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=Elemental Championships 2008= Sky Arena

 
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7/16/2008 22:23:31   
Ronin Of Dreams
Still Watching...


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...now more of a city...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 burgeoning four 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 maintain the four offshoot Arenas around the First Arena now used exclusively for Finals, and craft the minor alterations that seemed necessary from year to year.

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 enchantments for the gathered crowds.

~~~

High above the main arena floated the conglomeration of levitating, interlocking stones that created the majestically floating Sky Arena. No enchanters, magi, or artisans stood in the way of the contestants assigned to this arena. No, far from it, but rather eight magi stood waiting to offer their assistance in raising competitors to equidistant starting points that served in lieu of any gates allowing general access.

The rough hewn stones were not precisely inviting, however, and the whole arena seemed to spin slowly. Faster at the very outer edge, enough to impart nausea to those more susceptible to motion sickness perhaps, and steadily more slowly as one watched the stones towards the center. Almost, just almost, as if trying to lull competitors into the large central hole within the Arena's form. Or perhaps to make it more easy to trip due to the slight gaps and uneven surfaces. Traps, perhaps, or tricks to be exploited. Regardless, Sky was an unkind mistress from the first sight to the last. And it was time for blood to be spilled, and the first to fall. Perhaps even fall quite a long ways in that fall, at that.

Sky, at last, was open once more.
AQ  Post #: 1
7/17/2008 0:07:29   
OcarinaofTime
Member

Kyle, awaking from his slumber, grabbed his equipment, putting the hilts at his sides, and the bow on his back. Kneeling by the fireplace, he flicked his hand, causing it to ignite. Now as he put his head down, Kyle began to whisper. "My lord, every day I express to you my gratitude for your gifts. The powers you bestowed upon me, and the life you returned to me. For all that I once foolishly took for granted, and lost, you taught me the value of. And with every beat of my fiery heart, I am a few moments more in your debt. However, I ask you today, for strength. The strength to serve, the strength to convert others to your will, and the strength vanquish those who refuse to worship. Hear my prayers, for
I have been faithful." Kyle held his kneeling position for several moments more before standing. After doing so, the fire lord's servant, as he fancied himself, opened the door to his room and walked downstairs. Sitting down at the bar, he noticed the innkeeper only awoke at his footsteps.

Walking from his own room hurriedly, the innkeeper proclaimed, "I'd not expected you up so early, what with you talking to that fire all night..."

Not looking the man in his eyes, Kyle responded, "I'll take it cold." As the innkeeper complied and delivered Kyle a cold breakfast of eggs, and some unrecognizable slop, Kyle heated the plate with his hand until it began to steam. After praying once more to the fire lord, this time, sounding as though it consisted of more ritual than meaning, Kyle finished his meal quickly. Thanking the owner for the stay, and leaving quickly, Kyle hurried towards the place, hoping his early arrival would give him a chance to scout the place out. As he arrived at the area specified, a Magi appeared before him, offering to take him away to his starting location. However, he asked if he would be allowed to scout the area first. Being given permission, he created a large Griffin like creature out of flames. Although it had no life and was merely a puppet of his mind, it moved fluently through the sky as Kyle scouted it out noticing the jigsaw like stones that made up the arena. After getting a feel of where everything was, Kyle, deciding not to waste any more energy than necessary, returned to the Magi. As he asked to be escorted to his starting area, the Magi, began to levitate Kyle, and as the two floated together slowly, Kyle recognized that he was being taken to one of eight smaller platforms equidistant from the center. As he was gently placed down on a spot, he turned around to thank the Magi, but the Magi had already begun floating back to the ground.
Post #: 2
7/17/2008 7:13:28   
Beebote
Member

It was just before the break of dawn. Upon the rooftop of a Bren inn sat a man, robed in white. Indeed his raiment was all of white; from the white leather shoes and loose-fitting trousers, to his white tunic and matching cape. The cape was clasped at his neck with a silver brooch in the form of a sword piercing an equilateral triangle. On his wrists resided the only true pieces of armor he owned, two steel bracers, polished to mirror-like perfection. From his white sash belt hung two white leather pads, which sheathed four ivory handled throwing knives. What was ironic about this choice of color was that his skin was ebony, and his hair, which lay tied behind his head in a loose tail, black as jet; yet his eyes, weighed down beneath a heavy brow, were crystaline blue.

The man rose from his seat and took a deep breath of the chill morning air. At long last, the day he had anticipated for years had finally arrived. The Elemental Championship, the ultimate display of the power of the Elemental Lords incarnate in the combatants that filled the city nestled at the foot of that sacred hill. He, Djaak Hiirst, loyal servant of the Lord of Winds, had come to not for the challenge, or for the fight. He came to prove to those fools who cast him out of his home that wind was not meant as a petty tool for those too comfortable or slothful to use their own strength. It was a weapon of incredible power; one that when studied an practiced long enough, could bring a kingdom to its knees with one precise stroke.

Raised in a society that frowned upon violence, Djaak was identified early as, at least, a rebel and, at worst, a madman. In his youth, he was raised in a temple of monks who practiced wind magic for discipline and for aiding in every day tasks. Though they practiced a form of offensive magic, it was always accompanied by a warning that it was to be used only as a last resort. Djaak ws always more fascinated by these acts of destruction than in their teachings of peace and unity.

One day he spent several hours questioning an elder monk about the Wind Lord and his techings. The elder asserted that His nature was best seen in the gentle breeze and the updrafts that the Eagles rode on, rather than in the terror of the hurricane or windstorm. But the more Djaak listened to the monks' teachings, the more he felt they were missing the true nature of the Wind Lord.

