RE: =Elemental Championships= Sky Arena


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8/21/2007 22:10:03

Coyote
Member

Rychaeth's smile dropped when he saw several lights spiral offward, away from his target. He shot a quick arrow in the direction of the light. That man should be at the very source of the lights. He then shot a couple more arrows for good measure, both of them aimed slightly to the left and right of the figure. If the first arrow didn't hit, then at least the other two would come reasonably close.

The fog lifted slightly. Goddamn it. That put him at less of an advantage. Given his quarry's movements back and forth, he obviously had no idea where he was going. Good. But with the lessening of the storm, it was now much easier to see those faint shadows through the storm. Easier aiming.

Squinting at the faint shadow in the snow and fog, he fired another arrow at it. He took a step forward, making sure to keep his footing. The snow made moving around /very/ annoying. As it was, a hand-to-hand melee duel would be hell for him.

He felt back and checked his quiver. Damn. Only about fifteen arrows left. He would have to be slightly more careful with his aiming.

After a pause, the man sent another orb this way. He felt the fur on the back of his neck bristle slightly. This one reeked of magic, much more than the previous orb sent his way had. And given its precise, linear movement, it was magically sent to him. He drew his scimitar to deal with the threat. But all it did was stop right next to him, blinking.

It was annoying as hell. But more importantly, it made him a target.

He grinned. No, he wouldn't just bat the thing away. He knew much better than most how to deal with mages. And a mage of such low caliber as to send him minor annoyances in combat wouldn't be in here in the first place. And if that was all it did, then there was no reason it should reek of such strong magic.

He grinned. Aside from the hair and eyes (Not to mention the warmth), that was another neat-side effect of being screwed over by magic.

He pulled out a mesh sack. It was light and was meant for touch-sensitive magical objects. He had to make a risk, here: if the trap was sprung on contact, then he was one dead fox. If it was meant to be hit, then there would be one dead mage.

He carefully caught the floating orb in the sack. It didn't do anything. Good. So it wasn't touch-sensitive. He grabbed the end of the sack so that he had the thing under control. Carefully, he pulled it away from him. And he tapped lightly it with the scimitar. Another risk, but well worth it. His scimitar was much more useful for things besides being eye candy.

And it was the main reason he was able to take on assignments for people that dabbled in magic. He grinned. The thing wasn't meant for serious magic, but it could undo minor, but useful, spells. Such as levitation. And if something couldn't levitate in the air, it couldn't fly back to him. Of course, it could roll, but by the end of it all, it wouldn't be rolling.

His sword wasn't perfect. But it worked.

And so he swung the orb in a circle. If he did this correctly, there should be no violent movement to set the thing off. Little by little, the sack was swung around, gaining momentum and velocity. And he took aim. And he let go, sending the thing sailing towards his target. It would have to hit the ground eventually. And when it did, it might crack and just fall apart. It might crack and release all the latent energy confined within it.

But hopefully, whatever the spell was would be triggered. It didn't help to err, but it helped to err on the side of caution.

And as an accomplished thief, he was well-trained in that respect.

AQW

Post #: 26

8/26/2007 20:17:15

Genoclysm
Legendary AdventureGuide!

Jeice bit his lip as an arrow tore through the flesh of his right hand. It wouldn't do to draw attention to himself. The other arrows were aimed assuming Jeice would dodge the first, so he kept his feet firm, and let them pass as he began to call the appropriate magics to heal the wound. When a fourth arrow came, he threw up his good hand to call up a barrier, but slipped on the ice and fell to his back, while the arrow whistled over him harmlessly, despite the literal slip up. While the opponent was distracted by the orb, the minor healing was quickly finished, and Jeice prepared his next action.

He's not going to let me get through this without direct combat, is he? No matter. I've trained so much in casting endurance, that I should make it through this fight, and if I am chosen, I should have some opportunity to be restored, right? Regardless, his state going into the finals wouldn't matter if he didn't actually make it to the finals. As he watched his enemy's actions, he used his left hand to prepare five bolts of searing light, one to the front, then quickly before the second passed by, one to the back, one to the left, then one to the right. These would be to pin him while the largest of the bolts would blast down in the center, after he would hopefully be blocked from escape.

He's figured out the orb... I'll have to be quick. In the next moment, the right hand raised to set the orb off in a rather large shower of molten light shards, his left hand released the bolts he had been preparing, and the hand that set off the orb began to bring up the barrier necessary to ward off the shards. This strain isn't one he usually allowed himself to go through so early, but if his opponent would be significantly injured, it would certainly pay off in the long run.

