=EC 2015= Spike Arena

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Ronin Of Dreams -> =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/12/2015 20:32:49)
The more things change, the more they stay the same. That was the feeling which took Bren by storm once each year. Ephemeral, the way passersby on the street would suddenly glance over at their fellows and nod. A shroud of relaxation slowly drawn away, as the preparations began. Some claimed it was an instinct, born and bred into the layfolk and workmen of Bren. They argued it was no different than a sailor born of the sea, reading the moods of the ocean by the lapping of its waves against the hull. Others would cite the uptick in fervent preaching among the religious community, calling their faithful flock to renew their vows and obligations to the Lords and Ladies in grandiose fashion. Whatever the trigger, Bren once more blossomed from a hibernation as a sleepy township into the true bustle of a busy cityscape. The peel of hammer striking anvil became its heartbeat; the exchange of coin flowed like blood as the influx of spectators and of hopefuls grew from a trickle into a flood. With each day that passed every morsel of food, every tidbit of gossip became that much richer, spiced with anticipation and the occasional furtive glance up towards the grand arena complex. It stood above the city of Bren, but like a hive of dedicated ants it was as central as any queen. The people took pride in living so near to such a historic monolith. They would recount the tales of former participants, regale the legends of former champions, but always the arenas themselves lay core to every remembrance. Vast in size, the complex never seemed to be quite the same each year. New warrens for plumbing and storage being dug out, cut marble being drawn by the cartful into town and across the cobbled bridge known as Supplicant’s Way. She had once merely been the Arena; now her vast walls were held sacred for only the chosen Paragons to compete within, and those few spectators who could pack her stands to stand witness. Outgrowths of rock and steel clung to her like needy children, great edifices carved with visages promising cullings and challenge. From the arenas housed within these buildings would those Paragons eventually be chosen. And so the fateful day would arrive. The complex would open its arms and embrace all who came to bear witness to those few fighters. Those special few, who had passed the secret tests of the arena’s own devising to prove worthy of the ceremonial contest. Pared down from hundreds and thousands of hopefuls, either too hellbent by greed on the fabled prize or deep within their psyches lacking the true resolve necessary to sacrifice all for that goal. Like a grand matron, the arena was very discerning on who would have the honor of spilling blood in heated combat upon those steeped, scarlet sands. There was no hunger there, only a truth. Ominous sigils threatening menace were the first signs that Spike Arena was a fell place, well before the simple act of experiencing its domain could be made. This was the arena they had claimed to cannibalize when Factory was revealed to the world, after all. Now, it had been brought back from the grave and constructed anew. The most curious sorts would admit to a sort of morbidity and a desire for the vicious entertainment of its former days as a featured arena. More curious still, these same individuals would readily admit that even at a distance, the arena had a powerful aura to it. Such was the ferocity of Malice of these resurrected arena grounds, that it could twist the simple and the innocent to darker desires… A series of ramps were lowered down into the pit that was the arena’s revived form for the competitors to descend safely once atop its ridged borders. Climbing down was out of the question, for the arena walls threatened with haphazard metal stakes marred with patches of cultured rust. For every three such stakes, one was sharpened beyond a lethal point, notched with wicked barbs that would entrap and retain any unfortunate corpses slammed into their deadly embrace. No, to climb down would invite death well before a single blow was struck. A grand leap was similarly out of the question for the majority of competition, for the unearthing of Spike’s burial grounds had created a deep pit. Were it not for the noonday sun, the fight would be in the shade. But this was not the sole reason many who had worked within its domain considered it a maw. At the end of each ramp stood a black obelisk, squared at the base with a thickness of a brawny man’s shoulders and barely tapering skywards. Eight they stood, as if in mockery of the Pillars themselves, and at eight feet each obelisk suddenly tapered to their own foreboding points. The metal was more black than the darkest night, and though they stood untouched, they faintly glistened as if damp with blood already. Scarlet rivulets at their base proved that they wept something, and great metal plates surrounded the base strewn with finger-thin channels towards screened drains. Plates salvaged from the original flooring, but not enough to cover more than a few feet around each of the dreadfully black Martyrs. The scent of decay and rotting blood was strong in the air, for as ever, Spike greeted its competitors as the abattoir it always had been. The announcer here was barely needed, and his voice a pitched whisper resounding like thunder through the silent, awestruck crowd. “And we now stand in witness to the challenge...of Martyred Spike.”

Apocalypse -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/13/2015 1:18:50)
Outside the city of Bren, away from the bustling taverns and cheers for a bloody morrow was where Lucia Deis planned to spend the night. For some two years the wayward paladin had avoided staying in towns and villages, and she was not about to make an exception for the Elemental Championships. Instead, she found herself an oak tree - neither the tallest nor strongest, but it was more than enough - and knelt down before it. Gnarled roots and small stones were felt through the thin layer of dirt and the fabric of her trousers, but she ignored them. Lucia clasped her hands before her, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. She started to pray even as her mind wandered through the folly of the situation. "Lady of Light, watching us from above on high, I seek your guidance in this hour..." These were the beginning words of the Warrior's Prayer, spoken by paladins before they sought off on their alms of arms. They asked for the Lady of Light's protection not for themselves but for the innocent caught in the warring path of the violent and immoral. They asked for wisdom to discern the right from the wrong and to recognize evil in its many twisted shapes. And lastly, they asked for strength to enact the Lady of Light's will. But what right do I have, Lucia thought as the words flowed from her lips, to invoke her name for this? "...I dare not act as your hand, but as an instrument of yours. To pursue neither treasure nor earthly glory, but to be ever in your service..." Lucia was fighting in a tournament. A tournament where the prize was not recognition, not riches, but a wish. A desire born of selfishness to be fulfilled by the simple act of proving one's might in the arena. Was that what she was about to do? Was she about to go against everything it meant to be a paladin? Did this cast that identity aside? "...in your name, I pledge my sword. May it be straight and true as it pierces the darkness. Not for my own sake, but for the sake of the innocent ensnared in the coils of war..." But what if the wish was for good? The obvious counterargument was wishing for the sake of another. Perhaps some of the warriors in the championship were fighting for loved ones either sick or crippled under some grievous circumstance. Surely the desire to end their pain could not be construed as selfish. "...may my sight be not blinded by darkness, but ever seeing through illusions and trickery... And if a wish could be selfless for another, could a wish for one's own self not also be selfless so long as the fruits were reaped by others? If a paladin was granted strength, would that strength not serve the ones saved by it? If a man asked for riches but gave most of it away to the poor and needy did that not constitute as a generous act? Could the means justify an end? "...for your truth is the Truth, persevering and everlasting in the trials of time..." But were then all ends justified by their means? Could the murder of a man be rationalized if it was known he would kill three others in his time? Could fields be burned and peasants left to starve so long as the approaching army starved as well? Could a village be razed and its people burned with the vindication that one was a tyrant who, if left to live, would leave felled cities in his wake? How much evil could one perform in the name of good? "...in your light I stand." Finished with the prayer, Lucia nestled close to the trunk of the tree. Her chains rattled as she got as comfortable as one could among dirt, stones, and roots. The paladin closed her eyes but sleep did not come as her unanswered questions plagued her deep into the night. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Lucia awoke the next morning groggy but otherwise well. Dawn was just breaking as the sun cast hues of rose, peach, and cherry across the sky. She stifled a yawn as she rose to her feet. Lucia performed the usual morning stretches to work out the aches and knots achieved by sleeping on the forest floor. The stretches had the additional benefit of warming her body up; waking her up more than any breakfast she ever had. Now awake and alert, Lucia started her trek to and through the great city of Bren. It had been quite some time since Lucia had the fortune to visit a town, much less a proper city. In the distance it had seemed like a mountain to climb, but once inside it felt more like a maze looming with dead ends and hidden traps. People bustled all about her as they either were preparing for the Elemental Championships or trying to earn the coin of travelers. The former ignored her save for a glance to the chains hanging off her wrists and the latter did as well once they realized they had nothing to earn by pandering to a dirt-ridden stranger. Once Lucia stopped and asked a grizzly man stacking crates of fruit the location of the arenas. He furrowed his thick brows at her before pointing a hairy finger in the direction of the largest construction in sight. She thanked him and gave a slight bow before continuing her way. Lucia had arrived early as she had allotted herself more time for getting lost than needed. She spent the remaining time off in a corner in silent meditation. It was not a matter of prayer in this instance, nor was it to achieve some sense of oneness with the Lady of Light. It was, rather simply, just time for her to have some peace. Lucia could feel her lungs swell with every breath, and the beat of her heart slowed to a crawl. Her existence was simple in this moment. Breath, listen, breath again. A hand gave her shoulder a gentle shake, and Lucia opened her eyes. Before her stood a thin man dressed in blue with a head of red hair. "M'lady, the tournament begins," he said. "I am not a lady," replied Lucia as she rose to her full height, dwarfing his. "But I appreciate the sentiment. Show me the way, if you will." The thin man nodded and brought her to ramp leading down. He gestured with his arm to it, making it clear he could not follow. She thanked him and took the first steps into the arena. First came the smell. The putrid, horrible smell that belonged only to the dead and dying. She wrinkled her nose in response. In her days at the Dawn Fort this stench was quite common as the paladins of the order were often pitted against all manners of the undead. Still, it had been some time since Lucia had experienced it in such density, and it would take time to grow accustomed to it again. Second was the obelisk awaiting her on the arena floor, its shade so dark that the Dark One himself would have been envious. She stepped forward, the obelisk cool under her bare feet. Third were the wretched spikes lining the wall all around the arena. Lucia looked over the battleground, noting the placement of the other obelisks and entry points for the competition. Soon they would walk into this death pit of an arena and the fighting would be begin. Lucia exhaled and looked to the sun high above. "In your light I stand."

Azan -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/13/2015 14:26:48)
Arvensis got out of the ramp, into the arena, and stood in the southernmost point of it, his weapon, the Lightshifter, as a mere dagger in his hand. He looked around. He did not like the feeling of this “Spike Arena”. It exhaled a malice and a darkness that made him uncomfortable. It smelt like decay and death – a smell possibly worse than that of the Head Priest’s socks back at the Light Temple when, as an apprentice, his duty was to wash them. At least there was the noon sun above his head. And he was in the southernmost point of the arena. South always meant light and warmth. He could see the sun and he was in the strongest position he could be. That gave him confidence. He would never have admitted it, but he would have panicked if he had to fight in there during the night. Night meant darkness, and if there was one thing Arvensis hated, it was darkness. He glanced around another time. There was one person in the arena, and she definitely did not seem aligned to Darkness. That, too, gave him confidence. The woman had an air of strength and Arvensis could easily conceive how she would be intimidating to most foes, but under the sun he did not fear. Arvensis did not move. The woman was looking at the sun, too. She certainly did not seem about to attack him. He could guess that as soon as the other fighters arrived in the arena, the brutal and merciless fighting would begin. If one came at him, he would defend himself… but he would not be the one initiating the fighting. The arena was small enough he could hit anyone he chose to with his magic. “Wait, he thought for himself. Just wait and see. Wait for a weakness revealed. Wait for the other competitors."

