=EC= Fountain Arena

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DWeird -> =EC= Fountain Arena (8/24/2006 10:29:38)
((~ Read the OOC and register before making any posts! ~)) It has been a long year since the last Elemental Championship, but the Championship Arena Complex did not show signs of age, but rather on the contrary - it grew, and along with it, just a hill and a spring with a weary wooden bridge over it away, grew the township of Bren. The vicinity of the Arena has done it much good - apart from the great crowds -- and thusly business -- it brought it during the Championship itself, just the presence of such a building carried the township's name far over the lands. There came adventurers of many sorts, and the two inns of Bren were never short of business, there came priests of the Elemental Lords, building shrines and churches and granting it divine protection not from one, but from all the Lords, and there came many, many artisans to build the three new Arenas around the old one, which, as sizeable as it may have been, was getting far too small for the year-by-year increasing numbers of competitors. The would-be combatants, either just arriving, or having taken a night's rest either at an inn or at the small camp of tents at the base of the Arena hill, would get to see the artisans' handiwork soon enough, right after the priests and mages within them finish their last checks on the protective barriers and image transportation enchantements for the gathered crowds. ~~~ ...and finally, the gates were opening, and the spellweavers leaving, bowing sligthly to the contestants already gathered as they did, wishing luck to their own favorites. The Fountain Arena was open. This arena was build alongside of a hill, with the great gates that just have opened at the base of it. There was anothere gate visible atop of the hill, veiled by a half-circle of gentle fountains, sprouting up from bases heavilly ornamented, with some obscure runic insignia also chisseled into it. That half circe is broken at the middle, with great white marble stairs coming down from the fountain-bound stone platform above to the grassy ground at their base. Along the sides of the equally grassy hillside, there were three rows of young trees of some indiscernable breed, with six trees in every row - three at one side of the stairs and three at the other. The leaves of the trees at the sides brushed against the high and sturdy grey walls of the arena - one could just barely hear the hum of an anxious crowd beyond it. The air was full of soothing aromas - those of grass, the trees, rich soil and the damp coolness of the fountains on top... But there was no time to enjoy any of that, as the air was soon to be full of but one smell - that of drying blood. Under a summer sun and a shimmering magic veil, the fight was to begin at the Fountain Arena!

Kellehendros -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/24/2006 15:25:44)
The wizard was completely enveloped in soft black cloth, his robes covering him completely, his hood up, shading his face from view. It was as if he was at oneness with his name, a shadow come to life. The spellweavers moved along the entrance corridor, vacating the way to the Arena itself. Shadow ignored them as they bowed their way past the group of combatants gathered to compete for places in the finals of the prestigous Elemental Championship. One stopped to wish the Ice wizard luck in his endovers this day. The hood moved slightly, as shaded eyes swept over him, and the spellweaver shivered slightly, hurrying along, not so certain of his choice now. When he had looked into the hood, he had seen nothing, as though it were merely a piece of fabric draped over nothing but solidified air. Shadow chuckled, his voice whispering through the hood softly, like a chill breeze over the snow on a winter morn, the air about his hood steamed as he exhaled, his breath colder then the air around him. "Fool, I need no luck." With that, the Ice wizard cast a last look at the sorry lot of imbiciles that he was to destroy today, and strode through the entrance into the Fountain Arena. A shiver of anticipation ran through both the wizard and the crowd, as the first of the contenders entered, soon the greatest Championship this side of the globe would begin. The wizard's unseen, but very corpreal, hands clenched once, quickly, as he strode down the path, moving quickly between the trees. He wanted to put some distance between himself and the others before they entered. Unseen eyes roved over the area, the fountains, yes, those would do nicely. "Too much water," he murmured, an invisible smile spreading across his face, "we shall remedy that presently." Shadow didn't really dislike that much water, it had its uses, but it was best for making Ice, and that was what he needed now. The Ice wizard quickly ascended the stairs, a light frost forming on the marble steps as he tapped into the well of power deep inside himself. Power filled him, some of it leaking out to affect the area around him, and lowering the ambient tempurature near him. Shadow stopped at the top of the stairs, he had a sort of tactical advantage here, opponents would have to approach from the bottom of the stairs. Next to him, the fountain gurguled happily, spraying water about, unmindful of the coming bloodshed. Excellent for the purposes of his spell castings. The water spray from the fountains nearby misted into the air, and upon contact with the deepening cold around Shadow, turned to a light snow, so that he seemed to be in a mini-snowshower. The Ice wizard smiled again, and crossing his arms over his chest, turned to face the others as they entered, focusing his power for his first spell, a wintery blast of freezing air, lowering the air tempurature around him, so that the damp patches of stone turned slick and shiny with glare ice. That done, Shadow relaxed and did what he was best at, watch, and wait...

The Extinguisher -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/24/2006 21:31:13)
The air was filled with the scent of anxiety, and it was quite obvious that nervousness hung over many contestants. As the arena was filled, the more powerful combatants began to learn of their surroundings. There we’re even a few already manipulating the environment to give them the advantage. The young knight took no notice to now cooled air, casting a small warming spell to keep his body temperature normal. He walked up the stairs, to the raised platform. It was very apparent it was iced over, but with careful caution, Axel managed to find a perfect spot near the gates. He melted a small portion of the ice, just enough so he could move around, and set down his bag. After removing a small shield from his pack, he kicked it aside, muttering something close about excessive baggage. After equipping his shield, another warmth spell was cast, to protect it from glazing over, which would rend it useless. This was the crucial step. He needed to charge his sword, and receive the Fire Lord’s blessing. Axel un-sheathed his sword, and laid it down on the platform. After performing the necessary preparations, he created a tiny spark, which was used to ignite a small token of appreciation to his god. He muttered a few lines, and soon, the sword began to light ablaze, absorbing the ash from his ritual. Picking it up, Axel readied for battle. “I’ll wait it out,” he muttered, quietly, and to himself, “I’ll see who’s foolish enough to make the first move”

demonhunter -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/25/2006 4:04:21)
Under the trees, a meditating figure was easily visible. His ashen-grey garb and shoulder length brown hair, tied back in the traditional club of a Cassiline Brother, were, on the whole, unremarkable. His eyes were brown, though none could see that, as they were currently closed. At his side lay a steel longsword. unadorned, it was made for killing, not to look pretty for some pompous nobleman. Slung low at his hips, a pair of daggers of the same design. These were his primary weapons. The Cassiline's vowed never to draw their sword, unless they had intent to kill. The man's name was Bernard Verruil, and he was a fairly young member of the Cassiline Brotherhood, a group of warrior-priests from another land. Whilst his people knew of the Elemental Lords, and some even worshipped them, the majority of his homeland worshipped a different pantheon of gods and goddesses. The Brotherhood were founded by Cassiel, otherwise known as the Perfect Companian. Those who joined the ranks of the Brotherhood strove to match his example as best they could, despite their mortality. Their lives were harsh. They forswore carnal pleasure, and took an oath of obediance to whomever they were required to guard. Their primary vow, however, was to protect and serve: The Cassilines were elite bodyguards. More serving than protecting was Bernard's task at the moment, and he wasn't too happy about that. The Prefect had commanded him to travel these lands, and had stressed that should he, by some twist of fate, find himself in a position that would allow him to participate in the Elemental Championships, he take it, serving Cassiel and the Fire lord, who, it was said, had close ties to each other. Well, he was here. No choice now but to follow orders. His hand stretched out to pick up his sword, and he stood up, without so much as opening his eyes. He swung the blade over his shoulder and pulled the strap tight, to hold the scabbard in position. With a last prayer to Cassiel, he opened his eyes, and began to survey his surroundings. He knew that this was to be a test of his abilities like no other.