Post #: 27

8/27/2007 16:56:52

Xforce
Member

Ilemn laughed as he slid past his opponent, his voice rising in a dark, mocking cackle that altered its pitch and cadence as his opponent tumbled towards the floor. He moved relentlessly, unhindered by human concepts of "grace" or"mercy", his mind as fogged as the icy mists that swirled around him. He barely noticed the bumps he was receiving as he slid across the arena's rocky terrain, his lips curled back in a feral snarl as cold and unforgiving as the arena itself. Without stopping to pause, he thrust his icy fist into the ground, shifting his weight as he pivoted, ready to hurl himself upward... when a length of chain ripped through the fog with incredible, smashing into the magically hardened column of ice he was using to pivot with terrific force. The suddenness of the attack gave Ilemn no time to react, destroying his fist even as it threw him off balance, sending him tumbling across the unforgiving arena floor.

Shards of pain lanced into Ilemn's mind as his spellwork tore from the force of the attack, slicing through the fog of his battle-madness, piercing straight to the heart of his conciousness. He felt mundane damage as well - a dull, searing pain that spread through his left arm and made his throat constrict, a silent, terrible scream gathering within this throat. Tottering to his feet, he nearly gagged, supressing the urge to vomit as a fresh stab of pain shot through his injured arm. He felt his legs groan in protest as he slid into his battle stance once more, his eyes boring into the roiling fog as if ready to administer retribution through sight alone. The fog before him suddenly lit up, his senses tingling as his foe's power radiated upward, announcing his position to all in his vicinity. A bright red blast detonated along the ground some distance to his right, followed seconds later by a deafening boom that sent a spray of rock howling through the wind. Ilemn did not flinch, but merely raised a hand to one cheek, where something warm and wet was beginning to trickle down his face. The audacity of his opponent's moves galled him, irritated him as he had never been irritated before. Something... dark, cold and nameless was beginning to wake deep within the depths of his soul. Anger and resentment flowed through him like a frozen flame, feeding resolve to his battered frame, feeding him the desire to smash his foe's grandstanding and grind their face into the dirt. Dimly, in some corner of his mind, he could feel his voice-magic gathering once more... could feel its power coelascing within him, aching for release.

Then he saw the light moving toward him, his foe charging across the uneven terrain on a battered leg that should have made movement impossible. It was as though his opponent was mocking his earlier efforts, telling him that his entire gambit had been in vain. His eyes bored into his opponent with supreme disdain as his lips parted once more, his voice cold and implacable as an Avalurch's rumble. "Can't touch this..."
The ground seemed to ripple, a wave of intense cold flowing from beneath the folds of his cloak, spreading across the island with alarming rapidity. "Can't touch this..."
The cold seemed to intensify as layers of black ice began to spread across the ground, glistening wetly as they took form. "Can't touch this..."
A wave of solid cold rippled outward now, sliding across the arena floor like a wave as the true weaves of the spell began to take shape... "Can't touch this... nuh-uh."

< Message edited by Xforce -- 8/27/2007 16:59:05 >

AQ	Post #: 28

8/29/2007 18:03:40

cmgaugler
Member

The next few moments were unusual.

He saw himself approach, his hands filled to the brim with terrible agony, and then he saw himself slip upon the ice, the orb in his right hand discharging to spiral toward his opponent, while the rest of him smashed into the ice and slid over the uneven, rought terrain to a grinding halt. The light of the orb in his left hand flickered slightly, darkened, and then was lost in the light fog. James saw himself simply lie there, blood dripping from several cuts on his cheek and forehead, and a dark stain beginning to ripple and taint his right leg, where the wound from before had torn open.

And then it was over. The pain and torment washed over James, and he was literally torn from the sky into his mortal frame. He found himself cursing profanly as touch and smell and sound came back to him, a ginger hand reached to touch his leg where the bone had obviously been broken. He tried to rise, slowly, but tumbled to the ground after a moment as a fresh wave of pain stunned his mind.

Damn it, the bone's broken. I....I can't move my leg. And God damn it, the pain! It's like a thousand tiny needles are poking themselves into my being. Poking and prodding and tearing, with obvious malice. And..., he grit his teeth, and swallowed slightly to rid himself of the taste of blood, And...to heal it, would take up much of my energy. To create simply spells are easy; to heal and knit and connect all the peices of my leg together correctly (for to be incorrect, would be worse than not doing it all), would be torturous at best. I could not continue the fight, not without time to do it correctly. I could restitch the bone quickly, to continue the fight, but, he growled, and could not continue.