Bastet -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/13/2015 19:06:44)
Before even reaching Bren, Aster had already travelled farther than any other member of her clan ever had. And in the true tradition of artificers, she had one of her constructs act as a transport for her from beginning to end. However, she reserved a degree of attention and care for it that most other tinkers she knew would consider excessive, as if it was a dear friend from her youth. And to her, S.O.N.A.R. was precisely that. She could recall few images of her youth that didn’t include the golem watchfully standing behind her, a guard ready to withstand any amount of damage if it meant shielding its maker from harm. And still, this was all before the metallic construct had even gained consciousness. Worry came first to her, as all of the sentient machines that she had read of in the records of the clan were executed in short order. She would turn on her family and leave if it meant the safety of her guard, as she could not accept that the fate of her most precious friend. Aster was glad, however, that it had never come to that because of S.O.N.A.R.’s unwavering loyalty. It wasn’t hard for it to fake lacking sentience when all it involved was just doing what it was built to. S.O.N.A.R. attracted many looks as it walked in the streets of Bren with its master sitting on its shoulder, but both generally ignored it. Aster was rather busy looking at the breath-taking landscape around her; even a regular city seemed the greatest of wonders when she had lived among the wastes of Shiraji all her life. No firm buildings were to be found on the shifting sands blasted by regular sandstorms she was used to seeing, and she quickly found out that her appearance was just as out of place as her golem. Her dark skin contrasted with her platinum blonde short hair, but most of it was covered by the clothes she was wearing. Little but her deep blue eyes stood out under the white clothing that covered almost her entire body, though it contained whatever supplies she needed to continue her tinkering work and pay for her stay in Bren. It was much easier for both the construct and the master to navigate the streets of the city when they had such an advantage in height, allowing them to reach the arena in short order. Few people dared walk in S.O.N.A.R.’s path, intimidated by the the warhammer it carried if the heavy footsteps that preceded it weren’t enough. Surprisingly, the girl and her marvel of engineering had only been stopped at the gates by guards, so she supposed that the foreigners that lived in this town must have been used to seeing paranormal creatures at the time of the Elemental Championship. Aster broke the silence between her and her construct, the height difference between her and the common people allowing for undisturbed conversation. She always tried to break through the golem’s concentration with playful talking, and she found the surprised answers she received entertaining. Funny that her relationship with a previously inanimate suit of armor was much deeper than many others she had with beings that were born with sentience rather than acquiring it. “So, what do you think of this city, my guardian?” S.O.N.A.R.’s reply came shortly after, in his usual rumbling voice. “I have yet to reach judgement, master.” “I already told you you may call me by my name, our friendship is above such formalities.” “Acknowledged.” Conversation with S.O.N.A.R. amused Aster to no end. S.O.N.A.R. kneeled to allow its creator to jump off its shoulders and speak with the man who seemed to be managing the subscriptions to the tournament. She came back not long after with a boy in tow, but she surprised the golem by hugging it as high as she could reach. While S.O.N.A.R. shook off the astonishment and kneeled to return the gesture of affection, Aster spoke again. “Follow the man behind me to join the arena, don’t forget that you’re on your own from now on.” The animated armor couldn’t avoid noticing the solitary tear making its way down one of its master’s cheeks. “Remember not to put your life at risk, I still need you protecting me. I couldn’t make it back to the Wastes without you.” S.O.N.A.R. didn’t answer, rather choosing to pull its master closer for a moment before breaking off the gesture of affection. Without further words, Aster went to seek the space reserved to observers while S.O.N.A.R. followed the obviously terrified young man assigned to lead him to the arena. As the construct descended the ramp and observed its surroundings, the heavy steps made it clear to anybody that already was in the fighting area that an imposing figure was approaching. The spikes were looked at as an advantage by the construct. It knew that exploiting them to its advantage was a more accessible option when it possessed far greater strength and weight than the average human, even when considering that people who joined the Championship would be expected to be stronger than that. Still, proper judgement couldn’t be made without actually being able to observe the opponents, and so S.O.N.A.R. moved closer to the centre. Moving its warhammer to a combat-ready position, it approached those who appeared to be biding their time under the light of the sun.

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/13/2015 21:50:20)
Eh?! Who’s there? Oh! Well howdy reader. I reckon ya’ll are here and eager for a tale of the Ol Wild West. Well sir, it just so happens I know a tale or two. In fact, I know a tale bout the rootinest, tootinest, shootinest gunslinging sheriff that ever did live. Mighty fine man by the name of Dell Wolf. Lemme grab my ol six string here. "Well once upon a time here in the ol west, we had us a sheriff by the name of Dell o Tress, now he was wolf's daddy, long afore he was born, and he was mighty pleased with this here town, called devil's thorn!" “Born in 1870 on a hot summer’s day, his mama she was cryin till that baby they did lay. Took im in her arms and ah reckon she did say, little Dell Wolf welcome to Earth my babe.” “Now at the age o three his daddy he did leave, a couple o them mighty fine peacemakers don’t ya see. Momma she did teach ol Dell how to handle guns at the ripe young age of 5, aim with accuracy my son.” “Sometime later on, his sister came on by, she carried with her a shotgun for a birthday gift on her thigh. She said as she handed him this big ol gun from Cherry street. Now Dell you take good care o this here mighty thing.” “Well sir, it was just round 1881 when Garrison City they had a mess, seems their ol sheriff went out and never came on back. They found him the next morning, out thar strung up on his horse. With a note saying we run this town signed the Gettysauce boys.” “Dell Wolf was told all about the woes of this here town, strode himself on in and took the nasty gang on down. He was declared the new sheriff don’t ya see and ah reckon he made a mighty fine one, yessiree.” “Now in 1895, while galloping on patrol a nasty ol snake bit his horse and woah watch out below! Dell fell clear and a portal it did spring, right neath his boots and gosh what a fling.” “Ol wolf he was taken on to a land that they call Lore. A place filled with strange creatures, monsters, and dragons galore. Now Dell came across a wise ol priest while searching for a way home. Priest says to Dell, Son you got no place else to go. The family you knew, why they’ve all been done in. By a rootin, tootin fire that somehow had set in.” “With no purpose back home, Lord o the ice he did a write on a note with special modifications to Wolf’s guns which were a delight. Says the lord, join the tournament, representing ice. Show your worth Sheriff and receive a wish at the end of the plight.” Yep. That’s about how it all came bout to Sheriff Dell Wolf bein in this here tourney. Now what’d ya’ll say we go on and mosey down to the tourney ourselves and see what all happens to the rootin, tootin gunslingin sheriff eh reader? Good! I thought ya might be interested. Come on let’s git! Dell traveled into town on a horse the day before the tournament. He didn’t know much about the city of Bren and located a place where purchases could be made. “Hello, may I help you?” The merchant asked. “Howdy, do ya’ll have containers of water, Ah reckon I’ll need im for the tournament tomorrow.” Dell replied raising the brow of his hat. “Oh, why yes I do. Here take a look at these lovelies sir!” The merchant said showing him different bottles. Wolf spotted one such collection that would work. “I’ll take those.” “Very good choice sir.” The merchant calculated the cost. Dell paid the man and took the bottles of water, attaching them with the other item he bought around his shoulder. Wolf walked into a saloon on the way to the arenas. “Howdy.” he said with a friendly smile. He slipped some money to the man at the bar. “What all can ya tell me bout tomorrow’s contestants?” The barkeep looked up from his glasses. “Well sir, all I can tell you is one female is rumored to have chains and she’s very much fought off monsters and I heard a rumor about her and justice. that’s all I know.” Dell thanked the man, turned and left. Getting back on the horse, the sheriff straightened his badge and headed for the arenas. Once he arrived he lay down with the horse at his side and slept right there in the street. He wasn’t worried about bandits stealing from him. He rarely slept with both eyes closed anyhow. Morning came and announcements were made. Waking to the roar of excitement and a plethora of activity. Wolf got up, fed the horse, patted the head gently and said “Well sugar, look’s like we’re a walkin from here.” Heading toward the arena he was destined to fight in, the sheriff pulled the shotgun off his back, cocked the opening and poured two bottles of water into the gun. He closed it and waited. Standing there very still. The ice lord had made a fifteen second delay on the weapons. Once the time rolled by, Dell slid the shotgun back in place and pulled out his left side peacemaker. Pulling the cap off the container, Wolf poured a container of water into the chamber. Again while he waited he lay the weapon down carefully and pulled out the right peacemaker. He once again poured water into the other peacemaker and waited. The timeframe passed by. Another thirty seconds. Holstering the guns, the sheriff headed down the pathway. Upon entering the arena, the sheriff gave a quick look at the arena itself. A toothpick in his mouth which he politely took out and tucked away. There were already people in here. Some kind of very large construct in the middle, and a lady off to his left. He could almost but not quite see someone else on the opposite side of the arena. “Howdy Ma’am” Dell said with a tip of his hat in respect. He noticed the chains and realized this was the woman the barkeep had talked of. Dell gazed at the obelisk and it was quite a sight. Weeping blood. “Well if that don’t beat all.” He muttered softly. Dell came around to better get a look and show a better homage of respect to the lady paladin. His boots clanked a little and the light of the sun glinted off his badge. Walking on up to the lady, Dell Wolf removed his hat and bowed before her, showing another friendly sign of respect. “Mighty fine day, even if the smell o this place does need something to remove the decay.” “Name’s Sheriff Dell Wolf.” the man smiled friendly and put his hat back on his head. “Ah reckon ya’ll the lady I heard rumor about. Only one with a chain that I can see.” “Looks like this here is gonna be one big, ol bloody battle. All these here spikes across them thar walls. Yep, mighty big battle a comin.” Wolf returned his gaze toward the spikes and the construct and back to the woman. “How’s about a team up pardner? Ah reckon we might just get through this here hootin’ shootin showdown, if we work together. What’dya say?”