SZO11 -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/25/2006 15:52:56)
Under a small part of the ice, the color changed. A darker blue ice chipped as a dark fog erupted from the ice. It turned violent, ripping a circle through the ice as the shards clattered across the steps. Silence swept through as the piece of ice in the middle started vibrating and rippling, condensing it into a mere pebble. Then from the darkness formed a ninja clad in the armor of a shinobi shozoku that was armed for any war. Only it was full black, which stood out along the sunny atmosphere. As his body rose from the circle, the pebble fell in between his fingers. His back was filled with weapons, mainly the basic ninja weapons, along with other items made for more advanced tactics like chains and thin metal strings, also two custom made katanas that were both glowing with darkness, as the oxymoron forms an image into your head, he took out a ninja star and flipped the dense piece of ice into the middle of the star, he then held the ice between his thumb and middle finger. Darkness began to wrap itself around his hand and hit the crystal with full force, causing the star to rotate so rapidly that it could be heard by anyone as it whizzed through the air. Zoshang then made a slicing movement as the star chopped air causing a blur of vision through the path that he swung. He had this talent, no matter how hard a problem may be, there was a voice in his head that knew how to get around it. Improvising was just one thing that he could do, and he grinned as he would show them all just what he was capable of.

My Angel of Dreams -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/25/2006 17:39:00)
"The will of the Lord and Goddess is with her," Thessa said, smiling thinly under her mask, "so there is no reason to worry. She will be fine." Her deep voice carried with it the strength and conviction of nearly two hundred years of service under the will of the Goddess, and Edgar had to caution himself against being so easily reassured, fearing that his apprehension might slip away into complacency. "She is beyond you in any case." He started, his gaze slipping from the object of his concern, surprised and alarmed that she would threaten him so boldly. "You have no right," he said heatedly, turning away from the stadium to glare at her, "to say that. She is..." His voice faltered, words stopping, piling up upon one another, choking him, and he found himself unable to say more. Her wooden visage, the mask of a white eagle, majestic and powerful, carved and painted so finely it seemed to breathe and watch, the symbol of absolute power and indomitable strength and will silenced him as effectively as a gag. His face contorted in an effort to control his sudden rage, at himself and at her, and he spun back to watch the contestants filing out into the battlefield. "You are, perhaps, a bit overwrought. Perhaps you should not watch, if this is how you will be acting?" "No!" he spat, almost shouting. "I won't leave, and you can't make me!" His hands shook. But for her small reunite of priestesses and guards, he might have been at this moment strangling her, so great was his rage and frustration. Thessa paused. "Edmund," she asked quietly, "would you please take Edgar away until he calms himself? He does no good to anybody here." Edmund bowed to her respectfully, then turned to Edgar. "Good sir," he asked gently, "would you-" "Fine!" Edgar spun around yet again, eyes casting murder upon the guard. "I don't need a guard to help me out. I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself!" he shouted, storming up the aisle with Edmund following at a short distance. "It might be polite for us to take our seats now, my lady," Emily said tactfully from behind her owl's mask. "People are waiting." Thessa started, glancing around quickly. "Yes, we shall. My most humble apologies," she said, turning to face the small clump of people who had been stuck behind her band and bowing deeply. That done, she turned again, regally, and began to proceed down the aisle, taking her seat just to the right of the entrance gates and sitting. Her back was held straight, with an overbearing presence which caused some mild discomfort in some other watchers, around her, though not at the least in her reunite, who knew her all too well. She waited, wordlessly. After a time, Emily spoke. "Was it really wise to let him come?" "I suppose not," came the reply, "though I wasn't expecting him to break down like that. He's usually so calm." "That's why he broke down like that," came the amused answer. Thessa sighed. "I suppose. You can't really blame him, though. No, you may. But it's perhaps not reasonable to." A muffled laugh emerged from behind the owl's mask. "You've never been a parent. You wouldn't know. Besides, you're always so calm yourself." "Yes. I suppose." They waited in silence for events to begin. "Why didn't her mother want to come?" asked Emily, breaking the blanket of tranquility which had settled over the group. Thessa shrugged. "I honestly cannot say. Perhaps you must have a child of your own, if you're to understand her reasons, for I certainly can't." An invisible frown pulled the corners of her mouth downwards. "It's a pity. Did you ever know her?" "No, I didn't." "I suppose not. She should be here, by all rights, but I hadn't the heart to order her to attend. Given the way that Edgar reacted, I find myself quite satisfied with that choice. She is a far more emotional person than he." She paused. "In but a moment you'll ask me about her mother, won't you?" Emily laughed. "You know me all too well." &nsp; "Well. She's named Cordelia, and is little less than forty years of age. She was a priestess under my service until a little more than ten years ago, before you arrived. She was very devout, as I recall, and extremely dedicated. She had the gift of reading the wind, though not very strongly. Her parents had raised her to be a wife, but her gift called her to us, and so she ran away right after exiting childhood." Thessa sighed, as if tired. "She was very social, cheerful, and generally uplifting, and was very kind and considerate as well. Unfortunately, she was very willful and stubborn...something amusing?" "No, not at all," Emily said, trying to stifle her giggles. "I think I'm just perhaps a bit anxious." "Yes, I am aware of the irony in my last statement," Thessa stated in a deadpan voice, "but she was a priestess, and nothing more, and a priestess must be able to take orders. What I must do is give orders." She paused again, glancing at her companion to make sure her mirth had subsided. "In any case, she fell in love with Edgar, and after a short period in which they tried as hard as they could to murder each other, they settled down and had a family. Almost classic, and quite a dull story, really. When Holly was born, though, that was when they began to fall apart. When we took her, Cordelia left with Edgar, and I haven't the slightest idea what they've been doing since. Well, more accurately, she stormed out with Edgar. Quite the pity. If Holly hadn't been born as she is, she'd still be with us, though I'm not suggesting that I'd rather that Holly weren't born." She paused again. "She was the one who had the idea of decorating the Hall for the Convergence, and she also repainted the ceiling. It used to be a vision of stormclouds before that. Almost everybody who remembers her would be very glad to have her back, though the odds of that are perhaps not even worth considering." She fell silent. "Anything else you want to know?" "No," said Emily thoughtfully. "That's more than enough. On a slightly cheerier note, have you the faintest idea when this will get underway, or may I go purchase some confections from that vendor over there?" She stood, still, waiting as the contestants and spellweavers flowed around her, as the wind blew peacefully above, as excited spectators jostled for position among merchants and guards, as Thessa sat and her father stormed away. She could feel his anger, like the finest of sandpapers against the softest of skins as he shoved his way through the breeze outside, his rage in his movement and breath. She felt something which there was no name for, which she did not properly know, and then she shoved him