=EC 2015= Grand Finals

=EC 2015= Grand Finals (Full Version)

All Forums >> [Gaming Community] >> [Role Playing] >> The Championships

Message

Ronin Of Dreams -> =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/4/2015 0:59:00)
The arena was once considered a grand testament, and now was simply the Grand Arena. A name that meant nothing to it, but names brought many things to those who cared for them. It had stood for decades atop the hill, and like ants the mortals of the world had crowded to its shelter. Exalted its purpose. Multiplied, tended the surrounding lands, and nurtured the growth of lesser arenas to separate the wheat from the chaff. Only the most worthy blood was spilled within its bounds these days, and only once a year would it slake its thirst. There were no sigils to denote the path. The tremble of stone underfoot told of the passage of the masses, all drawn to that central structure that stood so dominant within the complex. They filled the stands, row upon row of seats and benches, climbing ever-higher in an effort to pack in and bear witness to what was to come. For some, the draw was the testaments of skill and sorcery that would happen upon the carmine sands. Others, the spiritual revelations that came from the sights of the Pillars and the patterns made by the spilling of blood. Still others cared only for the cries of pain and the slashes of crimson, but even so, they bore witness. As for the Arena's desires, she would slake her thirst happily. Air grew pregnant and heavy with rapt anticipation. Grew thick with brewing excitement. Charged as an outpouring of spiritual energies mingled with the vast protective magics woven and reinforced by the guardian magi who worked within the great complex. At the lowest row, as close to the magics as any could dare, stood a ring of lay-folk all dressed in simple, flowing robes of cerulean silks. Their voices rang out together, weaving into a harmony that cut through all chatter, as once they each served in the arenas of the Paragon Phase. "It is done. We stood witness to the challenges. Now, we greet our Paragons." First came the breeze, soft and flirtatious. Gentle warmth on its fragrant breath, it brought the cornucopia of spring. A hint at depths taken for granted. It twisted through the stands, writhed amidst the crowd, then parted through the defences as if they were nothing. Wind curled upon itself, the first of the Eight made manifest, seen more by the sands displaced than the dervish whirls themselves. "It came with purpose. It struggled amidst the Martyrs. It stands anew. Wind's Chosen, the construct. S.O.N.A.R. walks as Paragon." The sense of spring and warmth faded through the crowds. A chill settled, unnaturally quick and deep in the bones of the onlookers. Rime and frost descended from on high, leaving its touch on cloth and skin. It crept along, climbing down walls of stone and the diminutive dunes of the arena's floor. From there it became a seed of growth, pulling the chill towards growing spires wrapped in rune and vine. Ice hardened itself, with a final décor of blossoming flowers, dangerous in their brittle-thin beauty and their kiss of true cold. "He came from elsewhere; his methods odd. So too did the Martyrs judge his struggle. He stands the stranger, but he stands chosen all the same. Dell Wolf walks as Paragon." There was a tingling at the fingertips. Then the faintest of cracklings. Impatiently, the feeling raced from on high and grounded itself in the sands. It built to a thunderous crescendo, and emitted a single incandescent flash before time slowed nearly to a stop within the bounds of a pillar's space. Bolts of lightning glowed softly, a tangled mass of branches and angles. Through which wisps of ball lightning danced within, a frolicking mass of sparks and crackles. Energy untamed, ever in motion even at a crawl. "She rode in proud. In Twilight's embrace the bond of mount and rider was tested. Her pride unbroken, she rides still. Elysia rides as Paragon." With a twinkle, the sun appeared to dance in the afternoon sky. Clouds seemed more white and fluffy, and shadows raced away as all were washed in a feeling of brightness. Eyes began to close while others looked away, but no matter where one looked one saw a truth to life. Brighter and brighter it became, but not once was harm caused, until the glare snapped and coalesced as a pillar glittering with each speck of dust that crossed within. Light sparkled and gleamed, for it could not be ignored. "She calls for justice. A soul whom the Martyrs could not defile. Pure, she stands alone. Lucia walks as Paragon." The ground shivered underfoot. Stone shook in the stands, a quaking fear that snapped the focus of all away from the other pillars. Sands shifted, forming rune after archaic rune, each in a different language lost to time. From these runes sprang a spearhead, then a pair of daggers, and then yet more. For once there stood a tree, and then there stood a guardian. Now both had become one, and leaves of blades now rustled on gnarled branches of wrought iron. Earth was stalwart, and its resilience was legend. "He came determined. Draped in purpose made clear in Twilight's divinations. Clad in stone, he stands firm. Shud walks as Paragon." Warmth grew to heat. Passions flared. More than excitement danced in the minds of men and beast and all things sentient. Cavorting at the edge of vision was a fear of something much more primal than quaking grounds. Flame. Gouts of fire in every shade mocked the crowd, ever just out of sight as they raced about. Minds caught in the wildfires, kindled among the witnesses. A soft whoosh, and the merriment transitioned into sight. An ever-burning effigy, swaying within its confines. Fire danced on, amused and feeding on the carmine sands beneath it. "She seeks peace. Cloaked in past tragedy amidst Twilight's machinations. She stands at a precipice. Micha walks as Paragon." Coolness wrapped around the crowds. Soothing calm ebbed against the harshness of foreign influences. It gave birth to a mist, borne from every breath. It cleansed and swirled. Eddies caught, leaving a few among the crowd with the kiss of fresh dew upon their cheek. Pooling over the arena sands, the mists gave birth to the tiniest of rain showers. Up and down the droplets flowed, crashing together as waves and parting as river falls. Water birthed its vortex from the humblest of beginnings, proof that a single droplet holds the power to overcome all. "He came with purpose. Among the Martyrs he sought to cleanse their stains, if not their sins. He stands pristine. John walks as Paragon." A cloud passes before the sun. Soft greys wash out the light, and inky blackness spreads its tendrils from the shadows. They grow thicker, preying upon the hidden recesses of the minds assembled. Softness fades, the gentle greys diving into pitch, then further still until the blackness transcends colour. The sight of all is robbed, and then with a blink of the eye, all is restored. But on the sands a maw has appeared, great teeth and tendrils and all things beyond description all in the same veil. Darkness conceals all, and it is merely the mind that supplies the horrors within. "He seeks answers. Malice and anger charring black, peace cleaned the porcelain white, masks upon masks in Twilight's demesne. He stands torn. Zane walks as Paragon." The chanters turned, bringing the power of their harmony towards the arena sands below where the gates had opened. "Once more we stand, to bear witness of the spectacle of the sands. To stand and watch the pinnacle of personal pursuit bent towards the craft most martial in design, and glory in those who have deigned to share with us their ways. We watch from a place of honour, for we too shall spread the tale of the legend we witness this day. And so we stand in witness...to the choosing of a Champion."

Apocalypse -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/4/2015 12:07:10)
Action erupted all around Lucia as the combatants converged into a single melee, but her eyes were for one enemy. The fulgarmancer snapped the thong of the whip against Lucia’s wrist in an effort to avoid being entangled by it. It stung, but it would leave naught but a faint mark, if any at all. Bangs rang out, and the magician threw her end of the whip at Lucia. The paladin caught it on her left forearm without much thought; whips were not meant to be projectiles, after all. An unintended consequence occurred as fall and popper stuck fast to the globs of the adhesive substance on her arm. Lucia shook the limb and snarled as the whip refused to budge. She turned her attention back to the fulgarmancer just in time to see a knife coming in her direction. Had it come from an accomplished knife thrower Lucia may have had cause for concern. But this was another desperate attempt from a desperate mage. Even at this short distance, Lucia had ample time to deflect the little blade with her sword, sending it careening across the arena floor. The fulgarmancer took off sprinting, eager to put herself out of harm’s way no doubt. It was amusing how an imminent threat could reveal one’s true colors. The paladin dissolved her boots, the Light Incarnations fading away from top to bottom. In the short instance of the feet being freed but the soles remaining intact, Lucia leaped over the adhesive substance and pursued her foe. Her strides splashed through mud and water as she sacrificed caution for pure speed. Lucia made up for the magician's head start and reared up her blade to rend her prey from shoulder to hip. Before she struck, a titanic boom filled the arena. Her right ear, already damaged by the previous one, split in torment at the cacophony. Lucia cried out as a church bell reverberated in her head. The paladin clenched her eyes shut, and her foot slipped from underneath her. As she fell forward, she swung her blade at where her enemy should have been. Muscles tensed up as they prepared for the hard fall… …that never came. Eyes opened and were welcomed with an unending expanse of white; a snowy landscaped that stretched as far as one could see with the sky as pure as the ground. Or was she enclosed in porcelain walls, flawless in every way? Lucia was standing on a floor every bit as bright as the scene around her and just as solid as stone. She grazed a foot against it, the cool sensation sending a pleasant shiver up her leg and throughout her body. The paladin exhaled, noting the utter peace and tranquility here. She sighed in content. “My little lost one.” Lucia turned to face the voice. She was certain she had been alone, but now before her stood a woman that dwarfed her in size. The woman was draped in garments of gold that covered all her features save her face. Bright eyes of honey gazed out from underneath her hood. It was not the face of a beautiful maiden told often throughout stories, but that of a loving matron. Lucia staggered and dropped to her knees and prostrated herself. Her tongue hung heavy in her mouth. “Lady of Light…” “That is your order’s name for me, yes.” The voice spoke not as one, but as many layered together in a beautiful harmony. No musician alive had ever heard anything half as sweet. “And on this day, you are my Chosen, little lost one. I offer only guidance for you.” Lucia tried to answer but found herself struck dumb. “You will not win what you seek…” The floor beneath her shifted. The abyss of light transfigured into ordinary stone. She dared to look up. The paladin was back in the chapel of the Dawn Fort, but the walls and ceiling were missing. The night sky peppered with flecks of light stretched over them. Before the altar stood the Lady of Light, but golden garments had given way to shining armor. It was the armor of Saint Augustine yet it was not. It was immaculate and the image of perfection, too flawless and splendid to be the armor of mere mortals. It shined with grace and beauty. “…and what you seek is not what you want.” A spear materialized in one hand and a shield in the other. At a glance it appeared to be the traditional shield of the order, but there were two stark alterations. The first was the emblazonment of a wolf with bared fangs in place of the great horned owl inflight. The second were the words inscribed beneath reading not Nescientes dea but Sciens voluntatem redimita loca deae. Behind her hung the pale moon in the night sky, larger than it had ever appeared in life. The light shone down on the Goddess, bathing her in it as it burned brighter and brighter. “Learn to accept my gifts, little lose one. All of my gifts…” Lucia’s vision went white before returning to darkness. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness as she mulled over the Lady of Light’s Words. You will not win what you seek, and what you seek is not what you want. It was not a matter of understanding – the words were simple enough - but of believing. Perhaps her participation had been a fool’s errand if she would not win what she sought…but why then, would the Lady of Light choose her? What was she supposed to be fighting for? What was she supposed to want? The paladin shook her head to rid herself of these thoughts. She would try to keep the philosophical talk out of her head for now. No one could fight for or want anything if they were dead. Voices boomed as one as they entranced the audience. Lucia listened with a keen ear before realizing it was not pulsing with agony. She checked over herself as the voices introduced the Chosen. Her ear was fine and the burns on her back had disappeared. Twelve chain links stretched down from each wrist, bringing her back to her limit. All of her clothes were unblemished, free from the muck, tears, and sludge that they had collected in the previous arena. Lucia ran a hand through her hair. It still had the straw-like texture it always had, but it was cleaner than it ever had been since her departure from the Dawn Fort. The paladin may have been unsure of the Lady of Light’s guidance, but her will was apparent: win. After the last combatant was announced, Lucia stepped out into the light of day. The sand was hot beneath her feet, but it was a welcome change of pace from the marshy floor of Malice. Eight pillars arranged in a circlet greeted her. Light’s pillar stood as a beaming beacon, calling her to it. Lucia took her place next to it and waited, once again, for the other competitors to enter the arena. She raised her head to the sun above. “In your light I stand.”

