RE: =EC= Fountain Arena

RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (Full Version)

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SZO11 -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/14/2006 17:48:42)
"A new trick?" Said Zoshang, looking at the area around this clown. The colors matched his personality, but the ground was filled with daggers with liquid running down them. What else would a crazy clown like that have on a dagger but poison. In fact, it seemed every toy of his had some kind of injection device.What does he not have, non-poisonous daggers? If he was going against him, he might as well be ready. He took out a bow staff from his shadow, and had this dense fog like appearance, his element was really getting a workout with this weapon. But a thought in his head kept telling him that he may be getting ready for the wrong fight.

The Extinguisher -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/14/2006 18:04:29)
The sudden assult of spiders that distracted the ranger was bad news for Axel. He would completly miss his target, and crush his bones on the landing if he stayed on course. He pushed himself to his left, landing with a thud on his arm. Great, it's broken. No more casting for me. Axel lifted himself off the floor, and stood up. He had no weapons. His daggers lay somewhere on the arena, and his sword had fallen to the base of the cliff. He had no working sheild, as it had be crushed in the fall. He had to climb down to the base of the hill and retreive his weapon. Until then, he was completly defenceless.

kenzoku -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/14/2006 18:07:34)
Havoc's shadow had now filled the entire arena with dark energy. It went into the fountains, changing the water into blood, turning the marble to obsidian, and replacing the runes with symbols of darkness. The mask's grin no longer seemed mischieviously joyful, but instead became a smile of silent malevolence. The shadow moved effortlessly, stretching its shadowy limbs. The eye holes then glew red. The shadow bowed gracefully. The grass around the ninja grew longer and struck at him, attempting to whip and constrict him. Havoc's shadow jumped from foot to foot, silently clapping his hands. The head spider redirected a host of spiders to destroy the man who had just fallen nearby: Axel. They hopped with great agility toward him. When they were within three feet, they blasted acid toward him before continuing pursuit.

Viroxor -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/14/2006 21:23:31)
Lexaeus could see that the evil joker was becoming a threat to everyone in the arena now. The water, the ground itself, was ravaged by his evil. The earth was in ruin. It would take a large amount of energy to restore the earth in the arena, maybe more than Lexaeus could afford. Then he saw the clown's spider minions heading for an injured warrior whom Lexaeus had sworn only to die if by the Earth warrior's own hand. Axel. Lexaeus had been forced out of the earth by it's sudden devastation at the hands of Havoc. But he wasn't going to lose this battle. He stepped in front of the fire warrior, speaking to him without looking at him as he deflected the metal minions with his huge sword. "Axel. You are meant to die by no hand but my own. Get up. You're not dead yet. We'll do it together, if I must. But only until we destroy this fool." He said.

SZO11 -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/14/2006 22:23:46)
Zoshang saw Axel's predicament. "Maybe that tactic was too powerful." he moved forward to him by a few feet before hearing the sudden realignment and growth of grass, his staff was slammed into the ground, then kicked into a whirlwind cutting off the grass. By no means was this all, the cut grass slowed down as if time were slowing to a halt, then evaporated into the bow staff as more darkness clumped together. Ah, so the clown wants to fight everyone is it? "You seem to have everything in that costume of yours. But do you have the means to stop THIS!" Instantly, six ninja starts were launched, propelling the next one faster until each one was separated by half a second each. All directed at the eyes of this insane one. Unlike, him, his mind was clear and already prepared for the next assault, his defense was planned even before that. Just a regular chess match, only in which you have yourself, a king, and neutral pawns. The enemy king would be your target, but the plan is to take out the whole board. Each pawn helped would bring another piece to your side. Some of these pawns take out each other or just stay there and defend. To each his own strategy, but this clown had loyal pawns of his own. But this game of chess isn't so regular after all, now each of them attacks in a different way rather than just range. Like an eight-way game of rock paper scissors. Great, now what game will I think up next? Tic-Tac-Toe? Checkmate still applies, but never absolute. So who to use, befriend, ally, or whatever you might want to call it, should be factored in. But enough of this banter, Zoshang is about to keep Havoc in check. After the last star leaves his hand, the view of Zoshang is blocked, and of course the ninja is gone. Never underestimate the power of a diversion. A small dark orb appeared not 10 feet far from the masked clown. The elemental "attack" should not surprise him, unless his diversion of the stars works, but the ball should still be unknown of whatever attack or technique it does. A dark chess piece was placed down in the mind of the ninja, it was by not him, nor a mind game of this clown, but a welcome visitor of his mind. "Checkmate in-"His voice suddenly rippled with static before coming clear again"-moves."

