert myself into one of the fights, either the one at the corner or at the side. There are dozens of opportunities and openings there, although both involve armored opponents duking it out with their weapons. Doubt getting into them is going to help in the long run, with how poorly equipped I am now. Unless..

Taking a glance towards the right side, the stone construct had transformed an earthen fox, charging towards the red-haired woman.

I could take down the one with the wand, although that would leave me to fight the armored woman. Perhaps I could ally with her first, then engage with her in battle once the red-haired one is dealt with.

Done with his train of thought, Ross filled the orbs around him with an unusual yet quite potent amount of pressure. He supposed the redhead would either move backwards or sidewards (away from the wall) in order to dodge the construct. However, if he played his cards right, maybe she wouldn't.

"Need some help?" He shouted towards the spellcaster, then sent one of the orbs behind her enemy with the other rushing to the redhead's side. Then, without warning, he detonated both, hoping to push her into the incoming fox.





Lazo -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/20/2014 18:04:00)

The Fae narrowly avoided her icicle, leaving it to shatter unimpeded against a wall near a scarred woman and her mace-wielding opponent. Pithy paid little mind to the recent arrivals beyond her swift conclusion that they would stay out of her way for the time being. Most of her attention was fixed on the armored Fae and the blue-eyed woman. The latter’s reaction to her attack, in particular.

As she met the woman’s gaze, barely resisting the urge to grit her teeth at her cheeky gestures, she couldn’t help but imagine those eyes covered in black welts and that mouth lacking most of its teeth. She could not remember any single person provoking such undisguised loathing from her in such a short period of time since laying eyes on them, but this woman seemed uniquely qualified to rouse her temper.

Pithy knew of others who threw all caution to the wind the moment their temper was piqued. Pithy was not that kind of person. She never had had the luxury, and now was not the time to start. Anger only threw what she saw into sharp relief. And so she was not oblivious to the burst of magic that glanced off the mirror following the woman’s swing. She was not prepared for such a swift sorcerous response, however.

Any magically inclined being with a reputation behind its name would not survive a decade on its lonesome without either a large dose of luck or an innate sense for immediate danger, no matter their natural lifespans. Pithy dared not comment on her luck, but she prided herself on a finely honed sense of personal peril. It was reflexive, in truth. On recognizing the danger posed to her, Pithy had shifted her balance to the side, taking a small dance step that carried her out of the brunt of the attack.

Alas, knowing of something’s presence does not make it any easier to evade when said something cannot be seen. Whipping pain still flourished against her side.

As the now revealed Wind competitor focused on fending off her second attacker, Pithy took the chance to assess the damage. Her robes had a neat cut along its side. A loose sleeve had remained in the way of the blast, and had almost been bisected, leaving the better half of it hanging from a patch of cloth. It would be easy to rip it off with a firm tug.

She stifled a rare pang of sadness. The clothes could be repaired.

The shirt below did not look much worse for the wear, beyond a ragged line marking the impact, as if she had scratched a rough stone along its side. She did not have to look deeper to know the skin below would bruise. It took her less than a heartbeat to conclude that piercing the weak enchantments protecting the robes had managed to rob the wind blade of enough cohesion to avoid serious injury.

She was not familiar enough with the skein of enchantments weaved into the arena to tell if such a small injury would prove problematic. Unlikely, she believed, at least without prolonged exposure. Then again, had something else hit her side, or had she not been wearing her robes, her diagnostic would have been both evident and quite discouraging.

Stars above, she’s making me look like a fool!

A fleeting sense of mocking amusement, foreign in its source yet known to her, made itself known in her mind. Dread filled her veins with ice. It happened too often for comfort. Being her, however, worry soon gave way to righteous indignation. It warmed her, familiar and enduring like an old friend, and she rounded on the feeling, latching onto it like a venomous snake before it could retreat. There was surprise and pain as she choked it out and threw it back to the recesses of her mind, having gathered the energy she needed.

She roused herself, seeing the woman poised to strike the Fae’s shoulder and feeling the faint swell of power meant to repel her. It would be difficult to escape such an attack from midair, but this was a wind competitor. The glyphs within the rose-shaped guard of her blade illuminated her gloved hand as she readied a simple ward for the next sorcerous assault. White, flighty wisps of cold light danced along the fingers of her free hand as she held onto some leftover magic, a groundwork that would ease the casting of some of her simplest spells.