"I have no choice then. I must draw upon some of her power, and use some of my own power to contain it, lest it spread too quickly within my being. I MUST NOT LOSE CONTROL. Not here, not now." James closed his eyes, sighed softly and took a deep breath, and then began to feel within himself. Deep within. Past the writhings of his pain-wracked mind; past the slow, melodic coursings of his body; past the mythical floods of his soul.

Deep within. To a place of nothing-ness. An emptyness only beings such as himself, had within them. A hole, if you will; a hole through which, he knew not what dwelt upon the other side. Except for power. He knew that an almost unlimited power dwelt beyond that hole within him. And he knew that he could draw upon that power, but, equally, it could draw upon him. As with all great powers, there was a downside.

To begin with, there was a set limit, at this moment in time, of the power his physical being could contain. Once beyond that limit, it would overwhelm him and drive him into unconsiousness, and, in that way, send itself back to the abyss. With time, the power could be contained and controlled, but not enough time had elapsed for that to happen.

And second, as much as he could use the power, the power, in turn, could feed upon him. There were safe levels; levels of might he could control, but, past that, the power would begin to feed. First, upon his mind. He would lost all sanity, and be reduced to an animal, with no thought, plan...and....

...And...no self control.

After feeding upon the mind (leaving nothing save for the basic animal instincts), the power would then feed upon his soul, killing all joy and anger and greed and all feeling within him. And then, it would feel upon his physical body, converting his muscle and bone and organ into energy.

And then James would cease to exist. But he would not allow that to happen. James would allow the match to continue, and allow the power to give him incredible strength, but if it went on too long; if the power began to feed....he would cede the match to his opponent, and launch himself over the side of the arena. There was no other alternative.

And, to be truthful....he had lost his will to fight. As he felt the power flow forth, he found himself thinking again.

What do I fight for? What is there here which I would be willing to die for? The fans? The Elemental Lords? T….The children? He felt his muscles tighten. He felt the energy, the…magic…, begin to ripple down his legs and flow into them.

What is my life worth, that I would throw it away so easily? And why would I be so wishing to kill another? Are we all so far gone, that we would have individuals fight and die for our amusement? If we are so dead as a people, then why do I fight for them? What is the point?

“They don’t care. They never cared about us. I would like to see one individual in the audience, who wishes that I live. …” He sighed again. “There is no one. So…why am I fighting here? I am not defending my loved ones. I am not fighting someone who deserves death. We are all innocent, scared men, bleeding and killing for the sadistic amusement of those damned people. Or do we tussle for such hollow ideals as honor and pride? Or is it because of those high-and-mighty Elemental Lords, who care nothing for the pain and sufferings of men, and solely for their own greed.”

He could feel the magic support his legs, and then radiate outward to form another pair of enormous trunks of legs, constructed of white magic, which poked out of his hips. He could feel himself rise, and, at the same time, could feel the tendrils of energy poke out his rib cage, at the end of each tentacle a large sword, much like his own. He saw himself, a multi-tentacled monstrosity, each tentacle waving a dangerous light sword, and the whole self supported by two trunks of legs, stout and thick. He saw himself in the middle, his arms outstretched and holding two large balls of mana, as the rest of his body was covered with golden fire.

He saw himself whispering. “If he survives this, then I will be forced to drift into higher levels of energy in order to continue. I will not let that happen. If this match continues for a few more moments, then I will cede him the battle.”

“I….I do not wish to fight any longer. I want to rest.”

< Message edited by cmgaugler -- 8/29/2007 18:05:55 >

AQ	Post #: 29

8/29/2007 22:15:18

Zinsho_Lexagen
Member

He was uncertain as to the effect of his attack, then again there was no real result to be gained from it. The chain would deal with another opponent, one as of yet unknown while the shards were hardly a threat, particularly to his armored target. Resuming a slower dance Ketter waited, pondering the outcome of his assault as he gathered his powers, focusing to condense his art in ways he rarely found reason to. His was a dance of death in itself, the inferno about him there solely to warn opponents of impending death and to dispatch those foes who ventured near his 'unprotected' flanks and rear. Not that many could discover such venues of approach through his whirling motions that left him lunging in any direction he desired.

Yet there was more to his art than simply that dance of death, that was his calling, his choice in battle yet it was not the art that was born of his heritage. His was the power to manipulate metals, to draw on those forces that many took for granted and could not perceive. This did he intend to destroy this foe, his blades were lacking, his weaponry acceptable for most but with such armor they would deal little damage all things considered.

