RE: =EC 2021= Factory Arena

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Meepsie -> RE: =EC 2021= Factory Arena (8/11/2021 14:15:22)
The shock resonating through Aurics’ gauntlet did not damage the young man as much as it did surprise him- being blown back, especially in his armored state, was certainly something he did not expect. Where did Krehgor pull that knife from? And what kind of enchantment was that? Even the finest enchanters Auric knew would not have been able to pull a blessing like that off- otherwise, he’d certainly have added it on top of everything else imbued into his robes. He would have to visit the mercenary later and swap supplier information… assuming both of them made it out of the arena alive. Then again, if he was so quick to reject Auric’s debt question, there wouldn’t be a snowball’s chance in the middle of a volcano that Krehgor would divulge that information. The wealthy warrior couldn’t blame him,though, for rejecting both that idea and his last one.. When a member of a bloodline known for their infamous greed and underhanded behavior comes offering funds, people were bound to be suspicious of their goals. It would only stand to reason that the mercenary thought he had something planned in exchange for the payment as well. Admittedly, there was probably also a better time to make his generous offer than at the same time he was attempting to crush the mercenary's ribcage. But it had been the first time during this fight that Auric was in control, and if he didn’t make the offer at that moment, he may never have had the chance to do so again. Oh, well. That’s what he got for trying to be polite, Auric reasoned. Perhaps he would pay it off anyways later out of respect for his opponent? He’d have to come back to that idea during a moment when he wasn’t fighting for his life. Quickly recovering from the shock of both the counter and Krehgor’s rejection, he stretched out his hand, firing another barrage of coins towards his target- this one larger than his previous two- while also curling his fingers, willing the piles of gold behind the myconic musketeer to strike upwards at the back of his knees and neck. Perhaps his opponent was right- that this entire battle was nothing but a gambling game, and his opponent had a lucky hand that round. But luck has a tendency to change when it comes to games- and Auric had the money to keep playing until it did.

TripleChaos -> RE: =EC 2021= Factory Arena (8/12/2021 21:07:25)
Darvey stood as he watched the poor fellow soar into the air. It hadn’t been much, but the momentary grip the shadow arm had on him was enough to make him rise to alarming heights. Or would it be better to say he had stopped falling with the rest of us on the platform? However it was worded, the bright-eyed man would need more than a flashy stunt to survive. The same thought must have crossed their mind, as the collar of flames around their neck was extinguished. Dropping half the sash and kicking against the wall, they began to spin in the air, and none too gracefully at that. With the way they curled their body, Darvey guessed they were preparing to land rolling. The best course of action for trying to not break every bone in your legs, though he couldn’t say he had seen anyone just get up after falling from so high. He had given it an ounce of concern, but the end of the sash that had been released didn’t seem to have any intention behind its motion as it fell with its wielder. As they approached the platform, they executed an impressive roll half a dozen paces away from Darvey, touching down with legs outstretched and turning onto their shoulder to mitigate the force of the fall. Well performed as it might have been, it was no gentle landing. Darvey heard what sounded like bones cracking as they continued to tumble, rolling a few more times before managing to catch the ground with the arm opposite to the one they landed on. Darvey took a leisurely step towards his nearly-finished adversary, noting how they choked for air as they crouched on the arena floor, appreciating the relative stillness of the falling platform. A well placed strike with the staff would be enough to take care of this competitor, Darvey thought as he grew closer. After that I can take a moment to properly look at the chaos unfolding in the rest of the arena– In the middle of his stride, the bright-eyed foe moved once again. For a brief moment Darvey’s eyes were filled with countless colors, spanning hues both familiar and alien, before his eyes hid themselves to avoid being overwhelmed at the sight of the spectacle. Realizing he had made an opening, he forced his eyes to open against their instincts only to meet the brilliant gaze of his opponent. They had started to rise on their feet and had a glint in their eyes, a similar look to the one they had before they were flung into the air. Without more than an instant to react, Darvey tried to jump to his right. He had only just moved before a searing pain filled the entire leg he had lept from. His eyes were still stunned from the display of light, but something had struck his left thigh as he tried to dodge. Forced to steady himself with his staff, Darvey managed to avoid falling over as he stumbled to the side. The damaged leg refused to hold his weight, agony coursing through the entire limb. He couldn’t tell if it was the pain or if something had been broken, but he wouldn’t be moving easily for a while regardless. Wishing his hood was over his head to hide the pain drawn on his face, Darvey tried holding his staff to defend and to support his weight, but struggled to stand on one leg. He wasn’t hiding well how he was forced to lean on his staff, and could only hope that his opponent couldn’t seize that opportunity. Leave it to my own pride to be the reason I take a hit like that. A great gladiator, I make.