The Extinguisher -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/14/2006 22:43:00)
Axel blinked. Who was this mysterious man who had saved his life, and why was he out for Axel's blood. This entire incendent seemed strange. Something fishy was going on in this arena. Something very odd indeed. But this was neither the time nor the place to be thinking of such things. If this Earth Warrior wanted to help, then he would play along. The more people he worked with, the more control he had over his oppenents next round. The important this was removing the clown, then he would focus on the others. Moving fast, working wth the distraction from Lexaeus, Axel found his way to the bottom of the hill and to his sword as fast as he could. He could still weild it with one hand, but it would take some effort. He needed his arm healed if he wanted to issue serious injury, but until he could reach his pouch, this would have to do. And whose to say that what he was looking for is still in there.

JimJumOop -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/15/2006 4:49:43)
It was a breeze at first, nothing more. A gentle sign of nature's softness. The breeze caressed the fire warrior's cheeks and muffled his hair. The breeze carried on to the next, stroking the chin yet harder than before and it continued growing in strength. It went on and on until finding a spot behind the black jester, where it starting spinning around until a gust ripped op earth and grass and the gust continued to grow in strength. And then, all of a sudden, the wind died and the grass and soil was spread across the arena. There now stood a man, old and grey, clad in simpler rags. This man with the wrinkled skin and long, grey beard; this old man in robes of white and grey; this old man whose place seemed all wrong in his arena of fight and bloodshed did not hesitate o fight. Already had the ones that were to be fought been chosen. Nature had in itself pointed out to him through the signs of the wind, who were to fall here today and nevermore disgrace the face of this planet. The clown. That foolish trickster was already soiling the earth and the water. It could just be a matter of time before it would also turn the air in stinking clouds of death. He would not allow this to happen. This clown would have to be destroyed and in a hurry. Only when that one was down he would concentrate on the next opponent that disgraced the sight of his lovely lady nature. The wind told him all that had happened in this arena, told him about the clown. The moving winds of the arena sang in chora with the still air and this old man then knew, who here supported the dreadful clown and who here was against it. Others were now attacking the clown but no one seemed to fend of the wicked spiders - and do believe me when I tell you this, young hero, this old man had nothing against spiders only these unnatural ones, not creations of the great mother but of some perverted infidel. The old man was calm; he was yet out of danger. He took his time, chanted a rhyme or two, not to attack but to focus his power. He was not yet on top and the journey had been long. His bones were not what they used to be and his body was growing weaker by the day. Yet for each day his magic was growing stronger. He opened his eyes, those dead, grey eyes, and pointed the gnarled, wooden staff towards the spider beings. From his great distance he forced by magic means the air to do his bidding to rid the world of the spider beings. It was only the singing voice of the wind that revealed something was moving. The air-attack was hidden in itself and all invisible to the normal eye. However the ears were not so foolish. Wind blasted forth and concentrated in shockwaves. Cannonballs of pure air, oh so devastating, hurled against the spider minions with the force of nature itself. Invisible projectiles would soon learn these perverted machines why The Wind Lord would soon choose Marquis de Mal as his champion.

kenzoku -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/15/2006 8:42:33)
As the ninja stars sped in his direction, The Shadow gazed straight forward. He waved in a 'goodbye' gesture. As the first ninja star came close, The Shadow sunk into the ground, reemerging at the top of the slope, of which Axel was at the bottom. The shadow created a massive ball of pure shadow energy. It was like an enormous boulder of pure evil. The Shadow launched it down at the injured warrior. He turned around just in time to see most of the spiders implode. No matter. He saluted the head spider, who was out of the fray. The spider nodded. It leapt at the mage "Kamikaze!" It shouted in a prerecorded voice. It exploded in a great blast of fire. The Shadow's eyes remained vacant. He reached up with one hand, and from his sleeve created an enormous cloud of darkness and launched it into the sky. He was becoming frantic. He had tried to destroy the weak, but in his lust to kill he had made everyone his enemy. The Shadow moved once again. Now he was at the top of the fountains. He planted a flag them. The symbol on this flag was a dead tree growing red fruit, a symbol of the Dark Lord's ability to both kill and reanimate.