Ultrapowerpie -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/13/2015 22:49:02)
"Typical, the first time the Juncture gets a qualified participant into the actual competition, they stick him in the dirtiest place imaginable" a man in a blue jumpsuit loudly complained, leaning against a broom. "That's because we're the only ones who can handle the area," another man replied, wearing a similar uniform to first man. This man however was leaning against a mop, and had far more equipment on his person then the first man. "You're far too optimistic about this, John. I've seen that arena, and I could smell the stench of death and decay a klick off, and it's almost unbearable near it. Worse, there's these large... monoliths that look like they're oozing blood... I tell you, it's like some sort of bizzare ritualistic pit they dug up from a long lost society..." the first man said cynically. "It'd probably take an entire company of us to properly clean the place up within any reasonable amount of time, and that's if the damn place is magicked to BE like that in the first place. I can't imagine what type of depraved mind ordered others to create a place like that..." "I agree with you on that Joe, we're dealing with some very messed up mages, defiling nature like that. That's why it's more important then ever I become the Champion this year! We must get an Anti-Litter Ordinance established throughout Lore! It's high time that these adventurers started picking up after themselves when they go around Lore carving a bloody swath of destruction! The only way the JJJJ will get any repsepct is if we have one of our own to be a Champion, and you know that!" John chided. "I hear you, and you are correct. But you haven't seen that arena yet, I tell you it's..." "Joe, do you remember the Colossall Ceptic Clatastrophe at K'eld Crum?" Joe's face scrunged up tightly. "Don't bring that up, please. It still gives me nightmares..." "Please, you got lucky working in the residential area. I led the SS into the alchemical labs..." "Wait, YOU led the Speckless Squad into the Omega Oval of that mess?" Joe asked, wide eyed. "Yes Joe, I did." "Dear GPITS, that's one of the worst messes in the Juncture's history!" "Aye, we haven't had an Omega Oval in.... 54 years? But yeah, none of the SS, including myself, was ready for what awaited in there..." "Didn't the sewage mix with the alchemical labs..." "That was right next to the graveyard. Yes. Add in the fact that there were some crazy necromancers who happened to be the SOURCE of the clog and...." "Please John, say no more. If you had to deal with THAT fiasco, you should be able to handle this mess. I'm just concerned that you haven't really brought any... weapons with you." Joe sighed. "What are you talking about, I'm armed to the teeth here, and don't forget MOP" John cheerfully replied, showing the mop's end to Joe. "KEEP THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!!" Joe yelled, backing off. "Sorry, I keep forgetting that you had a bad run in with it...." "YES. Let's not bring that up either..." Joe stammered, recomposing himself. "Look, you have a lot of tools, but none of them are... well lethal. Except for that little monster you have, but even then you'd need time for it to do that..." "Joe, look me in the eyes. What's the name of the arena?" John asked, taking a serious stance and tone in his voice. "The Spike..." "Yes, the SPIKE arena. I'm assuming then, that there are indeed pointy spikes in there?" "Aye, you can be sure of that. Especially every third one, they made it extra sharp and barbed..." "And what's rule #6 of the Janitor's Journal?" John asked. "Use your surrondings to... ahhhh, clever. But what if you hadn't been in Spike? Surely you didn't know you would be here..." John replied. "Of course I didn't know. To answer your question, see rule #2" "You DO know that the JJ is meant for cleaning situations, not the art of combat, right?" Joe pointed out. "Please, combat is a mess in itself. Therefore the Journal applies well. Enough banter! We've established enough background, let's get on to the arena before they start without me!" John exclaimed, grabbing hsi MOP and bucket and started walking in the direction of the arena. "You know that me and the boys of the Platoon are here cheering you in the crowd, right?" Joe called out, making his way to the stands. "Of course, we janitors need to stick together!!! Now get going, you promised to bring the others refreshments!" John called back, giving a salute with his mop that only Janitors do to each other. Joe returned the salute with his broom and the two seperated. The arena was definately dank, but not dark as it was quite open with a noon day sun. John slowly walked down the ramp taking in everything, but eventually focusing on the large obelisk in front of him. Just as Joe said, it did appear to be bleeding. As John stepped off the ramp he made for the nearby obelisk and stooped down to examine the liquid. Smelling it was out of the question, the arena's stench permeated the air. Looking at ooze from the obelisk gave John the impression that it wasn't real blood. He couldn't really tell why, something in his gut just told him it. Regardless of what it was, it was making the arena a mess, and any janitor worth his salt will do his best to keep his section of an area as clean as possible. John placed his bucket on the ground, and dipped the MOP inside it once. The bucket would refill itself over time thanks to the moisture in the air, so John didn't have to worry about running out of water. Even if the bucket were tipped over, John's ability to manipulate water could easily put most of it back into the bucket before the ground could absorb it. With this in mind, John began mopping up the strange liquid on the obelisk, humming a sea shanty-esque tune while doing so. To the untrained eye John would look as if he was completely engrossed in his work, but a skilled eye, or one used to the ways of espionage, would notice that John's eyes were most certainly not always on the obelisk, and rather on his surroundings.

Draycos777 -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/14/2015 8:13:56)
"If you were a bird, it would look as if insects swarmed the city around the same time every year." Raiu didn't quite understand what Minus meant by this when she told Raiu about her time in Bren during the Elemental Championship. However, now that she was inside the city to experience it for herself, she realize just what Minus had ment. Everywhere she looked and went, dozens of people lined the streets and packed into buildings. Merchants, following the herd of potential customers, had set up many odd and extioc shops. Many strange inventions where also on display. It seemed to Raiu that everyone was like an insect; not knowing were to go, but somehow knowing how to get there. Later on, during her explorations, Raiu overheard someone say the saw a gaint robot with a girl ontop of it "Maybe they're here to enter the Championship as well?" Raiu thought, to herself, what a gaint fighting robot would look like. "Hmmm, On second thought... I hope they aren't here to enter. I'm not sure Energy magic would even work on a robot. I mean, don't robots run off of energy? Maybe I can beat it down with my staff? Would physical attacks even work on it?" As Raiu pondered all of this, she finally came across the vender she was looking for. Nomally you'd only see artisans and blacksmiths here, but Raiu stopped by them from time to time. Venders selling metal scraps. After having the merchant cut the pieces she wanted into manageable sizes, Raiu paid for the scraps and headed to an Inn. Waiting 'til the tournament started, Raiu refilled her pounch with wooden balls and had a bite to eat. The arena smelt awful, but it wasn't overbearing to Raiu. No, sadly enough, she wasn't too affected by the smell after spending some time in a certain forest chasing after Minus. Another interesting feature was the obelisk at the end of each contestant's ramp. Raiu was sure they were magical in nature, but something told her not to try and find out. Looking towards the other contestants. " So it looked like we've got a temple boy, a sheriff and paladin that seemed to be chating it up, a..." Raiu blinked twice at the sight she was seeing. W-was the janitor she was looking a real or... no he had to be real. "Maybe he's just trying to fool everyone, I mean he's not even looking at the ground while he works. Y-yea... I'll go with that." Ignoring whatever the janitor was, Raiu turned her head to the right to see... a gaint robot... "Damn, so it was here to enter the tournament. "Well at least it's different then what I'd thought it'd look like. Maybe it can be pushed over or knocked to the ground somehow?" Raiu turned her attention back towards the middle of the arena. "Well, that's for later. The first rule of mage combat: Never enter a fight headon. So I'll just wait here for now and watch. Hmm, but just incase." Raiu's clothes rippled with energy for awhile, then died down as the spell took affect. "Static Armor, should help if anyone decides to charge me." With that, Raiu leaned on her staff, the rings chiming as they moved, and watched the others.

Riprose123 -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/15/2015 2:02:51)
Tomarul breathed in deeply, the scents of Bren's bustling marketplace filling his nose, causing his mind to dance about in information gathering bliss. He let out a long, drawn out sigh, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a wolfish grin, a habit he had picked up during his long expeditions into human and elvish settlements. He stood a few feet away, and placed a light hand on his hip, an obvious obstruction in the bustling street, but far too solid to be bothered by even the roughest bumps. He moved forward when he was good and ready, passing a few stalls, before nicking a link of dried meat from one, and flipping the vendor a fair coin on his way past, cautiously pushing through a gaggle of old women arguing over a ham. He paused to stop near a large hairy man, who he intended to ask for directions, when he noticed a small boy, appearing to be about 4 or 5, staring at him. The boy was short, as you would expect from that age, and wore a white shirt, felt trousers, a wide brimmed hat, and a pare of suspenders over each shoulder. He wore no shoes, and fully appeared to be a micro version of the workers that hefted large boxes behind Tomarul. He stared at the boy in turn, munching on the tough, dried out strip of meat, hoping to satisfy his belly for a little bit, at least. His wolf eyes narrowed slightly after the first five minutes. The boy merely stood there, staring at the taller wolfman, and scrunched his brow, bit his lower lip, and fooled with something in his pocket, as if he were mulling over the greatest question ever posed to man in his head, and he had to be certain that the answer was correct. It took another two minutes of a predatorial, unwavering stare, but soon the boy seemed to come to a conclusion, and drew his hand out of his pocket... ...only to reveal a shiny, red, and obviously new ball. Something deep inside Tomarul stirred, then, and his eyes opened wide. It wasn't the instinctive reaction dogs have to chase and hunt, which is usually the drive behind their incessant need to chase the great red ball that they get so much enjoyment out of. Instead, it was a mix of insulted honor at the thought that he would lower himself to something as menial as chasing a ball for a boy (though the idea did seem rather enjoyable, all things considered), sorrow at the insensitivity passed from parent to child, and a large amount of humor at the naivety of the boy. Tomarul barked loudly, as close to a laugh as he could provide. THe child seemed more confused than upset by this, and he gave Tomarul a long, puzzled look, still holding out the ball. "What's wrong, Doggy, don'tchya like fetch?" the boy asked, a small bumpkin drawl in his tone, his voice heavy with skeptical disappointment. Tomarul barked again, drawing looks from passer-bys. Tomarul gave them a certain look of his own, and approached the boy. Kneeling down next to him, he placed a fuzzy hand on his shoulder and said, "Hey kid, ain't anybody ever taught you what I am?" Tomarul casually took the ball from him, and tossed it up a few times, up and down, up and down. "Now kid," he began, "I'm a wolvinier. You know what that is?" The boy nodded, and Tomarul continued just as he opened his mouth to speak again, "I'm not anyone's dog, got it? I'm a warrior. Shucks, heck, I'm the best of the best where I come from." The boy's eyes opened again excitedly, and his hands jumped up, snatching the ball just before it touched his hand again. Tomarul was surprised, but the boy rattled on before he could comment, "say, Doggy, does that mean you're going to the Arena?! Are you a fighter? Well, are ya?!" Tomarul chuckled low in the back of his throat, a low, rhythmic bark. "I am, kid," he said, a hand reaching up and plucking the cap off his head, "I'm here to prove I'm the best of the best, understand?" The boy nodded enthusiastically as Tomarul stood up, shaking the dust from his hat. He set it back on his head, and just as he was getting ready to turn and ask the workmen for directions, the boy tugged on his arm, motioning him closer. He bent down, and to a passerby, the two seemed to share something private as the boy whispered into the-now-grinning wolfman's ear. Tomarul casually slid his hands near his waist, and let his magnetic field activate. Three claws each jumped a few inches, slipping themselves into place on his fists. The boy stared at the Wolvinier, eyes wide in awe, before saying, "Gosh, Dogg-" he caught himself quickly, amending his line of speech, "I mean, mister. Do ya think you could win this year?" Tomarul chuckled again, slipping the blades back to their spots on his waist, before answering the boy, "Oh, I think I stand the best chance of what I've seen so far. I intend to win, so I'm fairly certain sure I will." A thought struck Tomarul as he turned again, wheeling himself back towards the boy. "Say," he said, "Kid, would you know where the arena is? I kinda late." Tomarul's first reaction of the arena was a flash back to the death and decay that was his early years of service in active duty to the Wolvinier military. He caught the scent as he followed the panicking receptionist, who was beside himself at the thought of Tomarul being late for call. The clerk stopped as they approached the edge of a pit, and Tomarul began to clearly understand the nature of this arena. The spikes and stakes that lined the walls were meant to kill. Some were sharp, and some were meant to kill, barbed as they were. They all looked climbable, at least swingable, if he was careful. He wasn't sure of the metallic make up of them, but he was sure they were much too secure for him to put them to any practical use. He stepped onto the ramp slowly, and as he began his decent, someone shouted at him, "I BELIEVE IN YOU, DOGGY!" Tomarul looked up, and was greeted with the five year old, sitting with a woman and man on either side, who were most likely his parents. It made Tomarul smile to see them there, but inside he grew sad, unsure how he felt at the thought of parents willfully exposing children to such a bloody sport. He turned, slowly making his way down the ramp. A few combatants were already there, and they all seemed content to stand and stare at each other. He gave close observation and study to each, noting weapons, armor, and the shifty janitor scrubbing one of the large rocks, who was secretly checking out each of his fellows, and who's eyes, Tomarul swore, lingered a little too long on the female paladin with chains on here wrists. One man with a funny hat moved towards the woman, and Tomarul's hand moved reactively towards his blades, which tingled against each other as they hung from his waist, tore between the two magnetic fields of his waist and hand. His keen ears picked up what the human said, and Tomarul quietly thought of three different ways to kill the man before he got an answer, just as the golem, a huge, lumbering thing, carrying a large warhammer, began moving towards the sun bathers. Tomarul huffed once, getting accustomed to the scent of the arena, a few more times to get accustomed to the combatant's own scent, and planted his feet squarely, and summoned three claws to each of his hands, letting his arms get accustomed to their added weight. He cleared his throat a little loudly, barked once or twice in nervous laughter, and began, "Greetings, all. My name is Tomarul Valtran. I don't usually have the privilege of greeting my opponents, so I thought I might start with my name. I am a Wolvinier Hunter, and the best of our best. It'll be a privilege to fight each of you, but you should know, I intend to win."