Starflame13 -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/4/2015 13:38:26)
Elysia blinked. The mountain man had turned to respond, but his words were drowned out by a booming peal of thunder, louder than any that could come from a bolt she had summoned. She flinched, dropping her hands to Blossom’s withers, but no one else seemed affected. What was going…? Twilight shifted. The pattern changed its dance. Gleaming colors leapt into being, reflecting against the patterned wood floor and giving it the appearance of the plains in full bloom after a rain. For a single breath, glowing rainbows in the sky turned the hard edges of the arena to soft brilliance. The next, her breath left her as a soundless explosion seemed to rip through the air around her, the glowing, colorful lights no longer above her but surrounding her, melding with her, blinding her, filling her mouth and lungs and body with their radiance. She would have screamed, but the colors held her still. The floor and walls of the Twilight arena fell away from her as her vision left her. One long moment of seeing nothing but blinding, ever-changing colors. Then another. Then, just as swiftly as the blaze had occurred, it vanished, leaving Elysia blinking and half-blind in a new environment. With watering eyes, Elysia’s vision slowly cleared. The darkness had dissipated; there was no black to be seen apart from the smooth coat of Blossom beneath her. Brightness remained, but Twilight’s stark white light had morphed into a crackling golden globe about her, layer upon layer of slim webs of lightning forming a constantly moving sphere of energy. Bolts twirled and leapt about in complete chaos, accompanied the constant soft rumbling of thunder. Here and there, as if by mere chance, holes were created in the construct, showing a brief image lasting a few seconds before being whipped away at the next ripple of current. At first, Elysia ignored these, until one manifested itself at her head level. An image of her uncle, beaming in pride, his beard red and full as it had been on her first successful return from combat. She jumped, then proceeded to pay more attention. There was a vision of her home, the plains, skies turning dark grey as if a massive storm approached. Next came the flash of silver, a glaive bearing the insignia of a neighboring tribe arching down towards her, her own arm extended in the image as if to shield herself from the blow. She looked eagerly for the next one, then flinched. It was of Gareth, rolling free from Blossom with his gauntlet bloodied by her horse’s blood. A chorus of harmonies, several voices all intertwined, words that spiraled down from high above and echoed up from far below, interrupted her viewings and drowned out the ringing of thunder in her ears. With each call, a different chord was struck, as if a different being dominated the sound as it called out its message. “S.O.N.A.R. walks as Paragon.” A breathy, fast speaking tone. Hidden hints of warmth and affection, but the equally present sense that the whisper of this breeze could fast become a roar. Her clothes whipped about her, as if in a sudden current, as the tendrils of lightning parted to show a giant figure, not human but a construct, as tall as she was while mounted, and heavily armoured with smooth, polished plates. “Dell Wolf walks as Paragon.” This voice sent shivers up her spine as frost formed at the edges of her boots and fingers. It crackled like a sheet of ice sliding down a hill, rumbles of an avalanche and the soft sense of snowflakes filing its tones. The break in energy showed a medium height human, dressed smartly in odd, dusty clothes. Rifles were strapped across his body, and he held himself as someone used to dealing with their weight. “Elysia rides as Paragon.” She flinched, not expecting to hear her own name called, and especially not in that loud, imposing voice, sounding fully confident in announcing its imperfect champion. It was as loud and shaking as the boom of thunder that had shocked her early, but it rippled with current; its exact tone constantly changing with the never-ceasing flow of energy. A vision of herself appeared, in the way she guessed that the other fighters would see her. Sitting tall in the saddle, with no hint of doubt in her eyes, the black war horse beneath her arching his neck proudly and showing off his gleaming coat and hard muscles. She hoped she could live up to that image. “Lucia walks as Paragon.” A pure, musical sound. It held the ringing of justice, a great gong-like echo within, as the globe brightened around her, almost blinding her again with its light before parting to show a tall, human women. She had a slim enough figure, wiry with muscle but with skin hanging in places to show the strength she had once possessed. A scar crossed her face, but her simple clothes did little to hide the glow of radiance now about her. “Shud walks as Paragon.” The ground shook beneath her, attuned to the deep rumblings of this call. Hidden within was the tension before stone snapped and shook into a destroying quake, but it too possessed a steadying feeling. Earth was stable and ever present. Its vision revealed the mountain man from her arena, standing tall with bulging muscles across his chest and forearms, and a beautifully haunting smile playing across his otherwise unremarkable face. “Micha walks as Paragon.” A passionate, ferra voice filled her with excitement. The panic of a wildfire across the plains plunged through her, followed by the warmth of curling up with family before a bonfire. The feline’s image shone in the gap of energy; large amber eyes taking in her surrounding area. She had a slender form, with smooth, tawny fur that could not be fully appreciated in the former arena of light and shadows. Elysia hoped that Micha might choose a different target this time around, before preparing herself for the next announcement. “John walks as Paragon.” This competitor was declared with a voice that bubbled and murmured like a gently brook. Cool mist filled her globe, soothing rider and horse from their earlier battles. Behind the gentle pattering of rain came the heavy thud of drops from a monstrous storm, and the rush of the flood as its water races down the riverbank. Thunder rumbled gently in acknowledgement of the element that partnered it in a storm, and energy parted to show another tall human, wearing a bright aqua jumpsuit. His hands were closed around the wooden handle of… a mop. “Zane walks as paragon.” The eighth and final announcement caused the lightning around her to dim its brilliance, shadows darkening the enclosure as the lead speaker’s voice deepened, impossible to read any intent or meaning hidden behind it. A splotch of darkness formed on the inside of the globe, blacker than the horse’s coat yet somehow still showing a picture of another human from Twilight arena. This was the dagger-expert, jet-black hair as dark as his clothes, standing still with a slight crouch in his legs, as if prepared to dive at a moments notice. As the voices faded, energy rushed over the two within the globe of crackling magic. Not hard and sharp, as Elysia’s own bolts, but a rushing, tingling sensation that spread throughout her body, sparks jumping across her fingertips where they rested on Blossom’s shoulders. The warhorse, who usually shied at lightning that did not come from his rider, flicked his ears forward in interest and stretched his neck out until he could sniff at the constantly shifting construct. Without warning, feelings not her own were thrust through Elysia’s mind. Her eyes widened in a sense of wonder as Blossom nickered softly: this must be the elemental lord she had been sent to honor. It gave her a sense of pride; she had served it well in Twilight. With the pride came a rush of renewed strength and energy. Turning to look at Blossom’s hindquarters, the cloth she had ripped from Thornewood’s cloth flew of his hind leg, the injury fully healed without a trace of a scare. The horse neighed joyfully, his strength obviously restored as well, before stilling as the next feeling rushed through. Expectation. It had healed her, it had helped her. She must serve it well in the coming task. With the expectation came the hint of a threat, a touch of malice. An image of her people, harassed by storm after storm, flitted through her mind. That fear was chased away quickly by the message of reassurance. It would be watching her through the battle, it had chosen her knowing her strengths and weaknesses. She could find a way to survive. Energy blazed as the roar of thunder filled her ears once again, then both vanished. Elysia and Blossom stood before a great gate. While unmarked by any sigil, the air about it hummed. there was no way to mistake it as anything but the entrance to the final Arena. A motion overhead caught her attention. The strip of black cloth, still speckled with bright star-like lights, floated down to land across her thighs. Gore and bloodstains had vanished, and the ragged edges had been neatened. With a smile, Elysia took it and knotted it around her saddle horn. It would serve as her reminder to live through this, whatever happened. She still had to find Moriar and make sure he got proper healing for his bruises sustained when she threw him from the saddle. Creaking and shuddering, the gate opened before Elysia, and she squeezed her legs around Blossom. He paced slowly into the arena, hooves sinking slightly into the sand beneath him. Without horseshoes, his hooves were rough enough that the slippery sand beneath him proved no more a challenge than the smooth boards from Twilight. Looking around, Elysia noted that she now stood at the Eastern entrance, with all eight slowly filling about her as the fighters entered. Directly before her was a column of lightning, filled with the same intensity and chaotic movement that had formed the sphere that brought her here. Blossom continued forward until they stood before it, feeling its energy cause the hair along the back of her neck to stand on end. She bowed in the saddle, before squaring her shoulders and drawing her glaive to then salute the being. Voices again spoke, and she noticed the circle of chanters about the arena, speaking in unison until it became impossible to tell which voice came from where. As they announced the trial to the rows upon rows of spectators surrounding them, Elysia looked around the arena. Sand filled and well lit, this would be a simpler, straight-out fight than the dancing of the previous illusions. With one hand on Blossom and one on her glaive, she steadied her breathing and watched the other entrances, waiting for those seeking the championship to arrive and the battle to begin.

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/4/2015 16:02:39)
Well, Howdy reader. Ah reckon that ya’ll are having a good time ya? Good, good. Listen I have something to tell ya. You see, that ol rootin, tootin sheriff there was a heading for the last roundup. The man was hurting something fierce. Ah reckon he didn’t expect the Ice lord to reply. Now, I have one last ballad to sing to ya. Lemme just get this D string fixed real quick like an I’ll tell ya’ll the praises of Sheriff Dell Wolf. “Lemme tell you the tale, of Dell Wolf’s survival and his woes. His story it don’t end good. He was fixin an ah reckon that he was a heading to the final saloon. He had shot, he had blasted, he had used various chances and taken lots of damage to boot. His right arm was a mess, he was in dire distress, when the call rang out loud and clear. How’s about a date handsome, Raiu had offered but that fell to naught. He even saved her life and through all of his strife. She tried to kill him to boot. Now that ol sheriff he was a mighty quick, but even so he was a man. A man who showed emotions and stride. A man with a trigger finger that itched. Heavy were the burdens in that thar crazy fight, as the lightning flashed across the floor. His ally Lucia, what a beaut, she helped him and they both walked through the door. It was there that ol Wolf faced a dilemma, for three alliances were offered. Raiu’s offer came last, but by happenstance, Dell Wolf was no longer in a mighty good mood. The seconds tore by, the bullets they did fly, and one left a mark on Raiu’s cheek. A battle ensued, a chaotic mass strewn, where bodies fell to the floor in death’s hues. The light warrior from afar, he was the first to go. His final act, a peaceful one. A wave of light hit across everyone’s sight and transported them to finer days. This was a torture, a torment ya see, for ol Dell Wolf’s fragile psyche. It burdened him with long, locked memories, he awoke as an angry man. The second to go and boy did he explode, was the man that they call Tomarul. Raiu done him in, and sent him flying at the sheriff, when his ally came to help save the day. The battle raged on, the arena was flooded, with water transcending here and there. John had made it tough, and S.O.N.A.R had enough, when it let out a fierce roar. Everything was goin ta hell and boy what a spell, when Lucia, Dell, John and Sonar disappeared. It was really a sight and there was one last fight. who would be the champion of this year?” Yep. That’s how it all happened. Now I ain’t sure none of the ol sheriff’s chances in this last fight. Ya see each of them is meant to prove themselves supreme. Well what do ya’ll say we watch how he does eh? Dell’s arm was on fire and he had called to Lucia, though he suspected she hadn’t heard him. So strong was the will to kill in that lass. There was no chance. Raiu kept running, the guns had shot out every last bullet. The recharge was still going on when something strange suddenly happened. There were noises and the ol sheriff felt cold creeping into his bones. Frigid cold. The cold feeling of death perhaps? White lights shot out across the arena after the sound had ceased, it left his ears ringing and his sight started to blur. What madness is this? Has Raiu sent another spell at me to finish me off? Dell saw the lights invade his body. A glowing stretch of particles. These particles danced across vision and the ol sheriff saw John, Lucia and Sonar all take similar effects. “What in tarnation?” He managed to say through a weakened, sore voice. Before he faded away he saw Raiu one last time. Two crystal-ice tears fell from his cheeks as his voice called out her name before the final vanishing took place on all 4 of them. It would be the last time Raiu would hear his voice unless she went to the finals. The light faded after both eyes shut tight. “Am I dead?” the darkness and the cold. The frigid, freezing cold. Which chilled him to the core. There was a snowy haze to the air, snow and ice crystals fell all around him. “Woah, easy Dell. Ya’ll probably took a blow too many to the ol noggin.” But it felt so real, so very real. Forms materialized from the snow. Ice sculptures that turned to flesh. “We. are very proud of you son.” The first form, resembled someone long dead. The eyes, the hair, the hat all indicated that Dell was staring at dad. The clothing even resembled exactly what Wolf had seen father wear when the fire broke out. “Wha? But ya’ll are dead. Ah seen it with my own two eyes.” The second figure materialized beside the first, a slender, female form. “Ma?” This was all so very confusing to Dell Wolf. Seeing his parents after all this time. “What sorcery is this?” “No sorcery, my little angel.” She said sweetly. “Tis a dream unlike any other. You’ve made us proud my precious little boy.” Proud. A word Dell had heard quite a long time ago. Tears swam down his cheeks as he felt as if the ice creations meant it. They might be ice, but the memories. Those were real. Those were very, very real. “I heard your prayer. The anguish. The sheer feeling of cold, death embracing you.” The voice echoed and the two creations vanished. The snow and the ice swirled into something or someone much more powerful. Dell could feel the sheer magnitude of the power in his gut and arms. The same feeling he had gotten when. “It’s you.” Realization had struck home. The Ice Lord himself was standing before the human. “Tell me o lord. Am I dead?” Dell asked bare chested. The eyes gazing upon the swirling blizzard. “Not yet.” The voice echoed. The questions started to rise into a mind filled with cold. “No. Don’t think just yet. Listen and hear me well.” The sheer amount of cold projected at him numbed the mind. “You have been chosen for one. final. battle. You must be like the ice. Tough. Difficult to crack and harder to break.” Sheriff Dell Wolf, you are being given an honor very few individuals receive. You are my Paragon. I the Ice Lord, choose you to be my Champion in the final tournament of the Elemental Championship. Dell could hardly believe it. The honor that filled a soul which had previously felt crushed. The cold embraced the human and swirls of snow engulfed him. From the battlefield of the spike arena, the shotgun vanished. Followed by Dell Wolf’s shirt and badge. Both daggers disappeared as well. Snow and cold wrapped around the body. The hat magically materialized on his head, the sheriff’s badge and shirt restored to pristine glory. The gleaming daggers magically formed and shaped precisely where they originally were in the boots. The chilling cold of ice danced across Dell’s face and arm. The agony went numb and was gone. The pain in both legs was healed. The manifestation of ice filled the core and flew across fingers, eyes, hair, every single crevice of the human body was explored and healed. The sheriff could hardly believe what was happening. It was so strange to him. The ammo was already renewed. The shotgun and peacemakers were already full and ready to go. 14 water containers all stood in their slots. “Remember one last thing Sheriff. You are like the ice. Tough.” The swirls of snow faded. The ice closed and the blinding glare of the sun touched skin too cold to warm. Both eyes opened and words of the many echoed in ears too cold to hear. It was a little disorienting as Sheriff Dell Wolf stared in awestruck silence at the sheer magnitude of the arena and crowd. He could see faces, wall to wall faces in the stands watching the spectacle below. These people came to see something honorable. Something amazing. A champion to be crowned. Walking down, Dell moved to the ice pillar. There were no words for the honor bestowed. Stopping in front of it, Dell made a sheriff’s salute to one and all. “Ah stand before ya’ll ta honor Ice. But I would like to say just one thing before we start. It has been a right pleasure ta face such fine, noble people and creatures as you lot.” He turned his attention to John, the construct, and Lucia and tipped his hat to them, friendly like. He gave Lucia a pleasant, warm smile. There were those here whom he’d never seen before. A human-feline creature. A beautiful maiden with a very handsome horse. And of course, the fellow standing before dark. Names had been unheard due to the effects of the cold. “Howdy Ma’am.” He called to the lady with the horse, tipping his hat respectfully. “Mighty handsome horse ya’ll got there!” “Howdy John.” He called in a cheerful, happy voice to the janitor. Dell Wolf’s eyes stopped on the construct. “Ah say there pardner. Whoever crafted ya did a real fine job. Perhaps it was that wee lass ah saw in the stands, ya?” He gave the construct a respectful bow. Since the creation had proven to be more sturdy then the sheriff had anticipated. Both eyes finally rested on the paladin. “Howdy once again Lucia.” The man said with a heartfelt smile. “Ah’m a mighty pleased ta see ya’ll here.” He not only tipped his hat, but bowed to her in deep respect. She had proven to be on the same page he was. Dell didn’t want the construct to go first this time so he walked down to the very center of the arena and gazed at one and all. His attention turned towards the SouthWest and the pillar of fire. He tipped his hat in honor to the fire champion even though the core in him said that fire was the enemy. His eyes surveyed whom to battle. The hands slowly went down to rest at the very tips, touching the peacemakers very lightly. The man eyed Lucia then looked once again to the SouthWest. The desire to fight Micha was strong. But he was undecided. Maybe the man was a fool, but the ol sheriff had honor and justice. Both eyes danced across the competitors. Which of them would be the first to issue a challenge to the man? Surely not the construct. They’d already tangoed and Dell was not looking to fight that varmint again. He was fairly certain Lucia wouldn’t want to fight right away against Dell. They were friends after all. The feeling of sand was good. It felt like familiar territory.