A flash reached her from the other end of the arena, leaving dancing spots in her vision, and she considered slinging a spell towards the paladin in irritation. She decided otherwise, reluctant to waste the magic.

Instead, she dashed forward towards the two combatants while they were engaged, grasping the clasp of her robes with her free hand. She did not pay attention to the frost that gathered on the metal as she undid it with practiced ease and flung the blue robes forward towards the armored Fae. With a subtle gesture she sent a gust of arctic wind after it, a soft white glow heading the spell. She only fed the blast enough energy to rock an unprepared foe, as its purpose was not to freeze or stagger. The robes billowed wide and fast as the wind caught up to them, in an arch that would partly conceal her approach and envelop the warrior should he fail to move out of the way.

Little more than a distraction. Pithy slid forward as if skating on ice, rapier ready to channel her ward and alert for wayward, panicking slashes.

She made for the Fae’s back, keeping him between her and the other woman, and reached for one of the sturdy knives fastened to her belt. Armor often left the armpits defense to chainmail, and a solid thrust would break through the rings. She had doubts the knives would reach anything vital if her blow landed, but it would be hard to heft a large weapon with such wounds. She was not particularly attached to the weapon, so she was of a mind to leave it where it stuck and kick him towards the blue-eyed woman before he could formulate a proper response to her assault.



nield -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/21/2014 6:05:42)

The paladin dodged her shield and swung at her, but Ineria had a lot of momentum with swinging her shield, so she kept the momentum going and her sword came around to intercept Gavin's own. But she didn't stop there. With a twist and spin of her legs, she began whirling around on the spot, shield and sword flying, getting ever faster, but the paladin had already moved back when her sword had sent his away from her. Through the mirrors more than anything else she saw him move back, as any sane man would do when faced with her whirling strategy, so she set about stopping her momentum, which was not easy and forced her to duck into a roll as she lost balance. She was able to roll at Gavin though and when she came out of it, she was bringing her sword up at the paladin's neck.

Gavin rolled away, and brought his fingers up to snap. Reflexively, Ineria slammed her eyes shut, as she remember last time she saw him snap his fingers, he summoned a bright flash of light, and here it happened again. She felt the light on her eyelids, and when she opened them again, she saw him slashing at her knee. Immediately, she knelt down, bringing her shield into the path of his sword which bounced off uselessly, and she thrust her sword, aiming for his sword-arm's shoulder. The paladin rolled away to her right, and it was a simple manner to swing her arm towards him once it reached the full length it would go forward, slicing at his legs as he rose to his feet. He jumped away, but Ineria noted the presence of blood on her blade with a slight smirk. Gavin had fallen over after the jump, a combination of the awkward footing he had had when he jumped and the wound he had received to his thigh, no doubt, but he scrambled up and pressed his back almost to the mirror, and a spark caught in Ineria's eye.

She had seen Julianna bounce off the mirror before. The reflective nature seemed to apply to all things, so she bet if she could crush him against the mirror with her shield, it'd wreak havoc on his body and internal organs, so she charged, shield held out in front as her powerful legs pushed towards her destination. Ineria saw him ready for her and saw his fingers go into position. Once again she snapped her eye closed, but when she heard the sound but felt no light, she opened them and was unprepared for when he snapped again and the light came. As the light assaulted her senses, she threw her body back, furiously backpedalling. She wanted to crush him, sure, but she wasn't going to do it blind. Her eyes opened slowly as vision slowly swam back into focus. She was beginning to become a lot more clear headed now. She was still furious, but up till now she had let that fury drive her. Now was the time for tactics



EmbraceTheDarkness -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/21/2014 6:10:02)

Gavin felt as his blade sheared through Ineria's hair. He steadied his momentum to face her, his sword ready. He could see the shocked look on her face as her hair fell to the ground, and the rage that followed. Gavin waited for her to lash out, and when she did, he was ready. Gavin veered backwards from the shield and brought his sword down in a diagonal cut.