Dragonknight315 -> RE: =EC 2021= Factory Arena (8/12/2021 22:03:58)
“I’ve got you!” At first, he was descending. Albus swung down towards the angel, the spike hissing as it tore through the air. The thought of leaving a hole in both the angel's armor and its self-righteous ego made the lion's heart race. He could feel the predator yearning in his blood. But as the chimeran swung down, the angel would not be so easily put down. It rushed to the left with a blur, almost like it was dancing. Then, it spoke: “Let us see which of us falters first.” The lightspawn lifted his hands, and a wave of silvery-blue fire rushed to meet Albus’s side. As the heat rolled over his fur and across his back, Albus gasped; in that instant, it was as if he was being boiled alive. What followed was utter chaos. Streaks of blue light rippled across Albus’s body before igniting, shattering into a thick cloud of burning cerulean dust. A deafening hum filled as if the machine came to life, only to suddenly peek and go silent. The alchemist’s eyes filled with tears from the heat and the smoke. Albus crashed against the factory walls. His arms buckled, taking the brunt of the impact. His eyes snapped shut as Albus felt his nose smash against the metal, his warhammer pressing against his chest. His legs came after, swinging into a wall with a thud. It pushed back against him, and Albus was thrown in a backwards arc, leaving a red smear where he once was. Then, he began to fall. Albus was spinning. At first, it was slow. One spin, two spins, then faster and faster at a dizzying pace, blood rushing back and forth, all the while as the floor made its descent. He was gaining speed; his eyes shut, he could not see the copper floor growing ever closer until at last, all that built up momentum ceased in an instant. Unable to see, unable to brace for impact. Albus roared in pain as he landed on his stomach, the copper folding ever so slightly from his impact. His hammer dug into the floor, bouncing a few times before settling next to the chimera. As Albus opened his eyes, the whole world was hazy, out of focus, washed over with blood and tears. His head was filled with such terrible ringing. . . “Luka—” The alchemist raled as he gathered his being. His whole body was in pain as if the angel had seared his nerves. No doubt he had fractured some bones, especially in his chest. He lurched to his left and the smell hit him like another blow; he did not even need to see it to know. Burnt flesh and fur, as if an explosion had gone off next to him. “Not again—” His mind was thrown back to that day, an old nightmare filling his mind. He could feel the shrapnel in his left arm, the smell of smoke as the building collapsed around him. Every fiber of his being told him this was it. He was going to die here; if wanted to survive, he needed to forfeit. Get to a doctor. Run. Run away. Now. “But the boy, Luka. He needs me!” Albus reached out, fumbling in the dark until he brushed against his warhammer, resolve granting him one last stand. With all his strength, the old soldier pressed it against the ground, slowly pushing himself to his feet. As he rose, he staggered forward, pain filling his whole torso and his right arm as he leaned on his warhammer. His robe and backpack were half-scorched black from the fire. Red blood mixed with gold as he brushed the shards of glass off of his side. No more vials. No shield to save him. Albus could feel his ribs ache as he cried out to the angel. “I. Will. Not. Fall! Not here, not now!”