So he stalked forward, step by step nearing the shining one, for now this creature was encased in light, glowing with some unknown power that only confirmed his belief, this creature must die and soon. The echoing cry that soon followed was nearly met by a cackle, this power he was seeing was of little concern, he had seen such displays before and thought little of them. Those who showed their power off with such flamboyant auras were begging to be shown the truth of the matter, that they were no stronger than the rest, often weaker than those they would claim supremacy over. When his foe darted forward he sped up slightly, the hurricane about him almost stilled as the air grew thick with stored power, the elements charged as he moved within range.

Had the air been clear he would have already fired, his projectile would reach even from a distance yet in the fog about him such a shot could end up missing by spectacular proportions and there would be no second attempt, should this fail he would need to end things more personally, teach that golden fool just what power truly was made of. Slowly the shards drew together, one larger piece moving to hover before him as he spun a web of power about it, drawing nearly all of his shield toward it. Lines of power flickered into being about him, dark lines concentrating where fragments aligned to center on his projectile. Deeper he drew within himself, wrestling for control over the forces that now spun before him, forces that would likely destroy him were he to slip in his mastery.

Slowly his dance stilled, only the slightest motions of his hands belied his earlier frenzy as he took aim, staves pointed forward on either side of the mass of metal. By eye and power he aligned the beams, vortexes of power starting to swirl from his hands and about them just shy of his true weapon. Soon enough the power would be focused, his aim would be true and he would be able to do nothing more than hope he remembered the lay of the land.

Taking two steps forward he lunged, leaping forward so his body stretched out horizontally towards his foe, hands snapping together against the initial piece to complete the circuit. A blast of energy blew him back, tossing him head over heels as his arms were flung wide, nearly wrenching his shoulders from their sockets as he landed on his back in a rough slide that threatened to scrape his flesh raw. Shaking his head he sat up, nowhere close to being able to stand for the time being as his bullet flew away, launched along the length of the rails he had created for it. As it went it lost cohesion, individual elements scattering from the whole as they flew towards what had been a man.

Seeing the newly formed tentacle beast before him Ketter was glad he had resorted to such an assault, every shard carrying the potential to pierce armor, the original piece as powerful as a ballista bolt and aimed at the core of the creature. By the time it would strike it would be a veritable shrapnel field, the initial strike soon followed by a hail of death.

This was hardly an attack Ketter enjoyed, the toll on himself was great indeed. All of his momentum, all of his power had been drained in an instant and his body still felt weak. Slowly pushing himself to his feet he wobbled, making no attempt to resume his dance as he waited to see what destruction he had wrought.

Post #: 30

8/29/2007 22:37:40

deathisper
Member

He was getting close now, it was about time to positions himself for a surprise attack when an explosion occurred somewhere in the fog. Asharu dismissed it and moved more quickly toward his target that is until a white hot shard of whatever had exploded tore past his wind cloak. The distortion to the cloak that the shard caused giving him a moments notice to the danger that was approaching.

Quickly changing his strategy he leapt into the air toward the target he had been stalking wincing as the shrapnel tore into the back of his calf, the heat almost instantly cauterizing the wound. Calling on the wind to boost himself over his opponent Asharu used his free hand to draw his long sword and fling it at the source of the light.

Turning in the air to face his opponent before he landed, Asharu braced himself for impact with the arena floor. However not being prepared for the slickness of the stones due to the fog and blizzard, nor the amount of strain such a landing would place on his now wounded leg, upon landing he felt his leg give out. As Asharu felt his leg begin to slide out from under him, he quickly used the butt of his Glaive for support, catching it in one of the gaps in the arena and stabilizing himself. Quickly raising himself to a crouch he winced as pain shot though his leg, the slip on the rough rocks had caused quite a bit of bruising.

Using his good leg, Asharu launched himself at the light. He was now close enough to make out details; his chosen opponent was a large tentacled light monster. Gripping his glaive firmly and using what little wind remained under his control to enhance the movements and speed of his arm, Asharu unleashed a furry of thrusts at the light monster’s core.

< Message edited by deathisper -- 8/30/2007 13:26:38 >

AQW

Post #: 31

9/3/2007 21:00:14

Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...

Suddenly, out of the blue, or whatever the dominant colour was at the time, multi-coloured sprites appear, hovering down at rapid speeds to choice contestants - they then wiggle into their heads through their ears, making the fighters emit a glow most spectacular from their eyes, ears, mouths, and even noses...