JimJumOop -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/15/2006 11:52:36)
Pathetic, he thought. The move was unexpected yet easily deflected. There was so much time to prepare. The old man Marquis noted the clown's speed; that could be important later. And as the clown flew around in great, great speed the largest of the remaining spiders reacted. It leapt; leapt at Marquis. A foolish act, really, the old mage was far away. The spiders never got very close and he had already prepared his spell when it told its next act. Though Marquis' magic had not been intended for an explosion it would have the same effect. He had planned to just send the spider being flying and have it fly into the nearest solid object hence destroying it. However upon the fire moving towards him the strong blast of wind had the same effect. Fire and wind met in a moment that would be long sung about by the bards. The explosion came from quite a distance and was cooled off a bit and lost some force. The wind mage was strong and his powers still fresh. From the old man came a wall of wind that held back the fire in front of the old mage until it died out. What happened to others near the spider he could not tell but Marquis was very much alive after the vain attack. The explosive force in the spider had not been great compared to distance nor compared to the strength of the wind mage. Only few of the spiders were left and they were all still away - If had snuck closer the explosion would surely have dealt with them - and Marquis decided to finish of these harmful threats before dealing with the clown itself.

kenzoku -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/15/2006 17:24:52)
The Shadow sunk into the ground to be replaced by Havoc. His mask was different now: The eyes and mouth were closed in what appeared to be prayer. "My Lord, Creator and Source of all Darkness, I grant you this land, which I have modified to your liking. Observe as I fight to show you my strength." Havoc and his shadow were in the arena now. The Shadow shifted his dark yet transparent manifestation, shifting himself into a great Shadow Behemoth. He opened his mouth as though he were roaring, yet his roar was silent. He stampeded down the hill toward Axel on silent and swift, though muscular, feet. His swung his four arms wildly and powerfully, creating a dull thump when a fist made contact the ground. He was punching downward at Axel, so there were a lot of dull thumps with every missed attack. Havoc's mask-eyes opened, once again providing sight. The mouth opened into the same creepy grin. Havoc threw an odd orb into the air. It exploded, showering the entire battlefield with hundreds of thousands of needles. Havoc raised an umbrella made of reinforced and usually strong material. It was all for show, really. The needles weren't traveling in his direction.

Kellehendros -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/15/2006 21:36:36)
Shadow watched the failure of his last spell impassively, inwardly he seethed. The spell should have worked, perhaps he had failed to properly lower the tempurature enough. It was little matter, the fight was progressing well, and the Dark Jester, fool that he was, served only to infuriate the other combatants, drawing thier attacks to him like moths to a flame. Soon the Jester would fall under the opposition he brought upon himself, and then Shadow could move on to another target, perhaps the Wind Maiden. The Ice Wizard jerked backwards in surprise, a moment later, as a spear of Earth thrust upwards from the ground, shattering a hole in the marble platform, his unseen eyes darted quickly to the Earth Warrior, yet, he was nowhere to be seen, had the Earth Warrior betrayed him for the Dark Jester? Nay, a soft voice whispered from the Earth itself, "now we are even." Shadow raised a brow in amusement, "so be it." Again the whisper from the Earth, "we shall go together." The Ice Wizard nodded absently, "aye." The Dark Jester deployed some sort of mechanized spider, followed quickly by a veritable army of them. Shadow stood quietly, the spiders trundled off to assult others, he would save himself to face the Jester. Surveying the field quickly, the Ice Wizard caught a movement at the edge of his vision, turning he followed it, watching incredulously, as a man soared through the air, an uprooted sapling sailing with him. The unlikely pair smashed into one of the other fountains, creating a spectacular desplay of flying marble chips and water, the crowd roared its approval, thinking that some Contender had just struck a mighty blow against another. Shadow too thought this must be, for how else could such a thing have happened? In either event, that particular Contender would not be bothering anyone very soon. The Ice Wizard turned to watch as first the Ranger, who seemed to be a Contender for the Energy Lord, then a Dark Ninja, and another new Contender, a Wind Caster, took out the mechanized spiders and launched attacks on the Dark Jester. The field was turning against the Jester, soon Shadow would make his move in this particular Chess match, yet, he was distracted, as he noticed the Jester's works on the field itself. His fountain had been contaminated, turning to blood, the marble seemed to blacken to an onyx color, obsidian, perhaps? Little matter, his spells would take more energy with out the great source of water, and thus, Ice, but things were coming to a head. The Dark Jester launched another assult on the field, needles rained from the sky, taking cover behind the fountain that now ran red with blood, and the Earth spike, Shadow cast forth his magic, bringing into being a floating disc of Ice over the Earth Warrior, and farther down the slope, the Fire Mage he had aided. Though the Ice Wizard didn't want to help the Fire Mage, it seemed unaviodable if he were to help his ally, who had just save the Fire Mage himself. And who knew, the Fire Mage looked close to done in, he could be fodder for the Dark Jester, or perhaps, just an easy target for later...