In a quest to uncover what the monks chose to forget, Djaak forsook the teachings of peace and serenity and delved deep into the destructive power of wind. He observed everything wind could do, from lifting a bird into the sky, to driving a piece of grass through a tree during a fierce windstorm. The monks took notice and swiftly moved to turn him from his 'errant' ways, but the more they pushed, the more stubborn and fanatical he became. He became absolutely convinced these monks were blasphemers and heretics; traitorous fools who sought to sway people from the truth of the Wind Lord. Some of the younger monks decided drastic measures were required to stop him. They cornered him in his room and subdued him using wind magics. This only served to solidify his own beliefs in their corruption, and he unleashed his wrath, breaking their magics and, in the end, killing them. The Elders cast him out of the temple, forbidding his return. All the while, he cursed them in the name of the Wind Lord and swore an oath to prove their heresy. He went on a pilgrimage accross the world, gleaning knowledge of the wind and its destructive potential, forming new teachings and a deeper respect for the Wind Lord as he learned of wind's fury.

It was during this pilgrimage that he learned of the Elemental Championship, and in it, he saw the chance to prove to the world that wind was not just sea breezes on hot summer days. He consigned himself to participate in the championship, praying the Wind Lord would grant him victory.

Descending from the roof, Djaak entered the inn, partaking of a lengthy meal before paying his dues to the innkeeper and striking out with the myriad of other contenders towards the hill and the gates to the four great arenas. Djaak spoke to no one, and no one seemed interested in talk either. For the most part, the group was silent. Most, he figured, were either praying to their Lord for victory and protection, or were meticulously going over their battle plans and strategies as if they already knew the outcome. Djaak did neither at the moment. He merely walked.

As he approached the crest of the hill, his eyes drifted up to magnificent formation of stones that slowly rotated high above the ground. A slight smile creased his pale lips. This was where he would be tested by both men and by the Elemental Lords. There, high above the earth, where he would be closest to his Lord, would he prove to those blasphemers and their envenomed toungues what was the true nature of his Lord. Nodding in acknowledgement, the magis began to levitate them up to the fabled Sky Arena.

As his eyes broke the plane of the arena floor, Djaak noticed another combatant, already in position, awaiting the start of the melee. He eyed him breifly, but neither took any other action, nor even indicated he had even seen him. Stepping onto the stone that marked his starting point, Djaak dropped to one knee and uttered a prayer he had learned while living with the monks that he had reinterpreted for his own purposes:

"O Lord of Winds and Eagle's Flight, lift me up, and with Thy Wing
Grant me Wisdom, Grant me Might o'er man and beast and anything
That keeps You hidden from their Sight. This is what my heart does sing."

So saying, he rose and calmly stood, passively awaiting the other combatants, high up in his Lord's firmament.


< Message edited by Beebote -- 7/17/2008 7:18:41 >
Post #: 3
7/17/2008 15:35:31   
Sate
Member
 

Justin Krehdibl was ready for the Elemental Championship. He had gone to sleep extra early the night before so he could get up extra early for an extra large breakfast. Now that his stomache was Sated he could focus entirely on the contest. His fine black hair was cut very short. One less thing for an opponent to grab on to. He walked toward the arena slowly, taking it all in, the unusually long metal staff he held in his right hand kept in time with every other step he made in his leather boots. As he walked, he looked down at his white tunic, seeing that is was still spotless. Win or lose, if I do it looking good, that's someting, isn't it?
As Justin got closer to the arena he got very excited, so that he started to tremble.
This is the biggest event I could ever hope to be a part of, he thought, This is the biggest event of them all. Quests are 1 gold a dozen but Elemental Championships are once a year, and come with the biggest honor possible.
Justin didn't even notice that he was now laughing nervously and trembling noticably. He stopped and saw ahead a contestant cooly ask to be levitated to his place in the arena. Justin didn't understand how someone could apear so calm about this.
Stop it! You're just going to drive yourself bananas. Other contestants aren't losing it because they aren't purposely trying to be overwhelmed. You've been in fights before, that's all this is.
Justin Krehdibl was full of energy, not just because it was his element of participation, but because he was ready for this contest. Now all the energy that had been making him nervous was focused on giving his best shot and showing these 'elemental lords' what he was made of. Not what his insides are made of, hopefuly, but what his spirit is made of. Yeah.
"Ohm, excuse me," he greeted the magi, "I'm entered in the Elemental Championship and I believe this is where I am supposed to be. I have the memo right here."
As Justin was levitated he felt it was necessary to sing appropriate music, holding his staff like a microphone.
"At Yulgars, Yulgars Tavern,
Stop in after a quest in a cavern
At Yulgar's, Yulgar's Ta-vern
Brewskis and Rangers and dark, shady strangers,
At Yuuuulgaaaars's..."
Justin looked around and noticed that the magi was gone and he was standing in the arena.
"Oh like you could do any better," Justin said to the magi that was not there. He propped his staff up beside him and looked around taking in his surrounding. What may be the last thing he ever sees.
....don't fall in looooooooove.
AQ DF  Post #: 4
7/17/2008 22:44:09   
Cheeseliker
Member

He sat on his stone, floating high in the air, eyes closed, face looking serene. Which is a bit unusual for a dwarf. Elves could pull off serenity easily. Smooth, long faces that always looked calm. Humans were nearly the same, though wore their emotions out on their face more readily then the elves, but for dwarves, it was difficult. Squashed faces full of coarse wrinkles, narrow eyes and lumpy cheeks. It seemed they could only grimace and frown, which is what they did most of the time. Sabadhai was different. His face was dwarfish of course, forehead wrinkles and wrinkles underneath his small eyes, all seemingly squashed together tightly. His eyebrows were not turned down in anger, his mouth set in a smooth line. He seemed peaceful.