away, and he vanished from her mind. The spellweavers were gone, now, the contestants either waiting or entering. She shuddered briefly, almost ripping the sleeve of her loose shirt apart, then bent down and shoved her palms into the cold ground so that they wouldn't move without instruction, as they were sometimes bound to do. Holly made a very curious sight, garnering many strange glances as others moved around her as she sat, cross-legged, on the ground. A teenager, seemingly tall and unnaturally thin with short light brown hair, a small mouth, and gently closed eyes, she seemed almost fey in appearance. Not beautiful, but almost handsome, she had been mistaken for a boy before, though she did not know it, and would not care if she did. She wore a pair of amazingly thin and soft sky blue pants, and a loose sky blue shirt, and that was all. Even that much, though, grated, and horribly so. She strained her teeth as she tried to keep her hands on the floor, agitation falling off her in showers. It was sometimes like this. It was when she felt that it was like this. The finest cloth in the world, which yet barely touched skin turned to horsehair chains and suffocating blankets, and she could not breathe, could not feel, could not think, and it filled her with such a frustration that knew no bounds. It had been a true trial for the priestesses to get her to wear even those. Her parents had simply given up. She wanted to lash out, to scour the horrible prison from her skin, so that she could breathe again, but countless repetitions or lessons and such had impressed upon her the importance of not doing so, so instead she tried to drive her hands through the stone. It usually worked. Luckily enough, this time was one of the times that it did, and the revulsion left her so suddenly that she collapsed, gasping. One of the more leisurely attendants, still hanging around, noticed her lying on the floor, and looked around, surprised that nobody else had noticed before him. With a slight shock, he realized that everybody had noticed, but were loathe to approach her for whatever reasons they knew. He shrugged, slightly disturbed, then walked over to ask her a question. "Excuse me? Are you all right?" He frowned at her lack of reaction, then tried again after a few seconds. "Excuse me?" Still, there was no response. A bit disturbed by the strangeness of it all, he spoke a third time. "Excuse me, young miss? Is there anything wrong?" When no response was forthcoming, he frowned, genuinely worried for her health. "Here," he said, bending down, "let's get you to a priest." He reached out to lift her up, and was shocked when he found himself flying backwards through the air, without warning. He hit the ground hard, and stood up, shaking his head. "I'd better go get a priest..." he muttered, casting a concerned look at Holly as he ran off. "Did you feel that?" asked Thessa, sharply. Emily looked up from her small selection of horribly colorful candies and muffins, surprised. "Feel what?" "The air moving." She shook her head. "No. What happened?" Thessa's eyes were closed, and she frowned, slightly. "Oh. It's just Holly. I suppose I should tell her to get out into the arena now, shouldn't I?" "If it speeds this up, yes, it'd probably be a good idea." The hawk's mask peered down into the area as she felt out the design of the building. "Well, then," she said, shifting the air in front of Holly very slightly, "that's done with. I hope she hasn't mauled some poor innocent fool to death while she was down there." "Don't we all," spoke Emily, chewing on a little green-striped bear. "Want one of these little gingerbread-bear things?" she asked, waving one in front of Thessa. "They're good." "Emily," said the hawk's mask, slowly turning to face her, "not to be intrusive or anything, but how do you manage to eat things with a mask on? It's quite mystifying." "That's a secret," she said, grinning behind her mask. "Oh, look. Holly's come out. I hope she knows what she's doing." They watched her walk out with avid interest, Emily crunching a purple dragon and Thessa frowning with intense concentration. Holly stopped at the base of the stairs, raising her hands to either side of her, as to form a cross. "Do you think she wants a gingerbread...uh...strange-leviathan-like-thing?" Emily asked, holding one up and grinning. "Go ahead and see," replied Thessa. Emily grinned and tossed the cookie towards Holly with all her might. It landed, uncaught, directly in front of her. "Guess not." Thessa was almost glaring at her charge, and still concentrating intensely. She could feel what Holly was doing, if she tried hard. It was very difficult when it was something as subtle as reading the wind. When the fireworks started to fly, she mused, everything would be much easier to see. She was looking forward to watching this, not only for the excitement, but in a sort of way that she would, possibly, call motherly, though anybody else would probably reject that term out of hand. She smiled slightly, willing calm into the child, and then sat back, closing her eyes. "Though I'd like to try one of those, if you'd be so kind," she said, lifting her mask upwards.

Viroxor -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/25/2006 23:23:29)
Lexaeus walked through the gates into the arena. His predecessor had been a dark warrior named Viroxor. Viroxor had believed himself powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord himself. Oh, how he had been wrong. In the end, he had been defeated by a vengeful wind harlequin named Rekkimaru, who was one of the champions who mysteriously vanished in the final stages of the last tournament. But Lexaeus would be much more successful than Viroxor. Since his fellow's death, he had trained hard every hour of every day, always looking forward to now, when he would finally be able to prove his superiority to Viroxor by winning the tourney. Of course, nowadays, everyone had an excuse that they thought made them stronger than everyone else. Everyone had to have some story of vengeance, or something like that. Not Lexaeus. He was just here to win, and to prove he was better than his predecessor. But first things first. He had to gain the empowerment of his master, the Earth Lord. If he was going to be the Earth Lord's champion, he would need his blessing. Taking out his huge sword, which had been specially designed to resemble a massive tomahawk, he stabbed it into part of the ground that remained unfrozen by the ice mage who had made his dramatic entrance, and with it channeling the power of the earth into him through his hand, he began to pray. "Mighty Earth Lord, master of all things, give me strength. I have seen many of these so-called competitiors. Nervousness wracks their hearts and minds, scourging them, hindering them. But you clear all doubt, all fear from my heart. With you, my Lord, I am whole. Give me strength, and I shall return to you a Champion!" He said, finally letting out a sigh and opening his eyes, pulling his tomahawk sword from the ground. "Let them now come, from all elements and all corners of the Earth, to face our power!" He said, the earth's energies now empowering him, preparing him for any enemy. Now there was another issue. Who would be the first to die by the hand of he and his mighty King of Kings? He scanned. Everyone seemed to be sitting and waiting. Waiting for someone to begin the tournament. Lexaeus, on the other hand, wasn't going to sit around and wait for death to meet him. He was going to be it's messenger. But who was the first opponent? He looked around and around. Finally, his gaze set on a young girl, a wind mage of some sort, judging by her aura, standing at the base of the large stairs. She would do. Some less confident person in her had even gone so far as to throw some type of snack food at her feet. There was no point in apathy or emotionlessness. A truly powerful person should not be afraid to show their true intent, unless special purposes are presented. At last, time for the kickoff. He reared back his right arm, holding his large weapon in it. After a few seconds, he finally let it fly at the girl. If it sliced her in half, it would come back. And if it didn't slice her in half, it would come back. Either way, he would kill her. His Lord demanded it.