Apocalypse -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/15/2015 14:23:14)
Lucia turned her gaze away from the bright sun and towards the new contestant. He was a man slim of body and clothed all in white. Like herself, the man was blond but his locks were long and beautiful compared to the unkempt mess that was her hair. If his immaculate clothing was not evident enough of his allegiance, then one could look to either the luminous blade in his hands or the gleaming tattoos etched into his exposed skin to perceive his proclamation of service to the Elemental Lord of Light. Lucia wondered if this beaming warrior was a fellow paladin in service to the Lady of Light or if he had placed his faith in a different facet of the light. It was unfortunate that his placement was next to hers, for the radiant presence of this champion seemed to draw only more attention to the many flaws in Lucia's figure. The paladin could almost hear the crowd members rejoicing after the unveiling of a proper combatant for light's favor. Lucia shook her head to dispel these thoughts and took another peek at her rival. Judging by his defensive position, he did not want to be the aggressor in the arena. At least, not yet. There was movement to her right, and Lucia watched as a behemoth entered on the other side of the arena. He was as tall as Lucia was and half again, if not more so. The giant's armor lustered a brilliant ivory and so did the massive warhammer in his hands. Despite his imposing size there was a paradoxical grace to the giant. Perhaps it had to do with the polished perfection of his plates, or perhaps it was the swirling movement of his regal cape. It was only when the giant approached the center of the arena that Lucia noticed its unnatural gait and recognized it for what it was. Her muscles tensed, and she slid a foot backward in anticipation. Golems were only as heartless as their creators, but Lucia, in her experience, had learned that the cruelty of men was compounded when it was not them holding the blade to the throat of another. This golem did not make it far before halting. Like the others, it was content with waiting to react rather than act. More movement to her right and another made his appearance. To Lucia, this one may have been the strangest so far to enter the battleground. The weapons strapped to his sides and back (if they were weapons) were nothing like the paladin had ever before seen. The hat on his head was an additional oddity as was the glint of metal on his chest. She balled her hands into fists as the stranger approached, but was taken off-guard not by blows but by the tipping of his hat and his comment on the weather. The paladin felt herself relaxing as the man continued to speak. He introduced himself as Sheriff Dell Wolf, and he seemed to have quite a lot to say. Lucia bit the inside of her cheek to ease the discomfort she felt as his words spilled forth. Was this man of the talkative sort, or had Lucia kept herself so isolated that she had forgotten how much people spoke? It was strange to realize just how unaccustomed she had become at the simple skill of conversation. The man ended his oration with a proposition. "Ah reckon we might just get through this here hootin’ shootin showdown, if we work together. What’dya say?” Lucia exhaled as the last feelings of tensions left her. So it is an ally he seeks, she thought. The day is not lost. "You have my gratitude. I wrongly believed only adversaries would await me here." She shifted her eyes from Sheriff to the metallic behemoth and back again. "But if we are to fight together, we must know how. My fight is the melee." She gestured towards the man's strange contraptions. "Of these, I know naught." Sheriff made a quick, although wordy, explanation of his weapons. The one on his back was meant for close-quarters while the ones on his sides were for enemies farther away. Simple enough, but they had their limitations. "One catch though. These here between the shotgun and the sidearms equals a total of four oh these here water containers. So's I've got me only ten left. Six shots a sidearm an two blasts on the bigger un." Sheriff paused in thought before adding, ""An a fifteen second delay due to the cooling requirement." If he is careless, he will be left helpless in a field of giants, Lucia thought. Their discussion was cut short by the arrival of another contestant, though it was by appearance alone that he had disrupted them. Sheriff appeared baffled beyond comprehension as he took in the sight. Lucia was perplexed as well, for this new arrival was not establishing his position in the arena but rather...cleaning it? As Sheriff voiced his disbelief, it became apparent to Lucia that this one was not cleaning for the sake of cleaning but using it as a guise to observe his surroundings. A trickster, thought Lucia even as Sheriff gave a warning about the cleaner. Two more combatants came in through the gateways on the other side of the tattooed warrior. The first was a magician of some sort if her cloak and staff were any indication. Small sparks of energy coursed through her clothes for a brief period before fading from sight. Energy. Dangerous from afar, but perhaps if one gets close enough... The speculation faded off as Lucia's eyes fell on the other arrival. Lucia took a sharp breath. Werewolf! Or...was it? It was smaller in stature than any of the ones Lucia had encountered, and none of them had ever worn a brimmed wizard's hat like he did. It was a ridiculous sight, but Lucia was not sure if he was the most ridiculous one here. The wolf-being made a few haphazard growling noises before making a declaration to the arena. "Greetings, all. My name is Tomarul Valtran. I don't usually have the privilege of greeting my opponents, so I thought I might start with my name. I am a Wolvinier Hunter, and the best of our best. It'll be a privilege to fight each of you, but you should know, I intend to win." A wolvinier who has the training of a hunter, or a hunter of wolviniers? Lucia pondered this question as Sheriff made a quick greeting to the wolf-being known as Tomarul Valtran. Sheriff covered his mouth with his hand to cough, or rather block his mouth from view. At a volume only she could hear, Sheriff said, "Watch 'im." A caution that was well-advised but rather unnecessary. Werewolf or not, the paladin would only trust Tomarul as far as she could throw him. However, this wolf did not give the impression that he wanted to be the one to break the stillness. He had challenged the other competitors but in such a way that they would have to come to him to answer. Seven had entered the arena, leaving a position open for one more to join the fray at the gate furthest from Lucia. She would keep an eye on it, but now was the time for action. Without looking to him, Lucia whispered to the Sheriff. "The golem first." It was by far the largest target in the arena, and a single blow from its hammer would be enough to strike down any competitor. She had to take it down now with the aid of Sheriff, otherwise the casualties of the clash would be far greater. "Protect my back," she said. Lucia approached the golem with long strides, her chains swinging like pendulums next to her. The behemoth would no doubt observe her advance, and Lucia imagined the great golem tossing her aside with a flick of his hand and impaling her on one of the many namesakes of the arena. The paladin fought the urge to shudder and held an open hand in front of her. "Veneration," she said under her breath. A link from her right hand winked out of existence as a dazzling spear of concentrated light materialized in her outstretched hand. Lucia's skill with the spear was far from great by any means, but she needed the weapon's reach and piercing capability. A well-placed thrust could bring the titan to its knees and open it up for further attacks. That is, if she was not hammered into oblivion first. The paladin brought the spear to her side and with her other hand grasped it close to the point. Lucia kept her legs bent as she continued forward, readying herself to spring at a moment's notice. “Beatification,”. A second link gave a faint glow before vanishing, and the spear transformed from beaming light to dull gold. It was a step down in terms of appearance and intimidation, but a step up in practicality and strength. The paladin was more concerned with results than appearances. The closer Lucia came to the golem, the larger it seemed to loom over her. Its regal nature no longer was like a king's but rather that of a tyrant's. It had not enemies but trifling flies to swat at its leisure. Its beauteous armor held terror; its destructive warhammer a haunting grace. Lucia was just outside of the golem's range. She could rush in, try to dodge the incoming hammer blow, strike its right knee as she passed by, and then hope she could evade being crushed by its immense weight or struck by its flailing limbs. Or the paladin could remain here, lock it into a stalemate, and wait for it to grow tired of her presence and obliterate her. "Ad mortem serviemus", she said and charged.

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/15/2015 15:50:01)
Now ah know what ya’ll are thinking there reader. How could a cowboy much like Dell Wolf go along and ally in battle? Where sir, every sheriff needs a deputy and in them thar days a deputy was always around to aid a sheriff in a gunfight. She clearly and visibly relaxed when realizing that Dell wasn’t there to make trouble, but to offer a hand of friendship. Something that clearly had to happen in this place. “Protect my back.” She commented. “Ayep, Ah reckon that I can do that Ma’am.” Wolf replied in a friendly tone. He turned his head quickly as she descended the pathway towards the construct, checking to make sure that none of them thar varmints was gonna come a gunning their way. Satisfied Dell descended the pathway after her. He reflected on something about all this that felt so familiar and natural. Surely the ice lord must have realized the potential that Dell Wolf represented. After all, why save the man’s life if there wasn’t a good reason to do so? This reminded the sheriff of the days when he and his deputy stood outside in the sun. Sweltering heat shining down across them, sweat glistening off his face as the bandits pulled up to a stop to challenge them to a gunfight. The sound of the deputy’s clasp unsnapping to release the motion for the side arm. The feel of Dell’s own peacemakers firmly grasped in both hands made him feel like it was old times again. The remembered echo of gunshots and the smell of gunpowder smoking into the air. Bandits going down one by one. The Sheriff remembered the pain too. As a bullet grazed the shoulder, the stinging slap of a hand against a fly. The rocking motion of the horse below him as it galloped along. The jarring feel of a well placed kick by his very first steed. Yep, those were the days all right. But Dell reminded himself as he returned to reality from the thought, that those days were gone and done. Part of him still missed the tavern’s piano playing, the singing of the western girls as they danced about, legs kicking in the air. He could still taste the tangy, cold, smooth sarsaparilla that the barkeep kept around for him. Dell was never one for the real liquor. It dulled the senses, slowed the mind. You couldn’t really find that elixir around these here parts, nor could the sheriff really recall to memory what all went into the drink. Another quick look out of the corner of his eye assured the sheriff that the other combatants were keeping their distance. Dell stopped about a foot away from the paladin and gave her a quick, friendly warning. “Heads up.” The right handed peacemaker went up and aimed quickly. The hammer pulled back and the bang of the gun sounded into the arena. The shot was from an expert after all. The ice bullet flew out of the chamber and traveled at the rate of a normal bullet, only a tad faster because of the structure of the bullet. Dell hoped the bullet would distract the construct enough to let the paladin give it a punishing blow. His left handed gun remained unfired. The sheriff counted in his head. five bullets left in the right, six in the left. If he had to, he could easily holster the sidearms and use the Wyatt Earp shotgun.