Tdub -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/4/2015 23:59:41)
Fate was a cruel mistress. As a rule, Zane attempted to avoid serving the whims of chance whenever possible. However, his conflict within the Twilight Arena changed drastically in a short period of time, to the point where it seemed as though any control he had over the situation was slipping through his fingers, leaving him grasping at empty air. The rider called out, wishing for... An alliance? A fight? Zane wasn't paying attention. She was not actively trying to kill him in that moment, and that was what mattered. His opponent blocked the Darkness magic with ease, seemingly content to stand and continue to pry up the floorboards as if he were a common builder, renovating the Arena floor and gossiping with the woman on horseback. Pathetic. Sounds were drawing nearer, and the other competitors closed in. For some reason, the larger side of the battlefield had shifted into Zane's area, and the assassin tensed up, assuming a defensive position. He hadn't wanted to partake in an all-out brawl: such battles were the stomping grounds of fate and chance rather than skill. But the Arena had other plans, and Zane had no choice but to prepare himself for whatever came. Then came the lights. Small, magnificent lights that danced with the Arena's glow and battled with its shade poured into the Twilight and stole Zane's sight from him, wrapping around his body and moving him along in their whirling caper. Before he had time to even consider what this new occurrence could mean, he was gone, leaving no trace behind in the Twilight's Mask. Zane opened his eyes. Or perhaps he didn't. There was no way to tell, as the darkness that came with closed eyes was entirely equal to the void before him. Unable to determine where he was standing, if he was standing at all, Zane hesitantly put his right foot forward. Though he felt as though he were upright, his foot felt no ground beneath it, and he realized that he was simply floating in a vast, incomprehensible expanse of nothingness. Because of this, Zane reached the conclusion that he was almost certainly dead. A feeling. There was no other way to describe it. A sudden, undeniable feeling ran through his body, conveying an overwhelming negative sense. Zane felt the power behind the sensation, and guessed that, had he not been invited, the very aura of this place would be enough to tear him apart. But the feeling was not one of malice or assault. No, it seemed as though the negative sensation was in direct response to his previous thought, almost like it was... correcting. Not dead, then? No response. If what had just happened could be called a response. But if he wasn't in the Arena, and he wasn't dead, that meant... Zane heard an audible gasp. Of course, it was him, but the sheer silence of the void caused any noise to sound displaced. The assassin quickly bowed his head, and began to speak. "Almighty Lord of Shadows, hear my..." Another feeling, this one... scolding. Zane knew that Xaznohr was not interested in hearing his memorized prayer. This meeting, if it could be called a meeting, was for reassurance. His Lord stood behind him. There was no cruelty in this place. Evil was not welcome. Surely, Zane fought on the right side. I understand. I'll prove that your name is untarnished, Lord. Thank you. More confident than before, the assassin took another step. The red sands shifted beneath his feet. For the third time, Zane had to adjust his eyes to the sudden change in light. This time, however, it was sunlight, beaming down on the eight combatants, soon to become legends in history and folklore. The Eight Pillars, legends in their own right, displayed elegance and beauty, but Zane payed them little attention. After all, it was his fellow combatants that deserved true notice in the Arena. As the disembodied voices announced the names of those who served as Paragons, the assassin crouched slightly, ready for anything. He filed the names of his opponents in his mind. There would be no need for unglamorous nicknames here. His dagger had been returned. All knives were in their proper sheaths. His magical energies felt replenished. And, most importantly, he felt... new. There would be no mistakes this time. Each individual in this Arena had been hand-selected by an Elemental Lord just as powerful as his own. And it was his job to defeat every one of them. His final job. Zane drew his daggers, knowing that he stood before the greatest challenge he would ever face. And nothing other than the Lords themselves could stop him from conquering it.

Kellehendros -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/6/2015 0:35:09)
Micha watched the stone sail through the air, but before the missile made it more than halfway to her target, something shifted. The misty cloud above the Arena pulsed, and the stately dance of shadow and light became a sudden frenetic whirl, as if the beams of light and dark had tired of their partnership and now struggled for dominion. It was a disorienting effect only magnified by the sudden appearance of waves of glittering sprites in every hue imaginable. The Enkeli staggered, her vision momentarily overwhelmed by the sudden influx of magic; the flights of sprites burst apart and beelined for several of the competitors. One of those streams was heading for her. The Kissa made no move to step aside, however, for she knew from the stories what was happening. This was Choice, this was Calling, the selection of the Paragons who would stand in the Grand Arena before the eyes of gods and men. Like a swarm of ravening locusts, the sprites descended upon her in the thousand hues of flame. They were amber and yellow, rose and red, umber and orange, and a million subtle shades for which she had no name. Micha flung open her arms as though to embrace the swarm like a long-lost friend, rocking a half-step forward as she overbalanced, bracing herself for a physical impact that never came. The sprites buzzed and roiled over her; they were pouring into her, inundating her being with energy and light. Her ears were filled with the snapping crackle of campfires; her nose was overwhelmed with the scent of burning pine, burning grass, burning flesh; her eyes were dazzled by the light of a wildfire streaking across a tinder-dry field. The Enkeli was unaware of the fact she was rising, her body lifted off the planks by the otherworldly messengers. Micha was glowing, a sheath of flesh wrapped about a core of blazing flame… And then she was gone. She was walking through a forest. It was dark, some time before dawn, but the Kissa was not worried. These woods were as much a home to her as the village had ever been. The forest unfolded around her like a memory, and at the back of the Enkeli’s mind something began to stir. An errant shadow slipped across the edge of her vision, distracting her for a moment. Uneasy now, she picked up her pace, padded feet silent on the loam of the forest floor. Ghost-like, the Kissa passed between the trees. They were giants stretching into the night sky, girded with scrub brush and thicker undergrowth. Her hand reached out of its own accord, fingers running along the bark of a slender ash to parallel a quartet of marks slashed into that sentinel’s arboreal armor. Feline ears pricked up, catching the sound of water plashing and rilling softly somewhere ahead. A river… A shiver rippled down her spine, and the Enkeli stepped up her pace again, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder. Something was out there, some… thing… that was following her. She could feel the presence, the regard, of some vague and indefinite entity. Anxiety gnawed at the back of her mind. The presence was familiar somehow; Micha had felt it before but could not place it. Memory and recollection slipped through her fingers, leaving her only with the growing feeling of impending disaster. She was all but running now, stumbling through undergrowth that had sprawled its way over ground that had taken on a sudden and unfamiliar pitch. The Enkeli staggered, her left foot catching on an exposed root and sending her tumbling gracelessly to the ground. Gasping, she scrabbled up. Now she was running, pelting through the forest as thorns and brambles tore at her clothing and fur, tail low as she fled the encroaching sense of presence. It was dark, but not the dark of the predawn hours; her feline eyes could have dealt with that. No, this dark was the smothering dark of a dungeon, the endless abyss of the void betwixt the stars. “Perhaps you are ready to... talk... then?” Polemaetus’ whispery voice sent a scorching panic lashing through the Enkeli’s veins. Panic ripped through the Kissa like fire through a tinder-dry forest. Micha’s ears were filled with the sound of beating wings and rushing blood. A bellows pumped, stoking the fire higher, heating implements of cruelly hooked iron. A torch was cast, and dancing tongues licked at timber, crackling greedily. An inferno roared, flame chewing hungrily through the walls and rafters, shattering stone with its heat and fury. Micha burst through the restraining undergrowth and almost tripped again; eyes narrowing to slits from the sudden, dazzling sunlight of the clearing. A river flowed through dawnlit space, and the Enkeli staggered towards the water, the stench of burning filling her nostrils. She would not go back there, never again. The knives, the questions, Polemaetus’ filmy, corpselike eyes. All his promises were lies, and the lies had burned with all the rest when Micha had set fire to the Kotka’s laboratory. The Kissa dropped to her knees before the stream, panting and reaching out for the water. She was what she was. That was the truth. The Enkeli had learned through fire and pain that there was nothing else she could be. But she recoiled from the river just as swiftly, a scream tearing itself from her throat as she toppled backwards and the Markis burst from the water. The water lion was a dark reflection of the Kissa, a quadrupedal hunter left behind when Micha’s people climbed upright from the ancient seas to dance on moonlit shores to the strains of Danae’s music. Markis were ambush hunters, their bodies armored with scales. Their manes were not fur, but ruffs of heavy quills that flexed and rattled about their necks. Webbed paws tipped with wicked claws let them slice into their prey and drag it back into the water for kill and consumption. It was useless to try and flee. The beast was at the apex of its arc; a halo of water droplets flashed in the air around predator and prey like a thousand shattered crystal shards. In a moment it would be upon her, claws rending and hooking into flesh before she was pulled back into the river. There was no way Micha could escape before the Markis caught her, but she tried nonetheless. Rolling over and gathering her legs under her with a desperate speed she hardly knew she was capable of, the Kissa exploded up in a frantic leap back towards the dark forest. Unable to stop herself from casting a desperate, fearful glance over her shoulder, the Enkeli cried out as she ran headlong into something. The breath blew out of her in a gasp and she flailed wildly at the figure before her, fingers crooking into reflexive claws to rake at eyes. Micha felt arms, strong arms, banding around her with crushing strength, and she hissed and yowled as she struggled wildly. It took a moment for the sound to reach her, and another for the sense of it to become clear to her ears. Laughter, a deep-chested laughter, the sound of a man enjoying himself to the fullest. It was not just that which gave the Enkeli pause, however, it was the voice, the intonation. She knew that laugh. The Kissa’s eyes opened and she drew back ever so slightly. Holding her was another Kissa, this one broader and thicker, and patterned in the unmistakable orange and black stripes of the Kissa Ty. Micha stared at the familiar figure, her mouth working, though it took several attempts before she could speak. “K-Ke… K-K… Kedron?” He nodded, smiling gently. “It’s me, Micha.” She sobbed, throwing her arms around him. The Enkeli leaned against Kedron’s broad chest, shaking as he held her and gently stroked head. “Shhh, Micha, shhhh. It’s okay. I’m here, it’s okay.” “I-I can hear you.” She looked up at him, fingers curling through his fur. It was more than being able to hear him. Micha could see him, touch him. The realization struck the Enkeli like one of the lightning caller’s bolts. Kedron was dead. He had died years ago. Whatever this was, whatever place of dreams or echoes, this was not real. “It’s as real as you are, Micha.” Kedron grinned, finally releasing her so he could step back himself and inspect her. He laughed as she peered at him suspiciously. “Oh, Micha, I can’t read your mind anymore now than I could then. I just know how you think, that’s all.” Micha swallowed through a lump in her throat. She reached out and rested a hand against Kedron’s chest gently, afraid that he might melt away into the ether before her eyes. “Where are we?” The Kissa Ty shrugged eloquently, one hand turning over in a vague gesture. “We’re here. It’s that simple, that complicated. It doesn’t have a name, so far as I know. It’s just a place, a place where possibilities are… stronger.” “How long do we have?” She whispered, leaning against him again. Kedron hugged her gently, letting out a soft sigh. “Long enough.” For a long moment the pair stood there, holding one another. Micha could find nothing to say, no words for a reunion she had uselessly imagined for years. Finally, Kedron drew back, smiling gently. “Turn around.” “Ked?” The Enkeli looked up at him, confused. “Please, Micha, for me.” Micha sighed, turning back towards the river. The Markis was still there, suspended in the air amidst a glittering constellation of water droplets. Even knowing now that this was not real, the sight sent a shudder down the Enkeli’s spine. Kedron had told her this place was as real as she was, but that had not been what he meant. He meant merely that this place was not solely the creation of her mind, a fabrication of her subconscious. This… This place of possibilities was real, a creation of some higher power or entity; it had a purpose, even if Micha could not grasp it yet. The slender Kissa Mar shook her head, starting to turn back towards Kedron, only to be halted as he placed his hands on her shoulders, keeping her attention on the Markis. “You can’t keep running away from your problems, Micha.” “It was going to kill me!” She flared in response, turning back towards Kedron and pulling herself out of his grasp. “I’m just the messenger, Micha, and that isn’t what I meant.” Kedron motioned back towards the river, and Micha turned to look again. Kahana was there. But no, it was not really her, just an image, unmoving and static, oddly flat to the Enkeli’s sight. The female Kissa Ty was everything that the Kissa Mar was not. Tall and statuesque, Kahana was beautiful, strong, confident. She had been Micha’s oldest friend, until Kedron had come between them. They had parted on poor terms after… after Kedron’s death. Kahana blamed Micha for what had happened. Micha blamed herself as well, and… Kedron was right. She had run away. Micha had fled Kahana’s scorn, fled Kedron’s death, done everything she could to not be Kissa Mar, to not be Enkeli. And that had lead her to the Kotka, and his promises. “I didn’t run from Polemaetus.” “No, I suppose that you didn’t run from him.” Kedron admitted, running a hand along his muzzle with a sigh. “What you did was hard, Micha, hard but necessary. Polemaetus wasn’t the only one. It’s time to go home, Micha.” The Enkeli shifted, frowning. “What are you talking about, Kedron?” “Responsibility, Micha.” “But that’s what I’m doing, Ked.” The Enkeli stomped her foot, tail flicking back and forth in annoyance. “I’m taking responsibility for what I did. I am making this right!” Kedron shook his head. “That isn’t what this is about, Micha. I understand what you’re doing. I appreciate it, I do, but I never wanted this for you. I never asked you for this.” “You were dead! You couldn’t say anything!” Micha stormed away from Kedron, marching to the riverbank and glaring into the flowing water as though it was somehow responsible for all of this. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t try.” The Enkeli shivered, hugging herself. “I know. I ran from you, whenever I saw you.” “You can’t always run from your problems, Micha. They need you, back home.” “Why, for what possible reason? There is no one left back home who needs me. No one back there wants me.” “The Dream Breaker.” Micha whirled around, golden eyes going wide. Her fur bristled up on end. “No.” Kedron smiled sadly. “Yes, Micha. Polemaetus was only the beginning.” The Kissa Ty moved forward slowly, reaching out and framing the Enkeli’s face with his hands. “That’s why you have to survive. That’s why you have to go back. This isn’t about Kahana, or you, or even me. It’s about home, about everyone.” Still hugging herself, Micha shivered. “I… I still have to do this, for you, for Kahana.” She looked up at Kedron. “I told her… what you said.” “You didn’t…” Kedron blinked, and the world seemed to shudder. “No, no, you said there would be time!” The Kissa Ty growled, spinning about and shouting as the ground began to buckle and heave. “You said I could explain it to her!” Micha staggered, looking around in alarm. “Ked, Ked, what’s going on?” She reached for him, but her grasping hand passed through his as though he was nothing more than smoke. “Micha, listen to me. I asked you to apologize to Kahana because…” Kedron roared, or seemed to. His voice was gone, drowned in the grinding of rock shattering and wood groaning as the clearing came apart. “Kedron, Kedron, no!” Everything was burning. Flames chewed through the crowns of the trees. The river hissed away in a blast of searing steam. Speech was swallowed by the fury of the fire. Ash choked her nostrils, coated her fur. Her last thought was how odd it was that she had never realized how much the courtyard of Polemaetus’ keep resembled the clearing where Kedron had died… She all but staggered into the world, crimson grains of sand grating between the pads of her feet; her tail lashed as she righted herself with an effort more mechanical than conscious. Micha knew this place. The Grand Arena. This was where all the stories ended, in the oldest and most celebrated of the sprawling complex’s structures. Amber eyes ran across sand rumored to have been dyed crimson by the blood of countless entrants, and the Enkeli let out a low moan. The registration had been difficult, Twilight had been arduous, but this… Eight might have been Chosen to do battle here, but to Micha’s eyes the Arena sands were packed with a roiling mass of specters engaged in a thousand battles that played out over and over again. A creature of corruscating blue-white energy fell before a woman robed in heavy furs. The woman’s face twisted in fury and revulsion, and the small shape burst into flames, whimpering weakly as faux-muscle crisped and false-bone cracked until there was nothing but ash remaining. A roar rattled the Kissa to her bones, the hulking figure of an armored Vastaa raising his arms to the sky in victory, blood staining his arms and muzzle. A corpse lay almost forlornly at his ursine feet, throat reduced to a sanguine ruin. A man fell to one knee, a wooden staff held before him in token defense as a wave of liquid fire engulfed him, swallowing a desperate cry that was half-spell half-prayer. Too much! It’s too much! The Enkeli could feel her mind shuddering, trying to handle the staggering concentration of spiritual impressions and emotions. This was the heart of the complex, the heart of the Elemental Championship, the focal point about which it all revolved. It was simply too much to process. Please! Micha had no idea to whom she was praying, but her prayer was as fervent as any she had ever uttered. Help me, please. You chose me, grant me the grace to endure. As she missed a step, subconsciously adjusting her stride to avoid placing a foot on the memory-shadow of a cavorting metallic creature for which she had no name, the Kissa despaired. This was it. She had come so far, and her end would come as she stared unwitting at phantoms only she could see. And then the phantoms began to burn. The ghostly impressions crisped, curling at the edges like charring parchment, and then burning away with swift, pure flames. The Enkeli regained her equilibrium, saving her faltering gait with a shuffled step as she blinked in shock. As the Kissa turned her head left and right, the ghosts of the past seemed to flash-burn away, though if she looked far enough to one side she could see them lurking still upon the edges of her vision. “Thank you,” Micha whispered. It was not perfect, but it was what she had. Her hands went to the belt at her waist without conscious thought, touching, inventorying. She noted that her bolas were back, her pouch of stones was full. No, none of this was perfect, nor what she had wanted, but it was enough. “For you, Micha.” Kedron’s voice was a fleeting whisper, the last hiss of an ember just before it was extinguished. “Now and always…” Gift, boon, whatever it was, because of it she could function, and because of that she caught the names of those who had been Chosen. Golden eyes flicked from one to the next, aware of consideration in turn as the Finalists sized one another up. The Kissa recognized several of the entrants from Twilight. Elysia, the lightning caller, still horsed. That brought a faint smile to Micha’s lips, surprising the Kissa herself. Shud, the jewel-man. The behemoth was one to avoid, if the Enkeli had any choice in the matter. Zane, the black-garb. Holding a defensive stance already, he was perhaps the most unknown quantity of the competitors that the Kissa had seen in Twilight. She knew nothing of the others but their names, and what the Chorus had spoken of them, and the Enkeli was faintly disappointed that Garreth had not been Chosen. Perhaps that was for the best, however. Despite her words in Twilight, Micha had found herself liking the odd little man. Had they both advanced, a conflict would have been inevitable. It was for the best that they had been spared from that necessity. Her hands went to her waist again, drawing the sling and fitting a stone into its cup before starting to twirl it. The Paragon of Ice, a man called Dell Wolf, stalked to the center of the Arena. Loud of mouth and swaggering of gait, he looked at Micha, and the Kissa bristled ever so slightly as she met his eyes. She knew what a hunter looked like, and a popinjay. Wolf wanted to fight, perhaps wanted to fight her specifically. That was interesting, for so far as she could see, Wolf had no weapon drawn, but to her mind, that was as good an invitation as any. The Enkeli saw no reason to delay the commencement of hostilities. In her hand the sling spun and then snapped open, unloading its stone on a sailing arc towards the Ice Paragon’s chest. Almost as soon as the stone was thrown, Micha’s hand was going to her pouch for another stone. There was no time for hesitation. Now was the time for action.