Gavin slid back as their swords met, trying to hide the fact that his shoulder felt like hell afterwards. Gavin quickly stepped back a few feet as Ineria continued to spin. Ineria had stopped her momentum and was rolling towards Gavin. He ducked and rolled away in quick succession and shot off another flash of light, before swinging at Ineria's left knee. The light spell had no effect as his opponent shut her eyes. Ineria brought her shield down stopping Gavin's sword in its tracks. He rolled to his left as her sword came at his right shoulder. Gavin regained his footing, keeping his eyes on Ineria as he rose. Gavin jumped back from Ineria's blade, the warmth of blood slowly running down his leg. Gavin stumbled as he tried to gain a sure footing, the momentum causing him to fall backwards. He quickly rolled over onto his hands and knees, running so his back was close against a mirror. At his position Gavin was able to see as Ineria came charging at him. He planted his feet firmly in the ground and waited, sword held tightly in his right hand.

One more time? Can you manage that. He asked himself

He snapped his fingers once, but no light flashed. He snapped them again and the light flashed out. Just as Ineria would be closing in Gavin would jump away. Gavin jumped aside without hesitation. He ground his teeth as his leg gave way and his knee crashed into the ground. He glanced back to see if Ineria had hit the wall, she hadn't. Gavin got up with a grunt and pointed his sword in her direction. The corners of his mouth twitched and he managed a grin for a quick second, the fight was only beginning.



Eukara Vox -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/23/2014 2:06:23)

Sorcia’s decision to attack without warning paid off and had caught the woman off guard. She gave the praying woman credit, though, as she recovered well. Her recovery brought a smile to Sorcia’s face. A wand… so a magic user.

The smile didn’t last long, as the ground had erupted beneath her into an uneven and problematic surface as she swung her mace. Her prey, now pushed away from her got away with only a mere injury to her hand. An injury that would not be healed, granted, but it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy. Thankfully, the wand was thrown from the woman’s hand, and away from her ability to implement its effect.

Keeping her shield before her in case her opponent had some hidden means of physical attack, Sorcia pulled her mace closer to the left side of her body as the momentum of the swing lessened. The woman opposite of her changed wands rapidly, which made her blink slightly. She’d never seen anyone switch wands that fast in the midst of a fight. It helped that Sorcia was further away, and that cushion was all the other woman needed.

She tightened the hold on her mace and watched the woman closely, using the mirrors to get a near 360 degree view of her foe. No true armor, so her protection seemed minimal. But, a mage wasn’t without protection. They had ways… Her mind briefly went back three years to the ice mage that nearly killed her on the tundra. The enemy had created jutting icicles that seemed to “find” her whenever she moved. The mage had created the icicles to block her way and hinder her movements. They had been an annoyance, until the things had started to move as if they had minds of their own, and nearly killed her. The scars that hardened her skin on the right leg were a daily reminder to never think a mage was without defense.

Thanking her Lord that she had worn the heavy and tough steel-toed boots, she made her way over the uneven ground, carefully, but with careful intent on going straight for her opponent. The woman pulled a different wand out and began to back up. A defensive retreat, which meant something was coming.

It didn’t take her long to cast the spell that conjured stone into an animal shape; an animal shape that was intended to head straight for her. It was the ice fields all over again.

“Damn, and double damn…” she groaned. Those defenses were hard to shake. Ice was easy to shatter, whereas stone was not. She was hesitant to reveal anything more about her magic use, since knowing which way a battlemage leaned gave the opponent a small measure of control. This was not acceptable, and would only end up causing her trouble down the road. Her confidence in the strength of her fire wavered. Yes, she was one of the strongest fire battlemages from home, but that didn’t mean stone would bow before her. It was possible she wouldn’t be able to deter the stone fox, much less eliminate it from the playing field.

Muscles still limber from the previous spell, she could try to get around the stone creation to get to the mage. But in doing that, she wasted time, put herself at risk of another taking advantage, or missing something new from her opponent. Sorcia had no other choice but to dodge the stone fox and hope the blasted thing didn’t chase her. If it did, all the water in the world wouldn’t be able to quench her ire at having to repeat this scenario all over again.

Sorcia shook herself into reality. This was not the ice fields. This was the Elemental Championships. Grateful that the stone fox was the size of its natural counterpart, Sorcia decided to show a leaning towards the “battle” part of battlemage. She pushed forward, keeping her eyes on both the fox and the mage. The stone was approaching fast, almost as fast as Sorcia herself, but she stalled seeing two orbs approaching her out of the corner of her eye in the mirrors before her.