Necro-Knight -> RE: =EC 2021= Factory Arena (8/13/2021 16:13:10)
No witty retort. No sly offering of gold and endless riches. His opponent was silent, which Krehgor would’ve normally been irritated by but he was done talking to this man with coin where his brain should be. He’d talked one way and behaved another, meaning the gunslinger couldn’t trust a word out of his mouth. Scowling beneath the brim of his hat, he frowned. If it was one thing that he couldn’t stand, it was someone who thought wealth gave them any excuse they could ever need. This gilded fool had tried to kill him numerous times now and had only just realized Krehgor couldn’t be bought out by his would-be murderer. Guess all that gold couldn’t buy sense. Keeping his eyes on his foe, Krehgor still noticed the now-familiar glint of another onslaught of coin forming not towards just his upper torso, but whipping around behind him. If the fight continued, he wouldn’t be able to get near the man without being force-fed a whole city’s income. Swearing with a few new words he’d picked up the night before, the gunslinger dropped back down to one knee and wrapped his coat forward in front of his face with his mutated arm, adding another layer of protection as best he could. The impact came moments later, the coins pelting against his duster like gorgeous little stones before finally overpowering the enchanted barrier, its limit reached. The magical barrier shattered with a sound like breaking glass and he grit his teeth against pain. It was a familiar sense to when he’d triggered a dart trap once and had managed to use his coat in a similar way to avoid being skewered alive. The frontal attack hit his raised coat in a similar fashion, but with the additional layer of his chitin-coated arm, he hardly felt the second attempt at ending his existence. As the last few coins bruised his back and legs, Krehgor slid his knife back into its sheath with his armored hand and withdrew the second chamber of infectious thorn rounds from his belt. His foe’s rich armor would surely survive any rounds he shot at it, but there was more than one way to deliver a pathogen. Fully standing from his crouching position, the gunslinger used every string of muscle in his enhanced limb to propel the second, round-filled chamber towards his foe. When the twisted, black cylinder reached the apex of its arc over the man’s head, Krehgor continued the motion of his left arm and levelled his right, making sure to give the spectator’s a grin as he pulled the trigger of his beloved weapon one more time. The glowing, emerald spike of solidified fungal material erupted from the barrel of the SporeShot and travelled the short distance between them, before impacting its spare ammunition chamber. As Krehgor predicted, the chamber was never designed to withstand such force and shattered upon being impacted with the shot, expelling its contents in a cloud of black shrapnel and vile green spores. The sound of his weapon still echoing around the arena like thunder, Krehgor roared at the top of his lungs, to his audience and enemy both. He didn’t need gilded armor or jewels strapped to his form to be the spotlight and it was time everyone saw that. “Ya better gather up that coin, brother, ‘cause yer gonna need it to pay off your healers, haha!”

deathlord45 -> RE: =EC 2021= Factory Arena (8/13/2021 23:17:35)
In a different setting the leonine one sprawled out in such a farcical manner before them would have brought Lukhan a good chuckle or two at the creature’s expense. Left hand hanging limp at their side the Dawnlight brought their right hand up aiming at the hybrid pain compounding onto itself as the hand burnt and cracked once more. Don’t worry you pathetic pitiful creature. I shall win great bout and have the chroniclers put you down as an important footnote The screech of metal on metal as the hybrid beast forced itself back onto two feet, haggard and beaten but not broken. The Dawnlight smiled at the defiant pride that forced the hybrid to continue to stand even against one so far above them. “I. Will. Not. Fall! Not here, not now!” Lukhan could feel their vessel creak and groan in protest to them having grasped the solid bar of light that had formed from their right hand’s grip with their left. Cracks lengthened and deepened, their left hand felt slick against the spear of light pouring all the chances and power into this attack. All the Dawnlight felt was pain as they closed and took a deep breath to steady themself to set aside the agony they were in. What had been the solid gold light of the spear before was mixed with a bluish white light. If you want something dead you do it yourself. No more dealing with eternal descent. I shall drive this home or fall. “Right burns, Left sears, This shall be our judgement.” Sound vanished as Lukhan the Dawnlight surged forth to deliver death to either themself or the leonine creature, or perhaps fate shall cast both aside. The question no longer mattered as there was only judgement now. Judgement of resolve, judgement of worth, judgement of the self.