My Angel of Dreams -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/27/2006 17:53:32)
In an instant, she felt; a man behind, harsh, large, warm, like a dog without fur but slower, the shape upright, lethal through intent, ahead of that a disc, painfully and horribly through the air, ripping, mauling, forcing, grating towards her, the earth beneath it, the sky above it, like a piece of dirt simply lifted but not, too coarse, a weapon to her, a gigantic irritation, a disturbance, and then, ahead, tiers and tiers, ribbed, of flawless, smooth, earth, hard to tell, flowing like the wind, extending and ending, and on each side, those playful plants, laughing beings, like being tickled, but by ten hundred thousand tiny fingers, light in touch and playful, without intent, the wind, pulling, pushing, flowing, like water over skin, or under skin, or both, and water in the air as well, thick, viscous globules, from streaming stone, and like a shiver, and then, harshness, slowness, but crisp slowness, direct slowness, but still slow, and even more, coldness, horribly so, like a sluggish, frozen animal, moving so slow, so listlessly, and then the air, another, the opposite, a path of air dancing, like blurred steam, warm and joyful and eager, energetic, enthusiastic so that it thrilled to feel, like heartfire, under the skin, and earnest joy, and then around, the great earthen bowl, above it the indistinct masses of movement, of life, ants, it seemed, only warm, and they were one, and many, but not so many, and further still to the sky was the wind, joyous, free, flying wind, imperious, omnipresent, above all, soaring and sweeping, smiling, and with it she smiled. "Look," said Thessa as she watched the man behind her champion, "it's about to begin." Emily shot her a surprised look. "What? How do you know?" Her response was a smile and an outstretched finger, towards the burly man with the gigantic weapon about ten feet behind Holly. "He's going to attack," she said confidently. "in a few seconds. Watch." "Really," Emily said, watching the man draw his axe back and hold it. She frowned as he spun it towards Holly, like a gigantic discus. Well, like she'd seen it thrown, though she knew that ordinarily one spun much more than that to throw a discus. "Oh," she said, almost disappointed. Her voice said, plainly, that she'd been hoping that the beginning of a legendary tourney would have been something more than a barbarian unceremoniously tossing an axe, and it showed on her face, although nobody could see her expression. Below her, the axe screamed through the air. She was momentarily worried about Holly, a mere spark and nothing more, but even a spark would be dangerous. Before she had the time to extinguish it herself, though, Holly had already ducked down, flowed under the weapon with inhuman speed, and started spinning towards her opponent, her body held in a seemingly awkward low crouch, her arms still cast to her sides. The winds guided her, brought her arms together as her feet stopped, gathered themselves around her hands, singing as they did so, enthusiastically flowing themselves into small spinning spheres on her palms. Her arms floated upwards, extended, and she floated with them, following their path, diagonal to the ground, towards the other's body. Her legs extended, as if she were to strike him in the chest, with her palms, and then the winds tossed themselves at him. She aided them as they asked of her, deathly cold suddenly shocking throughout her body as she lent her warmth to the air, as the air turned into a miniature gale, as the gale danced and spun in her defense.

Kellehendros -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/27/2006 18:47:26)
Shadow smiled in comtempt, the giant of a man who had just entered had decided to take the commencement of the action into his own meaty fists. The Ice wizard would admit that the man's massive weapon was certainly an impressive sight, and he tossed it effortlessly, as though it were nothing but a cloth construction of the weapon that it was. He didn't hold out a lot of hope for the young girl who was the target of the massive beings thrown weapon, the wisp of a girl looked like a strong breeze would blow her over. Surprisingly, she managed to duck the blow, and returned the attack with a sort of wind blast. The Ice wizard's cunning mind ran over the possiblities quickly. He could aid this girl, aid her opponent, attack another opponent, or simply continue his wait. Waiting was easiest, and required the least energy, but then, Shadow wouldn't run out of power reserves too soon either way. Attacking another opponent might pay off, because they would be distracted by the action, yet having an ally seemed best in this situation. Which one though? The man would be a good ally, strong as his element, the Earth, and probably as predictable, everyone needed a little muscle on thier side after all. Then again, the girl seemed about as strong, and Shadow preferred casters to fighters, yet the Wind was fickle and changing. The man then. The globe of cold Shadow was emitting shrunk, now only effect an area of about five feet around him, and the cold intensified, the water of the fountain he stood next to clouding over, and particles of Ice forming with in. Raising one hand dramatically, Shadow had always been a bit vain in his castings, the Ice wizard suddenly dropped to one knee, his hand smashing into the ice that had formed around him, shattering a portion. Pressing his hand to the freezing marble below, magical might surged forth, soaking through the ground with angry blue glare. Underground, the water trapped in the soil expanded rapidly, as it froze, a hairline crack running down the marble, and through the ground, a jagged spear of Ice exploded upwards through the ground, shooting towards the Wind girl...