Bastet -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/6/2015 16:06:04)
The usual explosion of sound followed the impact. S.O.N.A.R. had become used to it, after so much time wielding that hammer, but its artificial ears had been adequately given protection by Aster. The biggest challenge in building such a large automaton was not figuring out how it could defeat the opponents, but rather eliminating all the weaknesses that would cause it to defeat itself. Few people in the tribe of the Wastes had even attempted such grand projects, and fewer still had succeeded: many of the war machines built to overwhelm their opponents through sheer size often buckled under their own weight or were impossibly costly to maintain. S.O.N.A.R. had been an unicum, due to Aster taking note of all the problems that caused the failed machines to be their own end, and sticking to a simpler design. It didn’t matter how many spikes your creation had if it couldn’t even move. Before the robot even had a chance to move back from the position it found itself in after successfully letting loose another deafening wave of sound, however, colourful sprites began to rush around it. It prepared to defend itself from what appeared to be an attack coming from one of the opponents who were still attempting to overwhelm the others, though it appeared to be a kind of magic previously unseen in the entirety of Spike. S.O.N.A.R.’s efforts to push the beings away from itself were made useless by the fact that there were far, far too many to physically repulse. By the time the golem attempted raising its right hand to try and evoke the nigh-destroyed magical barrier, it was too late. And then, nothing. The automaton found itself floating in a colourless void, lifted by currents that were firm, yet gentle at the same time. Fleeting whispers surrounded the surprised being of metal, creating an atmosphere of utter mystery. This aura was broken only when S.O.N.A.R. felt an incredibly powerful presence drawing closer to it, from all directions, surrounding it in a bubble of air not unlike the one that could be called upon by the ruby engraved in its gauntlet. “Construct. You lack the broad range of emotions that many beings that aspire to be in your current place have, yet you still managed to prove yourself superior to them.” The voice that spoke to S.O.N.A.R. approached the metal golem as benevolent, reassuring it that it had been brought where it currently was with no intention of inflicting harm. The protector awed for the first time since its consciousness had been born, basking in the power of a being that was every part of the surreal realm S.O.N.A.R. found itself in. As the sphere of wind floated in the middle of the whispering void, keeping the massive construct afloat inside itself, it also applied some sort of regenerative magic to its prisoner. The automaton observed as the many wounds inflicted both by its would-be ally and those who openly opposed it were mended, even going as far as restoring the flawless status of the magical gemstone contained in the palm of one of the golem’s hands. “By my grace, your body has been restored. Your service as my Paragon begins now, -” “No.” S.O.N.A.R. was extremely quick to answer as soon as service was mentioned, its voice as metallic and raspy as ever. It knew it was in the presence of a being many orders of magnitude greater than it, but not even that would stop it from reassuring the Lord of Wind that its true allegiance was with the one that had given it life. The only reason it was fighting on behalf of the elemental liege was that it had been ordered to so by its one true master: Aster. “I have undertaken this task on your behalf merely because I was ordered to by the one I truly obey. No matter how mighty your power or how easily you could crush this body as it now is, my loyalty belongs to my master. That is a condition that I will never allow to change.” The gusts that lifted the golem became slightly more agitated, losing some of their apparent peacefulness. It didn’t care if the Lord had not appreciated what it had just said, as not even such a being could sway it. However angered the elemental was, the regeneration continued as it was before. “Very well then, golem, slay your enemies in the name of your master.” S.O.N.A.R. felt something happening as it was yanked back from the dimension it had been transport to. The crimson sands of the Grand Arena were the first thing that the golem could focus its eyes on, taking a moment to reacquire its bearing. From high above, Aster observed the whole scene with a grin on her mouth. Unlike her creation, she understood what the sprites’ reason for being was before they managed to transport S.O.N.A.R. away. She noticed that the same treatment was reserved for a few other competitors in the arena, notably the paladin that the golem had spent so much time fighting. Briefly making sure that all her belongings were still tucked away in their appropriate pocket, she was the first among the spectators to stand and leave. A child-like glee invaded her mind as she began looking for the arena where the finals would take place: her protector, the very being that owned its life to her, the biggest achievement of her career as a tinker, had been selected to be one of the few who would have a chance of winning the year’s Elemental Championship. Such was her satisfaction that she didn’t even feel any discomfort from the fact that her golem wasn’t there to walk her to her destination and keep her separated from the common rabble that flocked to find a seat in the final arena. The nomad from the wastes hurried, in order to be one of the privileged individuals who would have the luxury of being able to pick a seat in the area around that reserved for the brawl of the Paragons. Considering her modest size, she had to sneak through the wave of spectators to ensure that she would advance to the front rows. If the project she had spent so many years working on, a project that eventually turned into a sincere friendship, was going to compete in one of the most important tournaments that ever took place, she would be hellbent on finding a comfortable seat to observe the fight from start to end without any interruptions. Thankfully, her efforts were rewarded when she noticed that she had arrived, and found a suitable bench that hadn’t been claimed by any other would-be spectator. The aggravating chatter of the townsfolk was silenced in an awe inspiring way by the perfect chorus of the folk wearing cerulean robes. Interrupting such beautiful harmony could have been compared to making a great insult to all of the gods at once. The purple cape danced playfully in the wind, having been completely restored after being caked in mud and dirt from its stay in the previous arena. Its colour had taken a shine that belongs only on a highly maintained cloth. The coral feather that adorned the golem’s helmet followed the cape’s dance, an adornment that Aster insisted on adding to the golem’s features. By the time the construct had acquired its own consciousness, it simply accepted both the cape and the feather as features of its own body. Aster often tried to add more to the automaton’s appearance, but no new features stuck for more than a few days. S.O.N.A.R. usually accepted the whims of its master with a heavy sigh, accepting it as part of its service. The golem assumed an almost regal appearance in the place it had been assigned by the men with cerulean robes, empowered by the healing magic applied on it by the Wind Lord. Though the Liege had probably taken offense to what S.O.N.A.R. had to say, it didn’t stop the restoration on the golem’s body from taking its course. The metal reflected the light of the sun, almost blinding those who stared at it from the wrong angle. The only thing that distracted Aster’s defender from its concentration was being greeted by the sheriff who had previously issued a challenge to it, but failed at upholding it. “Ah say there pardner. Whoever crafted ya did a real fine job. Perhaps it was that wee lass ah saw in the stands, ya?” S.O.N.A.R. almost panicked upon hearing the name of its master, presuming that the sheriff could have posed a potential danger to Aster now that he knew who to target. The fact that he bowed shortly after speaking to the golem probably meant that he only said what he had as a sign of respect, but that couldn’t stop S.O.N.A.R. from actually making a note of the fact that ensuring the man was kept away from its protégé was a priority. As some kind of feline woman attacked the armed man, who had walked towards the centre of the arena, S.O.N.A.R. assumed a combat stance but didn’t take a step towards any of the Paragons in the arena. It wasn’t going to make the first move with so many unknown fighters surrounding it, rather preferring to wait until the right moment, when a chance to incapacitate all of them with a well-placed strike could possibly be offered to it.

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/6/2015 16:58:36)
It was the swirling of the sands that brought a man who so long ago had lost both home and family to the ravages of nature. So very odd that now to stand here amongst the stars and the crowds to witness and perhaps be the next fortunate one crowned. He didn’t seek glory. He didn’t seek fame. This was something much more. Something desired after seeing lives extinguished one by one from a family that was held so dear. In those stands, was the same little lass Dell had seen in Spike arena. He was sure of it. He gave the lass a tip of his hat in respect and honor looking directly at her before returning both eyes to the arena. This place didn’t just speak of champions, Dell could feel the vaguest ambiances of death, it was like that shootout in Blackthorn again. The lunatic Barnes had set up explosives and demanded a shootout at noon. Once again, the ol sheriff’s tongue went across lips wetting them in anticipation. Time seemed to slow as the paragon of fire grabbed at her weapon. Dell came back from his memories with the sound of a gun echoing in a head full of too many shots fired in a lifetime. It was here in this place and at this time the battle commenced. The first attack had been made and an answer of retribution would come. The champion chosen for fire didn’t hesitate to take aim and fire from a weapon Dell Wolf’s eyes had witnessed before. A sling and stone ensemble. The likes of which the sheriff had seen back in his days from the Indians. The problem with that kind of weapon is that it made noise. The air itself made a noise as the stone whistled through it. His eyes had already caught the movement of the twirling and the attack was launched. It was true that a stone moved quickly, but the paragon of fire had not anticipated the speed that her rival possessed. Dell sidestepped the attack by taking a full step sideways to his right and turning a body used to motion just enough that the stone flew right by him. Plenty was going through Dell’s mind at the time. Lucia, John, the construct. All of them were from his Arena. He at least knew their tactics. The other’s were unknown and unseen before. The eyes once again glanced towards the beautiful horse, a longing of a man without a real horse for so long. This was the challenge. Stay in the fight. Prove worthy. The sunlight above beamed down across the arena. The sandy warmth rose from below. Each and every element was represented here. Both eyes focused on Micha. She had taken the first shot and missed. Dell Wolf tipped his hat at her slightly and spoke to her. The man headed towards her and the pillar of fire unafraid of battle. “Ya’ll want ta try yer luck with me hombre?” A simple motion. One that was a constant in Dell’s life. Both peacemakers came free in one swift, fluid motion, aimed and fired off a single round. The left handed gun had aimed for the neck, the right handed gun had aimed toward the right side of the ribcage. One thing Micha would learn about the sheriff was that he was quick.

Ultrapowerpie -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/6/2015 22:04:10)
"Where the flexnarf did he go?" Joe asked, getting up from his seat as a flash of light enveloped John. "Joe, did you even attend the briefing on this? Or were you out again sneakin..." a red headed woman began, wearing a janitor uniform next to Joe. "Janet, shoosh, I thought we agreed to never mention that in public!" John hissed to his fellow janitor, as some in the crowd started getting out of theirseats and exited the arena. "You're the idiot who made it clear you enjoy...." "SILENCE WOMAN" Joe yelled, drawing stares from many nearby specators, causing him to slink back into the seat. "Oi, just sit down and shut up. John got choosen as the Paragon of Water" Janet sighed, rubbing her temples. "He won??!" "No you fool, he merely made it to the finals, for better or worse..." "Worse? What's worse about being moved on to the finals? Isn't that his goal?" "Well yes, he IS here to win, so that's the for better, it's the change of arena..." Janet mumbled at the end. "Speak up Janet, I can't hear you over the crowd," Joe demanded. "Look, let's just head over to the Finals Arena, and you'll see the issue. "What do you MEAN, 'that's it???!'" John cried aloud, flabberghasted by the sight of the new arena. "It's self evident, is it not? Now hush up and sit down" Janet sighed, wondering why she had to play the straight expositionalist to one of the higher ranked janitors in the JJJJ. "But it's like the West in there!" "Yes, THIS is what I meant by the 'for worse' earlier" Janet sighed. "In the Spike Arena he had the advantage of terrain, here there's nothing to give him an edge." "Worse, all this sand would probably make his tactics null..." "Don't speak so ignorantly. Any Water Janitor worth his salt cant make ANY surface slippery with soap, water and magic. You underestimate his abilities." "Yeah, well John didn't really go into this fight seriously. I mean you saw him in Spike, he was playing with them," Joe argued. "He certainly killed that one light clone fellow quickly enough" Janet countered. "That guy was overconfident, underetimating the torrents of water." "All it takes to kill someone with a glass of water is to get the water into their throat, and then drown them," Janet scolded. "Yes, but these are all champions of their own element, do you REALLY think they'd let that happen? Besides, that golem got choosen to, and I know it won't drown. HOnestly I don't know HOW he got choosen..." "The POINT is that he did, so clearly he pleased the Water Lord in some fashion. John is prepared to kill, and wil kill. If nothing else, he has MOP," Janet pointed out. "Oh yes... MOP... that thing will certainly give anyone nightmares tha gets too..." "Hush, it looks like they're starting!" The JJJJ did not follow gods. To be specifc they did not give their allegiance to any PARTICULAR diety in Lore's pantheon, as there was no known god of cleanliness (though there were rumors of a cult within the JJJJ that knew of a hidden diety that did fit such a description, but the top brass kept a tight lid on any matters that involved said cult). All the Elemental Lords were guilty of leaving messes in some way or another (espeically with their laissez faire style of handling things, spouting nonsense that "free will was absolute"), and don't even get the JJJJ STARTED on Lorithia, the creater of this giant mess of a planet. The Uncreator had at one point been favored, until someone pointed out that he wasn't actually cleaning messs, but instead just willing the meses to have never existed in the first place, which was cheating. Add in the fact that the JJJJ accepted members from ALL walks of life and elemental background, the dieties of Lore were nothing more then extremely messy powerful beings who had abdicated their responsibilities for creating messes in favor of "pure free will". Still, the JJJJ did not SHUN the Lords either. They were well aware that the Pantheon of Lore DID at least watch things (making them all the more guilty when messe occured and they did not act to clean up the particularly nasty ones), but that occasionally they did actually bother to mettle with the affairs of mortals and therefore to shun or anger them would not be in the best interest of the JJJJ. And again, with fire mages working side by side with water mages to remove nasty rotting bodies and evidence of their existance from the face of Lore, it was not wise for the JJJJ to play favorites either. Therefore the policy with the janitors was to simply not foucs on dieties unless there was definitive proof of one of Their involvement. Case in point, the situation before John in which during the brief period, he (like some others) had an encounter with his Elemental Lord. Due to JJJJ procedures, the actual conversation cannot be recorded, even from a narration standpoint, but John handled the situation like any good janitor to his employer: Polite, Civil, Quiet, Nodding to whatever demands were needed, assuring that the job would be done within reasonable time, thanking for the oppritunity, etc etc. Overall it was more amatter of buisness then anything else, but it occured efficiently and was concluded with John appearing in the arena in the dramatic fashion. Eyeing the situation, John was not nearly as happy as he was in Spike. True, this arena was far cleaner, but it was also very sandy. These competitors would be FAR more fie... oh hey look the golem made it and the sherrif and the paladin... ok so at least he may have a slight advantage if tha truce was on, but if that golem wasn't taken down it may be an issue. Regardless, John checked his belt to make sure everything was refilled. Smiling to see that it was so, he dispensed a bar of soap, dropped it in his full bucket, and commenced with lathering, keeping a careful eye on the nearby competitors in case they tried something sneaky.