zaarl -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/15/2006 22:44:55)
He strode in with a twinkle in his eyes as he entered the fountain arena. His name was Darren. He had been a warrior with an alignment to the element wind and its great all powerful Goddess. A black band was tied around his neck with a white arrowhead that had an insignia on the front side and a carving of a woman on the back. That arrowhead was his most prized possession. In it was all that he stood for, strength, cleverness, agility, and most of all the power of wind. The carving on the back was a picture of the Wind Goddess that he so revered and respected. Without a doubt he was a warrior for her and his fighting in this championship would go to her glory. A small breeze came and swirled around him making a smile sprout on his face. He had silvery hair that danced on the edge of his light, but very sturdy, armor and right above his dark green eyes. A blade was strapped to his back with a gold hilt and a single white diamond on its pommel. He had two pouches at his side that he tapped happily which contained some of his weapons as well. He had around himself a sense of confidence and experience. He had traveled far to enter this great tournament of wit and skill, a fight that would maybe take his life. He smiled at the prospect of the challenge and scanned the arena for fights that he may play an interesting role in and fighters waiting to be challenged. He bowed his head and prayed a quick prayer to the Wind Goddess for blessings in agility, in the power to overcome his opponents, for worthy fighters, and most of all that she would guide his hand to victory. He looked up and grinned, he was home...

xaxtoo -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/16/2006 1:48:57)
It’s a marvel of nature what significant improvements of thought happen in the security of the ground. Martin, at the moment, despite carrying a slight bruise on his derriere, is quite content with being in the fountain: the water is still ebbing with shockwaves from his disturbance, and they massage him rather well. A rather unfortunate side-effect of landing in the water is that his pipe has gone out, but being quite comfortable, Martin starts to take in his surroundings. So I managed to get myself into the middle of a melee, what disaster! Gladiatorial style combat kind of had its pinnacle when it was a way to look at well built semi-naked men to choose for the later orgies; these guys, however, are rather over dressed for such an occasion. Are they so carnal as to give into their primal desires to senseless kill for no personal profit? Fame they might get, but fame certainly doesn’t bring food to the stomach, nor does it last; fame is fickle. In a pit with such men, I think would I need more than a pipe, maybe a bottle too. Was a nymphomaniac den really that much to hope for? If not that, at least a wet tunic contest. I should be getting some comforts for my age, come on God, I’ve been decently faithful. Oooh, that looked painful, ah seems like the psycho-maniacal clown is still alive. Come to think of it, he’s not funny at all! Do their union even allow such disgraces in? I should write them a scathing yet concerned letter! Their standards certainly have fallen since I last visited their headquarters. I should do something about this, then in lieu of my letter, they may decide to reward me—those clowns enjoy quite a nice pay. Martin stands up, grabbing the sapling though, with the intention of wielding it as a club if the situation so arises. Even with a slight slouch, Martin still stands a good 10 meters tall. Moving with the sapling as his third leg, Martin meticulously makes his way over to the clown. “Out of sight, young Joe.” Martin turns over his pipe, emptying its sooty contents on the clown. “Now that’s on par with a pie toss, not to mention it’s given me inconsiderable amount of pleasure, so you don’t totally fail as a clown.” Finished with a rather important task of eliminating the dregs and filth, Martin now seeks someway of lighting his pipe again. Careful of not stepping on anyone, though one always has to fight the instinct to squish things, Martin approaches the rather enigmatic Cassiline. There are several key things bothering Martin about the presence of Cassiline at this event. The foremost is that taking part in a contest of endurance, one has to inevitably deal out damage, yet Martin can’t quite put a finger on how killing some man in this arena has anything to do with protecting the kingdom. Then if not as important, but certainly more unsettling is the fact that the Cassiline is fighting naked, unclothed by the traditional Cassilian armor. The armor, at least for Martin always signified an emphasis on defense rather than being the aggressor. The lack of such a thing leaves the doubt of whether or not this Cassiline has given over to bloodlust that preys on individuals that kill for a living. However, next to the absence of the feel of wood in his mouth, this matter is trivial, but it would still be wise to keep a relatively safe distance from someone with a flaming sword, a very useful lighter, lest he decides to shish-kebob you; Martin has been alive too long to not have realized that any idiot can saw off an arm, or in his case a nice chunk of a toe, with a sharp weapon. “Borrow a light sonny?”