Draycos777 -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/15/2015 21:58:46)
Another contestant entered the Spike arena and caught Raiu's attention. It looked like a humanoid wolf, but, according to one small child in the onlooking crowd, it was a "doggy". Raiu held back a laugh and focus on what the new contestant was saying. "Greetings, all. My name is Tomarul Valtran. I don't usually have the privilege of greeting my opponents, so I thought I might start with my name. I am a Wolvinier Hunter, and the best of our best. It'll be a privilege to fight each of you, but you should know, I intend to win." Raiu wasn't sure what a Wolvinier Hunter was, but, she was sure she'd find out soon enough. Raiu planned on continuing to watch the others, in what looked to be the start of the world's longest staring contest, when the dirty-looking paladin and the sheriff made their move. Charging towards the giant robot, the paladin summoned a spear of light into her hands. For his part, the sheriff stayed back and fired at the golem. For Raiu, letting them defeat it was in her best interest, as that meant she wouldn't have to deal with it later. However, something about the robot made it hard for her to just let that happen. The more she looked at it, the more she felt that it wasn't all that bad at all. In fact, Raiu was sure it would be a kind soul if it was human. Besides, she was curious about how it worked, and maybe that was just her element speaking, but it would be a waste to let the big fell'a get double teamed like this. With a sigh, Raiu made the decision to join in the battle earlier than she wanted. The sheriff's shot was near perfect, it was obvious firing his weapons was nothing new to the man. The bullet surely would have done it's intended job, however, it didn't account for interventions. Something just as fast as a bullet raced through the air and struck the icy attack from the side; lightning. Looking at the sheriff, Raiu gave sort of a half-committed smile and sent energy coursing through her staff in case the sheriff turned on her. "Taking on the big guy, first huh?" Raiu shrugged; "Can't say that's not a sounded plan, but don't ya think that's a tad bit unfair?" Raiu was taking a risk by helping the robot. She had no idea if it wouldn't turn around and attack her itself, or would even be thankful for her help. Either way, helping it out seemed like the right thing to do. Besides, aren't paladins suppose to be all about justice and stuff? What was so justice-y about double teaming in a no-rules, no-allies fight? Raiu reached into her pouch and pulled out a wooden ball. "It's a good thing your metal buddy, or this would hurt you too." I don't suppose you'd back off now that you've started attacking right?" Raiu's eyes glanced from the sheriff, to the paladin charging at the golem. "Normally, I'd rather not fight so soon, but..." Raiu tossed the ball into the air, watching as it flew in between the two aggressors. "I doubt you'd just stop attacking just 'cus I asked nicely." Lifting her staff in the air, Raiu let a bolt of energy loose; aiming for the wooden ball.

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/16/2015 3:09:35)
Now ya’ll don’t try this kinda stuff at home ya hear? It looked like the ol sheriff was in a mighty heap o trouble. Ah know, ah know, yer on the edge o yar seat eh pardners, well ol Sheriff Dell Wolf wasn’t called the Rootinest Tootinest sheriff of them thar parts for no reason. Well sir, ah tell ya what he gone and done. He was quick on the trigger finger and quicker on tha draw. Round these here parts, we would stare in awe at the speed and accuracy of his bullets. Dell raised an arm the moment that the ice bullet bit the dust as electrical sparks showered off the trajectory. “Now who in tha hills-” but his words were cut off when a female standing from afar spoke. “Taking on the big guy first huh?” she stated. “Can’t say that’s not a sounded plan, but don’t ya think that’s a tad bit unfair?” Wolf turned his attention towards the female in the purple shirt. “Ya’ll got a better idea? ya wanna talk unfair huh, how bout dat thar stunt ya’ll just pulled. Instead o helpin us, ya’ll helping the biggest, brawniest, mechanical contraption here?” As soon as the woman made a movement for her pouch, the sheriff lifted his left gun up in warning. He was through playing around. These here varmints were interrupting an honest to goodness showdown. He was ready to teach im a thing or two. He tilted his head just a little to see what she had. He could see from this distance that it was a wooden ball of some sort. But that immediately worried im. There was something mighty peculiar and he reflected a quick memory that had once had a couple o kids with a wooden object that contained a genuine bomb. It happened at the bank during a robbery gone bad. Dell could still feel the sting of the bomb. Now granted the ol sheriff didn’t know if this here was a bomb or not, but he wasn’t aiming to find out either. “I don’t suppose you’d back off now that you started attacking right? she asked. Dell’s eyes narrowed slightly, the peacemaker hammers made an audible click. “Ah’m warnin ya ma’am, ya’ll askin fer trouble.” the grip steadied. The next move was hers. “Normally, I’d rather not fight so soon but…” the female stated cooly. The moment the wooden ball flew out of her hands the left handed peacemaker went up quick as could be. “I doubt you’d stop attacking just because I asked nicely.” She said coyly. Soon as the staff raised Dell began to get the idea. Lightning bolt, lightning attacking a wooden ball. Something else would happen. “Not on mah watch!” the sheriff growled. He pulled the trigger on the left handed peacemaker once, pulled the hammer back and pulled the trigger a second time just as the staff finished rising. Quick as a wink the bullets sent the wooden ball careening harmlessly off to the left behind an obelisk. Just as the lightning exploded out of the staff, Dell threw himself off to the right just barely getting out of the way in time. “Why ya dirty, sneaky, low-down snake in the grass.” the sheriff growled as he stood back up. “I gave ya’ll fair warnin ma’am. Ya’ll forget this here a tournament?” “Where da elementalists prove emselves?” Wolf counted off in his head. four in the left, five in the right. He had to make the shots count. “Not bad ma’am. But they don’t call me sheriff Dell Wolf fer nothing.” Dell moved right to the closest obelisk getting a little blood-like fluid on the tip of his right handed peacemaker before turning his aim to the woman in the purple shirt and firing off two more shots aimed for the eyes. Even if she had a shield, the liquid itself would surely blind her.

Azan -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/16/2015 18:48:48)
As the new competitors arrived in the arena, Arvensis watched them as carefully as he could. The metal golem was, by far, the thing he judged most dangerous on the battlefield. Arvensis had always hated fighting golems. He certainly did not want to get anywhere near that frightening two-handed hammer, nor was he sure that the Lightshifter would be strong enough to pierce the metal being. Possibly worse was the fact that he could not cut this agressor from its five senses to strike a final blow - being a construct, it certainly had other ways of perceiving reality that he could not affect. When the paladin woman charged at him, Arvensis was definitely relieved she would take care of that problem for him. Still not moving, he took all his time to judge the others. He did not pay a lot of attention to the janitor - seeing him cleaning the arena brought back painful memories of his days as an apprentice in the temple, and he was not totally sure if the man was a competitor or just a very, very dumb janitor who had no idea that there was an actual fight going on. He watched as the man who allied himself with the paladin tried to shoot the golem only to engage in a fight with the competitor obviously aligned to Energy. Those two were best left by themselves, he thought. The last one was definitely interesting. In all his travels, Arvensis had never heard about "wolvinier", but he had met some hunters, and he knew the way they usually thought. Hunters classified people either as preys or predators. This Tomarul Valtran seemed to judge all of the other competitors as preys, and Arvensis did not especially like being judged as a prey. He switched his gaze to the Lightshifter in his hand and blinked. The luminous knife had disappeared, dissolving into the ambiant light. Arvensis closed his left fist and, three seconds later, the weapon reappeared as a shield of light strapped around his left arm. He always took this precaution when approaching an unknown foe: he was not sure if the blades Tomarul wore were meant to be thrown, but he intended to be protected if they were. Raising the shield, he opened his right palm and threw a ray of light, directly aiming for Tomarul's heart.

Bastet -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/16/2015 19:49:16)
However many new fighters had just joined the EC didn’t matter to S.O.N.A.R., as long as they would keep their distance and wait for their turn. What really mattered was that he was now being charged by one of the first ones to join the battlefield: a tall woman dressed in a brown leather tunic with chains attached to her wrists. In gestures one would think impossibly graceful for a construct of its size, the golem brought its hammer to bear in the direction of the attacker. Being so used to wielding it, the weapon almost acted as a mere extension of S.O.N.A.R.’s body. The fact that the woman was still too far to attack gave it time to prepare. The dazzling spear of light that had materialized in her hands was a weapon that Aster’s bodyguard had never seen, but it was quick to determine that the woman had magic abilities and was a champion of light. S.O.N.A.R. didn’t know just how deadly the weapon she wielded was, especially after it transformed from pure light to a spent shade of gold, but it was better to avoid being struck by it at all. What S.O.N.A.R. wasn’t prepared for, however, were the icy projectile that were fired at it by a figure behind the light-attuned warrior. Even realizing that a bullet was about to impact it, the golem knew it wouldn’t have the time to raise its defenses and prevent the missile from finding its mark. While the weaponized ice flew was cutting through the air, however, it was struck down by some form of lightning. S.O.N.A.R. had no time to find out who or what had just spared it its first injury, and prepared to defend itself from the charge of the lean woman. From the same direction the lightning had come, some kind of spheric object was tossed towards those who sought to harm the construct, further leading it to believe it had found an unexpected ally. It was promptly shot down by the man in the background, sure, but it was far too unlikely that it would be anything else than someone actually attempting to support the golem. S.O.N.A.R. waited for just the right moment in the chained one’s charge, knowing that whether his first attack would impact her or not would have an important impact on the duel to come. Not many brawls the golem had had before lasted long, as the rare opponents it had to defend Aster from either fled when her bodyguard made its appearance or were promptly crushed by the construct’s overwhelming force and surprising speed. Nobody it had met before had been resilient enough to withstand a direct hit from its hammer, but the living armor knew it was unlikely at best that its opponent would allow herself to be hit. No, its best bet was to strike with a hidden weapon that it was sure she couldn’t predict. The hammer would strike the ground with as much force as the golem could put in the swing and incapacitate the girl either by the deafening sound it would produce or by the small shockwave it would create. Spinning with more speed than most expected from such an imposing construct and wielding the hammer with both its hands, S.O.N.A.R. built momentum for the overhead swing it was going to release on its attacker. The golem’s only regret is that it had not been allowed to warn its potential ally that it would have been wise if they covered their ears before the massive weapon struck the ground. Swiftly moving the head of the weapon closer and closer to impacting the ground, S.O.N.A.R. aimed to hit where the spear-armed paladin would be if she continued her charge in a straight line. Aster had found her way to the spots reserved to those who wished to spectate the fights, and picked a seat where it would be easier for her to observe how her companion fared. She watch with interest and curiosity as the first fighters entered the arena and listened to what she could hear, until she saw her companion preparing to strike the ground. Being the only person, other than S.O.N.A.R. itself, who could understand what was coming, she reached for a pocket in her clothes and produced a pair of ear plugs. Immediately applying them on herself, knowing how deafening S.O.N.A.R.’s hammer strikes could be, she braced for impact with a grin on her face.