Ronin Of Dreams -> RE: =EC 2021= Factory Arena (8/14/2021 19:33:40)
An incessantly persistent percussion of pulsing pain amplified the pressure pounding in Con’s poor pate as he pushed off and away from the cool copper floor. Yet it lacked the basso back-beat of throbbing heartbeats, an aspect he was thankful for in the moment, given his heart was a turbine spooled up to maximum under the biochemical bliss of adrenaline. Though his perception still far outstripped his speed of muscular motion, faster still had been the Firebolt itself, as its psychokinetic force bridged the bare gap between himself and Darvey in practically the blink of an eye. But he must have given something away in those last moments, as the bolt had not struck true to his original aim. Darvey had managed, by prudent perception, raw reflex, or a sage sixth sense, to shift and sway in the beginnings of a dodge to take the blow square on the front of one thigh. While potentially debilitating, it was a far cry from the incapacitating strike Connen-Nuete had desired. Further still from the absolute elimination of the threat he had needed. Even with the strike having landed, it reinforced an instinctual awareness that Darvey had consistently been out-foxing the F.E.R.R.E.T., out-conning the Con. And that just wouldn’t do. The information washed over currents of logic to pool within instinct, guiding those first precious moments of momentum at an angle favoring Darvey’s now injured side. Con suppressed the staccato spasms of a protesting cough from deep within his chest, even as he bit back on the flood of foully sweet metallic tastes of blood-oil coating his tongue. Rivulets escaped from between his lips, leaving iridescent slicks of his very inhuman life essence as Con grinned madly in the moment. ’He’s just like Da…’ though his father hadn’t been out for his head in their duel. Still, Darvey was pushing all his buttons, forcing the ferretine fellow to forgo frolic and fun in favor of his core strength. Focus. He possessed neither the overwhelming might of a decades-refined mind like his father, nor the seemingly boundless depths of willpower of his elder brother. A prime potency Talo-Toecan apparently shared with their mother, at that. Rather, for Connen-Nuete, it was the ability to ably split his focus along multi-threaded motives at the same time with minimal sacrifice. That was how he had met his father’s lash and won the duel not even a fortnight prior. And that was the strength he drew upon now. As great booms and titanic crashes echoed from the other duels of the arena, Con’s mind shifted into an even higher gear. Tendrils of telepathic strength choked down on the continued press of his own pain response, muffling it down into a dulled roar. Psionic commands ripped at the precious heat he had left, tearing it loose from static convection and breaking it free from orichalcum reserves. Pushed and motivated into a current flow, split into a greater and lesser path; the latter rising up to his shoulder to refine into a new Firebolt made more obvious than the last, replete with dancing flames. Go on, watch the shiny... All while the former rippled out and down, threads of heat flow coiling and tightening around his right arm, descending towards his hand. Much like water and electricity, the current strengthened and spun faster as the threads met at confluences amidst the convective push, merged into a single unified mass of fuel in his palm. Held psychic-tight as naught but a haze, denied the luxury of combusting into flame; prepared to show Darvey that he was too hot to handle in a last-ditch effort of cooking the man inside out, if only he could connect. Connen-Nuete had taken perhaps a half dozen steps before he curled his toes and halted his circling momentum to turn and close in on Darvey. His cloaked foe hadn’t fallen, and in fact had brought his stave into position to guard against the youth, but no matter. Betting it all was never an ideal move, but Con was confident it was his best bet all the same. Giving his opponent the headache of a choice: focus on Con’s body for the physical strike, address the threat of a new Firebolt, or split their focus between the two. It all came down to one precious moment. A moment of a single, last breath. A moment of zhen jiao, the charging step. A moment of a Firebolt’s flickering high-line feint that could only connect and punish a dodge towards Con’s left. A moment of twisting hips and accelerating tensions that brought his right palm up and out while his left arm continued to hang slack-dead. A moment that dragged through the mud of an adrenaline soaked mind, lasting far too long until it seemed no more than A Moment Frozen in Time.