JimJumOop -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/16/2006 5:17:22)
Old man, Marquis, still had not moved from his first spot of arrival. There had been no reason to move from this place that served so good protection as he was quite far from the other contestants, even the two new arrivals the wind told him off. He knew of them though not looking - He never looked - not because he was busy eliminating the fleeing spiders but because of the grey in his eyes. The wind was his eyes. He could this way also tell of the clown and its newest attack. The others would most likely not be able to see something as small as the needles that would rain over them but to the blind the unseen becomes clear. That was Marquis' philosophy on the gift of sight he had been robbed from upon joining his order. It would be an easy victory should he allow the rain of needles to touch the other contestants but allowing others to be hurt by the perverse jester would be a blow to the old man's fragile heart. For every soul the clown had extinguished he would pay back in the coin of pain. Marquis summoned his power over the brutal element; the raging storm; the violent wind; the ferocious cyclone. He focused his power of wind and in seconds a strong wind blew over the fighter's heads. A circular current of wind blew strong and the needles that rained were caught in the floating maelstrom. Only a few flew across the battlefield but in single numbers the needles were harmless. The far greater part was now within the control of old man, Marquis. He slowly narrowed the radius of his maelstrom, concentrating the needles into one place, still using his power to hold them in the air. Surely none would e foolish enough to attack one that prevented death to rain. A gust, one he could not help but create, blew around him as he finished his spell and ended the control of the wind. With wind guiding the needles they now all in union flew towards the jester himself on the fountain, sadly also the poor new arrival, Martin. The old man breathed heavily when he finished his move, the needles were now in nature's control, flying towards their new target. However Marquis could not rest just yet for the poor Martin was still in danger. The old man fought not for glory or fame or fabulous prices. He fought only for the Wind Mother and she had said to him through her soft voice of wind, that the clown was the one to be destroyed. No others would he hurt until his goddess instructed him otherwise. Blasting a strong current of air against the vagabond the old man hoped he could get him out of the zone of danger before the needles landed. It was a bold move and a lot could go wrong, like the vagabond believing the win to be an attack, but Marquis was willing to risk being hated in exchange for the life of an innocent man.

Viroxor -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/16/2006 9:45:36)
Lexaeus saw the jester fire up his deadly tirade of needles. He believed he could counter it, but how? His question was swiftly answered as a disc of ice formed itself over his head, effectively deflecting all the raining projectiles. He nodded a quick gesture of gratitude at the Ice mage Shadow, his ally. Apparently, defeating the harlequin of Havoc was going to have to be a joint effort, especially now that he had such a home field advantage. But Lexaeus had means of weakening him. It was a long shot, but it was his only chance. It was fully reliant, though, on the hope that the other warriors kept Havoc distracted. It wouldn't destroy him, but it would surely weaken him enough for a killing blow to be dealt. And better yet, it would give Lexaeus and his ally an advantage of their own. Lexaeus began focusing his energy into descending back into te Earth. It would take a lot more energy to do it now, though. Now that the jester had corrupted it. But once Lexaeus was inside, he could begin restoring the land to a form he could better use. His power quckly left him and he knew it. But the others must have been distracting Havoc well, because he was not interrupted. After what seemed like forever, Lexaeus felt it. The one spot where he could reside inside the Earth beneath the arena. Finally, he descended into it, using the power of his mighty, gracious Lord to purify it again. At long last the power of darkness began to recede, and thus, Lexaeus became increasingly strong. He only hoped he could restore the arena in time.

kenzoku -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/16/2006 9:59:21)
Havoc seethed at the man that had insulted him in such a way. He glanced toward the other challengers to observe his needles' effect. They were headed straight toward him! "No matter." Havoc said, calming down. From his suit he removed a silver orb. It unfolded itself at a single command into a shield. Havoc ducked behind it until the rain of needles ended. Then he did something oddly satisfying: He sunk into the ground, emerging in front of the old man who had insulted him. He held out a drakel made weapon that he had tweaked a bit himself. He held it at the man and pulled the trigger... A flag emerged from the depths of the gun that read "Bang!" written in rather bright color and ridiculous-looking handwriting. He tossed the gun backward into the field, where it would explode. He had always wanted to do that! He ran toward the edge of the obsidian structure and jumped off. He landed on his feet and hit the ground running. He ran to the place where the warrior was underground. He wielded his hilt. The shadow flame blade jutted from it. He stabbed it deep into the ground, aided by his bond to the mask; The mask provided him with strength. It spoke to him. It moved his limbs when he neglected to. But Havoc could never remove the mask. It would never be forced from his face.