Starflame13 -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/6/2015 22:34:38)
After the constant movement of the Twilight Arena, this battle zone felt strangely still, and oddly silent. Elysia could see the eight pillars marking the gates around the arena, but apart from the slight eddies of sand, the center lay motionless before her. She frowned, stroking Blossom’s mane slowly to keep him still. One competitor, Lucia, already stood by the Light pillar, one gate left of Energy. She stood simply, looking at the sun above as if in thought or prayer. Where were the others? “Howdy Ma’am!” Elysia jumped, Blossom starting slightly with her before resettling his hooves into their prior indentations in the scarlet sands below. The source of the booming voice was the Ice champion, Dell Wolf, who saluted her with a broad-brimmed black hat as he addressed her. Narrowing her eyes, she declined to respond as he continued to praise her horse with his cheery voice; particularly as he declined to cease addressing all the individuals of the arena, most of whom had seemed to appear with his first booming shout. As he prattled on, the man stepped into the direct center of the arena. This Dell Wolf seemed confident enough, but his bravery merely appeared foolish as he opened himself up to attack from all sides. Getting caught up in a brawl first thing was something Elysia hoped to avoid repeating, so she made no motion to either charge or parley with this Wolf. She surveyed the others in the arena, signaling Blossom to take a few steps away from her pillar along the edge of the arena as she did so. Lightning may respond to her calls, but stumbling back into a tower of pure energy would still incinerate Blossom and even turn herself into fine ash. North of her, and in the direction Blossom had stepped, was Zane, the assassin who had fended off the mountain man of Twilight. Crouched and ready for combat, his hands were already armed with daggers. Still, he seemed content to let someone else charge the Wolf, as did the giant S.O.N.A.R, its crisp cape fluttering in the wind of its pillar as it braced itself for combat. Neither were her first choice as an opponent, though she doubted that either proved an enormous threat at their current distance. The strange janitor, John, had made his appearance as well, but he too simply smiled and remained near his gate, happily filling a nearby bucket with sudsy water. Just as Elysia was turning to search for Shud, a rush of shadows, reminiscent for a moment of an attack from Twilight, caught her eye. Tensing, she dug her fingers into her glaive before she realized that the stone now racing across the sands was aimed at the center of the arena, rather than her Eastern entrance. The feline, Micha, was quite adept with her projectiles, but must have tired of launching them at a target moving as fast as Blossom could gallop. Dell Wolf seem quick enough to dodge himself, sadly, for even as Micha drew another stone for her sling, he was side-stepping away and calling out another challenge to the feline. Narrowing her eyes, Elysia watched closely as the Wolf drew a gun in either hand and let off a set of shots so close together that the sounds of their echos merged as they bounced across the sandy ground. Though they fired with the typical “BANG” of gunfire, something seemed odd about his bullets, as well as with the cloud of glittering dust admitted after each fire. With a start, she released that the dust was a cloud of frost, which turned into water droplets that pattered lightly down on the ground below, darkening the scarlet briefly before the sun-warmed sand absorbed the moisture. His guns appeared more normal, if enchanted to enable them to house such frozen bullets. That brought a grin. Guns meant metal, and metal meant an easier target for her to aim for. Even the greater size of this arena wouldn’t make a huge difference. Enough opponents had variants of armor and weapons for her to turn against them. Blossom took another small pace along the arena’s edge North as Elysia shifted in the saddle, thinking. Micha was not her ideal ally, not after how long the feline had spent trying to lame Blossom in the previous fight, but it would be silly to expect any partnership to last longer than a few blows in this arena, painted crimson after centuries of bloodshed. She had no way of telling if the feline would even be open to working together, but quick as the Wolf was, Elysia doubted he could dodge lighting as easily as he had dodged stones. It might even encourage Micha to use her ammo on other targets first, before going after her horse. Still, she had the time to wait. Everyone else seemed content to let those two duel alone for a few moments, and it would be easy enough to intervene with a swift bolt, in the unlikely result that the feline turned out to be outmatched. She took a breath and resettled in the saddle. A storm who spend its thunder too soon had little to differentiate itself from a downpour of simple rain.

Rayen -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/7/2015 10:45:40)
The reply from Shadow Toy never came. The darkly-clad man seemed to sense a shift in the arena and adopted a defensive stance. Shud could feel it too; the shadows began to twist and flicker and pulse and swirl around him. Dropping to a crouch, his left hand and knee supporting his weight reassuringly against the tamped earth floor below, Shud slowly began drawing the Earth protectively up around himself, coating fingers, boots and pants, then readied to encase the rest of his body in stone. In the stillness before the storm, his exerted breath sounded like that of a monster, causing Shud to grin at the complimentary image. Then, suddenly, cutting through the dichotomous lighting, brilliant, dazzling lights appeared from the shadows at the edge of the arena. The lights, like the most spectacular gemstones imaginable, began racing toward Toy, Rider and her horse, and even the creature sharing as many human features as feline that had been stalking Rider. The beautiful lights infused their bodies, causing them to glow. The Choosing, Shud thought. And he hadn’t been chosen. What of his poor sister, and freeing himself of his constant weight of guilt? Anger consumed him. He knew he could win this Championship. No man was stronger than he. He who caused the earth to shudder at his footsteps. He who could crush bone with a mere thought! In a fit of overwhelming injustice, Shud went to punch the Earth, to in some way punish the Earth Lord for denying him the chance at victory. But when he went to lift his injured right arm, he found that it would not move. He was sinking; being absorbed into the very floor he’d planned using to protect himself. Trapped and confused, Shud was left watching as the Chosen Paragons of Twilight were raised, glowing, into the twisting light and dark, only to burst into countless shards of multicoloured light the instant Shud’s head sank into the ground. All was dark. Sound and motion vibrated faintly through the uppermost foundations of the arena, but as Shud continued to be dragged downward, the world suddenly turned silent. He couldn't breathe, but breath and air seemed inconsequential in this place. If he was dead, so be it. He was powerless before whatever force was controlling his body. Further and further Shud sank, the pressure ever building, but surprisingly not the heat. The stone through which me moved seemed pure and smooth; unlike anything he’d ever felt… But that was wrong. Shud felt with his mind for the multicoloured crystals that had been holding closed the gash in his arm and protecting his neck from Shadow Toy’s daggers. He could easily differentiate the gemstone’s feel from anything else on Lore, as they were as much a part of him now as any other part of his body. But as his mind reached out and latched on to their magical aura, he felt a vast and never-ending expanse - infinity and the overwhelming, immense, destructive and eternal power of Earth - resonate with his mind. A million questions flashed through his mind, and somehow Shud knew that the stone surrounding him could hear, or feel every thought. One thing was for certain, though: Shud was in the domain of the Lord and Lady of Earth. Without pomp or fanfare, or any warning whatsoever, the entire world seemed to vibrate with sound. Shivers and jitters travelled through every bone of the comparatively small and weak man’s bones. Up his jawbone and into his ears, the vibrations travelled, piercing his mind and being. Great words of a great, or many great, beings, existing both in form, and without, seemed to appear in Shud’s mind. The will of beings of power and immensity incomprehensible to the human mind, and with no desire to be comprehended. Beings who obviously desired to intimidate their pawn. They succeeded at first. So full of fear and wonder was he, that it took Shud a while to focus on the words ‘Welcome’ and ‘Paragon’ echoing through his bones. But once he’d locked onto that knowledge, realisation dawned and he became filled with rage and purpose once again. Shud drew upon the power of the Plane of Earth, reflecting and manipulating the vibrations to communicate his emotions and desires; then all went quiet once more. A single voice, definitely singular, spoke now. Our child. You are our Paragon and have pleased us. You are stubborn and strong like stone, though lack patience. Be patient and strong and you will crush those in your path. Live, and you will heal your sister yourself. Win, and you will use your prize in the service of Earth. That is our bargain. Do you accept? Shud’s thoughts wheeled. If he could heal his sister himself, he didn't need the wish. But what was it the Powers of Earth were planning? In the end, it hardly mattered. He only wished to free himself from guilt and restore his sister’s place as a Stoneskin. “I ‘ccept”. Suddenly, the Beings took full control of Shud’s body and magic, healing the gash in his arm and restrengthening his bones and muscles. Shud put to memory the feeling of his magic forming and destroying numerous bones in both the human and animal bodies, allowing him not only to heal his sister’s broken limbs, but also any injuries faced by his family ever again. Infused with the knowledge to heal and destroy, Earth finally passed on its personal request, a single, silent vibration, like a single grain of sand falling in a bloody arena. Shud understood and grinned, smooth, fluid crystal pressing against his perfect teeth. Then the world seemed to compress upon him slightly, in a strange embrace, and the man, filled with purpose and passion, rocketed through the Plane of Earth toward his point of entry and Lore. From behind, a last vibration enveloped him - We’ll meet again one day, Shudderer - before Shud burst from the sand of the Grand Arena to kneel in front of a pillar of stone and crystal and vines. The world was bright, made even brighter by the reflection of sunlight off the stained sands of the Grand Arena. Looking around, Shud noted seven other pillars, and before them, seven other Paragons. Among them he recognised Shadow Toy, Cat Thing and Rider. A host of mystical voices rang out across the arena, announcing each Paragon. Infused with new knowledge as Shud was, he had little room or care for names. He shouted out for the voices to be silent and let everyone get on with the fighting, but his words came out a whisper, barely audible above the chanting. Giving up on the names, Shud decided to either keep his nicknames or name the Paragons after their respective element. Windy, Icy, Paladin and…Mop…were all new to him, though mostly as intimidating as those who had proceeded from Twilight. Shud grinned across at Shadow Toy (Zane, apparently. What an amusing name) as he was introduced, and as the announcements came to a halt, he called out to Rider, questioning whether she’d like to form that alliance she'd mentioned. Shadow Toy could wait. Patience. Icy, who was standing in the centre of the arena and had started chatting, had already started up a fight with Cat. Shud wasn’t fond of chatty types either. Nobody else had moved, though, and, pending Rider’s reply, Shud paced cautiously in her direction, trying to look unthreatening as he walked between the Paladin woman and Icy. A sandy floor was a definite benefit for Shud. He felt much more comfortable, although his footsteps failed to create the familiar few-inch high ripples, instead only shaking the sand in a small radius around his body. Additionally, having entered unconventionally through the sandy floor of the arena, sand clung to his exposed arms and shoulders like an affectionate child greeting a returning father. But Shud was no returning father. He was here as a brother, and to fulfil his desire, he needed to survive. This necessity had him cornered, and, like any beast, a desperate fury bubbled beneath Shud’s sand-encased flesh. He could just about taste redemption and freedom from his guilt; almost imagine the laughs of his sister running about the quarry, playing the games with his family that she’d missed due to his over-ambition. But patience. See what Rider has to say and crush those who stand in your way. Victory will be Earth’s this day.

Apocalypse -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/7/2015 11:51:38)
One by one the Paragons took their place by the eight Elemental Pillars. Half of that number had proved their worth in the pit of Malice. Lucia was glad to see that Sheriff Dell Wolf had moved on with her to this last stage, even if she found his flair for bravado unusual. The cleaner, bearing the humble name of John, caused mixed emotions. It was true that John had aided Sheriff and the paladin in their plight, but his reasons for doing so were unknown. Lucia would have been less leery of him had the cleaner not put an abrupt end to the warrior of light. As uneasy as she felt around the Paragon of Water, she had far more concerns with the Chosen of Wind. The golem Sonar had also progressed to the finals of the tournament. Its raw strength was unrivaled in the Spike Arena, and the paladin doubted it would meet its equal here amidst the crimson sand. Lucia eyed the other combatants as they entered the last arena. The other competitors appeared just as fierce as, if not fiercer than, their counterparts from Malice. On the right rode the gallant Elysia bearing a wicked glaive. To Lucia’s immediate left was the second largest combatant, Shud. A true mountain of a man, his sheer size was only outshone by the glorious gemstones resting upon his waist. On Shud’s other side was Micha, the hybrid of human and feline. Lucia’s stomach churned not so much at the sight of Fire’s Chosen but rather at her faint scent. It was her natural fragrance, the type that clung to every living body but went unnoticed by the overwhelming masses. In truth, the aroma itself was not unpleasant, but it carried with it the message that she was an enemy as dictated by nature. She swallowed her unease and averted her gaze to the last stranger. This was Zane, Champion of Darkness. His choice of obsidian clothing stood as a proud declaration of his service to the Dark One. Unlike Micha, Zane was an adversary not by some yearning of the body and instinct but of the mind and from experience. Death and deeds most sinister were the only fruits reaped by servants of the Dark One. Sheriff, in his usual fast-mouthed fashion, spat out greetings to many of the competitors as he approached the arena’s center. Lucia returned his smile with a small one of her own. He was an odd man to be sure, but the Paragon of Ice wore his heart on his sleeve for the entire world to see. That degree of honesty was so pure it was almost excessive. The paladin's smile disappeared and her heart sank. Honesty was a virtue she had abandoned long ago. But she would not abandon Sheriff. Whether through folly or fortitude, placing himself in the heart of the arena had put Sheriff in a precarious position. Micha was the first to answer his challenge, but she might not be the last; at any moment the other Chosen could join the fray to turn the match into a slaughter. For now they were caught in a bout of inaction as they watched the duel of Fire and Ice. But the right catalyst could send the combatants into a frenzy among themselves. Breaking the passivity would require an act of aggression on the paladin’s part. Deciding it was better for her to ignite an enemy’s rage against herself than at Sheriff, Lucia took her first step towards the Pillar of Energy just as Shud inquired of Elysia about the possibility of an alliance. She paused as the mountainous man passed by her, his mere presence disturbing the sand around him. Perhaps the energy combatant would reject his offer, or perhaps she saw the wisdom in having an early ally. If Elysia had any powers similar to those of the fulgarmancer in Malice, then she would have the advantage of striking down foes from a safe distance. By his stature alone Shud would prove a valuable shield to her. Lucia’s thoughts returned to Malice where the golem and the fulgarmancer had made themselves partners in a fashion. It appeared Lucia would be reliving those adversaries through the Paragons of Energy and Earth. Lucia resumed her approach to the Pillar of Energy and called out before Elysia could give an answer. “If you are looking for a fight, then face me.” She did not miss a stride as her challenge hung in the air for the pair to answer. Engaging two enemies at once may have been a fool’s errand, but the paladin could restrict their movement to this portion of the arena and away from Sheriff. There was always the possibility that no alliance would be formed, but Lucia prepared for the worse outcome. She turned to face Shud. “If you are bound by honor, then challenge the construct over there.” She gestured with her head to where the golem stood ready for battle. “If not, then I shall face the both of you.” The Paragons of Earth and Energy towered over her; the former due to his size and the latter thanks to her horse. Mounts gave their riders an edge in combat, but the paladin was unsure how well the ebony gelding would fare in the crimson sands. If the horse remained too close to Shud, then it was conceivable that Shud’s shaking of the sand could work in Lucia’s favor. Removing the horse from battle would tip the scales, though it was unknown if that would be enough to allow her survival. Unlike in Malice, Lucia did not form a Light Incarnation as she approached. Her powers were unknown to Elysia and Shud, and she intended to retain that shroud of mystery until the last possible moment. The paladin wanted to spur the Chosen of Earth and Energy to play their hands first. If they did nothing to stop her advance, then Lucia would strike, perhaps to maim Elysia’s mount.