Harry -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/27/2006 20:30:17)
Andran's steed was beyond an impressive beast, nearly 19 hands it was a mammoth of a horse. The beast was as fearless as it was powerful. It made Andran, even in his massive look small in comparison. The beast's massive hooves pounded the earth underneath creating prints the size of a human head, the thunder that was the hoofbeats on the floor was little short of terrifying. His Steed was a dark grey, black patches decorated his head and neck, he also had block socks on three of his legs and a black mane and tail. The sock that was not black was a pure white. The horse had no stirrups or such equipment, simply a pale green mat over his back where Andran now sat. Andran steered him by simply applying slight pressure with his legs to the respective side of the beast. The beast was trained perfectly, and needed nothing other than pressure in it's sides or a whisper in it's ear. Andran could simply hold onto the mane of the beast should the beast be running, despite this horse being amongst the fastest of this world Andran’s great strength was enough to keep him clinging to the horse. The great steed, who Andran had named Thunder picked hie way slowly down the hill, picking the route that was easiest for him. Andran sat back unminding as he horse carried him down the hill, he had complete trust in the horse’s abilities and judgement. Andran was leaning back his arms out at his sides enjoying the warmth that the sun cast down upon him. He was a contestant. But the thoughts of the contest to come did not weigh down his heart or his mind. Many of those competing had been raised as warriors or mages, trained for battles and contests, they ‘had’ to win for if they didn’t then all their life times of training had been for nought. Andran had been raised a ditch digger, he spent many years in the trade from just a small child to two years ago, he was now 34. Many thought it laughable that a ditch digger would be allowed to compete, no-one expected him to win therefore he didn’t expect to win meaning there was no pressure upon him to win. Of course he wanted to win, and it was a distinct possibility, years of shifting dirt was good for the muscles and Andran is a swift and powerful character, easily a handful for even the greatest warriors, though maybe his unorthodox choice of weapon and use of it was to blame for that. Andran had to lie flat on his horse to get through the door, it was designed to allow steeds to enter, but Thunder was larger than the average horse. As thunder walked majestically through the halls, for Andran wished not to get off his horse yet, Andran had to lean forward still otherwise his head would be rubbing against the ceiling. The spell weavers pinned themselves against the walls at the side of the massive beast, the corridor was plenty wide enough, but the sheer site of the massive grey steed was awe inspiring. As they noticed who it was who was riding many of the spell casters looked at him aloofly or with contempt, a few even traded whispers with their companions Andran picked out ‘Ditch Digger’ all too often. A few however those in support of the energy smiled at him encouragingly or others just impressed that a ditch digger would brave enough to enter such a powerful competition smiled at him also. Andran ignored all of them had they seen him on the street, without his massive steed none of them would give him a second look, so he didn’t give them their first. The massive horse arrived in the gate way , Andran sat up properly and surveyed the arena, Trees, steps, waterfalls all he could use all could be used against him, especially by the mages, and he was sure there would be many. With a soft word Thunder stopped and Andran swung himself from the beast of a horse. It was now that you would see Andran well. He was taller than most, nearing 6 feet 5 inches. He was a bald man, by choice by the looks of it, for on his head, where hair would be there is a tattoo instead, or maybe it was many tattoos. There was more black than the peach of his skin upon the head. The tattoos making tribal markings and runes. The swirled and danced within one another making patterns and complex pictures, intercepting one another at times at others they ran parallel no matter how many turns and curves they had on them. But surprisingly the marking upon his head were not the most noticeable. The most noticeable thing about him was that he seemed to made of metal, other than his head and neck. Every bit of him was the colour of dulled steel plate armour. He stood there for a moment longer surveying what was going on, it looked like the fight had already started without him. He chuckled and reached to his side. Taking this sort of armour off yourself was not easy. Layer of steel after steel came off, without ease. As he took it all off he stacked it next to Thunder, the colour of thunder and the colour of the dulled armour nearly identical. He undid straps and lifted off the heavy breast plate, underneath it was a shirt of chain mail. It must have taken him nearly 5 minutes to take off all of his armour, the pile of armour beside his horse nearly 5 feet high. When all the amour was gone he stood and stretched. He was toned to perfection, the years of digging and shifting dirt toning his upper body. He wore now only a simple pair of silk trousers. Bright red in colour they shimmered in the light like sun across water. They were extremely baggy, but around his waist and from his shin down more, white fabric had been wrapped, encompassing his feet other than his toes. Also it was wrapped around his stomach up to his belly button, in the case of him being slashed across the stomach the white fabric, that seemed like bandaging but immaculate would stop his organs becoming entrails. Also this white bandaging was wrapped around his wrists and the palms of his hands. In his left hand, held behind him was his double voulge. Calmly he collected up all the dull armour and strapped it to Thunder’s back. Andran whispered a word in the beasts ear “home” and Thunder was on his way, calmly, coolly leaving the arena and plodding away down the corridor. As much as he loved the horse, and as powerful and fearless as it was, having been bred for war, Andran did not wish it to be in this battle. Because of his great size his life expectancy was much shorter than any other horses, Andran estimated that Thunder had maybe 5 years left. He wanted to cherish those years, to lose him here in this battle would waste a life already destined to be short but great. Andran sighed and walked into the arena further. He ignored the fight already going on, they would not bother him if they were already preoccupied. He reached the base of the stairs and gazed up them. His toes touched the stone, it was cold and water pooled in places upon it. As though it had been frozen but the frost had now melted. He mounted the steps, calmly, showing no hostility, the double voulge still held diagonally in his left hand behind his back. Slowly he climbed further and further up the steps, he looked up and saw a mage at the top already. He smiled, time to make a friend maybe, or defeat and enemy, he cared not…

kenzoku -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/27/2006 20:36:29)
Havoc chuckled underneath his clownish mask. He wore the same garment he always wore, a cloth suit, the coloring of which was the same as his mask: split into four and each segment possessing a carnival-like color. The death clown reached into a pocket and removed some deadly-looking throwing knives that he held between his fingers. The knives were beautiful and frightening at the same time. They had been built to kill and look good doing it. He loved this feeling: The adrenaline of battle. The success of a cornered enemy. The ice mage seemed to be distracted by a girl, so Havoc picked him as the first target. Havoc launched a flurry of knives onto Shadow, laughing with insanity. "It appears as though we shall have to stain this picturesque landscape with crimson tears." He said darkly. The knives swerved in the air, now heading at the mage from all sides. This was Havoc's idea of a good time; Spreading death. The daggers had all been dipped in a mind-numbing poison that would both prevent thought and slow reflexes, as well as greatly dull memory. There was more! Attatched to the handles were strong strings, the other ends of which were tied to Havoc's fingers. Havoc tossed more and more knives at the mage, all similar to the first. So as not to make the already thrown knives veer from their course, Havoc did this with a steady action. He grinned at the surrounded mage.

demonhunter -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/28/2006 8:54:24)
The fight had begun. Bernard had witnessed the giant one's attack silently, though he had drawn his daggers, swift as thought. The girl's dodge and subsequent assualt interested him, but the frozen assualt on her was a little more alarming. What seemed to be a frozen spear, emerging from the ground and headed straight for her. Well, he was fighting for and with the power of fire, and this girl, judging by her attack, was a potential wind champion. Wind and fire... An excellent partnership. He raised his left hand as an incantation, one of a very limited number that he knew, ran through his mind as fast as thought would allow. His hand, and the dagger held tightly within it, erupted into flame. Cassiel's Flame, harmless to any Cassiline, and extremely dangerous to everyone else. Pulling his fist back to his hip, he thrust it forward with as much force as his arm would allow, hurling pure, red-orange fire into the path of the ice attack. He started to walk forward, slowly, letting the fire preceed him. His aim was perfect. He would miss the girl, and the fire would strike the ice spell. How effective the flame would be, he didn't know, but it would, he hoped, buy enough time for him to get to a more advantageous position. Protect and serve...