The Extinguisher -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/16/2006 19:23:20)
The Behmoth charged at Axel, attacking wildly. The fire mage knew his timing would have to be presice, and he would suffer some pain for it, but this creature of darkness would go down. As the bestclosed in, Axel swung his sword upwards, gashing into the Shadows now pyshical form. The heat from his blade instantly sealed the wound, but it burned the beast from the inside. Axel had more important things to deal with, and left the shadow creature to ie. The clown was foolish for taking his eyes of Axel, because it had given the fire mage the edge needed to take down his oppenent. Moving as fast as he could, he ran to the top of the hill, to grab a jar from his bag. Just one, the only one there. This thing would save his life. He walked over the edge, to see the clown driving his weapon into the ground. Axel chuckled. "Rule #1 Jester. Never turn your back on your oppenent." And with that he tossed the jar next to his enemy. The liquid, now reacting to the oxegyn in the air, sent flames flying about. The grass lit up, and the flames traveled the feild. This was no ordinay fire. It was an enchanted fire. No harm would come to anyone from this fire. There would be no smoke, and when it was all over, no trace of the fire will be left. But this fire would give Axel the advantage he needed, he could hide in fire, he could use the fire to his advantage. There would be no escpae for this clown.

demonhunter -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/16/2006 21:39:12)
Bernard observed the fight around him passively. Many fought well, but the clown... The clown was quickly becoming a danger to everyone in the arena. His rain of needles was proof of that. Bernard had raised his forearms and was beginning a defensive enchantment when someone else intervened. Lowering his arms, Bernard watched as a rather tall being approached, and asked for a light. "Sorry, but my magic is combat oriented only," he replied apologetically, "Besides, I have work to do." With a glance at Holly, he moved towards the clown, his stell longsword ringing from its sheath as he moved. The clown had attempted to kill everyone in the arena, including himself and the girl, whom he considered to be his ward for now. Added in the fact that this maniac had corrupted the very earth... He needed to be dealt with. Permanently. Bernard held his sword in a simple two-fisted grip, angling it across his body to ward off any incoming blows. This was the standard fighting pose taught by the Cassilines, and he wasn't about to change it. He stopped about ten feet from the clown, and shifted himself into a stand-still pose. Feet two shoulder-widths apart, body side-on to his opponent. He was ready to fight. Fire all around him. Good. He might be able to use some of it, and save his own strength. Then again, he might not. It didn't seem to be harming anyone. Benevolent fire, harmless to everything. Interesting. He'd not seen such a thing before. "You've done enough damage, Jester," he called, loud enough for all to hear, "You have become a threat to all around you. In Cassiel's name, I am beholden to kill you. Come face your death like a man!"

zaarl -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/16/2006 22:19:07)
Darren looked on with wonder at the beauty of the arena. It was one of the most magnificent and beautiful places he had ever seen. He loved the feel of the grass in his hands, the smell of the fresh air, and the sound of water coming from the fountain, but suddenly it all changed. The arena became darkened and everything in the arena twisted into something evil, something sickening. He felt as if he had been cut deep into his chest and looked down but there was no blade protruding from his body, no blood flowing free, yet he felt pain, grief, sorrow, and most importantly anger. He let out a yell and looked around the arena to find a single clown that seemed to be the cause of this trouble by all the attention and enemies he had drawn. A smile came to his face as he thought, How dare a mere mortal destroy the beauty of such a place! A place befitting of the Wind Goddess at that! She will never stand for such blasphemy! Killing you will be of great pleasure. The Will of the Goddess is my command... Stalking towards the clown, his eyes full of anger, Darren reached down into one of his pouches but then shook his head and reached up and unsheathed his sword. “I will not use my other weapon on you. Instead I shall save it for a more worthy opponent,” he said to himself as he approached the Jester. The sword was bright steel with carvings etched into it of great bursts of wind with an inscription on the top of the pommel where the sword met the gold and it read, “May your foolish God show mercy on your soul, for mine shall not!” A smile on his face, a twinkle in his eye, and a sword in his hand he was ready to fight. Thus the will of the Wind Goddess!