Their bodies growing transparent, and thusly the strange lights taking over everything, making them impossible to see, the light (the contestants?) rise up slowly, finally exploding into a gazillion of little marvelous pieces.

The Lords had made their pick, their chosen champions would proceed to fight the Final battle of the Tournament...

AQ	Post #: 32

9/3/2007 22:37:03

deathisper
Member

Asharu watched as the elemental lords made their choices and the chosen vanishing in a dazzling display of light. That is that then, the end of this leg of the tournament. With no real reason to fight or take the lives of those left behind Asharu headed to the edge of the arena before throwing himself off and leaving his landing to the magi below.

This tournament was done, he had not been chosen, but Asharu was left with a new resolve. He would return, maybe not next year but he would return and when he did, he would win.

AQW

Post #: 33

9/4/2007 21:23:18

cmgaugler
Member

James could feel the power flowing through him, even through his battered arm and leg. He could feel his restraints peeling off, one by one, as he began to give into the power. His anger began to rise; his luminescent titan growing ever larger with each passing moment. It’s tentacles rose and fell, like myriad serpents, and each thick leg cracked into the ground of the arena, crushing flat and obstacle alike, as it passed toward it’s foe.

The air around James began to crackle and thicken with the power radiating in excess from his body, as the ground itself began to split and crack, and, farther way, shake. Around James’s immediate area, the earth itself began to shudder and break, with some parts of it radiating into the air for a few feet, before being obliterated in a puff of pebbles and smoke.

“You have pushed me, fool,” he growled, “Now feel my wrath. I shall destroy you.” His might was impressive; his mind set, and, with a roar, he raised his many arms and charged toward his foe, crushing the fool with tremendous force and ending his pathetic life, or, at the least, ending the fight with a surrender.

That is, he would have, had not complete chaos erupted. To begin with, a large, cone-shaped piece of shrapnel came rocketing out of the fog and the blue, and struck him in the shoulder, losing much of it’s force when it hit the armor, but was still strong enough to glance off and sink itself about halfway into his shoulder, ending up with a little bit poking out on either side of the flesh. The shrapnel was enough, on its own, to pierce several blood vessels, shatter the bone, and tear the muscle and ligaments, rendering much of his arm completely useless, and, as well, slicing off his nerve endings and mana network, so that, at once, half of the creature, mostly centered to the right arm region, vanished with a flicker, a flash, and a puff.

James did not feel the pain, but he did feel, not only the shock and energy that ended his charge and actually sent him stumbling back somewhat, but as well the pain and agony that the shrapnel caused when the rest of it sliced through every exposed area of his skin, and dented his armor in many areas. The enormous, challenging titan fell back another step, and then a flurry of punches from out of the rising mist gave insult to injury, and the creature crumpled into dust. James, his arm and leg shattered, collapsed to the ground in exhaustion and agony, and did not move for a moment.

The blackness rose with a flash, at the moment when the Elemental Lords picked their champions. James wondered at this for a moment, and then found himself to be sobbing slightly.

Abandoned again, eh? I fought my heart out for those foolish, righteous gods, and they have left me to lie here in the dirt? Why is that not a surprise? He did not weep loudly though; for the tears ran black and true, and without a sound. He could barely move, but instead, gasping through the pain, turned over and shouted into the dark, “I surrender. I cannot fight any more; not without sacrificing more than I wish.”

He chuckled slightly, and then coughed hard, a flurry of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth as his vision began to blur and shrink, the darkness as the edge of his sight beginning to close. “I never thought this is how the fight would end. Me: losing blood and falling unconscious. It’s a disgrace.”

Still, he grit his teeth and rose to a sitting stance, taking upon the last of his mana to support his leg and stand.

“Be reminded though: I could have taken the power to destroy you all, for what I exhibited was but a fraction of the power. Fortunately for you though,” he chuckled, spitting up some more blood, “I do not yet have control of the full extent of it.”

He wobbled a little bit, and then fell to one knee as his mana began to weaken. “I am leaving now,” he shouted. “There is nothing here for my anymore. I have no reason to fight. In fact….I never had a reason to fight. I came here only to confront the darkness in my soul, and I find myself no better for the experience. Only weaker.”

“So I bid you all goodbye.” He rose to his feet again, and edged toward the end of the arena. “And I remind you all,” he reached the edge and sighed softly.

“What do you all fight for? And, if you think to yourself, is it really worth taking another’s life?” He leaned back, closed his eyes, and felt the wind take him as he plummeted off the edge.

< Message edited by cmgaugler -- 9/4/2007 21:24:57 >

AQ	Post #: 34

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