SZO11 -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/28/2006 16:20:16)
With the others joining in on one fight, Zoshang was left there to plan. Everyone's elemental attacks, strengths, weaknesses, and even events that could change that. If it were to rain, fire would weaken along with light, while everything but earth would get a significant boost. So far there is more ice on the field, the trees haven't been touched, and the fountains won't last long. Zoshang dropped the ninja star onto the ground, it bounced with a tink and then swerved around the ninja. He sat down into a meditative state, thinking of each possibility and as well looking at each of the others who haven't joined in the fight. The clown caught his attention, the knives were a nice touch. He squinted to see a drop of some kind of poison from the blade. "That doesn't look too friendly...for a clown." It was done, he knew what he was doing. The swerving ninja star appeared to have doubled, the darkness still in upgraded it while he was meditating. He flipped himself up and stamped the ground producing darkness that went through the ice, breaking it and sending the buzzing blades to his hands. Then causally walked to a fountain as if nothing was going on. He reached the fountain while everyone was attacking, and took a sip from one of the fountains. Being closer, he saw Axel battle ready. "Hey, Axel! Long time no see. Getting bored?" The smirk on his face turned into a grin, as he caught the attention of the flame master. "I'd rather not be resting through the whole thing." He was hoping this pyromaniac would get the idea of fighting him and not burning the arena instead, actually, he was fine with the burning as long as he had some action. Zoshang deflected a piece of rubble with the spinning blade and roundhouse kicked it towards Axel. The ninja's mood was lightened, the only time he ever felt friendly was when there was fighting to be done. As he lightheartedly greeted the newcomer heading for the ice mage, who seemed to have enough on his mind already.

Kellehendros -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/28/2006 16:26:24)
The crowd roared in approval as the battle finally began, Shadow watched, eyes narrowed, as his attack homed in on the Wind girl's back. Suddenly, he was aware of a hissing sound, as the first of the daggers pierced his outward defenses, the cold field that served to warn of impending attack. The daggers sliced through the cold globe, letting warmer air leak in, alerting him. The first knife soared in high, zipping just over the Ice wizard's shoulder. Shadow's quick eyes caught the thin line of a string attached to the knife's hilt, he followed the string back to its owner, a fool dressed like a court jester of some sort. A fool, but a fool with lots of knives. The Ice wizard moved quickly over the frozen ground, sliding behind the fountain for cover, as yet more knives clattered off the stone. With a zip and a rip, a jagged tear appeared in the arm of Shadow's robe, the knives curved? How was that possible? Ducking to avoid another slavo, Shadow noticed another warrior ascending the stairs, great, something else to avoid. The knives were coming faster now, and Shadow had no choice but to adopt a more defensive posture, with a flourish he splashed the freezing cold water of the fountain in the air before him, again there was a blinding flash of blue light, as the very air around him froze into an icy coccon, protecting him, for the moment from the seeking knives. With his distraction, his Ice Spear spell lost the power that Shadow had been pumping into it, and while the Spear still launched for the back of the Wind mage, the Cassiline's Fire easily rendered it a useless puddle of water. Swearing in frustration, Shadow strengthened his Ice Shield as the knives nicked and cut across it. He could wait out this fool all day, hopefully the warrior he'd aided before, or this new one might intervene on his behalf, or perhaps one of the other fighters as well. Until then, he would hold to the defense, at least until someone made a foolish move and came too close to him...

The Extinguisher -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/28/2006 16:56:39)
'No need to stall any longer' Axel wondered who to attack. So many opponents, so little time. He decided to stay away from the fight in progress, and focus on the remaining contestants. As he looked around the arena, two people caught his eye. One was the ninja, a familiar face, but not the best target at the moment. The other, an ice wizard. The one who apparently cast the chill over the arena. 'He'll do' Axel readied a fireball, took aim, and said the enchantment. The spell was releasing from his hands, when a sharp pain went through his head. The shock caused Axel to jump, and sending the fireball off into a tree, sending it ablaze. But that was not the focus of Axel's attention. It was at the rubble, and the blood now dripping out of his head. Getting his bearings strait, he turned to see who threw it. But he already knew. "I don't have time with that Ninja as his tricks, but if it's a fight he wants, I'll have to bring it to him." He unsheathed his now ignited sword, and went running at Zoshang, hoping that the ninja wasn't aware of his plan.

kenzoku -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/28/2006 20:47:26)
Havoc grinned beneath his mask, which gave of a dark and foreboding feeling. Those weak of spirit would be deeply afraid of the aura surrounding Havoc's mask. Havoc surged dark energy through the cords that bound his knives. All fourt-three knives slammed into the ice wizard's shield. Before impact they seemed to split into more knives, all the same size as the originals. The knives began to push inward on the shield with great force. Like a giant fist, the knives were crushing the shield. "Check mate!" Havoc declared loudly, the dark eye-holes of his shield-shaped mask dancing with blood-lust. Havoc was completely confident that his knives would shatter the large block of ice like a stone shattering a priceless vase. If not, that mind-numbing poison on the blade of the dagger that grazed the mage's arm would decrease the efficiency of his spells significantly, making him an easy target for the others.

Viroxor -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/28/2006 20:49:36)
Lexaeus had had no expectations about whether or not his attack would hit, so he had no disappointment about the feather-light little girl dodging it. As he spiraled towards him, he was going to prepare a defense, but as soon as he could worry about it, an ice spear erupted from the ground to impale her. However, there were apparently faster people here than Lexaeus had expected. Before he could do anything more, something else happened. A blast of fire came out of nowhere, destroying the spear and clearing the wind girl's path. He would have tried to find the one who had 'helped' him, and whoever had 'helped' his opposition, but she was coming at him fast, the surrounding winds spiraling around her like a deadly outer shell. Lexaeus slightly smirked. Looked like this battle was going to be as legendary as they said the others were. He raised his hand, and the earth before him sprang to life, the solid, hard rock forming a wall in front of him. "Useless..." He said as he jumped backwards. It was extremely unlikely that any wind could break through that, but there was always the off chance. As he landed, he shot his hands forth once more. This time, three cracks in the ground seemed to travel from Lexaeus. Through the vibraions in the ground, he could feel where she was, even if he couldn't see her. "There." He said as he directed the tremors toward her. When the first one reached her, it came up as a rock spike. In case it missed, that was why the other ones would follow suit. "Perish now." He said, taunting the girl so as to distract her, even if so slightly. Finally, his weapon returned to him, spinning through the air to stop in his hand. The Earth Lord was with him today. But then there was the matter of he who had helped Lexaeus earlier. Looking around, Lexaeus found him. The ice mage wearing the robes so similar to Lexaeus's own. But he was tied up playing the defensive against an evil clown. He couldn't find the one who had saved her from the ice mage, though. But suddenly, one exchange caught his ears. The cry rang through Lexaeus's ears. "Hey, Axel! Long time no see! Getting bored?" It couldn't be. "Axel?!" Cried Lexaeus aloud. "I thought he was dead." He said, looking at the fire mage. For a long time, he simply stared with contempt into his eyes wordlessly. Then he remembered his current opponent. Or opponents, he supposed, as he now had an ally. Seeing fit to repay the ice mage, he rushed at the clown. As he came, however, one of the knives grazed his arm. "What was that? A knife? Wait..." He said, looking at the knife's path. There was a string there. A string? This must have been a clever clown. And a careless one. He grabbed the string and pulled. Simple. Every advantage had a weakness. Lexaeus knew this best of all. Even as he did, he could sense other threats all around. His plan had worked. He had sparked the battle. Now came the hard part-winning it. He spun his huge sword, preapring for a sudden defense or offense.