Now, for any dwarf, at any time, being peaceful is difficult. For a dwarf, sitting on a floating stone high above the earth after being levitated by a mage, being peaceful would be nigh impossible. Most dwarves liked being on the ground, with earth or stone at their feet, and if possible, on all sides and above them as well. Most dwarves also disliked mages, and their magic or 'bloody tricks'. In fact, when the mages had seen who they were levitating, they had exchanged glances, each hoping they wouldn't have to deal with the dwarf. The mage assigned to Sabadhai had groaned inwardly when he found out, knowing he would have to deal the grumbles and groans that were obviously going to come. Fortunately for him, Sabadhai had not been a problem. Sabadhai had sat, cross-legged in front of the mage, closed his eyes and nodded, ready to be levitated.

Now Sabadhai sat on the stone he was levitated to, still cross-legged, eyes still closed, serene. One might guess he was meditating, and One would be right, though if One said something, another would say One was a fool, for One should know dwarves do not meditate. As you should've noticed by now, Sabadhai was an unusual dwarf.

Sabadhai's manner wasn't the only unusual thing about him. He did not wear any armor, nor did he seem have any weapons. White robes covered him, long, loose and baggy on his short, dwarfish frame. The hair on his head was long and white, pulled back into a ponytail that fell to the middle of his back. He had a big white bushy beard that tapered to a point at his navel. Though his hair was white, it didn't appear to be from old age.

In his mind, he was preparing. His opponents didn't matter. His worries didn't matter. Feelings, wandering thoughts, wishes and dreams...Didn't matter. Family, friends, enemies...Didn't matter. Past, future....Only the present mattered. His strange path had led him here, and what happened here would happen. Focus.

His mind was cleared, now only a white void. He opened his eyes, revealing their golden color.

He studied the environment.

He studied his opponents.

He stood up.

He was ready to fight.


< Message edited by Cheeseliker -- 7/17/2008 22:45:16 >
AQ  Post #: 5
7/18/2008 12:44:12   
kenzoku
Member

Havoc, wearing his usual garb of four-squared black and white checkerboard, was putting the finishing touches on his blond and black striped hair as he came to stand beside the arena mage on the ground. He read the name tag carefully. "Beam me up, Scotty!" He requested cheerily. The next thing he remembered was falling. Up. At terminal velocity! Havoc rotated in midair, flying up with his head pointing towards the ground. He stared down at the earth far below. "Long way down." He pointed out simply, unaffected by things like nausea. Looking up between his feet, the acrobat recognized the shape looming closer. That was definitely the arena. A sly smile alighted on his face. Wanting to make an entrance, Havoc pulled himself into a series of backflips, landing on his feet on the swiftly spinning outer area. His feet struck firmly. Now, with one tiny worry less, Havoc turned to survey the competition. First, being just a bit of a narcissist, he looked over himself. His own cool demeanor could possibly unnerve or frighten the others. Still his body frame was not, strictly speaking, the most masculine. His shoulders were not broad, his arms not wide. Havoc's strongest asset, really, were his legs. That is, if you disregarded the weapons he carried in his checkerboard suit.

Noticeably a force to avoid, the dwarf looked like a stereotypical sage of great power. All he was missing was a fancy staff. Havoc could not guess at his element, but he seemed dangerous no matter how he radiated calm.

Another young man seemed to have prepared himself very well. The color in his flesh was a sign that he was well fed. He even had short hair, like the monks of Tibet. In fact, with a tunic of that color and a staff of that length, he bore a ferocious resemblance to the travelers who came to train and held their proficiency in the Bo staff. It might be best to keep a safe distance from him, especially if his element was fire, ice, or energy; the metal of the staff was highly conducive to either of the three.

The third to be perceived by the acrobat seemed infinitely calm and composed. It would be best to keep an eye on him. Havoc had a feeling he could keep a level head in any condition. The pouches on his belt could be holding anything from smoke bombs to bandages. He'd have to watch for that.

The fourth hadn't seemed to move yet, and Havoc couldn't quite see him clearly.

First things first. Havoc focused his mana, but frowned. Strange... Where's the smoke screen? Oh! I need the mask for that... I'll have to improvise! Putting on a friendly smile, Havoc paced toward the least threatening of his fellow competitors, the well-fed man with the metal staff. "Hey!" Havoc called out. "How about an alliance?"
AQ  Post #: 6
7/18/2008 18:45:12   
qbsuperstar03
Member

There was no reason for him to rest. He was not a being of flesh, but of the first thing people thought of when they thought of ice.

He was a Snow Warrior, but not just an average one. No, an average one would have been killed by adventurers and decried as a monster. He had to fight on his way here, but his Lord's blessing had seen him through, enough to be considered one of the few to compete for His favor.

He was Cryoface, and he was here to fight. One by one, he looked around and took stock of the situation. The cold winds of the high altitude invigorated him. His snakelike lower body meant he was ideally suited to the "terrain" of constantly moving stones, whereas these humanoids with only two legs to support them would be easily tripped.

In two hands, he held his Ice Katana. The human samurai's weapon of choice. He thought it amusing, how he was so different, yet his fighting style was so much like them. He looked around for any servants of the element of Fire. They were his first targets.