She had no idea who had done such a cowardly and underhanded trick, but that person would pay once she was done with the mage. The one that approached behind her detonated, but thankfully, she was well trained. She dove as the shock of the explosion reached her, knocking her roll slightly off-balanced, but pushing her forward at the same time. Even so, the pressure wave of steam rolled across her back and neck, the chainmail heated enough to scald hatch marks across her skin.

She thanked her Lord for the gift of fire in her muscles, and for well-trained reflexes, as she not only dodged the stone fox and a potentially damaging explosion, but was able to swing her mace at the fox as it passed her by, attempting to smash the construct into pieces. As Sorcia came up from the roll, she used the mirrors to locate any other potential issues in the form of two-legged cowards and launched into another somersault towards the mage, transferring her momentum in a more controlled fashion and making her a harder target. Flowing back up to her feet and into a defensive stance, she grimaced, for not only was she slightly scalded, but the added momentum from her unbalanced roll had jammed her right shoulder against the floor as she dodged, leaving a sore and tingling feeling behind as she readied herself for further combat.



tommy2468 -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/23/2014 7:15:31)

Nod's stone fox was rumbling forward towards the Battlemage, when she heard someone shout, "Need some help?"

Seconds after the shout, an explosion rocked the area behind the Battlemage.

It took a moment for Nod to discover the owner of the voice: a tall, muscular man that she had not noticed entering the arena before.

Covering his limbs were blue runes, that curled their way around. This, along with the explosions that Nod had just seen, made her believe that he must be a magic user of some type.

"Oh great another Mage to this mix..." she surly thought.

Nod brought her attention back to the Battlemage, who had not only managed to escape from the explosions, but had also smashed the front of Nod's stone fox; rendering its teeth and claws little more than stubs.

The fox, with no life of its own, continued forward at its pace before reaching one of the mirrors where it should have been repelled.
The momentum of the fox and the heaviness of the stone meant that the fox could not simply be repelled. Instead the fox exploded from the force of its collision and shot shards of stone everywhere in the Cellar.

Nod brought up her shield as a large amount of the shards exploded out towards her direction, over the head of the Battlemage. The shards struck the ground, or were again repelled by the mirrors beside her to fall to ground harmlessly.

In the time that it took for Nod to raise her shield, the Battlemage had somersaulted towards her.

"Somersaulted? A strange way to begin an attack." Nod mused.

It was then that Nod noticed a grimace on the face of the Battlemage. She had been injured somehow. Understandable so, as she had literally been caught between a rock and an explosive place.

Nod chastised herself, "But she doesn't seem to have any visible external wounds... Don't underestimate someone who can come out of that situation so easily! And don't forget about the man!"

Turning her attention back to the man, he seemed to have entered during the time that she was in prayer or when she was being attacked. He had offered her assistance, but could she trust another person in this place?

Nod was torn between the idea of facing the area alone, or ganging up on others with a temporary ally.

Her desire for justice and fairness were main drivers in her idea for what is right. And from what she had witnessed with the attack on the Battlemage, the rune covered man was not a person of justice, but rather an opportunity seeker. The type of person that Nod could not stand by, or trust when it comes to fighting.

Even the Battlemage, who had attacked her so quickly, had valour and honour. Nod was sure that the Battlemage had not seen her as a weak person because of her features.
If they were in a different setting, Nod believed that they could have been friends. But it was not a different setting and in the Cellar. Where everyone is an enemy.

"Or a potential ally." Nod reminded herself of what she had thought to herself earlier on.

Her thinking was distracting her from the battle, but a throb of pain in her hand brought her back to reality.

Assessing the situation again, Nod could see the Battlemage in a defensive position and the rune covered man seemed to have been waiting for an outcome. What he was going to do next, Nod had no idea but she decided that she would also wait to see what he does before attacking him.

However, she thought furiously, "But if he thinks that he can ally himself to me and gang up on someone, then he is dead wrong. I will not stoop to that level."

But now was the time for action.

The three magic users were currently at a stand still, each waiting for the next to make a move.

Nod brought out Unicorn, her favourite and most powerful wand. It was fueled by her desire for revenge, though she would never admit that such a shameful thing was the source of the wand's power.

She exhaled as she felt Unicorn reacting to her touch; the warm Holly wood seeming to throb with anticipation for her next spell.

Nod moulded some of her magic into the wand and whispered in her mind, "Hypnotic Dreams..." before touched the ground with it, the spell weaving its way into the stone floor. A different method to the way she usually uses the spell.