kenzoku -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/28/2006 21:01:59)
Havoc felt a tug on one of his strings that almost made him lose his balance. He turned his head around to see who had pulled it. It was apparently the fighter for earth. "You rang?" Havoc asked cooly. "You really shouldn't go around grabbing random cords, you know what I mean?" The string wrapped around the earth warrior and the knife began to pull the man into the air as if the man was no more than a feather attatched to a balloon. Havoc clapped without disturbing his knives. Dark energy quickly traveled across the string. As the energy reached the point where the warrior was hanging, Havoc waved. "Goodbye." He called as the energy freed itself from the string around the man, exploding violently.

Kellehendros -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/28/2006 21:26:01)
Shadow stood, unconcerned, in the cocoon of Ice that he had constructed, he could feel the knives digging through the outer shell, attempting to smash thier way through and render him a stringed up pincushion. The jester was Dark aligned, as the energy surging through the knives was evidence. The fact didn't really matter, but then, it might come in handy to remember for later. He watched as the Ice Shield around him crumbled, doing nothing to shore it up, and smiled. He seemed remarkably calm for someone who was about to die, but then again, he didn't plan on dying. Several seconds later, the Ice Shield, strained to its limits, shattered in a crackling explosion of ice shards and dust, the particles and shards suddenly whipped themselves into a frenzy, Shadow changed tactics, an icy cataract of arctic wind blasted outwards from his body, sending knives whipping outwards like striking snakes, and fouling up many of their strings. "You," Shadow commented icily to his opponent, "are not in the least bit amusing." With a curt, violent, gesture, one of the ice shards screamed forth, missing Havoc completely. Though the Dark aligned fighter was not the target of the attack, the Earth fighter laden string was, and the shard's razor edge sliced easily through the string, though, regretably, that was after the Dark energy charge had run down the string; but then, one wasn't always lucky, and the Ice wizard's ally was about to find that out...

SZO11 -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/29/2006 1:18:17)
The fight between the clown and ice mage were getting out control, Zoshang's control. The crazed jester was unpredictable. He had to do something about tha-"Axel?!""I thought he was dead." Zoshang thought to himself, There was a previous EC held a year ago. That may have been it, but his allied status seemed now to rest on the ice mage. Which apparently will make a huge difference in the next five minutes. Plans seemed to seep out of his mind, oh wait, that's darkness, seeping out of his head and heading straight for Axel. When the poor fire mage was within range, the ground in about a 10 foot radius somehow flashed out a dark glow, the others weren't near enough to be affected, but still strange enough to notice. "You're now on my grounds, literally. Your speed will decrease as while my element can only get stronger." He wondered to himself as to why he said that, did he really want to give him a chance? The two stars now riddled the air with darkness oozing out of it. Zoshang took those two stars into a defensive stance. The air around the stars was being sucked in like a vortex, now this fire mage's element had a weakness to this weapon, it wouldn't cancel out the fire, but at the least hurt its effectiveness. There was only one weakness that Zoshang had against Axel that he hasn't been able to protect, his strength. While his speed and dexterity were almost unmatched, his strength wasn't anywhere near beating Axel's. He could only prevail using technique rather than brute force, using the whole body to swing rather than just the arm or just the wrist. Zoshang was waiting for Axel to attack, but he wanted the advantage of catching him off guard. Right when Zoshang thought the blow would start he would land a rapid succession of buzz-sawing his shield, just to keep him busy while the circle of darkness would engulf him and the fire mage, from there, the real plan would be set. Then diversion, confusion, and a surprise. Oh ho, what a surprise, he gleamed at the violence soon coming as the mage got even closer.

My Angel of Dreams -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/29/2006 1:49:01)
The streams betrayed their intent. A swift, heartening stream, burning heat, gliding swiftly through the air and a creeping, languid freezing one crawling with the speed of a springing snake across the top of the earth, and then they met, and the feeling was almost like that of a hand, plunged into water, when searing meets freezing. Yet it was not so intense, not nearly so, and there were no burns hanging suspended, no frost on the air, and it did not pain her, was only like a light morning frost on the girl, swirling around the warmth of another, like being held by one's own self, in the heart and body. It was her own body that pained her, the sweat from the heat and numb from the cold mingling unpleasantly, causing her clothes to cling to her body, like cloth held over one's mouth, and if she were not dancing she would be screaming, but the winds held her, and there was no pain. The winds held her, and would not allow her to misstep. The earth shoved itself out and breathed in, and under her feet air was pulled into the cracks, whisking by like the inhalation of a breathless giant, and the wind paused her step for one beat, in anticipation of the exhalation. She could feel it, shoving the wind out as it spat, and the wind shoved her, and she floated like a wisp of dust as the first spike shoved itself out of the ground, dodging it neatly to its side, and the second as well, and the third tossed her up into the sky as the airs parted in a path before her and pushed her upwards in a gigantic, frantic flow behind her. She spun, joyfully, the air carrying her, floating towards the warming one. Emily stared, not sure if she could believe her eyes. Within maybe fifteen, twenty seconds, the arena had transformed itself from a peaceful scene of tranquility to a frantic melee, and more things than she could keep track of were happening even now. “Amazing,” she muttered, pulling her eyes off of Holly to turn to Thessa for a moment. “Really, amazing.” Thessa snorted. “Live another two hundred years, and see if you say the same,” she replied. “Anyway, not so amazing. That man down there tried to distract Holly by saying something.” Emily blinked. “Why’s that make it not amazing?” “Well,” said Thessa, still monitoring the vision of entropy below here as she spoke, “would anybody so amazing think she’d respond to that?” Emily frowned, still uncomprehending. Yes, Holly wouldn’t respond to it, but how would he know? Well. Maybe that was Thessa’s point. In order to be amazing, somebody had to be able to read Holly well enough or something like that, and that meant that he hadn’t. Well, it would be amazing if he could, but it seemed a bit of a steep requirement. She gave a quick internal shrug as she ran through the logic. Really, how the heck was anybody supposed to know she was deaf from just looking at her? By staring into her ears? Yes, if one could tell that, it really would be amazing, but still, too steep. She shook herself out of her thoughts, gently chiding herself for spending too much time in her head, and returned to watching the battles, chuckling weakly when she realized she’d missed a good half a minute of it. "Oh, yes, go ahead, take all the fun out of it," she whispered sardonically, but too quietly for Thessa to hear, "because we've all been around for two hundred years, haven't we?"