Seeing no obvious contestants with flames alight or any such obvious sign, he instead noticed one with his back as if to talk to his imaginary friend. When the signal was given to start, or someone was to attack him, he would attack. The element of Ice was one of patience, after all. When all the stars have burnt through their fuel, he thought, there will be empty, endless cold; undeniable proof of Ice's ultimate superiority.

Until then, he would be patient...

< Message edited by qbsuperstar03 -- 7/18/2008 18:48:08 >
AQ DF  Post #: 7
7/18/2008 18:56:45   
Sate
Member
 

Justin stood, looking around at his opponents. One of them was approaching him, a man of less-than-impressive stature who dressed like he should have been one of Captain Zard's archenemies. Justin redied himself, grasping his staff in both hands and the man stopped.
"Hey!" the man called out, "How about an alliance?"
Justin looked at the fellow for a brief moment. He should have anticipated something like this. He decided he would simply express himself verbally.
"You see, sir, there is a problem," Justin called back, "That is, that we are opponents fighting for the same prize and as such neither of us can really trust the other at all. Not that I would ever renege on a promise, or that you would either, just that neither of us can really afford to make that kind of a gamble in an environment as this,"
Justin smiled visibly and glanced at the other contenders.
"However, I am impressed by your civility and honoured by the offer. I will tell you what, I will not actively engage you for now. That is really the best either of us could have expected anyway," Justin said, "So, if we are not going to fight each other directly right now, I suggest that we keep an eye on the others here, they are no doubt jealous that they are being left alone,"
AQ DF  Post #: 8
7/18/2008 20:52:04   
kenzoku
Member

Havoc nodded. It was an understandable response from one who apparently happened to be a wise combatant, after all. Havoc himself was wise as well, but more than that he was wily. Still, it would not make this battle too much easier. After all, it was the least threatening that he had requested an alliance from. Regardless, Havoc--like most everyone else, it seemed--felt his victory was assured. Not only was his coordination superior, but it seemed none of his opponents followed Havoc's lord. It was quite an unexpected turn of luck. This would mean that none of his fellow duelists followed the greatest of all lords, the Lord of Darkness. Darkness, like Havoc, was a force that survived by constantly avoiding its bane. So swift was shadow that it could flee from a room in the instantaneous moment that a match is lit. So tenacious was shadow that, even if it were to be completely purged, grows from the nothingness when the lights go out. Still, Havoc had no delusion that in the end the universe would be consumed by shadow. Perhaps that would be the case for a moment, but the forces that govern the cosmos would toss their cards back into the deck, reshuffle, and start again at a new beginning.

In this way the gods were artists, light their graphite, the universe their page, and darkness... Darkness was the gods eraser that wiped away everything when they decided to remake their vision. Havoc held his arms by his sides, not wanting to play his cards too early. He was, just as his element, a force that would bide its time. Just as a seemingly harmless rose pricks the ill-prepared and then turns out to be the lure on the head of a giant land shark, Havoc would wait. After all, he still remembered the ordeal of two years ago, when the mask piloted his body. The entire arena surged toward him. The mask fended them off with power of illegal proportions. This of course angered the arbitrary guardian, and Havoc was removed from the tournament. Now, without the mask, he felt he could win. He was nowhere near as powerful as before, but he was faster and smarter.
AQ  Post #: 9
7/19/2008 0:04:58   
OcarinaofTime
Member

As Kyle looked around and tried to stare down his white-clad opponent, he had noticed his prayer had been answered. The faint glow from beneath his skin began to pulsate brighter and hotter. the excess blood could be seen pulsating throughout his veins as his muscles grew and tightened. Though he had already felt he was ready for the fight, this new power that pulsated within him was proof that he could have done better to prepare, although he'd only heard of the tournament 2 weeks prior. He felt no new magic within himself, but this new physique would be of quite some help. As a test, Kyle jumped in the air doing a back flip. He was sure this could only mean one thing. The Fire Lord had chosen to back him up. Who would have though, young Kyle Ripraven, merely an infant, left for dead in a burning house by his own mother, and whose life had been mercifully spared twice since, would make it this far, let alone be so prepared now that the time has come.

He now faced back towards the white clad, staff wielding warrior. Although he could not tell his opponent's element of choice, the color's oh his choice screamed either wind or light, and as Kyle felt no other fiery presence in the arena, he ruled out fire, first thing. The black skin, he though, was impressive. Yet, this charcoal warrior was just asking to be burned, and if he was up to the challenge, Kyle would make sure that he was.
Post #: 10
7/19/2008 0:52:17   
Sate
Member
 

Justin looked over to one of the contenders who apparently couldn't resist the urge to hot-dog with some acrobatics.
What in Lore is hot-dog? Krehdibl didn't have time for silly questions, everyone here was clearly ready for a fight, but too timid to make the first honest move.
Justin looked around at the other fighters and decided he'd try to get the ball rolling.
"Listen, all you fighters!" he shouted with great projection, "We all know why we are here. No use beating around the bush, we are here to tear each other apart!"
Justin looked around the arena, hastily trying to memorze where everything was.
"I am Justin Krehdibl and I'm super-charged about getting to compete, in fact, I'm ecstatic! I hope you all fight your hardest because I'm ready to lay down the hertz and may the best contender conquer!"
You dolt! Did you just call out every fighter in the contest!?!? No, I just told them to fight their best. But they might interpret it differently. Ha ha I'm in too deep, can't turn back now!!!
Justin ran toward Cryoface trying to stay aware of his surroundings, careful of where he stepped and wary of any other opponents, all the time keeping Cryoface in his view.