The spell spread out across the floor of the Cellar, spreading to the far corners of the room, whispering to the fighters to lay down their weapons, lie on the floor and go to sleep.

Nod knew that the spell would get weaker the further from the source, but she would be able to see who felt the effects the strongest.

She then felt for the spikes and lumps of stone around her that were the remains of her fox and brought them in a circle around her. Her creation of a ring of spiked stone provided her some protection, while she recovered some of the mana she had used.

She did not feel weakened, but keeping up with the Battlemage had not allowed her time to cast her spells efficiently and she had wasted more mana and energy than she had wished.

Sitting in her stone circle, energy flowed back and forth as she felt at peace with the Earth around her, "Are my efforts still not enough my Lord?"



jerenda -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/23/2014 12:30:04)

Her sword cut into flesh, bright red blood spilling out of the water creature’s shoulder. So it is vulnerable, Julianna thought triumphantly. She didn’t have much time to celebrate, however, as the creature brought up its sword in a shortened attack on her exposed side.

She couldn’t dodge, not given her current momentum, so she dropped her left arm, deflecting the brunt of the blade on her lower arm’s leather guard. The greatsword scraped along her forearm and sent a jolt through her that seemed more powerful than such a short swing could have produced. Already off-balance from the mirrors, Julianna was thrown backward, losing her balance entirely and landing in a heap on the floor. Her arm ached where she’d deflected the blow, bleeding slightly just above the wrist, and a quick glance at her guard informed her that it’d be totally useless for the rest of the fight. She was lucky it hadn’t cut her hand off entirely. Okay, so maybe the blacksmith had a point about the armor.

Light flashed through the Cellar, reflected through the mirrors to light up the entire Arena with the brilliance of the sun. Julianna swore and covered her eyes with her off hand, but it was too late. Gavin had been almost entirely within her direct line of sight when he’d lit up the Cellar, and she’d caught the full power of his first flash. She rubbed her eyes intently, trying to clear them of the green and orange that filled her vision. She didn’t have time for this!

Julianna gathered her feet under her and rose into a crouch, eyes narrowed against the continued assaults of light. She could see shapes moving, one right in front of her and others farther out. Her sight would clear soon enough, but until then she had to be ready. Explosions rocked the arena in the distance.

She held her rapier in a defensive stance, listening for any movement closer to her, keeping her left arm close as she tried to work the ache away. The bleeding could be ignored for now. It was far too early to be exhausted, but she still felt the beginnings of weariness gnawing away at her. She ignored it as well. Weariness was no concern to Julianna. The most important thing was to remain sharp and alert, ready to move in any direction at a moment’s notice. And possibly to not block that greatsword again.



blankmaskara -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/24/2014 19:45:42)

I guess this won't be as easy as I thought it would be..

The brunette quickly dove away from the advancing orbs, dodging the brunt of the explosion. Along the way, she also somehow managed to avoid the fox altogether, even bashing it with her mace in an attempt to destroy it.

This surprised Ross quite a bit. The woman was noticeably skilled in combat, gifted with what he thought to be uncanny reflexes and athleticism, fitting of a hard-boiled warrior. Her experiences and training beforehand no doubt played a part in this, making her especially dangerous in close combat. The relic hunter, aside from this, also had his suspicions about the woman's spellcasting abilities, as people like these tended to only reveal their cards when necessary.

Just like that ex-general back in the Floating Lands Tavern.. Drunk at first, but not much later, he proved to be a pretty skilled warrior.

While these thoughts swirled around his head, Ross closely watched the two, noticing the stone fox remained unaffected by the swing of the red-haired warrior. It continued to run forward and crashed straight into tone of the mirrors, exploding and spreading shards of rock all throughout the arena.

"Nngh!"

The cyborg promptly ducked and shielded his body from the incoming debris with his arms, making a few cuts on his limbs as a result, although a few clinked off them harmlessly.

Probably won't help that these wounds won't heal either as long as I'm here..

By then, the brunette managed to get back on her feet and adopt a defensive stance, although there was some contortion of the face as this occurred. The other one, the disfigured woman, seemed to tap the floor with one of her wands. Just then, a wave of magic creeped over him, whispering in his ear to sleep. To give up and just drop down.

Dammit. A sleep spell.. The..spellcaster..did this, didn't she? Guess..she didn't take up on the offer..