demonhunter -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/29/2006 6:13:16)
None attacking him, and the girl was out of harm's way for the moment. Bernard allowed himself a small smile as he released the magic that fuelled Cassiel's Flame. The smile quickly vanished, though, as he brought his arms down, crossing both daggers in front of his groin. Bernard's body was like a tightly coiled spring: taut, quivering with unreleased energy. He was ready for an attack, and when it came, he would explode into action. Until then, he would simply observe. The sounds and sights of battle surrounded him. Everyone seemed preoccupied with everyone else. He, and possibly the wind girl, were the only ones who weren't currently fighting. At least, that's what he figured judging by what his eyes showed him. Well, no matter. He would wait until another attacked him. That was his way. The Cassiline's were rarely aggressors: They were trained in defensive combat. He knew how to fight in a manner which minimised collateral damage in a crowd, whilst still achieving maximum result to his foe. But, when it came to fighting in an army, or performing the type of espionage that a number of people seemed to desire as part of his vocation, Cassiline's were far less effective. Fighting, they understood. Protecting, they understood. Running around trying to acquire information without being caught, and without seeming obtrusive, was beyond them. Patience... Perseverance.

Harry -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/29/2006 10:17:33)
Andran was halfway up the stairs and already he was alone. Not alone in a literal sense of course because the battleground was full of fighters and beyond the battleground the thousands of spectators cheered and watched. He was alone because he had been separated, from his vantage point in the middle of the stairs he could see everyone, already they had begun to fight or form partnerships and alliances. He had done nought and now he regretted it, what was he to do? Intrude upon a battle already taking place, or attack a pair? The first was dishonourable and therefore against his morals, the second would surely see him having to do 4 times more work than those he would attack. His attention turned to those closest to him, the mage at the top of the stairs, he had planned on allying himself with the wizard. Up here he had the best vantage point. Andran could hold back those who sought to challenge them on a level ground while the wizard could use his magicking to annihilate them. The chance to make this wizard an ally arose early, the man being attacked by a clown wielding many knives. The Ice wizard, as was now apparent due to the cocoon of ice now surrounding was, it looked like, in a spot of Bother. Andran powered his way up the stairs now, his arms pumping like a maniac while his feet took the steps 4 at a time. He arrived too late however for someone had already intervened, or at least tried to. Andran stopped and watched for moment, the warrior simply pulled on the string of a knife. It seemed not to work very well for the man was then pulled into the air by the string he had just tugged. Andran turned and continued up the stairs, the man had failed, it seemed, and he was too far away to be helped. Andran was too late again, for when he arrived at the top of the stairs the ice wizard had broke out of his predicmanet with a blast of cold air and a shower of ice. The ice shards flying through the air troubled Andran, who now wore no armour, maybe he shouldn't have taken it ALL off. His double voulge erupted into movement, it came up in front of him spinning at an amazing rate snatching the ice shards heading his way out of the air. Andran realized that the mage might think Andran had come to attack while the mage was preoccupied. Andran though he could put the Ice wielder's mind at ease by moving into action against the knives that were still attached, by string to the grotesque clown. Andran seemed almost to dance, the voulge looked to be more of a prop to enhance the image of his display than an actual weapon. Adran seemed to glide about only his toes touching the floor and even then only momentarily as he moved, the double voulge hissing and singing through the air, spinning or slashing or gliding depending on the reach Andran had to employ. When Andran stopped moving the whole platform was scattered with the knives now disconnected from the strings and the dark power that empowered them. Andran looked to the ice wizard, bowed and awaited a response. The double voulge held in both his hands horizontally behind his back. He was prepared for whatever the mage would throw at him. A greeting, an invitation, a stone, a spell. He hoped he didn't receive the second two, the stone he could easily avoid and retaliate, the spell would be more tricky, but he thought. He hoped. He would be able to survive it…

Viroxor -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/29/2006 15:52:11)
Lexaeus watched with satisfaction as the clown fell, a victim of his own machinations. He should have been more careful than to use a weapon with such a conspicuous flaw. He simply continued looking. Then, from beneath him, the string he had pulled suddenly sprang to life, grabbing Lexaeus by the leg and lifting him in the air. The powers of the Earth were minimally effective in the air, but that did still leave his sword unaccounted for. As he was raised into the air, he threw his sword, not aiming to sever the wires, but aiming, instead, for their master. But then he saw the clown's true intentions in holding Lexaeus in place. The dark energy raced along the wire. But there was nothing he could do at this point. He had already cast his sword, but once he landed, there would be retribution. He relaxed himself, as that was always the best way to prepare for an inevitable attack. Then he felt something change. He saw that the ice mage had cast ice shards to sever the clown's hold on Lexaeus. This was shaping up to be one big game of Lexaeus and the ice mage taking turns helping each other. Great. Bu it was too late to stop the dark energy from hitting him. As he hit the ground, he felt it. It shocked him, enveloped him. It was like a burning sensation, always trying to fight it's way to his heart. "Fool..." He said, struggling for the words. "You cannot corrupt me. I have no heart. You will find this out soon enough." He finally stood, shrugging off the dark energy. "That," he said, the expression of anger implemented firmly on his face, "Was not very smart." He slammed both fists into the ground, without ever caring to look and see if his sword had hit the clown before or not. He could feel him. Whether he was dead or not, Lexaeus was to take no chances. "Feel this!" He said with a vengeance. Five towering spikes of earth appeared before Lexaeus, suddenly heading toward the clown in waves. "The Earth Lord will find you, no matter where you go."

kenzoku -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (8/29/2006 17:10:28)
Havoc frowned. "It seems as though I am outnumbered... No matter. Victory is not determined by numbers. It's all about the ability of the fighters." Havoc took a single step back to avoid a blade that was tossed at him. The warrior shouted at him. Havoc laughed maniacly. "Your heart wasn't my target... My target was your mind!" He laughed loudly. Then the warrior launched an earth spell... That wasn't funny... Havoc sent a dagger into a fountain and vanished, reappearing where he had sent his dagger. His knives slammed around him in a circle and lifted him into the air like the legs of a giant spider. He noticed there was a girl up there too. He turned to face her. "Care to aid me, miss?" He asked politely. "It'll be two against two." He added. It would be difficult, but not impossible for Havoc to win by himself. A single rose emerged from Havoc's sleeve, which he launched into the ground below him. It stuck as though the bottom was sharp, and blood began to ooze from where the rose penetrated the ground.

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