Ultrapowerpie -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/16/2015 20:46:27)
John had to restrain himself from letting out a chuckle at the scene that unfolded before him. Somehow the arena had gone from a huge standoff to everyone attacking each other… save for himself, quietly mopping the fake blood. I can’t believe it was that simple he thought to himself. Clearly most of them noticed me and they’re all out for each other. He couldn’t quite believe his ears when he heard what appeared to be a wolf proclaim that he was a wolverneir hunter…. What the heck was that? Did he mean wolverines? Those things aren’t exactly a picnic but they’re not that bad either. Whatever the case, the wolf clearly showed inexperience, overconfidence (which was offset from the clearing of the throat earlier) or a bizarre since of honor. The Golem was definitely the most problematic of the group, it’s size and weight would mean that most of John’s attacks wouldn’t do much to it. Still, he’d deal with golems before, and they usually had a hard time moving and turning quickly… plus a nice slippery floor would most certainly put it in a bind if it were to somehow fall over… John’s thoughts were stopped when he saw the man with the ridiculous hat, along with the paladin, launch an attack at the golem. It was quite obvious that the conversation from earlier was about forming an alliance. Seeing the paladin produce a light spear was somewhat expected (he had seen it done before), but the male was a bit more exotic. John had seen guns before, especially in the K’elds, but the gun seemed to fire bullets made of… ice? It had to be, the shine from the light certainly revealed it wasn’t metal… A quick energy bolt caught John’s eyes as it appeared near the fight, zapping the bullet in mid-air. Hearing the line about a tactic being “unfair” in the middle of a free-for-all caused a small snort from John. The mage seemed to have unofficially ally herself with the golem, which would cause trouble for John, seeing that the mage was also a ranged fighter like himself. This threat would need to be dealt with very quickly if John was to retain control of the situation. The last two contestants seemed to be fighting amongst themselves… curious another light contestant in the same arena? Eh, it wasn’t a huge deal, as the wolf and the other light user appeared to be me… no scratch that there’s a ray of light… however a shield would indicate that any ranged attacks would most likely be short… Enough, he thought. The situation is ideal to strike and send the arena into chaos. Taking the bucket and moving it in front of him, John used his soap dispenser to produce one bar of soap and dropped the entire thing into the bucket. He then stuck MOP in the bucket, stirred things around a bit and brought the mop back out, filled with very nice and soapy bubbles. John used the melee of the battle to prepare the attack, as everyone else was so focused on themselves, he was able to use the time to bring up a rather large soap bubble from the bucket. It wasn’t a massive soap bubble, as this soap bubble would require more time, time he probably wouldn’t have later. No, this large bubble would just have to do. Either way it would bring glorious sanitation to this rather filthy arena. John raised the bubble in the air, and then propelled it forward at great speed towards the golem and paladin near the center of the arena. Unlike a normal bubble that was filled with air, this bubble was filled with very soapy water. As it approached the two fighters, it would burst, most likely from contact, but it would unleash water everywhere near the center of the arena, utterly drenching those in rough proximity to the bubble’s burst. It wouldn’t get anyone on the fringes of the arena for sure, but he hoped that with all the moving going on he’d be able to snag the other fighters too. A big grin broke out on his face as he saw the bubble going closer and closer to the targets. It wouldn’t actually hurt anyone, and most likely wouldn’t push anyone with force either. What it would do is drench them to the core, and make the arena a very nice soapy watery mess… perfect conditions for slippery floors.

Apocalypse -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/18/2015 14:44:34)
Magic flashed around Lucia as the standoff dissolved into chaos. The paladin placed her trust in Sheriff Dell Wolf to protect her from outside threats as she charged towards the golem. A sharp bang sounded from behind as a crystal pierced through the air and towards the behemoth. It must have been the work of one of Sheriff's Peacemakers. His assistance was appreciated but unfruitful as thunder clapped and a bolt of lightning blazed across Lucia's vision and vaporized the small projectile. The fulgarmancer had tossed her lot in with the behemoth, no doubt trying to win its favor to further her own ends. Golems were, by design, engines of destruction. By aiding it, the fulgarmancer had tried to seal the demise of the other competitors. Should Lucia survive the encounter with her current foe, she would make it a priority to take up arms against the energy magician. There was another bang and thunderclap in quick succession. It seemed the fulgarmancer would also have to endure Sheriff's strange weaponry if the two women were to clash. The golem displayed surprising speed as it swung the hammer above its head. Its next action was clear - to bring the hammer crashing down on the paladin. The raw power of the stroke would reduce Lucia to a mere smear on the arena floor if it connected. Blocking a blow of such strength was out of the question. Lucia would have to take advantage of her momentum and perform a dodging roll if she wanted to escape her fate. Dodging to the right would be the more logical choice. It would put some distance between the behemoth and herself, allowing each of them to recover and resume the status quo of inaction. On the other hand, the left gave the ultimatum of high risk for high reward. It would put the paladin within the golem's grasp, but if she managed to rally quicker then there would be an opening to land a decisive blow. Lucia put her chips on the table and leapt towards the giant's legs as the hammer came down. Sheriff's Peacemakers and the fulgarmancer's lightning had been loud, but both paled in comparison to the deafening boom that filled the arena when the hammer struck the ground. Lucia's left ear roared with pain, crying out even before the shockwave struck her side like a fierce punch. Her vision shook as if the paladin were in the middle of an earthquake. Lucia hit the ground hard and tumbled more than rolled towards the giant. The less-than-graceful display of acrobatics came to an end with Lucia on her back looking up with a hand to her damaged ear. The disappearance of the sun was disturbing as was the presence of metallic pillars on either side of her. The brief thought that she had been transported away from the arena crossed her mind as she gazed upward. It was not until the dark mass above her shifted and the pillars moved that Lucia realized she had landed underneath the giant and its billowing cape. She pulled herself close and rolled as metal legs threatened to trample her. It's searching for me, Lucia thought as she avoided another plummeting pillar. I've happened into its blind spot. Lucia rolled again and readied her spear. Her left hand was slick with blood, and she could feel a warm liquid trickle down her ear. There was no time to determine the severity of the wound. The giant spun again, and Lucia lashed out with her spear- -just in time for a large bubble to burst upon the behemoth. Water swept over her and blurred her vision. The wave threw off the aim of the thrust, turning a piercing blow into a glancing one. For a second time, Lucia was sent tumbling as water and cloth rolled over her. The sudden flood spit her out, leaving the paladin sputtering as she rose to her feet. Her eyes stung, her one ear flared with pain, her soaked attire hung heavy on her person, and her nose was filled with the smell of... ...soap? There was no mistaking the scent. The stench of death and decay had given way to the aroma of simple soap. Far away, the blue-garbed man smiled with a hint of mischief. He had, in a quite literal sense, washed Lucia away from the golem and cleansed a good portion of the arena. The paladin had no idea what to make of this. The attack did not seem malevolent - Lucia's poor encounter was attributed in most part to her unfortunate positioning at the time of the flood - but it did not seem benevolent either. He had interfered with their struggle, blanketing the field with his element of choice in the progress. It was alarming that a competitor had managed to make such a large claim on the arena, but Lucia needed to deal with the golem first. She could not risk making new enemies while the old ones still stood. With the closest arena wall to her left and the golem situated between the cleaner and herself, Lucia took the opportunity to strike. Charging would be foolish as she doubted that the golem would fall for the same trick twice, not to mention the possibility of slipping on the now wet floor. Instead, she drew back her arm and launched the spear at the behemoth's knee. The paladin's skill with throwing spears had been mediocre even on her best days, but the target was both so close and so large that Lucia did not think she could miss. The spear, glistening in its soapy coat, whistled through the air and towards the giant.

Riprose123 -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/18/2015 18:14:20)
Tomarul's eyes darted from combatant to combatant, and he studied two as they went to work on the golem. The woman with chains hanging from her wrist went in for a melee strike, and the human pulled what appeared to be ranged weapons from his hips and fired at the golem. THe mage, though, soon used her own powers, and it was this that pulled Tomarul's attention to the warrior holding the shield. He eyed the man as he raised his palm and fired something at Tomarul. The ray was fast, and appeared to be made of pure light, but fortunately, it didn't move as fast, and Tomarul calmly stepped to the side, one foot placed to his left, and leaned just enough so that the light barely passed by the hair of his chest. Blades clinking slightly on his knuckles, Tomarul rushed his assualter with a low growl, one step, two steps, three, before leaping into the air, and driving each of his feet down in a brutal kick. There was a loud clang! as his feet met the man's shield, and he hissed slightly as he lept off it, his toes a stinging a little. He landed in a low crouch, and prepared to come back up in an attack. The man, however, had his elsewhere, and Tomarul followed it. Floating behind them was a large bubble. A rather malevolent looking bubble, at that, and as it got closer and closer, the golem swung it's hammer up and up, preparing a strike that would surely burst the great thing. Tomarul himself turned back to his opponent, still meaning to attack, when the man backed up and held a steady palm out in front of him, "Wait! Tomarul, wait! The bubble!" Tomarul paused, the muscles in his legs coiled, ready to leap and spring, his arms ready to mangle and kill, his entire body as tense as a schoolboy during finals. He eyed the man, tail wagging back in forth in impatience. "What about it?" asked Tomarul, "either way, we will be forced to fight." The man nearly threw his arms up in defeat, pointing at the energy mage, "Look at this thing! Haven't you noticed the energy elementalist over there? When this bubble bursts, she can electrocute all of us if she wants to!" Tomarul nodded slightly, rising fully. The man lowered his shield, now full of good intentions, before continuing, "We can always resume fighting to death later... but I don't want to get shocked to death in the middle of a duel. Let's kill her first... shall we?" Tomarul nodded his head, lowered his head, and rushed towards the mage, just as the bubble burst. Tomarul was pushed back slightly by rushing mass of soapy water, and nearly washed off his feet by the sudden change from dirt to mud below his feet. He kept his balance, thankfully, and continued on his approach.