Meepsie -> RE: =EC 2021= Factory Arena (8/14/2021 20:50:11)
While the young man would have loved to continue their banter, the pattern on display was all too clear. No matter what Auric did, or what he said, his opponent would never see things in the way he intended them to be seen. There was nothing wrong with that, of course- it wouldn’t be the first time someone had spoken to him like this- but for some reason it stung more in the arena than it ever had before. In spite of this, Auric kept his composure… at least for the moment. After all, while it was true that he was a vain and pompous man, he was also a clever one. A slight shine near the center of the battlefield told the young caster that his stoicism had paid off, and his foe had not yet noticed the other surprise Auric had in store for him. The last of the coins that rushed by Krehgor had found their target. A small swirling mass was circling around a hard thorn- the same thorn he had kicked earlier- and lifting it into the air. Auric was hoping to use it if anyone else dared to interfere, but now seemed as good of a time as ever. A quick raise of his finger and coins underneath the thorn lifted, preparing to fling it into Krehgor’s neck. Just as Auric began to direct the thorn, he was quickly struck by a whirlwind of spores and stings- Krehgor has shot something directly above him- probably a container of that fungus. Well, that was certainly one way to spread whatever virus Krehgor intended on giving out. Even through all of his protection, he could feel the airborne spores entering his body. Auric wasn’t sure what exactly the virus would do to him.. but he had other things to worry about. The timer was almost up. It was now or never- and whatever he would feel in these next few minutes, he had to power through it. It was not humiliation he was afraid of. It was losing the chance to finally do something good in his life… especially to someone who could not hope to understand his intentions. He would NOT be rendered powerless again. Not now, and not to a person like this. It would seem that there was no way around it after all. There’s no chance he could keep up the pressure for much longer, Auric thought, and he had to do something- anything- before the fungus took hold. If he was going to go down, he would do so swinging. Watching his opponent roar in triumph and laugh.. It lit a fire in him he hadn’t felt in a long time. While Auric was lost in his thoughts of disappointing his fans and friends, he was jarred back to reality by Krehgor’s words: “Ya better gather up that coin, brother, ‘cause yer gonna need it to pay off your healers, haha!” Enough was enough. He had played around for too long. Auric’s eyes suddenly turned cold, a serious look crossing his face. It appeared that he would need to go full throttle if he ever had a chance of accomplishing his goal. The mercenary certainly had a better technique than him, but when it came to resources, it was all against none. Victory in combat often goes to those who prepare the best for it- and hopefully, Auric’s preparations were about to pay off. “Gather? If you insist.” A swelling from underneath his robe signaled his final attack as an outpouring of sharp jewels launched out of his attire, directly towards his foe. Auric then followed up with a vicious charge at his taunting opponent, slamming his swelling gilded armor, fueled further and further with gold infusions as fast as he could create coins, into the hybrid’s body. A loud clang rang throughout the battlefield as he crashed into Krehgor with the force of a mammoth, pinning his arms under the ever-increasing weight of his golden shields. Auric maintained his steely glare as he commanded his jewels towards his foes’ open spots- into his eyes, nose, and throat. The thorn, too, was aimed carefully- directly to the top of Krehgor’s head. Was it going a little too far? Sure. And maybe it was true. Maybe he was a monster if he was willing to do all this just to accomplish his goal. But perhaps…. some things were worth becoming a monster for.

Starflame13 -> RE: =EC 2021= Factory Arena (8/15/2021 0:01:18)
Amidst the harsh screeches of metal upon stone, light dimmed. The plummeting platform slowed, grinding its way to a juddering halt. It hung in balance for just a moment; the last traces of yellow glare reaching out enough to illuminate the final moments of the melee. Copper panels rushed by as the floor hurtled upwards, the speed of its upsurge impossibly surpassing that of the prior drop. Sunlight grew bright and blinding as the competitors careened skyward, their bodies pinned to the floor with the sheer force of acceleration driving them onwards until naught could be moved, could be sensed, could be known but the press of air bearing down upon them. Rapid ascension ceased with a sudden jolt, leaving those lying upon the floor gasping, almost convulsing, with the sudden return of gravity’s normalcy. Motes of dust filtered down through rays of noon as the gears slowly ground to a stop, the arena now level with the iron doorways to safety. But such an escape was not for everyone, as several competitors had vanished from Factory during the tumultion. The Paragons were chosen; the fight for Champion was at hand. Stillness fell upon the Trial of Descent.

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