"You look like you have a bit of spark!" Justin shouted as he charged his hand with energy, "And if not, then have some of...MINE!"
Justin reached out with his free left hand firing a single bolt of electricity at Cryoface. Just as he did his foot caught the edge of a stone and he fell forward.
This is it, he thought as he fell in what seemed to be slow-motion, I may have just killed myself by wasting some of my valuable attention on a pun. A PUN!
Justin Krehdible with agility, tumbled on the ground and ended on his feet, crouched, still holding his staff. He looked around frantically trying to regain his orientation. It was good that he had now short hair that did not hinder at all his vision.

< Message edited by Sate -- 7/19/2008 1:01:24 >
AQ DF  Post #: 11
7/19/2008 1:53:34   
kenzoku
Member

Havoc watched and listened with no small amount of interest* as the man spoke. It was a daring, if somewhat foolish, display. Havoc applauded, grinning wide. He was as eager to begin as anyone, and with his little speech the monk had drawn no small amount of attention. Warriors would likely rush to face him. Havoc would be ready to meet those warriors from behind with pointy death. Consider the anglerfish. This cunning devil of the deep uses a lure to attract its prey before taking them by surprise. It was an exciting concept to consider himself the angler fish**. In a fight such as this one, it would better serve his purpose with the monk acting as a lure and himself as the jaws that snap shut around the little fish than it would if they cooperated more like a shark***. That said, his luck could still spiral down like a bird having a seizure midflight. He had seen such situations before. Still, he considered where he was. Given his repertoire of techniques combined with this stage, he could easily make a quick escape if matters took a turn for the worse.



*Or perhaps something only resembling interest. Amusement maybe.

**Because underwater no one can hear you scream.

***Sharks are actually fragile creatures. Their massive bodies are mostly impervious to predators, but if a shark ever stops moving it will suffocate due to the massive amounts of oxygen required for such a creature to simply exist.
AQ  Post #: 12
7/19/2008 22:23:40   
qbsuperstar03
Member

The bolt of energy was too fast. Cryoface felt the lightning surge through him, the only other element he was really weak to. He crumpled to the "floor" for a moment, then lashed out in kind with his variant of the Battleonian's Freeze spell. Only he used actual snow, not just cold energy. It was easy to gather up in these altitudes, anyhow.

"Snowball!"

It sounded weird, coming from a golem that wasn't supposed to talk. Deep and majestic, like a proud glacier or an iceberg poking above the waterline. But a voice just the same. It rocketed toward the aggressor, even as Cryoface felt the sudden surge of heat, light, noise, and slowness. Heat actually slowed him down, while cold temperatures allowed him to move faster. At the same time, he moved to engage in melee. Hopefully his aura would sap this guy of at least some of his quickness as his body slowly became numb.

Provided, he thought to himself, he doesn't fry me to a crisp first.
AQ DF  Post #: 13
7/20/2008 0:35:39   
Beebote
Member

Djaak observed each warrior as they arrived at the arena's floor, if a floor it could be called. First, the white-clad, staff weilding man who entered, singing some nonsense about a tavern. He seemed the typical mage: eccentric, staff-using, overconfident. His element of choice could be wind, light, or energy, but that would be revealed in time. For now, Djaak just made a mental note to watch for spells cast his direction.

Second, the short man meditating in the corner. Djaak had heard of these undersized men during his travels, but had never met one in person. What were they called? It started with a 'D'. Doffs? Dorefs? Dor...Dwarfs! That was it. However, from what he had heard, these dwarfs were short tempered and prone to alcoholism. The fact that this one was meditating and completely sober merited attention. Djaak noted with contempt the similarities between the monks of the temple and this dwarf. For that reason alone, he mistrusted him.

Third to enter was a man in a checker-board outfit with many weapons hanging from it. Djaak tried to place him in an element or stereotype, but failed miserably. Nothing came to mind. He would just have to stay away from that one until he played a few cards from the metaphorical hand he kept close to his chest.

Djaak had no trouble classifying the fourth combatant, however. He was an ice elemental warrior. It was just that simple. That meant, if it came to a fight, Djaak would have to keep some distance to avoid that wicked-looking enchanted katana.

No one on the arena floor seemed particularly eager to start anything. The checkered man approached the mage and initiated a short conversation. Nothing seemed to be hapening, until Djaak looked back at the man who had been there when he first arrived. His eyes narrowed as he noticed a change in the man. He was...larger and more muscular than he had first seen and an angry red aura seemed to come from beneath his skin. Fire. That's what element he fought for.

Ignoring the painful puns shouted by the mage, Djaak raised his hand and leveled a dark finger at the man from accross the arena. "You der', mistah fyah usah. I see dat you are a wort'y opponent. 'No den dat I, Djaak Hiirst, loyal se'vant of da Lord o' da Winds, call you out ta do battle; 'ere, een his most 'oly firmament." No sooner had the last word left his lips, than he took off at great speed, running with the rotation of the arena's outer ring of stones. His eyes were locked onto the man as if he could not tear them away for an reason. His hands sought the pads at his sides and drew two of his knives, holding them upside-down like daggers. He was getting close to his opponent now, a mere four meters or so, but instead of continuing to run at him, made as if to run by in front of him. As he did so, he pushed off the ground with his foot and spun, throwing first one knife, then the other as he rotated; one aimed for the man's right shoulder, the other at the left hip. Djaak finished the full rotation and landed in a low crouch, empty handed, but ready for whatever would come next.
Post #: 14
7/20/2008 9:33:34   
Mittoo
Member

He was late.