Draycos777 -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/18/2015 20:30:27)
"Damn, whelp there goes one ball. Nine left huh?" Raiu watched in disappointment as the Sheriff shot down wooden ball and ducked out of the way of the lightning bolt that was aimed for the ball. “Not bad ma’am. But they don’t call me sheriff Dell Wolf fer nothing.” She didn't have much time to mourn though, as the sheriff, calling himself Dell Wolf, fired two bullets of ice towards Raiu. "Two can play that game, cowboy!" Raiu defiantly told Dell Wolf. Lightning leaped from her staff as Raiu turned her body sideways to dodge the left bullet. Her spell destroyed the right shard of ice, Raiu believed she was in the clear. However, she hadn't planned on the shock wave from the golem's attack. Knocked off balance, her face leaned in forward slightly; right in the path of the left bullet. It raked across the bridge of her nose. Raiu winced from the pain. Quickly pulling her head back and recovering, she prepared to defend herself from another attack. What she saw,however, was different then what she expected. The shock wave was both a curse and a blessing. It had popped a water bubble, which was obviously from the janitor, flooding the center of the arena with soapy water that stopped just before reaching the edges. Raiu grinned, tasting the blood that had ran down her face from the recent wound. "I know he was only helping himself, but jeez, talk about a lucky break." Charging her staff, Raiu raced to the edge of the water. "Really hope this works." Sparks flew out of the tip of the staff as Raiu slammed it into the ground. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Raiu counted down the seconds as her spell gained power, and then she released it all. "Chained... Lightning Bolt!" Raiu felt the energy leave her body, travel through the metal staff and enter the water. It was aimed for Dell wolf, however, with water covering most of the arena ground, she didn't have to worry about it being aimed for him, even if her was on the edges. It'd get to him, as well as to any of the other contestants that got soaked. She could only hope that the golem hadn't been soaked as well, or was at least a little resistant to energy attacks. With Raiu's spell, the Spike arena was now a soapy, watery field of electrocut...ive death.

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/18/2015 22:37:08)
Well dear reader, ah reckon the stakes just got higher and the sheriff he was bout to get his plow cleaned. Yes sir thar was some mighty big ol trouble a brewin an I reckon yon sheriff didn’t care a continental. For all ya city slickers, that means he didn’t give a darn. well sir. I think it’s about time for another ballad. Lemme just git my six string tuned here. “Well dis here is how it all goes down, wit the wily shootin sheriff he yon strode right into town. He gave that place a look, a place that they call Bren, he doubled up and saddled down and strode into tha inn. Ordered himself a sarsparilla and in a tone did he say, yonder did ya’ll know anything about that thar tourney held in day.” “Well said the keep, as clear as a rushing bull, sure’s I know a thing or two, and he let flew with what he knew. Paid for his services and a ripe ol drop o drink, the sheriff wandered out into the dark, cold, mean looking streets.” “He slept beneath the stars, that chilly, windy night, just near to the arena and it’s shop keeps on the sight.” “Well, when the arena’s were announced, he got himself a shock, a place full o death, and a smell like rotting chalk. Them thar carcasses had bled out, and oozing pillars made o scene, as sheriff Dell Wolf came a walking into the thing.” “Yes sir, all around him stood eight o them entrances in a row, from left to right, side to side, a mighty warrior he did a get to know. The eighth one stood bare as a bone, guess that thar doggy weren’t a coming home.” “Now here is where the tale takes a turn, seems the sheriff had an idea don’tcha know? He went on over to this lass on his right, said to her “howdy ma’am let’s join forces for the fight.” “Well he made himself a friend, an ally so it seemed, as that big hulking golem went down to the center scene. Across the row, a mage she did stand, lightning her only friend.” “Oh Dell and this lass they talked for a bit, allied and attacked the golem in that thar pit. An unexpected turn came from the side. Ol lightnin’ grease had personified.” “Well dat dere sheriff he turned and shot her wooden toy ball away, it rolled behind the obelisk of fluids dark and gray. His second set o shots went for the eyes, and oi they was all in for quite a surprise. Yeehaw!” Yep, the sheriff and all them thar folks was in for a real surprise. For ya’ll see, John that ol wiley, sneaky, greasy skunk in tha grass had just made a rather large surprise. An ah reckon that thar misses lightnin, she was planning to take advantage. Let’s read on and see what happens. Soon as the shots left. Dell holstered the guns planning on pulling out the shotgun, but as his head turned from Raiu’s direction, something up in the bleachers caught his eye for a second. One little girl had just inserted some odd looking plugs. But her head was turned in an opposite direction. The sheriff swung his head to his right looking towards the golem and his eyebrows went up seeing the bubble and the hammer of the golem going up. Dell put two and two together and had no idea what the bubble would do. But he knew it came from the janitor. He ran behind the obelisk and covered both hands to his ears. The deafening sound wave shook the arena floor a little and Dell winced and lost his balance. The hammer sending him stumbling forward. Dell stopped himself just short of getting skewered on a spike turning and picking up the wooden ball just as the water pooled around the others. He’d missed the spray only by sheer luck and turned his attention back toward the mage. Seeing the sparks start to go on the staff, the sheriff quickly moved to the left side of the obelisk for a clearer shot and threw the wooden ball. Watching it sail through the air he saw it slide into the water and slide from there right to the mage, just as she let go her chain lightning attack. “Holy Hounds o hell! Danger incoming!” He yelled to the paladin ally taking a dive back behind the obelisk and ducking down low as shockwaves of lightning flashed across and astride. As he stood back up to pull out his left gun he felt the hairs on his neck stand straight up and through quick reflexes he pulled up against the pillar just as another bolt crash landed where he had stood. As it arched across the grating, he jumped over and back to the left side of the obelisk again, his hat caught fire and he quickly pulled it off and slammed it against the pillar to extinguish the blaze. “Why ya sneaky, yankin coyote! That thar was ma favorite HAT!” He could only hope that his little stunt with her own weapon had worked on her. It was then that the sheriff realized his right arm ached. Probably one of those aftershocks. Not enough to kill or lame the arm, but enough juice to get his attention.

Ultrapowerpie -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/19/2015 10:16:10)
The sound from the shockwave certainly caught John off guard, though his distance from the center helped to reduce the impact of the sound blast. Still, John’s ears were ringing from it, and the shockwave almost shook him loose, if not for his extremely hardy boots. (Those Grease-Grub Magic Rubber Soles really are your best friend for staying in place). Recovering from the shockwave, ears slightly ringing, John looked at his handiwork, and was mostly satisfied. He had managed to splash most of the competitors with soapy water, giving them a thorough cleaning (as his profession dictated he should do first before engaging in combat), however two miscreants had avoided the blast, one by pure luck and the other simply due to being out of proximity. John was more pleased when he saw that two of the competitors had stopped their squabbling to go after the rather dirty energy mage. He had figured that being drenched would give some incentive to take out one of the two competitors that would give him a major hassle, and it worked like a charm. The other target, the dirty, dusty self-proclaimed “cowboy” had hid behind an obelisk to escape the splash (and most likely occurred some of the fake blood on him, though he couldn’t quite tell at this angle) and would also be a problem, since he was the other ranged user (that he had seen thus far) in the dome. Both would need to be cleansed before John could fully engage the arena. John dispensed another bar of soap and mixed it with his now refilled bucket, but did not let go of the bar of soap. Instead, after sloshing the soap in the bucket long enough to get the water a bit soapy, he placed the soap on the ground, and then gave it a good whack with his MOP, much like a hockey player whacking the puck. The move was simple: using a bit of water magic, the soap bar would slide across the ground towards it’s intended target, leaving a trail of slippery ground behind it. In this case the bar was aimed at the wily sheriff. There was also a second purpose of the bar once it reached its target, but that would depend if the sheriff allowed it to. Regardless, John bet that the sheriff only had a limited amount of ammo, so anything to keep him busy. With the soap bar on it’s merry way, John used the remaining water in the bucket and turned it into a torrent, launching out of the bucket in a long arc over to where the energy mage was. Unlike the bar, this water would not be directed by John, as his attention was focused on the soap bar. John figured that between 3 attackers and the spike wall, the energy mage wouldn’t notice before it’s too late the water. Even if he did miss, another section of the arena would be slippery wet, so either way he would be satisfied.

Azan -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/19/2015 14:06:06)
Arvensis was not very surprised when his sunray missed Tomarul. A hunter such as him, agile as he looked, would never be brought down by such a basic attack. He tensed as the hunter started running in his direction. He was certainly fast. Faster than Arvensis was. He would have to use one of the tricks he had other than his limited skill at close combat to bring him down. Tomarul jumped towards him and tried to kick him, and Arvensis raised his lightshield just in time, groaning under the impact. He took a step back when the hunter landed again, ready to fight back... Then his eyes caught the bubble. "A bubble, Arvensis confusely thought. A floating bubble. What in Light's name is that thing doing h..." Then he saw the golem's hammer. He saw the janitor, now with a mischevious grin, watching his bubble progress. In a split second, he saw the energy mage. And he understood that his unescapable death was coming if he did not act. He looked back at the hunter, who looked still ready to hack him to pieces. He did not like the arrogance of the hunter, but he knew there was a greater peril incoming. "Tomarul, wait!" he shouted. How could he explain what he understood? His confused thoughts only made him yell: "The bubble!" He saw Tomarul's tail wagging in impatience and furiously thought of a better way to express his thoughts. As he guessed, his foe did not understand what he referred to. "What about it? Tomarul asked. Either way, we will be forced to fight." Arvensis chose to make a leap of faith and trust the hunter would not stab him from behind, and turned towards the energy elementalist. "Look at this thing! Haven't you noticed the energy elementalist over there? When this bubble bursts, she can electrocute all of us if she wants to!" And he saw understanding in Tomarul's eyes as he raised to standing position. The hunter was shorter than him, but he had an air of fierceness that almost made Arvensis want to back away again. Instead, he lowered his shield. "We can always resume fighting to death later... but I don't want to get shocked to death in the middle of a duel. Let's kill her first... shall we?" Tomarul nodded, a nod that did not fully reassure Arvensis. Then the golem swung his hammer and hit the ground. The defeaning noise made him throw his hands to his ears. Then the wave hit. Thankfully, Arvensis had not moved from his starting position, so he was not hit by the full impact of the janitor's weapon. The unexpected force of the watery attack still knock him to his feet. Still hurt by the power of the golem's strike, he completely forgot where he was for a few seconds and crawled away from the water. He only stopped when he felt another sharp pain. Arvensis opened his eyes. A spike from the wall had nearly impaled his left arm. Fortunately, it only left him with a bad bruise. At least he was out of the water now. And happy about it, because his eyes fell on the energy mage channeling her power and releasing all of it into the water. His vision still a little blurred, he saw the wooden ball fly into the air and the sherriff crouched behind an obelisk. He did not wait to see what happened with those two. He rose to his feet and took a few seconds to get the soap and water out of his eyes. He had indeed initially planned to attack the energy mage... but now it seemed to him that there was a biggest foe around. He cracked his knuckles and charged at the janitor.