JimJumOop -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/17/2006 7:46:21)
The wind told him everything. It told him who to work with, who to fight and who to ignore for now. The clown was the opponent, nothing else mattered for now. It was time to finish of this foolish jester. Old man Marquis prepared. He would not be the one dealing the final blow but it did not matter. Nothing in this fight was for him but for the greater good of the nature. Regardless of who finished the terrible clown Marquis would be glad just to be rid of the being. The old man started chanting and the wind did his bidding. The old man had been told who fought for which Lord and the wind had told him who to work with. Who was Marquis to question his lady Wind? He sat in motion the very air but on the very smallest of planes. Small vibrations were sat in motion near young Darren's ears and as the wind vibrated sound was created, at first just a buzzing like if a wasp flew by but soon an old, dry voice spoke in the most serious way, spoke wisdom and religion and of common goals. Old man Marquis instructed young Darren of what would happen and what they should do. "We fight for the same goddess, Mother Wind, and though we belong to different groups then we share the same goal, wind child. We fight for nature, for what is pure and right and we fight against the perverted clown to fulfil the demand of our goddess in her eternal wisdom and beauty. You, child, shall be my steel, strike down the wicked one whilst pacify him. Do this and you will have gained not just an ally but a friend..." The voice turned to a buzzing sound again and then died out. The old man did not knew whether the young one would accept but he had done as he was told by the winds around him and now he would move on to the second part f his plan. He pointed the gnarled staff at the jester and did again what he had done to young Darren. He created sound. This time, however, it was all different. The air was set in movement, vibrations created but now it was a wild shriek, a million banshees that yelled into the very head of the clown. If the sound did not kill it would surely bring the jester to his knees as this attack had done to so many others. As the torture-like spell carried on Marquis spend equal amounts of energy to prevent the shrieking sound to reach outside the clown's ears. No others should be harmed by this attack. Sound echoed around the clown's head but the vibrations stopped there. Sometimes the smallest thing, no larger than vibrations in a medium, can be the most powerful and deadly of all things.

kenzoku -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/17/2006 14:56:10)
The mask took on a sorrowful expression. There's no way I can win... Unless... Havoc called upon the full fury of the mask. His body glowed with demonic energy. He would be using it all. The mask would have alerted Havoc of the magic being cast upon him, but all of its power was within Havoc. The sound was deafening! No! Beyond deafening! Havoc now fully understood the term "Mind-blowing." The top left of the mask became covered with cracks. Two warriors set upon him. Havoc armed himself with a second and third shadow hilt, leaving the third one in the earth. He now wielded two shadow hilts as he rushed into combat. He lashed out quickly at both of their heads. He was striking with the force of a charging rhino, yet that was only a portion of the power he still had. There was a price, however. First, the mask would want its power back, and second, the abundance of power dulled Havoc's mind.

zaarl -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/17/2006 21:51:34)
Darren heard the voice of the old man in the wind and smiled. It seemed that the Goddess had more then one follower in the arena and he was happy to kill this mad man. He nodded his head and sent a wave of wind that spoke to the old man saying, I shall fight beside you to kill this mad man but I am not your servant. Let us kill him... The jester came on and attacked him but he seemed to be blinded by speed and force so when he approached he rolled to the side and dogged his attack. Darren then stopped instantly, put his sword back in his sheath, and reached into his pouch. He pulled up a handful of arrowheads and put them in his left hand. Then one by one he threw them at the mad jester all the while sending a gust of wind behind each one. After he had depleted his supply in his hand, he reached up and pulled down the White Arrowhead, then he put it up to his lips and kissed it. Afterwards he chanted an incantation, and let fly the arrowhead at his target. This arrowhead was very special though. The incantation allowed him to control the wind around it so that if it missed its target he could redirect it with his wind sending it back at the wayward jester. It also was blessed with extreme sharpness and can cut into the hardest metal there is and rip apart the very chords and strands of armor and a man's body.

SZO11 -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/17/2006 22:17:43)
If there ever was a time to catch that clown off guard, it would be now. The strength had a weakness of speed, and the speed was the strength of the ninja. Zoshang burst out of the shadow, his energy on low, he had spent far too much power for his illusions. All he had left was a few minutes at most. His staff at hand, he slammed his feet into the back of the knees of the deranged clown, while spinning the darkness powered bow staff behind him to propel forward. Then instantly swung his staff towards his legs, not to hit them but between them, and kicked spin the staff. Not doing much damage in the state he was in, but enough to at least stop his attack and send the clown spiraling to the ground, as arrowheads flew torwads him and the clown. He flipped back before the arrowheads came to close. But there were two problems with his own strategy, even with the clown in this postion. One, he was close enough for the clown to use an unknown attack on him and two, he didn't plan before this attack. He was tired from all of his tricks, endurance wasn't his strong point, he had to finish this soon. After his attack, Zoshang pulled out his last weapons, duel katanas. He was saving the best for last. He switched to a counter-attack pose while deflecting a few arrowheads off target, the clown had several enemies, he could attack anyone. Zoshang just had to be lucky enough to predict his next move. I'm going to have to go with...poison.