Tryx's first words of the morning were a few choice curses. The Elemental Championship and all, and he was missing it.

It was the tent, he reasoned. Just too damned comfy. He repeated the mantra to himself, as if eventually he would believe it. The curses continued as he slid his armour on, so irritated that he did not realise that he was beginning to repeat himself.

His tent flap rocketed open of its own accord, knocking over the mage that was in the process of timidly checking if Tryx was still there. He swiftly apologized, instinctively raising a hand to help the poor man up before he remembered that his weapons - a pair of blades that he wore in a knuckleduster grip - were clearly attatched, and so he hastily let his arms fall by his sides while the mage silently arose and beckoned Tryx to follow. While he walked, he checked his armour.

Tryx was a fairly large man, the armour that decorated his shoulders down to his feet having been made by his own hands that now carried his weapons. A third greave lay on his waist, though not attached by any visible means. It was that greave, not his weapons, that gave him something of a reputation - The Booterang. Use of magic rarely made a mention in his stance, but the subtle control that he displayed was devastating.

It's time, he thought, rising into the air with all the grace of a boulder. With a few gestures of his own, he over-rided the magic rising him into the arena, pushing himself slightly higher and slightly further back. With any luck, out of sight. He then spent a few short moments, sizing up his opponents while he was still inconspicuous.

There. He had found his mark; a man who, gauging from his appearence, tried too hard on upholding it. A flicker in his mind came, of watching the Elemental Championships from before, but Tryx shrugged it off as his metal greave freed itself from his waist, rotating softly but gradually gathering speed. A few subtle gestures brought it moving, picking up speed, and a finger released it, sending it flying like the boomerang that it tried to be, the timing and direction honed to perfection by endless hours of target practise. Yes, it would strike with the heel, just as Tryx intended, an un-natural wind guiding the flight.

With any luck, I can take an opponent out of the arena and into free-fall as my first move.
AQ  Post #: 15
7/20/2008 18:35:16   
kenzoku
Member

Havoc paused his thoughts for a moment, his train of thought cut short by the whistling of the wind behind him, getting louder. It sounded, he imagined, distinctly hostile. He turned his head to see what was coming, but had looked too late; there was no more time to get out of the way. He was struck in the back by a horribly malicious projectile. This boot seemed particular forceful, mean-spirited, and bootlike. As his feet were knocked out from under him by the shot to the back, he knew by instinct that it would be simple for one with such skill in the art of acrobatics as himself could, even in midair, twist and squirm and throw himself in a way that would alter his velocity. Still, he didn't want to use that trick just yet. Instead, he allowed himself to topple over the edge, throwing his hand out to grip the side at the last moment. By pushing off of the stage's bottom with his feet, he gained enough moment to flip back onto the battlefield. Almost immediately he spotted the man who had thrown that savage foot-holder at him. He gave him a sheepish grin, attempting to silently communicate his embarrassment at being struck by a flying shoe.

His eyes once again scanned the field to find what he had missed. The snow warrior was heading towards the man who had recently pronounced their diplomatic relationship as "Neutral" rather than "Competition." Havoc spent a split-second of thinking before deciding to help him out. It's true that he could have been a vile little trickster like himself, but Havoc doubted that any man who turned down an alliance to avoid being backstabbed was presumably not a backstabber. Otherwise he would have jumped at the chance of having an ally to backstab. With this decision made, Havoc considered his options. Only two of his weapons would actually be effective against this particular opponent; Havoc's hilt or one of his bombs. He preferred to keep his distance, so he narrowed his options down to the bombs. He lifted one of the black orbs from his suit in much the same way Hamlet would have pulled a skull from his jacket, holding it at arm's length in his palm. "Not to be." Havoc whispered, channeling dark energy into the delightful little sphere. What was once one of many duds became a powerful explosive once filled with elemental energy, the fuse lit with a tiny black flame and the dark energy inside ready to explode on contact with it. With a quick swing of his arm, Havoc tossed the bomb, this time watching out for flying footwear.
AQ  Post #: 16
7/21/2008 0:40:32   
OcarinaofTime
Member

Letting out a quick, deep laugh, Kyle sent a quick wave of fire in front of him. Aside from knocking the blades to the ground, it gave him a veil as he grabbed his bow. The bow was twisted and covered with small decorations and engravings. Black as night, the bow raised in the air. As Kyle took aim, a spark emanated from beneath his chest, and a small fiery snake crawled across Kyle's body and up his arm until it reached the bow and crawled along until it formed an arrow, which Kyle grabbed between his fingers before pulling back, and releasing. As another arrow sidled across his arm, he fired one more quick arrow of pure fire. Although he could not see his enemy's location with his eyes, he could sense his heat, even through that of his own flames. And so it was with this heat that he had aimed, and this source of heat that the pure-fire arrows hurtled towards, increasing speed as they went.

After firing the arrows, he quickly grabbed a longsword hilt. Now this may have seemed like an ordinary hilt and handle, a blade less sword, but it was more, it was handcrafted for comfort. As he held out the sword-to-be, another few sparks ignited from his heart, and several large bats and spiders fluttered and crawled through the air and along his body, forming a blade of burning hot fire. Though it seemed to be ordinary fire, this was a solid flame. A flame that could be neither passed through or shattered. As he looked towards his opponent to check on his arrows, which, or so he thought, should have hit by now.
Post #: 17
7/21/2008 15:18:48   
Cheeseliker
Member

Sabadhai watched as battle commenced, eyes darting about, gauging the skills and abilities of his opponents.