Draycos777 -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/19/2015 17:11:17)
Raiu watched as her attack fanned out towards the contestants. The Janitor and the temple boy where out of harm's way, and the person she wanted to hit, Dell Wolf, jump out of reach just in time. The lightning causing his hat to catch fire, but nothing more, was more than a little disappointing. Raiu however, had something much bigger to worry about. Dell Wolf, popping out from behind an obelisk with her wooden ball that was shot down. "Crap! Not good!" Sweat began to pour down the back of her neck as she saw him toss the ball her way. Since she was still charging her attack, there'd be no way out if it exploded in the air next to her. Raiu's panic soon gave way to relief, however, as the ball hit the ground again and slide in the water to her. As her attack went off, the ball fizzled for second and a-half before dieing out. The gunpowder inside no doubt having soaked up a good amount of water from the slide. "Threw it too soon. That was indeed a stroke of luck that he choose to slide it instead of tossing it straight at me." Raiu grinned and was about to kick the ball back at Dell Wolf when she noticed a bar of soap headed his way. Raiu remembered where the water had came from in the first place. "That's right the janitor." Turning in his direction, Raiu noticed a huge arc of water headed her way. "SON OF'A-!" Raiu leaped to the ground, using the soapy water to slide out of the way as the torrent crashed to the ground where she was once standing. The water flooded the area and pushed her out towards the center; towards the fighting. Getting up and regaining her bearings, Raiu did a once over on herself. Her clothes were soaked to the brim, great. At least, thanks to Overcharged Batteryher own attack won't hurt her, however, there aren't any opponents to really make use of the skill. Other then the wound on the face from earlier, she was fine. Her chest hurt a bit from diving front-first into the ground, but she'd rater fight the ground then a sharpen metal pole. Raiu realized that if she wanted to stay alive this round, she'd need to get rid of the Janitor. Waiting until the sheriff dealt with his own soapy problem, Raiu called out to him. "Dell Wolf was it?" Raiu put her staff forward and leaned on it. It was a habit she had picked up from her great-aunt, but it was also a way to be ready at defending herself in a moments notice, her staff already in a position to protect her. "Look, I'd love to continue fighting, but, it seems that if we do that," Raiu gestured towards the Janitor; "Bucket Boy over there will continue to take shots at us, and I don't much care for the idea of me and my opponent getting killed by a third party." Raiu paused, looked towards the Janitor, then continued. "Besides It looks like he's got his hands full. If we get rid of him now, that save us the trouble of dieing during our fight. I mean do you really want to get killed by him while you're fighting me? We're pretty useless to our teammates if we're dead, ya know what I mean? But, it's your call if we go back to fighting each other or not." Raiu tensed, waiting for the sheriff's answer. She hoped he choose to get rid of the cleaner, however, there was always the possibility he wouldn't.

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/19/2015 18:14:07)
Yes sir, things had taken a mighty fine turn indeed. I reckon yon Sheriff had no idea what was about to partake in that thar tourney. One ally sure, but three? This was unheard of. Only thing that blew tha wind right back at the ol energy gal was the lass had done him wrong. Not just interfering with a shootout, but taking potshots at a lone gunman and trying to fry him and torching his favorite hat? Well sir I tell ya'll what. She was in a heap o trouble and all her aces was drawn an I can tell ya'll right now, Dell was a tough hombre, but she'd just gone and done it. Done what no other bilge rat here had done. She'd made him a right starkin mad. Let's see what happens. Dell saw the soap let fly and quickly pulled the shotgun out and stopped it with the handle. blowing the soapy water off with his mouth. The yon crazy Janitor called from where he was. "Look, she's making a right fine mess of this arena, What say we clean up her act?" The jolly Janitor was pointing towards the electric mage. Just then she herself called out to him. "Dell Wolf was it?" John glanced at the advancing Azan, and looked back at the sheriff. "Look, I'd love to continue fighting, but, it seems that if we do that," the lady electric pointed at the Janitor. "Bucket Boy over there will continue to take shots at us, and I don't much care for the idea of me and my opponent getting killed by a third party." As she looked back at the janitor, Dell held the soap bar steady with his foot. He eyed both of them carefully. "Besides it looks like he's got his hands full. If we get rid of him now, that saves us the trouble of dying during our fight. I mean do you really want to get killed by him while you're fighting with me? We're pretty useless to our teammates if we're dead, ya know what i mean? But, it's your call if we go back to fighting each other or not." This put the sheriff in a real puzzler of who to side with. Here, this lady had not only taken potshots at him, and blasted his attack, but she'd gone out of her way to try and kill him. The Janitor? The worse he had done was simply make the floors slippery, sure that was a hazard. But the Janitor had done the least evil of the two. A sense of justice filled the man's heart as Dell took his hat off his head and eyed her calmly. "First, ya'll interfere with ma shootout. Then, ya'll take potshots and what-ever that thar wood contraption was and toss it at me. Then, ya'll try ta kill me!" The sheriff closed his fist tightly on the side of the barrel of his shotgun and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He raised the hand with the hat in it to show her. "An as a result o yer dang blasted blastin, ya'll go and torch MA FAVORITE HAT ta boot!" "Now, ah tried to be all friendly like." He puts the hat back on calming his temper for the moment. "Ah tried ta reason wit cha pardoner. But ya'll wasted, and tested and tried ma patience till the cows don came home." The sheriff looked at John giving the man a ever slight, ever gentle nod and looked back at Raiu. "Well ma'am. ya'll done gone and dug yer grave up dar on Boot hill." Dells eyes narrowed and his left hand swung waist side to grab at the left peacemaker pulling it up and free in one smooth, fluid motion. "An ma'am I'm da sheriff o these parts and ya'll done gone wrong by me." The peaceful smile left his face and the scowl there could have scared a spider out of it's web. "Ah reckon ya'll got a couple o options now. Ya either surrender ta me an i'll spare yer life and acknowledge ya'll as an honorable." "Option two is ya'll get injured, and ah reckon when this is all over, Ah might come ta find ya. Ya'll er interesting ta say the least. But right now? Ah say ya'll in trouble." "What's yer name anyhow, ya'll know mine!" He called before lifting the left gun up and taking a quick shot just aimed to the left side of her head a split second later swinging the handle of the shotgun with his right hand down onto the soap sending that flying towards the chest area of Raiu, and finally hoisting the shotgun up right after the soap was flying and taking a scatter shot with the gun to ensure she got seriously hurt.

Bastet -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/19/2015 20:15:08)
S.O.N.A.R. was less than pleasantly surprised that the girl had managed to roll where she couldn’t be hit by the hammer, but if the strike could incapacitate her that problem would be swiftly solved by a second swing of the massive warhammer. Even with a degree of agility unprecedented to others of the golem’s kind, and especially size, dealing with opponents that kept close remained a problem. S.O.N.A.R. immediately reacted by attempting to crush the lithe paladin under its metallic boots, but she remained on the move, dancing with the purpure cape that hung by the construct’s back. It was obvious that crushing the woman underfoot would’ve put an end to her life but, as with the hammer, chances of actually landing a direct hit were low. What really mattered was pushing her away. Before that could be managed, however, the warrior of light managed to muster enough strength for a potentially devastating strike against S.O.N.A.R.’s leg joints… ...only for both her and the construct itself to be given a thorough wash by some kind of water-based magic that some competitor had conjured. The piercing attack was deviated from its intended target and resulted in a mere glancing strike. The golem hadn’t had the time to examine all of the fighters, but it would’ve been wise to at least determine who utilized this kind of sorceries. Even that would have to wait, however, until the golem’s first adversary had been properly dealt with. S.O.N.A.R. wasn’t one to lose a duel due to a distraction. She immediately prepared another attack, however, and threw her spear at the golem. Quickly determining an attack that was either of ranged or magical nature, or perhaps both, was headed its way, S.O.N.A.R. raised one of its arms and opened the palm of its ruby-engraved hand. The bright gem gave off a luminous glare and the air around the golem took on a swirling effect as the aerial barrier was erected. The magical shield weakened the spear’s effect to the point that it merely made a dent the robot’s knee when it reached its target, causing almost no damage. Just as S.O.N.A.R. was about to deactivate the enchantment contained in the gem, however, lightning struck. The golem’s active defense was still strong enough to absorb most of the shock, but when the water-enhanced attack wore off it had been pushed to the point where it could barely withstand another attack. Black smoke and a bad smell radiated from the construct, but the barrier had fulfilled its job in shielding Aster’s protector from the brunt of the attack. The ruby’s light dimmed, gradually disappearing as the golem lowered its arm and readied its hammer again. The distorting winds followed soon after, leaving only a gentle breeze as a reminder of their existence. S.O.N.A.R. was left questioning the loyalty of its ally, but considering that lightning was unpredictable when it had the means to spread, it gifted him or her with the benefit of the doubt. Getting rid of the paladin remained the topmost priority. S.O.N.A.R. took a step forward and swung its hammer from left to right, planning to push its opponent in an uncomfortable position so that she could be easily finished off. It readily observed that the hammer’s sonic aftershock had taken effect on her, but this attack would not make contact with the ground. Instead, the construct planned on utilizing the moderate gusts of wind that followed swings at the air to control the direction the muscular woman moved in.

Ultrapowerpie -> RE: =EC 2015= Spike Arena (8/20/2015 11:39:21)
Dang, bit off more then I can mop in one go... John thought, looking at the situation. He hadn't expected the crazy light wielder to charge him after the initial charge at the energy mae. Must have ADHD... As he pondered what to do, he heard the energy mage make an offer to the sherrif, about an alliance against him. Oh that's really* not good. I could handle the two of them from long range, but with a crazy meleer with the attention span and targeting capacity of a squirrel it'd be much harder....*. John hesitated to burst the soap using the water it had absorbed as it neared the sherrif, as the entire situation could take a very nasty... What's this? The Sherrif declined the offer and is instead making a gesture of friendship to me? Hot soapy water on a bassalt handled sponge, the Water Lord really is favoring me today... or just incredibly lucky. Either way this would help swing things back in his favor, and also let him concentrate on the clearly more deranged and dirtier foes of the arena. "John. Just John" He called out. "Fling that bar o'soap over at that energy mage and prepare for a nice firework show" Grinning as the bar of soap was hurled at the energy mage, John grabbed the Ragarang with his right hand and threw it at the charging attacker while he waited for the bar to get near the energy mage. When it did, he'd explode it, creating a soap dust cloud to obscure vision and hopefuly sting his foe's eyes. The Ragarang was more a temporary diversion to ward off the looney light user as his attention was stil occupied on the bar of soap.

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