Tdub -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/7/2015 18:58:44)
Unlike the Twilight Arena, none of the Paragons launched immediate attacks upon entering the battlefield. In fact, very little at all happened for several moments. Zane took the opportunity to examine his opponents, hoping to get an idea of their strengths and weaknesses. Directly across from him was the Paragon of Light, a tall woman in brown clothing. The extent of her abilities was impossible to guess, although Zane was reasonably certain that her true power was magical in nature. The announcers had named her Lucia, and Zane decided that she would not be his first opponent in this Arena. To Lucia's right was Elysia, the rider from Twilight. As Energy's Paragon, she had elected to continue riding her horse in the sand-filled Arena. Zane could only hope that the gelding would not suffer before its inevitable death. She seemed to be moving in Lucia's direction, her intentions unclear. The Paragon of Earth needed no introduction. Zane's opponent from the Twilight Arena stood at the tree of blades, and Zane quickly decided against challenging him to a second duel. The scorched fly which once hath escaped the flame will hardly come to play again with fire. Zane recalled the saying of old, and resolved to only fight this "Shud" again when the right opportunity presented itself. It was then that Zane saw Ice's Paragon being attacked by the feline creature from Twilight, who stood as the representative of Fire. The strange "Dell Wolf," who had proudly walked toward the center of the Arena, was quick to respond, firing long-ranged weapons at Micha. Zane knew that he didn't want to be involved in a group fight at the very beginning, when he had the most to lose. Better to let the two of them duel, and seek his target elsewhere. Zane glanced at the Paragon on his right side, and quickly looked away. Wind's Chosen was a massive construct of metal, and the assassin had fleeting glimpses in his mind of his blades bouncing harmlessly from its body, his magic ineffective. No, it would be far better for Zane to let someone like Shud fight with the construct, and live to see another day. That left the Paragon of Water, standing at the Pillar to his right. At first glance, Water's Chosen was hardly impressive to the assassin. He seemed completely ordinary, aside from his odd blue garb, and appeared to be perfectly content to continue fooling around with his... things. Zane was hesitant to call them a bucket and a mop, for he knew they were almost certainly not so, but he knew no other way to describe them. The assassin could picture the strange individual working in the bathroom of a second-rate inn, not fighting to the death in service to the Lord of Water. Still, Zane supposed that the man must have something to impress an all-powerful being, and he resolved to not underestimate the strange Paragon and his things. His decision made, Zane turned to walk toward "John." As he turned, he saw the monstrous Pillar that his Lord had chosen to represent the image of Darkness. A giant maw interrupted the smooth waves of the blood-red sand, giving an aura of secrecy and unknown danger. A fitting representation of the Dark, if not the image that Zane hoped to present. The assassin didn't have time to reflect on its meaning. He had to get to his target before someone else took the initiative against either one of them. He walked briskly, hoping to approach John before he was noticed. However, he quickly realized that the distance was not closing fast enough. Whether he continued his current pace or broke into a sprint, he would be seen long before he could strike with his blades. There would be no cover provided by this Arena, unless he was willing to brave the Darkness of his Lord's Pillar. Somehow, the assassin knew that although he had been invited to Lord Xaznohr's realm of silence, he would not be welcome in the Dark abyss of the Pillar. Sheathing his left dagger, Zane prepared his mind, harnessing the Dark energies that had been replenished by his Lord. When he was close to ten feet from John, he stopped walking, bringing his left arm up and firing a clean shot. Wasting no time, the assassin began to sprint, drawing his dagger back out of its sheath. If he was lucky, the odd Paragon of Water would be disoriented by the magic when Zane reached him, allowing for an easy dispatch. If not, he would adapt. That's all I can ever do. Adapt.

Kellehendros -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/7/2015 20:45:14)
Her left hand slipped into the pouch, fingers curling about a rounded riverstone and drawing it out. The missile went into the cup of the sling, and the sling went into motion, all before Micha’s first cast had reached its destination. If the Kissa was disappointed by her lack of success in her opening throw, it was not visible on her feline countenance. It had taken several attempts for her to land a blow in Twilight, but Micha was patient, and she had stones in plenty. In her right hand the sling twirled, and the Paragon of Ice inexplicably looked away. That in itself was enough to shock Micha into a momentary hesitation. Surely the popinjay could not be so foolish as to turn his attention away from someone who had just tried to kill him. It had to be a ploy, a trick of some kind. But if it was, the Kissa could not for the life of her figure out what manner of trap it might be. The only conclusion she could reach was that Dell must, in fact, be so foolish as to divert his attention away from a threat on his life. At least that made Micha’s next move easy. Her sling-hand twisted, releasing a second stone at Dell as the man looked back at her and began to speak. Micha had no idea what an hombre was, and really could not have cared less. The Kissa was already in motion to her left, in the direction of the odd looking Paragon of Water, John, though she was not charging directly at him. Micha had no desire to make herself out to be a threat to the man with the odd staff just now. She was more interested in the movement of Dell’s hands as they flashed down to the unfamiliar scabbards at his waist, drawing strange metal constructs and aiming them at her. The Enkeli’s sharp eyes noted strange magicks woven about what she could only assume were weapons. Her attention, split between Dell and John, did not allow for detailed examination, but their status as such was conveyed in the manner of the popinjay’s draw. Micha had no intention of standing still to make the Chosen of Ice’s job easier. Her stone whistled in, skipping off Dell’s shoulder as his weapons discharged within moments of one another. The Kissa winced, triangular ears flattening against her skull. Whatever his weapons were, they were abominably loud. Something whined through the space Micha had occupied but a moment ago, an unfamiliar noise terminating in a sharp hiss as the projectile met an ignoble end in the heart of the Pillar of Fire. Another missile carved a groove along the Enkeli’s leather vest, laying bare a streak of unweathered material as it skimmed away a pinkie-thick line of the vest’s surface. Micha’s left hand dropped to her waist, plucking a bola from her belt; her right hand tucked the sling away. The pads of her wide feet flexed as the Kissa turned, sliding for a second on the sand, using it to kill her momentum before she whipped around and dashed back the way she had come, away from the Paragon of Water. Zane was approaching John, so hopefully that would keep the oddly dressed Chosen of Water occupied and out of her fur for now. Throwing across her body or against her momentum was not something Micha enjoyed doing, but she let the bola fly anyways, giving it the best angle and momentum she could while on the move. The bola flickered out, stones whickering end over end, aimed roughly for Dell’s legs. Micha’s hands went for her chain and she took off in a bounding, zig-zagging run. Her attack with the bola was simply a distraction. Getting out of the way of the assault would force the popinjay to move, and that should keep him from using his odd weapons further against Micha while she closed the distance between them. She could strike with the chain at mid-range, and perhaps with the element of surprise as well, if the Paragon of Ice was unfamiliar with her armament. It wouldn't be the first time someone had underestimated the weapon.

Starflame13 -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/7/2015 21:01:03)
A second loud voice, this one much less cheerful and polished than the Wolf's, called to Elysia from across the stands. Blossom’s ears pricked to his left, towards the Earth pillar, as she turned to regard the mountain man. In rough, simple words, he offered her a similar bargain to one she had proposed in Twilight: forming an alliance to take out the other competitors first. Shud looked much better than he had a few moments ago in Twilight. His gemstones shone brilliantly, clear of wooden splinters and smears of dirt, and the blood that had spattered his arms had melted away without a trace. Elysia debated for a moment, then grinned back and responded with an affirmation: having the mountain man help her thin out the competition would make it that much easier to keep track of what was sure to become a fast, bloody brawl. She did hope the Earth shaker moved faster than Thornewood- there would be no slinging this ally up behind her on the saddle with turning Blossom into a crushed oat-cake. With a quick signal, Blossom started to move forward to stand next to Shud, but his movements halted as Elysia quickly sat back hard in the saddle. Lucia, the paladin, had come between herself and her new ally. The tall women still had to look up at the mounted rider as her voice rang out, pure and gong-like as her avatar’s announcer, “If you are looking for a fight, than face me!” The Light champion next turned her head towards Shud, though she continued her steady pace towards the Energy pillar, and ordered him off to fight another opponent. Elysia hid a grin at that. From earlier experience, the Earth champion was as solid and stubborn as his element, and would be unlikely to move at this woman’s say-so. Still, the question of honor gave Elysia pause for a moment. She took a breath to observe her opponent, noting the battle scars across the paladin’s cheek and chin, as well as the balanced walk of one practiced in fighting a battle where she was outmatched. Elysia frowned, reluctant at having to forgo Lucia’s offer of a one-on-one duel, and answered her. “I spent most of Twilight defending myself from two opponents. Even the brief ally I had,” here she rested a hand along the strip of cloak wrapped around the saddle horn, “had to be abandoned to save his life as well as my own. These are mass championships, not a knight’s duel. Allies become bitter enemies as easily as those locked in combat join forces to save themselves from a different threat.” She paused to send a quick smile towards Shud, trying to show him that she would still honor their partnership, before returning her attention to Lucia. “Were we at home on the plains, I would accept your challenge, and duel you on my own strength; testing to see if that scar across your face was given through bloody combat like my own. But the test here is no longer of honor, but survival. And to ensure survival, victory.” Here Elysia dug her heels into Blossom’s sides, causing the war horse to rear back on his hind legs, dancing a few paces away from the approaching knight to keep his balance as he let out a shrill, challenging cry. The movement allowed her to spare a quick glance around the arena, spotting Zane’s charge towards John and Micha’s zig-zagging across the arena at the Wolf. With a grin, Elysia realized she was glad that the feline had not met such an ignoble defeat as being shot by firearms at a distance. That didn’t mean she planned to run to Micha’s aid anytime soon now that she had her own challenger. The rider settled herself as Blossom landed on all fours, and regarded the ever-approaching lady. "So, Lucia, you have three choices. Attack as you are, find your own ally, or choose a new target. Shud, if she attacks, kindly squash her into the sand with your hammer. A flattened target is much easier to run a glaive through.” Elysia issued her challenge, holding her glaive high in a one-handed salute to acknowledge both ally and opponent. Her other hand she held loosely, a few inches away from her side. She didn’t know what type of metal her opponent had, but Shud obviously wore none, so she risked little in having an arm free in preparation for throwing a javelin of lightning at the champion of Light.

Ultrapowerpie -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/7/2015 21:12:42)
John stood and observed the participants, much like he had before in Spike. He was used to espionage work after all, and that required careful observation of your surroundings, taking in as much data as possible before things went bucket up. He saw that the Sheriff and the Paladin had both made it in the arena, and he had hoped that whatever meager alliance had been forged in spike would at least hold until there were fewer opponents to deal with, so his attention was less on them. Besides, he already had plenty of data from the combat in the arena on how they fought, and the Sherrif was engaged with a feline humanoid with a rather odd weapon. He'd never seen a weapon with those exact specs, but he had seen females wielding polearms in the past to know that you do NOT want to be anywhere near one when they hit, especially if said female was feline. The Golem had also made it into the arena, which would complicate things, but he hoped that the golem would be a target again. Scanning around he also saw a rather large man, as he was announced as the earth competitor... the stick looked like a walking stick instead of a staff or weapon, but hey, the guy's physique alone implied that he probably incorperated his strength into his earth magic. With any luck the golem and earth dude would get in a fight with each other. Taht left a.... someone on a horse. Huh, odd choice for an arena with such a juicy target. It was probably poked full of holes in the last arena, but according to what he had discussed earlier with the Lord, everyone was granted a full heal and refill, so he wasn't too surprised to see the rider here. Still the rider was not an immediate threat as the last person that John had not performed a preliminary analysis of had started moving, toward him. Oh come on John sighed, seeing the competitor running towards him. This guy's outfit screams assassin and he is doing the least stealthy thing possible to attack me. Since I'm going to assume he's not an idiot since he made it this far, he must only be good at melee. That's actually pretty bad for an assassian.... John of course did not KNOW this opponent charging him, but the all black attire, knife and movement speed all said something: close range fighter used to quick strikes. John noticed a second motion towards him.... the feline was coming towards him, but not in a charge.... must be trying to dodge the Sheriff's shots... Forming a plan in his head as the battle unfurled, John grabbed a soap-smoke pellet from his belt and threw it when the assassin was near him, maybe 15 feet out? He wasn't sure but by the time the guy got within a few yards the pellet would be off. He then noticed his opponent raising an arm. Fearing some sort of close range dark spell, John ducked instinctively as he used his right hand and MOP to stream the water out of the bucket. The smoke was already coming in by this time, so he had to hazard a guess as to where exactly his opponent was as he shot the stream of water at him. With luck it would not only blast him wet, but it would topple him into feline that had decided to come near his part of the arena. Backing out of the soap/smoke cloud, John waited for the bucket to refill and readied another bar of soap. He wasn't going to let himself get caught unprepared.