He needed to move. Needed to act. But against who? He watched a boot fly across the arena and slam into a man wearing checkered clothing. The man fell off the stone but managed to flip himself back up. Sabadhai smirked at the man who had thrown it. An unusual weapon, to be sure, but definetly a great way to shove your boot up someones...His line of thought was interrupted as he noticed the checkered man pulling out a black orb of some sort. He watched as the man empowered the orb with some kind of Dark energy, and hurl it at the Snow creature, to Sabadhai's surprise. Usually you attack an opponent who just attacked you...

Sabadhai noticed the mans strategy though, ganging up on the Snow creature with the energy-user he had so recently talked to. Still, it was unwise to ignore one who just attacked you, and unfair to double team one opponent, though what can you expect from one who worships the Dark lord? Sabadhai nodded to himself. It was time.

Sabadhai began sprinting, quite fast for a dwarf, feet lightly stepping upon the uneven, shifting stones. Sabadhai was quite dexterous and managed to keep his speed up without tripping up. His eyes narrowed, eyebrows turning down, as he closed in on his opponent, the checkered man. "Get thee back to the shadows!" He yelled, getting the man's attention. He opened the palm of his right hand, and a small ball of Light began to form. Without stopping, he hurled it at the man, with no intention of it actually hitting. In fact, the ball wouldn't get within a foot of the intended target, if Sabadhai had his way. He could trigger the ball at any point and planned on releasing its power about five feet from the man. An explosion of concentrated light that would blind the man for a few moments. By then, Sabadhai would be within melee, ready to pummel the man to dust. Bands of pure Light encircled his knuckles, as he made fists with his hands.
AQ  Post #: 18
7/21/2008 16:25:52   
kenzoku
Member

Havoc was not altogether pleased. Apparently his alignment was similarly displeasing to the dwarf. Presently Havoc detected a conflict of interest; personally, he preferred not to combat the dwarf (especially given the alignment of said dwarf). At least not directly. From far away or from behind, yes, but he did not want to fight him fairly. Because he himself was such a schemer, he knew that the orb of light that the man released had a purpose. Furthermore he recognized that the purpose wasn't as an actual projectile. He decided to make a quick escape, but first he wanted to say something witty. "Back to the shadows? If you insist!" He grinned, bending his knees and launching himself into the air and into a series of backflips. He welcomed the butterflies in his stomach as he fell over the edge.

He swung his arms, sending the daggers tied to his fingers upwards to stab into the underside of the arena. He resembled a spider hanging by its fingers from thirty silken threads. Here, he decided, that crazy dwarf could not reach him. It was a cowardly move when one considered he was making a mistake, but on the other hand who else among these contestants could be brave (or stupid) enough to actually jump over the edge. Havoc himself wouldn't even have done it if it weren't for the control he had over the little blades. Obeying his will carried by the strings that connected them to his fingers, the daggers began to pull themselves free in small groups before stabbing into the ground a bit further away. It was like walking on the ceiling with suction-cups on your feet*! As Havoc considered his arsenal, he silently cursed himself for not bringing his deck of thin, razor-sharp cards. He fondly remembered how useful the mask had been. With its power he was able to create powerful illusions and fly through the air. The latter power would be infinitely helpful here.


*Millions of miles above the ground.
AQ  Post #: 19
7/21/2008 17:50:23   
Beebote
Member

The blades had been a test, more than an attack; a test to see exactly how this man would respond to such an obviously weak and ill-aimed attack. Now, as he witnessed the large wave of fire knock his blades from the air, he knew what to expect. The man responded unequally to the threat. Instead of dodging or using the minimum amount of power required to protect himself, he countered with overwhelming force. A twang was heard. Instinctively, Djaak rolled right, narrowly escaping the pair of fiery arrows that flew out of the fire wave. As the wave approached him, Djaak, from his crouching position, waved his hand as if pushing aside a curtain. The fire wave dissolved as a stiff wind blew it away. He now had an unobstructed view of his opponent, standing with a flaming sword in his hand.

Djaak himself stood up and extended his right hand, palm up towards Kyle. In it rested two more knives. It was as if Djaak were offering them to him. For a what seemed an age he stood there, like a silent statue. Then, with a breif grin, he began his second test. He tilted his palm slowly until the blades slid off his palm. Then, with blinding speed, he snapped his arm back, then forward again. The pair of blades flew behind his back, then up over his right shoulder, streaking like stones from a sling, straight towards the bridge of Kyle's nose and his glowing heart. Djaak's eyes, those eerie blue eyes, followed their progress with rapt attention. After this, there would be no further need for tests.
Post #: 20
7/22/2008 0:42:09   
OcarinaofTime
Member

As much as Kyle wanted to toy with his opponent, it seemed Djaak was only interested in throwing knives, which Kyle agreed to give him. Reaching within his own coat and dropping quickly to the floor, Kyle managed to throw three daggers of his own, one aimed for the man's throwing hand, another at his core, and the third, flew wildly as he hit the floor with a thud as he threw it. As he dropped, the bottom of his coat flared up and was quickly pierced by the dagger that was aimed for his heart. Although there were hundreds of other ways Kyle could've dealt with this particular batch, he felt another fire move would've been expected. Hopping up quickly after having throw the third dagger, which landed a few feet away from him. Kyle held his sword ready to fight and began moving quickly towards his opponent, though not quite at a full run. He quickly observed his surroundings to before looking back towards Djaak, trying to determine who he'd take on after he finished off the blue-eyed cretin that stood before him.