Ross smirked to himself in resignation, then willed his mana to course through his veins and whispered an old counterspell he learned a few years back, slowly cleansing the temptation out of his system and bringing newfound energy to body parts lulled to rest.

His eyes continued to flutter, as this happened, however. The incantation he cast upon himself only started to have effect, and so with bleary vision he looked back at the two.

One was in a defensive stance, shield and mace at the ready. The other kept a number of relatively sharp spikes of stone around her, serving as some sort of shield besides the one already attached to her arm.

Doubt..either..of them took a liking..to what I did.. Honor..and fairness..and other useless virtues might be what fill their heads.. Too bad for them.. Mine got thrown out a long time ago..when the bastards crumpled all of them up and threw me into misery regardless..

Sight slowly clearing up, he focused some of his power into his palms and walked closer, taking slow and deliberate steps. Then, just as the blurs focused into fully-fledged images, jets of water burst out from his hands, zooming towards their targets.

There.. One for each of you.



nield -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/24/2014 21:55:24)

Ineria's tongue darted over her lips, and she took a moment to take stock of what was happening all throughout the arena. She had noticed the water user sneak up on and attack Sorcia while her back was to him, but hadn't had the time to even pay attention to her discomfort at that, so caught up in her rage at THIS fool who had brought her such dishonour by slicing her hair off. But now she let voice to it in a low growl, that only the paladin would even hear: she would go to assist Sorcia once she was done here.

The other fight was also running well apace, but Ineria did not really have time to measure how it was rolling all that well. In the mirrors, however, she saw Sorcia dodge the water orbs AND the fox that her real opponent had sent at her, and even damage the construct as she went by, Ineria gave a small nod of approval. She would not have liked to be Sorcia's opponent. But when the fox kept going, and shattered and sprayed the entire room, Ineria swore and swung around, ducking behind her shield on impact with which, all the small rocks shattered to dust.

As she stood and faced Gavin, tensed, Ineria felt the strangest sensation. She felt like she wanted to... sleep? How curious. With a single shake of her head, she shattered the notion. This was neither the time, nor the place. hmm... that's probably a spell, wasn't it? No matter, its caster will not find my will so easily overcome. Through the mirrors she saw the cowardly water mage attacking both Sorcia and the woman, and Ineria pursed her lips. She was not going to stand idly by while this coward had his way. The other fight was a threeway, this much Ineria had seen, but Sorcia fighting her foe was a one on one, and this man was interrupting.

"Water Mage! You will fight with some modicum of honour! Here, from behind!" The man might have no problem with attacking an unwitting foe from behind, but she did. So she bellowed from halfway across teh room, before sending a spike of ice his way. Using any manner took away her capability for her magic shield, but she felt this was worth it. and besides, if they expected her to use magic as well, they might overestimate her, which could still work to her advantage. Then she turned to Gavin, who had yet to move and swung at him.



The Extinguisher -> RE: =EC 2014= Cellar Arena (8/24/2014 21:58:14)

I'm beginning to regret coming here. My whole left side hurts, and I can't tell what blood is new and what isn't. I won't last much longer if I take another hit like that.
At least I got the wind user good. The sword connected, knocking her to the ground. If I'm quick, I might be able to get to her before she gets up. Finish the job. I gather my strength, lift my sword--

My eyes stop working. The bright light appeared from nowhere. I almost drop my weapon from the shock, but quickly recover. My vision might be blurry, but I know where she landed. I can still get to her. Then the light flashes again. Wasn't expecting the second time.

I just can't catch a fracture. With that second flash, something hits me. Clothes? Why would she throw clothes? The arctic wind behind them enlightened me a little. The robe is tangled up around me, and everything is very, very cold. I cannot have this right now. The wind fighter could be up and ready to attack me.

I manage to throw the cursed thing off of me, right before the ice mage came up behind me with a knife. Luckily, my struggling made it hard for her to get anything important, and it mostly clipped off of my armor. Still hurt though. That could just be the fact that everything is hurting right now.

Unfortunately, the knife wasn’t her only attack, and she kicked me towards the other combatant. One after another, I just can’t keep up. The kick caught me off guard; Everything is moving so quickly. My sword is gone. No no no no. I need that. Where did I drop it?
I’m not going to last too long, getting tossed around like this.



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