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/7/2015 22:10:07)
There’s a price to pay for foolishness and Dell had just tipped the lil ol lady at the counter for his. The first shot was a complete miss and the second shot wasn’t any better either. The stone had whacked him right in the arm just as he was taking the shot. An action that completely spoiled the shot and it had stung too. Why is it always mah right arm? The eyebrows raised instantaneously with the bola. Another weapon the sheriff recognized. John Hardy Smith, the former Blacksmith’s kid had used one on him once. They hurt like hell too. Dell noticed at that moment with bola incoming that there was a chain around that felines waist. He suddenly got an idea remembering what the lord of ice had told him. Tough. As the scorching of the sun settled on the sand, he put weight on the left foot and dove off to his left in one of those fancy cowboy out the window dive rolls. Standing back up he watched the bola sail past where he had been missing him by a mere half foot. He glanced back, seeing John doing some fancy water moves of his own when Micha got too near. Dell saw the chain as she ran being grabbed. He made a beeline being a tad bit quicker on the reflexes to his pillar and stood beside it. He happened to overhear what Elysia had said in the east now, as he was close enough to hear and his eyes narrowed slightly. That didn’t sound good and he couldn’t help her right this second. Nor could he help John right now either. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty.” He called all friendly like, lowering his voice to be as gentle as a lamb. “nice kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty,” “Good lil ol kitty, Ya wanna play hmm?” He cooed the words softly to her. He gave a beaming, gentle smile, like he was really, truly inviting the feline woman to come to him. He already knew she’d run at him. Why stop now? “Here kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty.” He shoved the guns in the holsters to show his hands were now free again. “Wanna play?” The left eyebrow went up slowly an invitation.

Rayen -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/8/2015 13:22:56)
Shud had been pleased to see Rider’s grin and nod, confirming their alliance. Shud was very fond of horses and despaired at the harm this noble creature was likely to come to before the fighting stopped. As his comfortable strides took him closer to Rider, the woman he’d temporarily named ‘Paladin’ spoke. “If you are looking for a fight, then face me.” Abruptly coming to a halt, the large quarryman turned to face the seemingly unarmed woman. Shud began to open his mouth to commend the woman for her forthrightness, but it immediately became clear that she was addressing his newfound ally. Disappointed, Shud tuned out of their conversation and attempted to come to terms with this new and fearsome woman. Paladin didn’t at all look the way Shud had envisioned the mighty warriors of Light awarded such a title. Clad entirely in brown leather, the only aspects of her appearance that tied her to Light were her light hair and the golden chains wrapped up her arms. Of all the beings likely to compete, Shud had most wanted to face a paladin; to crush their high-and-mighty, smug, self-righteous smiles from their face, radiant with beauty. But what stood before him now was none of those things. Perhaps she was an exception, or perhaps the realm of Light deserved more respect than he had previously awarded it - only time would tell. A brief doubt crossed Shud’s mind that the woman wasn’t a paladin, but the thought was quickly swept aside; everyone aligned with light was a paladin. Paladin then turned to look up at her significantly larger competitor. “If you are bound by honor, then challenge the construct over there.” The dissatisfyingly respectable-looking paladin woman raised her arm toward the enormous suit of armour that Shud had inappropriately nicknamed ‘Windy’. Bound by honour? Shud didn’t understand the connection; he hadn't seen the suit or armour before in his life. Nor was he one to be bound by honour regardless, so Shud shook the accusation away. “If not, then I shall face the both of you.” Shud was indeed impressed. Paladin’s bravado reminded him of that possessed by both Shadow Toy and himself. “‘pologies, Lady, but I dun’t think yer fightin’ of us is ov’ly wise. There’s prob’ly plenty-a others here more suited to yer ‘bilities. Y’do choose t’face us both, y’ll ‘ave m’respect, but ’t’d be a shame f’r a warrior such ’s yerself to fall in such an uneven fight.” In confirmation of Shud’s rare display of respect, Rider’s horse reared back challengingly, and its partner spoke. "So, Lucia, you have three choices. Attack as you are, find your own ally, or choose a new target. Shud, if she attacks, kindly squash her into the sand with your hammer. A flattened target is much easier to run a glaive through.” Shud, grinning at Rider’s confidence, nodded, replying, “‘ll do w’needs t’be done.” Turning to Paladin, he added gravely, “Yer death’ll be on your head, Lady o’ Light. Choose wisely.” Continuing on his path, Shud trudged through the sand to to stand a staff-and-a-half’s distance in front of Rider, toward whom he nodded briefly. Then, turning to face Paladin and await her reply, Shud knelt, one knee to the sand, the contact between his right arm and staff maintaining his balance. The gemstones circling his waist hummed silently to all but the Paragon of Earth, a gentle tune of patience, growth and reward.

Kellehendros -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/8/2015 22:41:56)
Micha bobbed and weaved, cutting back and forth in a bounding run towards the Paragon of Ice in an effort to throw off his aim. The Kissa was pleased to see that her gambit with the bola had succeeded. Dell, witnessing the stone and leather contraption whickering through the air in his direction, made a diving roll to his left to avoid the incoming projectile. As a result, he had no time for further potshots from his odd weapons as Micha closed the distance between them. The Enkeli noted a third weapon strapped to the man’s back as he rolled. It was another construction of wood and metal, adorned with similar magical patterns to those she had seen on his smaller weapons. That confused Micha somewhat. Like her, Dell had only two hands; so what was the point of having three such weapons? Then again, the third weapon was bigger and longer than the two devices Ice’s Chosen had used previously. Perhaps its projectiles were stronger, designed for use against heftier foes. Her chain came free as she pushed that thought aside for later consideration. The Kissa abandoned her zig-zagging course as her opponent scrambled up to his feet. Metal spurs glinted at the heels of his boots, heels that he showed Micha as he took flight. The Enkeli almost checked her forward rush in surprise as the popinjay fled like a coward back towards his own Pillar. The Kissa was not worried about her ability to catch him; from what she had seen, humans were rather slow in comparison to her people. She charged after Dell, the meteor hammer splitting the air with an atonal whistling as she gained on the Chosen of Ice. A few feet, just a few more… There! Powerful legs bunched and extended, thrusting Micha up and into the air. Angling herself slightly on her takeoff, the Enkeli turned through a graceful pirouette, chain playing out between her fingers before she gripped it tightly. The meteor hammer took on the momentum of her spin as she whipped around and raised her arms, bringing them back down as she slipped past the apex of her leap. Metal orb and Kissa descended from above like a bolt of skyfire, their thunderclap the heavy whump and accompanying burst of rust-colored sand as they impacted the ground. A burst of sand and nothing more, however. Perhaps the popinjay had luck on his side; perhaps Dell was quicker than she had given him credit for, putting on a burst of speed at the last moment and fouling her strike; perhaps Micha had simply misjudged her aim. Some combination of the first and last, the Kissa thought. Her luck had been rotten throughout her battles so far, and if she was suffering from the lack, someone here must be benefiting as a result. Micha straightened up, reeling in her chain and coiling it about her arm with the ease of long practice. She let the weapon dangle freely as she gave the remainder of the Arena a good once over; the Kissa's triangular ears swivelled back and forth, her focus on the other competitors for a moment, though her eyes never left Dell's unfamiliar attire. The craven had sheathed his odd weapons and was… calling her? Yes, the popinjay was calling her, taunting her, probably. At least he seemed to think so, judging by the ridiculous voice he was using, not to mention the utterly vapid smile he paired with that wheedling tone. She had heard the comparisons many times on her way to Bren; the Kissa resembled the small domesticated animals that people in these parts called cats. She had seen some, and found the observation cursory at best. Cats were animals. There was no spark there, no intelligence. Calling her a cat was like calling Dell a hairless ape. It was insulting, but it was also laughable. Still, everyone she had met seemed to think, for gods knew what reason, that because she more closely resembled a cat than a human did an ape, she should find the analogy that much more insulting. It really was humorous. Micha’s left ear flicked in annoyance and dismissal, and with regal disdain she ignored the Paragon of Ice’s pathetic attempt to bait her. Crouching for a moment, her right hand reached out and reclaimed her bola from the incarnadine sands. Straightening up, the Kissa paid the man the greatest insult she could by turning her back on him. Not fully, of course, for though the popinjay’s hands were held up and empty, Micha hand seen the speed of his earlier draw, and she had no intention of taking a shot to the back to prove she was immune to his frivolous words. She looked over her shoulder at him as she walked away, and the Enkeli rejoined Dell’s words with her own barb. “Some man you are, running away from a fight as soon as your opponent gets a little too close for comfort. I do not want to play, Dell Wolf. If you do, I suggest you go back home to your toys.” In front of her, shielded from the poltroon’s sight by her body, the bola in her right hand began to whirl. If the Paragon of Ice rose to her bait and charged, Micha was more than ready to send back her reply.

Dragonnightwolf -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/9/2015 2:01:12)
As the sands stirred on this day. Something else happened. Dell felt strange. Some inner demon tormented him. He relived the horror of his family burning alive in their beds. The flames licking. The cold uncaring feeling of those who took his life from him. That cold. He ignored the barb from Micha, turning his focus on Elysia and Shud. The friendly smile was wiped clean off his face, both eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He felt the cold, crushing in on him. The ice encompassing his soul, the torment that was the loss of his family, now might be the loss of Lucia. And that one clear thought. The man could no longer handle. Gone was the whimsy and humor. Gone was the remorse and the fears. Everything had been laid to ashes before his very eyes. He was not going to allow that to happen anymore. Something so profound about his demeanor changed. The agony that was written on his face. The horrors reflected in his eyes. As he walked towards Elysia and Shud the chill of the cold, icy grasp of blood and death began to cling to his soul. It yearned to be unleashed. The animal in him had finally been awakened. He knew that Elysia and Shud could see him. He made no threatening gestures, no sudden movements. Both fists were quiet and open palmed. The soft, whispers of a slight breeze stirred his vest tassels into a response. The sun glinted down upon the badge. He gave them time to take it all in as he approached from behind them, fully intending to move in front of Lucia. She could possibly see the change in him. The torment reflected in the slight twitch of his left ring finger or the horror that shone through those eyes. The walk itself was one of no real hurry. The beam of the sun shadowed across his hat. The cold feel in the veins. The icy stare of the eyes. Something inside the man was truly different. The torment was real. The ice lords words came back to haunt him. Even the horse could fully see him approaching and had plenty of time to react in its own way. He gave Lucia enough time to be able to react to his approach. When he was within eyesight of all three of them, his head tilted in just such a way of showing respect to Lucia. The eyes reflected an icy cold avalanche of terror and horror. Both eyes moved towards Elysia and her horse. Handsome as the beast rightfully was, time had come to a stand still. The sand shifted beneath his boots and the sun merrily danced across his body as slight shadows from his hat blocked the sun from those cold eyes. He took a step to stand just in front of Lucia, if she would allow that of course. That was entirely up to her. He drew in a breath, slow and sharp. Biting the bottom lip just the tiniest bit, the ol sheriff slid his tongue slowly across his lips. Giving them moisture. Both eyes narrowed again, a steely gaze reflected on them. Both hands lay perfectly still at his sides. A twitch of the left ring finger. A slight movement on the right pinkie. The stare down only lasted a second. The sand settled beneath the boots. Another ever so slight breeze brushing across the stray hairs not held in place by the cowboy hat. In a single, quick motion the left hand flew to his back grasping the handle of god’s gift to Earth. The 1878 Wyatt Earp Hammer Shotgun. The right hand flew down and grasped the handle of the peacemaker. The shotgun leveled into the crook of his arm, took aim at Blossom’s face and a trigger squeezed off, sending out a deadly assault. Here Dell’s peacemaker pulled up and fired aiming a shot for the giant’s throat. The battle was on. The Wolf had arrived. Bang. Bang.

Apocalypse -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/9/2015 17:46:45)
As the mounted one gave her answer, Lucia began to consider that perhaps Sheriff was not a long-winded oddity among the populace. Her time in self-imposed exile had left few interactions with people not trying to kill her, and as a result the paladin was unaccustomed to exchanges beyond a few brief words. So Lucia was unprepared when Elysia responded in length and commented on their scars. The paladin’s gaze shifted to the old battle wound etched on the Chosen of Energy’s face, and Lucia had to make a conscious effort not to trace a finger along her own. In truth both of the scars were rather shallow wounds; grievous ones would have left far more damage and disfigured the face in gruesome ways. Nonetheless, for these warrior women they were constant reminders of how close Death had come to holding them in his icy grasp. It may well be that this would be the day Death returned to claim what was his. The horse reared on his hind legs and cried out as a reminder that he was not a beast of the fields but one of war. An intimidation tactic that may have worked on average foot-soldiers, but not on one who had fought against the various demons and monstrosities of the Dark One. Shud expressed his regret to hold the paladin at a disadvantage in numbers, and Elysia offered an ultimatum: either find an ally, turn her attention to a new target, or perish before the combined might of Earth and Energy. The choice for highest chance of survival was obvious, but there were matters that could not be decided by one’s own survival instinct. Lucia had dueled vampires beneath the pale moon, driven off ghouls from their nests, and thrown a necromancer down from his mighty throne. She had dispelled spirits, challenged fiends in their own abodes, and cast aside undead as she plunged through their ranks. Monsters, both the ones who had appeared as beasts and those as men, had been slain by her. The paladin would have done none of these if survival had been the highest priority. Some virtues transcended the importance of a singular life. “Yer death’ll be on your head, Lady o’ Light. Choose wisely.” Lucia allowed herself a snicker that played its way up her throat but did not quite pass her lips. To have a moniker of the Heavenly Matron applied to one such as Lucia was not just misconstrued but downright laughable. An honest mistake as Shud must have been unaware of the particulars of her belief, but it made the comment no less absurd. A paladin in penance being compared to the Mother of All? “Forgive me,” said Lucia. “I laugh not at yourself, but at the words you chose. For you see-” Her words were cut off as she saw the approach of Sheriff. He had abandoned the clash with the feline combatant, though she had no fathoming as to the reason behind it. The Paragon of Fire was still very much alive and able to fight, but Lucia suspected it had more to do with Sheriff than with Micha. He looked the same except for his eyes. There was an intensity that had not been there before, a burning rage that demanded to be satisfied. It was a rage Lucia had come to know all too well. As Sheriff took his place by her, Lucia returned her attention to Shud. The decision had been made for her, and now it was time to act before any more could interrupt. “I am no lady,” Lucia said before she flew towards the giant. She kept low in the charge, allowing Sheriff a clear shot above her. The paladin sprung the last bit of distance to her foe and swung, twisting her body to capitalize on the blow. A battle axe of light materialized in her hands mid-strike, cutting through the air and towards Shud’s left shoulder. Earth’s Chosen demonstrated quick reflexes as he moved to block the blow with his staff. Precious material from the giant’s waist leapt to the pole to enhance its defense. Light collided against gemstones in a dazzling display that induced coos of awe from the crowd. Shots rang out to silence them. Shud had sought to counter the assault, driving force behind his staff to deflect the Light Incarnation away and unbalance Light’s Paragon. The paladin had been turned to Shud when she struck, and as he pushed back against her, she kept her right foot on the ground and pivoted on it. Utilizing the giant’s strength as well as her own momentum, Lucia spun to pirouette around the Paragon of Earth. The Veneration twirled between her hands, the light becoming a blur. With the flurry of motions, most would not perceive the handle of the axe lengthening, transforming it into a makeshift poleax. Once manifested, Light Incarnations could not be changed in shape or form save for their grade of power. However, it was possible to create a second Light Incarnation that built off of the first one’s form. In this instance, Lucia had left a hollow opening at the base of the axe’s handle so the following Veneration could lock into place and serve as an extension. As the rotation brought her to face Elysia, Lucia lashed out with her new weapon in a horizontal strike at the gelding’s chest. The fluid and singular motion of her actions would leave little time to react, and Lucia was depending on the combined confusion provided by Sheriff and her Light Incarnations to catch the rider off-guard.