Although he had many other weapons at his side, he favored his longsword, and couldn't wait to slice through the enemies flesh as the blade less wonder burned bone and all. Of course, depending on what his opponent favored, Kyle would be ready to swap weapons accordingly, he'd practiced drawing and activating his blades in his spare time. He felt being able to use the right weapon for the job would give him an edge over any opponent. In most circumstances he stuck with the longsword. But in battles with multiple opponents, he would often switch to a battle axe, and when against large opponents, he favored his broad sword. But since his curtain-drawing opponent was but a man, a dagger lover, but a man nonetheless, he kept the longsword at hand.

< Message edited by OcarinaofTime -- 7/22/2008 0:47:10 >
Post #: 21
7/22/2008 13:36:01   
Sate
Member
 

As Justin regained his orientation, his gaze focused on the snow warrior who was just recovering from his attack.
A hit, excellent.
Then there was flying snow.
"Yipes!"
With lightning-fast reflexes, Justin instinctively manipulated electric fields to produce complicated magnetic fields around his long staff. The staff seemed to melt into a fluid suspended in the air as countless forces quickly pulled and stretched bits of the staff into the desired form of a large flat disk large enough to deflect the snow.
SPLAT!
The snowball exploded against his shield and pieces oozed down the front of it and plopped on the floor.
Justin's disk warped back into his standard staff and held it in both hands in front of him. As Cryoface charged, Justin readied himself for a katana attack. Suddenly, something black came flying in from nowhere.

< Message edited by Sate -- 7/22/2008 13:40:25 >
AQ DF  Post #: 22
7/22/2008 15:19:41   
qbsuperstar03
Member

Cryoface's first thought after the Snowball splatted against a shield that somehow transformed out of a staff was, What in the name of the Lords of Uttercold?! He had to be faster, and the high altitude and cold air meant that he could be plenty fast. The cold air continued to give him strength to carry on the fight, even if this wielder of blasted Energy was able to exploit his weakness.

However, one thing he did not count on was an alliance with the Dark user. As he charged, a black blob hurled from that checkerboard-robed guy came flying in and exploded before he could close within melee range due to the nature of the arena...he was faster than the legged opponents who had to watch their step, but not fast enough. The darkness enveloped him and forced him to stop, as he could not see where to strike.

And just like that, the darkness was gone, and so was his momentum. He had to go for finesse over power now, so he gripped his Ice Katana more tightly and resumed the closing in. He held the blade high over his head and let out a terrible roar, but it was all a ruse. His real aim was to force him to block high so his torso would be exposed. It was a basic human instinct, he thought, to guard one's head in the face of a mighty battle cry.
AQ DF  Post #: 23
7/22/2008 16:22:42   
Cheeseliker
Member

The Dark-user of course retreated like a coward from Sabadhai's ball of Light, and even threw himself off the edge of a stone. Sabadhai slowed his charge, and stopped the ball of Light in midair. He waited a few moments, but the man did not flip back up. Unless the Dark-user had committed suicide, he was likely underneath the stones, attached in some way. This was unexpected, and Sabadhai spat on the ground. He took a deep breath, calming himself. The checkered man's cowardly tactics were infuriating, but Sabadhai needed to keep calm. Needed to concentrate, to think.

The checkered man would have to be left alone for now, but Sabadhai would be sure to keep an eye out for when the man resurfaced. For now though, Sabadhai's eyes rested upon the battle between the Snow Warrior and the mage. The checkered man's Dark bomb had worked, blinding the Snow Warrior and slowing it down. The Snow Warrior seemed to be holding out on its own though, and though Sabadhai would've liked to attack the checkered man's 'buddy', he loathed to hit anyone from behind. He turned his attention then, to the only other who seemed to have no opponent at the moment.

The man with the flying boot. Bootman. Very well, Sabadhai nodded to himself, as the ball of Light once again accelerated, though in a different direction then before. It was now aimed at the bootman, with Sabadhai quickly following it from about 15 feet away.
AQ  Post #: 24
7/23/2008 15:12:01   
kenzoku
Member

Havoc crossed his arms over his chest, deep in thought. This was quite a problem; here he was moving to the other end of the sky arena with the aid of his dagger manipulation, but there was a light-wielder topside. He would be forced to improvise. For a moment he surveyed others as best as he could through small gaps in the floor, then deemed the moment right to enter the fray once again. Havoc swung on his strings, flipping back onto the other end of the stage. With his feet firmly planted on the ground, he pulled his daggers free of the underside, commanding them to slide back into his sleeves quickly. The light warrior was hopefully too preoccupied with the boot warrior to pay attention to the scheming little harlequin who had made his way back.

Grinning wickedly, Havoc withdrew another of his bombs. The magic that created the bombs would not refill his supply until this match was over, so using this bomb would leave him with only three more. His dark power flowed into the vicious little orb, preparing a nasty little explosion. It wasn't simply the dark energy with which the bomb erupted that could be a problem, but also the shards of metal released by the bursting of the bomb's exterior. Hopefully this one wouldn't be as much of a dud as the last one, which only succeeded in temporarily blinding the snow warrior. The black flame appeared on the fuse and Havoc lobbed the malevolent tool at his greatest present rival, the caller of light. Hopefully this one would cause severe collateral damage! Havoc frowned for a moment, envisioning earthbound spectators showered with chunks of falling stone. Still, he couldn't allow the discomfort of audience members to interrupt his match. Besides, who would be in the audience of sky arena on the ground? If he remembered correctly, they were gathered around a scrying orb somewhere. It seemed like the most plausible explanation.
AQ  Post #: 25
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