xaxtoo -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/17/2006 23:40:10)
Wispy streams of smoke surrounds Martin, “Ah” ejaculated the very pleased man. The pipe is now firmly in Martin’s mouth, right where it should be. When the Cassiline decided to be very unfriendly, Martin creased a small frown, but that was quickly alleviated by the marvelous fire created by a wonderful fire user. Martin would have liked the ability to control fire, but alas, the ability to instantaneous light his pipe was most unfortunately denied to him at birth: the work of an omniscient but funny God, who undoubtedly took much pleasure in having Martin frantically search for a suitable flint and dry branches doing thunderstorms. Once again finding himself ignored, Martin mused over how the clown had tried shooting him with a toy gun. The act surprised Martin a bit, though he had no fear even if that gun had been real, really, he had bigger toothpicks than that minuscule weapon. Oh Martin has chuckled at that gag, though it had much less to do with the clown’s ability than with the incongruity of sizes. Close by Martin is a rather dazed looking, or deep in thought, or stupid girl. Even Martin, who came relatively late has felt an urgency pick up in the arena as contestants are now all taking action to prove themselves before an audience incessantly egging them on. On second thought, maybe the girl is smart by avoiding danger, but who knows what one can put on judgment purely on observation. Despite the change, Martin has no desire to engage puny humans in any form of combat. His eyes really don’t like tracking the erratic movements of humans; combat between humans always seemed to resemble a massive gathering of animals in heat near a watering hole. Besides, Martin is old, he should be entitled to relax whenever and wherever he chooses. Conflict between giants and humans aren’t uncommon, though there certainly aren’t classes teaching ways to slay humans as the counterpart exists as a rather common course amongst humans. However, Martin is old enough to remember whether or not a class to slay humans should be instituted being a strong contention point between two politicians at one time when, to the chagrin of all giants, a rather stupid one broke his collarbone falling from a beanstalk. Martin was in the neighborhood at the time, and showed up for the funeral; it was surprising that the girth of the giant didn’t cause the immediate collapse of the plant. Poor widow too, so thin next to that whale, he must have crushed her on a regular basis. Suddenly, Martin was struck with a wonderful idea; he realized he hasn’t played Liftoff in a long long time, and this presents a wonderful opportunity. Last time he engaged in this game, he and his friend used sheep, rather monotoned creatures, though they’re not nearly as funny as humans; dwarves are the best, followed by elves, but neither seems to be in abundance for some reason. Dwarves are stoic, thus were never really abundant, so to speak, but the sudden abstinence of elves is a mystery. The first one in line would have to be the ungentlemanly Cassiline, for he couldn’t have spared 5 seconds of his time. Outside of this slight umbrage taken by Martin, he really doesn’t care who goes after the Cassiline, though the clown might be funny, but it would seem the clown can fly, what a shame. The sapling can’t quite suffice as the Liftoff driver, but in desperate times, sacrifices have to be made: all this really means is that precision becomes much more important. After taking a rough measurement of the headwind, carefully, Martin lines up the club with the Cassiline. “Liftoff!”

demonhunter -> RE: =EC= Fountain Arena (9/18/2006 4:43:14)
Bernard ducked fluidly as the clown advanced and lashed out. The Cassiline moved with a blade as naturally as breathing: He'd been training since the age of ten. Nimbly evading attacks made on the clown by others, he kept moving, seeking an opening. He could hear the giant behind him, heard the shout of "Liftoff!" and felt something solid strike him. Cursing profusely on various bodyparts of the Blessed Elua, he found himself moving rapidly through the air. Never let it be said that Cassilines aren't opportunistic. Calling on Cassiel and the Fire Lord both, he wrapped himself, and his blade, in white hot flames, and used his will to control the fire's movements. As such, he was able to hold himself still, in the air, for a brief moment: Long enough to set himself up for his favourite maneuvre. Having ceased moving, the only way he could go, once he started moving again, was straight down. For this reason, he had positioned himself above the maniacal clown. Putting all his weight and will into propelling himself downward, he raised his sword high above his head as he descended. "Cassiel's... Meteor!" A clarion cry tore from his lips, proclaiming the name of one of the most famous combinations of fire and swordplay. It had been designed by Joscelin Verreuil, at the battle of Troyes-Les-Mont against the Skaldi. Granted, he hadn't used fire: that had been added later. But the principal was there: descend from a great height, strike and land in a defensive crouch, spinning as one stands up again. With flame, the maneuvre becomes even more dangerous, as the flaming strike, and the widespread conflageration associated with the spinning recovery, can deal out a great deal more hurt than mere steel. The question was whether or not he would strike the clown...

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