Starflame13 -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/9/2015 20:17:52)
The battlefield between the three fell briefly silent after the combined challenge of Earth and Energy. Across the arena the rush of water could still be heard, as could taunts from behind them near the pillar of Ice, but they kept their attention on each other, waiting for Lucia’s response. A brief smile had flickered across her face, vanishing before Elysia could decide if it was directed towards herself or Shud, before the Paladin took another step forward to address the mountain man. The Lady’s words halted mid-sentence, however, as movement elsewhere caught her attention. Elysia half-glanced behind her, and blinked in surprise as she saw Dell Wolf silently approaching them. Elysia frowned slightly, shifting in the saddle to alert Blossom to prepare to dash as she took a firmer grip on her glaive. This was not the flashy, friendly man who had cheerfully strutted his way into the center of the arena moments prior. Now, the Wolf had gone silent, his eyes turned hard and cold. Her horse beneath her took a step back, tail coming dangerously close to the electric edge of her pillar, as if to express the rider’s wariness. The champion of Ice circled her and Shud, taking a place just ahead of Lucia as he regarded first Elysia, then Blossom, with an expression frozen by fury. Lucia had seemed to notice the change as well, but accepted the alliance as if she had expected him to come to her aid. Horse and rider tensed, each recognizing the unspoken signal of an attack about to begin. Lucia dove first, low and angled to the side, her words obscured by her partner’s gunshots. As she raced towards Shud, a sudden burst of radiance shone forth as a glowing beam of light appeared and shaped in her hands, taking the form of a battleaxe composed of pure magic which the Lady then guided up towards its intended victim. Elysia had no time to watch that exchange play out, for as soon as Lucia was out of his line of sight, Dell Wolf had drawn two of his weapons, aligning them with himself as if they were natural extensions of his hands and arms. The lighter gun went to his right palm, a single high-pitched shot aimed at Elysia’s ally. At his left, nestled between his elbow and forearm, came a deeper blast, and a cloud of deadly, glittering ice erupted from the shotgun, pointed directly at Blossom. For Elysia, time had slowed as she watched the gunslinger join the paladin. It was rare for rifles and their like to be found across the plains, but had encountered them often enough to know of their deadly speed, comparable to that of lightning itself. She had seen the man fire at Micha earlier, and knew even before she saw the familiarity with which he handled the weapons that she was too near to dodge his marksmanship. She mirrored his motions, raising her glaive in a sweeping circle towards the heavens as he drew his guns. Even as the firearms settled into his hands, lightning cascaded down the blade and around Elysia and Blossom. It formed a crackling web of energy that wrapped around itself until it solidified into a solid globe, her last glimpse of the red sands wiped swiftly away. Energy. Raw, chaotic energy. White-gold lighting raced around her sphere as Elysia gasped in sudden, sharp pain. She had expected fatigue. Holding a globe this size always tired her, but she had never encountered this. This… pulsing stopped the exhaustion, but it made her writhe in torment as her own skin started to heat and spark. Ripples came through on the inner wall of the sphere, multiple strikes from the scattered shots of ice colliding with the energy and melting on impact. With a flick of the glaive, Elysia dismissed the globe, sending the tendrils of energy back up towards the blade. Pain left her body, though it continued to ache dully. With a grimace, she called the last few threads of that white-gold lighting back from her glaive. A fresh wave of agony tore through her, but she managed to hold her concentration as the lightning raced down the shaft of the glaive, through her right arm and across her shoulders, forming a crackling javelin in her off-hand. With a strong twist of wrist and shoulder, a motion that made her muscles scream, she launched the bolt at Delf Wolf. It sped snapping through the air, aimed directly at his chest, and hungry for that gleaming badge of metal he wore pinned over his heart. Shaky as her arms were, the bolt sung true enough to hopefully lock onto that or one of the guns he held strapped on his person. A strike would cause the lightning to arc through his body, seeking any metal from his spurs to his pin. Kicking Blossom hard in the flank, the horse leapt towards the side, skidding slightly and leaving furrows in the sand as he carried Elysia around her pillar, putting a shield between herself and the fighters and giving herself a moment’s respite. She saw Lucia turn towards where she had been standing, striking with her gleaming weapon that had somehow turned itself into a poleaxe, and gripped the saddle horn tightly as she dug her heels into Blossom’s sides. The horse strained and lunged forward, passing out of range just slowly enough for the light weapon to slice the end of his streaming tail off behind him. Elysia winced, despite knowing the damage was superficial, and curled up slightly in the saddle, shivering and feeling feverish, as she ran a hand across her forehead to brush away the sweat. Blossom’s slowed to a trot as they moved around the Energy pillar, white-gold with lightning and moving more rapidly than it had been upon her entrance to the arena. Realization struck her. The energy sphere, as it had expanded, had connected with her pillar. Elysia could survive a normal lightning bolt, but whatever that thing had sent through her magic would kill her if she had to experience that amount of suffering again. Never again, she thought, her body aching dully in agreement. Still, it had left her sore and feverish rather than drained of power, so with a mental shrug, she steeled herself to fight through her discomfort. Urging Blossom into a lope as they rounded the pillar, she came back in sight of the brawl. With a war cry that made her sound more determined than she felt, Elysia angled Blossom around Shud’s other side, preparing to send the war horse into a charge at the first available opening towards either Lucia or the Wolf.

Kellehendros -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/10/2015 0:37:29)
Micha’s persiflage appeared to gain no more traction upon the actions of the Chosen of Ice than Dell’s barb had with her. His refusal to leave the shadow of his Pillar was irksome. The Kissa was about to take back the initiative in the duel by turning and hurling her reclaimed bola at the man, perhaps forcing him into the spiny collection of frigid thorns and vines about the Pillar of Ice, when the popinjay abruptly turned and walked with a slow, purposeful stride in the direction of Shud, Elysia, and Lucia. Turning slightly, the Enkeli kept Dell in sight, bola twirling. For a second, her ears swiveled back towards the Paragons of Water and Dark, catching the sound of their clash beginning. John and Zane seemed well occupied with one another for now. One ear twitched in the direction of SONAR. The only sound from the towering thing that Micha’s keen hearing was able to detect was the fluttering of its cape in the eddies of wind off the Pillar behind it. For some reason the hulking metal being seemed disinterested in the combat spreading through the Arena. Perhaps SONAR was simply biding its time, looking for exactly the right opportunity to strike. There was no way for her to be certain. What Micha was certain of, however, was that she had no intention of going anywhere near the statue-still Chosen of Wind until there was no other choice. Amber eyes flickered back to Dell as the man trudged his way to the side of the Paragon of Light and squared off against Earth and Energy. The Enkeli considered the quartet for a silent moment. Dell, suddenly sober and chill as the element for which he did battle. His hands were empty, but the Kissa knew they could be full in a moment. Shud, uncouth of speech, abrasive of manner, and if what Micha had seen was typical, rough as his elemental allegiance. His magic was locked away within the glittering gemstones girding his waist. Lucia, who spoke of high honor and bore chains of gold whose glitter gave off flashes of the element she was sworn to serve. The links had the appearance of gold, but they were not. The Enkeli saw them for what they were: chains of magic. Links of scintillant light curled over and over on themselves, infinite loops brilliant as staring into the sun itself. Elysia, tall and proud atop her steed, quick and deadly as her element. Her polearm was poised, and Micha could readily imagine the blue-white weaving of the lightning caller’s magic gathering about it, even if she was not casting just now. It was an interesting tableau, a breathless moment before a storm of hostility burst the dam of posture and passivity to engulf the Arena in combat. As though the very thought was a spark set to tinder, the quartet exploded into a swirl of motion. Micha herself was not exempt, for it had occurred to her that she might not be the only one watching the four Paragons gathered near the Pillar of Energy. The Kissa whipped around, her right arm flashing out and releasing the bola. The popinjay’s odd weapons spoke. Micha’s missile hummed over the sands. Lucia dashed at Shud, a battleaxe of golden light appearing in her hands. Stone and leather whipped end over end. Magic flared behind the Enkeli, strong enough that its tendrils reached out along the edges of her vision as she finished her turn towards the massive metal construct. SONAR finally seemed to notice the bola. The Paragon of Wind shifted with ponderous slowness, as though its long moments of inactivity had made movement somehow difficult. Leather met metal with a rasping hiss, the bola contacting the construct perfectly about the knees as it began to take what seemed a shuffling step to one side. Pulled by the momentum of the throw about their point of impact, the heavy weight stones whistled around SONAR’s limbs, the smaller snaring line whipping swiftly about them and binding them tighter. Wind’s Chosen was large, but that size was just as much of a disadvantage as an advantage. Micha had little doubt that the construct could have lifted her in its hands and simply torn her into her constituent pieces. Here, however, that bulk worked against SONAR. Bound at the knees, the massive metal monster had no way to balance itself, though for a comical moment it tried. Arms waving and windmilling, the construct attempted to steady its position. The endeavor was futile, however, and in the end the Paragon of Wind fell victim to the inevitability of gravity. SONAR fell; its heavy mass and large frame only increased the force of impact as it dropped to the sands with a weighty thump that raised an impressive blast of carmine sand into a cloud above it. That cloud was swiftly incorporated into the Pillar of Wind itself, for the unfortunate construct had fallen directly into the heart of that structure. The Pillar seemed to shriek, as though the intrusion of any, even Wind’s own Chosen, into that space was a transgression beyond the pale. Perhaps it was, for the playful zephyrs making up the Pillar of Wind’s sand-laden currents seemed to shiver, and then bear down upon the construct. The metal of its making was hardy and enduring, but it bent before the fury of that gale, pitting and eroding beneath the hailstorm force of the granules grinding against it. That alone would have killed any other competitor but perhaps for Shud outright, flensing the unfortunate victim down to bone in seconds. Such a fate was suffered by the construct’s cape, which was ripped from its shoulders and shredded in an instant, but SONAR was made of sterner stuff, and had no weak exposed flesh for the wind to gnaw and feast upon. The wind seemed not to mind the challenge. It tore and wrenched and worked its way over every crevice of the construct. Finding its insidious way into the inner workings, the fierce streams of air clogged SONAR’s innards with sand, pitting and scarring the delicate inner mechanisms that gave the Paragon of Wind its mechanical life.. A sudden, deep bwooong echoed throughout the Arena as the construct’s main chest piece gave way; straps, cogwork, and retention clips failed, unable to withstand the fury of the wind as minuscule grains of grit worked deeper into the Paragon of Wind and wore away at its component pieces. The wind seemed, to the astonished Enkeli’s eyes, to rush into the breach created by the removal of the chest plate, slamming SONAR’s frame down into the yielding sand. Wind’s Chosen convulsed, powerful limbs twitching uselessly beneath the smothering power of Wind Itself. Rivets popped, hissing out of the gale like slingstones and ricocheting off the wall of the Arena nearby. Joints and plates screamed in protest, even as the hurricane-flung sand continued to erode their integrity. In the end the construct, what was left of it, simply came apart. SONAR was torn down into scrap metal and component pieces by the very Pillar representing the force that had chosen it to represent. Micha swallowed reflexively, making a note to herself to stay well away from the Pillars for the rest of the battle. The Enkeli turned away from the ruin that had once been the Paragon of Wind, reflexively muttering a benediction under her breath. “Montal judge you justly, SONAR.” She looked towards the other Paragons. Unlike her engagement with Dell, this fight had been swift and decisive. It was time to find a new opponent.

Tdub -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/10/2015 13:31:27)
Closing in. Fast strike, fast kill, next fight. Easy as that. Of course, such a strategy could only possibly work once, if it even worked at all. Zane's early kill in the Twilight Arena was obviously the exception, rather than the rule, in the Elemental Championships. Zane had a brief flashback to the man in the first phase of the competition, who had managed to demonstrate the very definition of unprepared. The assassin knew he would not find such easy targets in the final stage. Because of this, he was unsurprised when his chosen target noticed his approach, throwing some sort of small object that created more smoke or gas than should have been possible. The fog obstructed his vision of John, meaning that Zane was unable to see if his ranged assault had been successful. Unable to stop his forward motion, the assassin dropped into a roll, entering the gas with the intention of exiting the other side as soon as possible. Moments after he had landed on the ground, creating a cloud of sand that wormed its way into his clothing, he was unable to see at all. He continued his roll, feeling whatever the smoke was composed of as a minor stinging pain in his eyes. He was careful not to breathe, still unsure of the danger that the smoke posed to him. It was then that he discovered the true purpose of the cloud. As he prepared to rise and spring out of the strange smoke, he heard the sound of water rushing overhead. Small droplets landed on his head, and Zane could only imagine what would have happened if he had crashed head-on into the sideways deluge. The assassin stopped his roll, crouching down in the middle of the fog, allowing himself a brief moment to consider his options. However, he quickly realized that there were no options to consider, and no time to consider them in. His opponent stood just a few feet away, with the entire might of Water at his disposal. Obviously, John intended to keep his opponent away from him, fighting long-range. Well, that doesn't work for me. Leaping up, Zane exploded out of the fog, daggers fully prepared to strike. He sprinted as fast as he could, hoping that he would close the short distance before the Paragon of Water had time to react. He had no time to see if John would react, however, as he had only just ensured that the strange man was still standing where he had been before. In moments, he was upon his foe, and he made a steep lunge, aiming to drive his right dagger into John's midsection. He was gliding, his feet no longer touching the ground. It was a risky, stupid maneuver. If his opponent simply leapt out of the way, Zane would crash down onto the sands for the second time in just a few seconds. But he was ready. If he hit the ground, he could be up in a moment. And then he would be up close and personal with his foe, which was exactly where John did not want him to be. Was the Paragon of Water as proficient at melee combat as he was at long range magic? Zane couldn't wait to find out.

Ultrapowerpie -> RE: =EC 2015= Grand Finals (9/10/2015 17:28:02)
John could, and had practiced the art of close range combat. He was ok with it, not great, but he knew how to use his mop like a combat staff (handy since it was made out of reinforced medal and could block normal blades and other stuff. Heck, with MOP he didn't really need to actually be proficient with stabbitng or thwacking people, just get the MOP near someone's face and let it try to suck out the liquids from his foes. His biggest issue was, of course, his far sightedness. He could indeed fight and tell objects in general, but it was all fuzzy so details were an issue. These thoughts came to John's mind, as well as others. This guy has got o be the worst assassin.... ever. Seriously, wearing all black in arenas that are open in the noon day sun? And no ranged attacks.... well except that one possible darkray thing that I didn't see but is probably there.... Oh come on a lunge? John had been watching the smoke cloud intently, waiting for the next move, and he saw his opponent laping out of the fog. It was somewhat predictable, as John was familiar enough with dagers to know general moves in trying to get close, which was something John did not want at all. Instictively leaping sideways, John threw the soap down in the spot where he was and streamed the water out of the bucket onto the soap. The goal was simple: a very wet, slippery segment of water that would cause his opponent's momentum to carry forward and hopefully into the dirt face first. Not one to let a missed oppritunity slip, John stuck his MOP in the sand temporarily to use his other hand to grab one of his Sponge-Bolas and toss it at his foe. He hoped that the bolas would succeed in wrapping around his foes legs/body (somewhere) and keep the foe pinned long enough to move in for a MOP kill.

Page: [1] 2 3 next > >>

Forum Software © ASPPlayground.NET Advanced Edition

0.2969971