RE: =Elemental Championships 2008= Grand Finals


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RE: =Elemental Championships 2008= Grand Finals

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8/15/2008 23:12:44

qbsuperstar03
Member

Apparently, this woman, despite all those hides, was still feigning weakness. Seeing that his Snowball had little, if any, visible effect, he stopped to take stock of his foe once again; apparently she knew what to expect and was layered in protective hides to insulate her against the cold. Cryoface knew, however, that if a warrior was too reliant on feints, sooner or later a worthy foe would see through the lies and perceive the truth...that one who feigned overmuch lacked in terms of raw ability and sought in vain to make up for it in so much smoke and mirrors. And what was fire but another element of deceit, fooling people with illusions of water in hot deserts (or so Cryoface had heard during his training), tricking people to come closer to its dancing form on a cold winter's night only to be snuffed out by a passing breeze unless constantly monitored?

In ice there was truth. Ice defined landscapes ages ago when the glaciers moved down from the poles, bending all other forms unfortunate enough to get caught under its unyielding pressure. Ice was clear enough when the water was pure that people could see through it to perceive what lied below the surface. Ice was also a preservative element in that it shielded otherwise vulnerable ponds from the brutal cold of winter so that the creatures of the water beneath could live on. But ice was also uncaring in how it could rid the land of that which was weak and unfortunate enough to become exposed to its full wrath. And that was why Cryoface was here, he supposed: To rid this arena of the other so-called "Champions" and show these humans that Ice would always rule supreme over their lives, presuming that they didn't already know that every time they locked their doors and windows to hide from a simple blizzard.

Finally, she had committed to melee combat. She lunged across the ice, spear point ready to impale his midsection. What an amateur move. With one perfectly timed strike, Cryoface swung his katana so that the blade would meet the vulnerable haft and slice it neatly in two. True, she had others, but spears were so easy to counter by simply sundering their weak wood it wasn't even funny. But even as one part of Cryoface's mind triumphed in this almost assured but minor victory, the other part was constantly telling him to keep his focus; that the battle wasn't over yet; that she probably had nastier tricks in store besides hot sand. Why else would she be a Champion if she didn't have these moves?

Post #: 76

8/16/2008 0:11:46

damselindigital
Member

His weapon came up to meet hers with not a resounding clang but the soft thunk of metal on bone. Just as her Lord promised her, the weapon held where any of her others would have been split in twain. Offering her thanks to her protector even as events were set in motion, she staggered backwards with the force of the attack, which by all rights was formidable. Her feet slipped and sunk into the sand for one tenuous moment before finally collapsing entirely out from under her. Falling backwards, she landed hard upon her rear at such an angle that she was only saved from being entirely upon her back more from luck than by skill.

At least, that’s how it appeared.

As predicted, her opponent pressed the attack, lunging towards her apparent weakness in his eagerness to destroy her. It was finally time to spring her trap. Releasing the blessed weapon with her right hand, she slammed her palm down hard upon the sand. The blow struck the haft of the spear she had abandoned on her arrival at this spot, causing it to rise like a spike right in the path of her enemy, a small stream of sand marking the arc of its passage.

With so little distance between them, he had almost no hope of avoiding it. She almost pitied him.

AQ	Post #: 77

8/16/2008 0:49:51

Guardian of Nekops
Member

The pirate fired another crossbow bolt, similar to the one he had pierced Roch’s shoulder with in the Spike Arena. This time the Crusher grinned to see it come and simply raised his glass shield slightly to protect the exposed parts of his face, despite the fact that the weapon was aimed far too low for that. He had felt the power of this attack before, and while it may have some small chance of penetrating the glass it had no hope of damaging his massive armor.

The bolt of solid water pierced a full inch into the crimson shield, spider cracks spreading from the site of impact. Bits of glass fell away from the offended area, loosening its grip upon the strangely rigid water and allowing it to fall free to the sand.

Roch continued running with a grin, having felt only the solid strike upon his shield that indicated that the missile had been blocked. Peering over the damaged tower shield, he considered his foe as carefully as his hurried charge would allow.

The Chosen of Water obviously had more to offer than a half-baked projectile… he was pulling his punches. Whether this was to toy with the charging juggernaut or to save his strength for later Roch did not know, but in any case he disapproved. Each blow a man struck should be strong, capable of taking the enemy down before he was felled himself. To strike with only a fraction of one’s power risked being wiped out before getting the chance to use it all.

With that in mind, Roch lifted the gauntlet that held the Axe of Gravity by the neck, placing it just behind the shield of glass as he drew ever closer to the pirate. He was still well out of melee range, and also a bit too far for what he had planned.

Just a little closer…

Roch closed the distance to ten paces, and drew his gauntlet back.

You served me well.

Three paces.

His armored fist crashed into the back of the tower shield, carrying with it the head and unstoppable force of Impact. The glass was sundered into thousands of shards beneath the force of the blow, most of the ones that had composed the lower half being driven down into the sand but enough, more than enough, were propelled forward in a wide spread towards the Champion of Water. Driven by the might of the Gravity Axe itself, the tiny daggers would not be easily halted by cloth or even flesh.

Behind this devastating attack, the Crusher groaned and clutched his left arm to him in pain. Though he should have expected the twisting his poor limb would receive when he effectively slammed his own arm with Impact he… hadn’t. The only reason his arm had maintained its use at all, likely, was the fact that the heavy joints of his armor had not allowed the elbow to bend back beyond the maximum range.

Clenching his teeth, Roch made a fist of his left hand and moved the arm up and down, ensuring himself that he was indeed still able to move it, though at great pain. Only then, after wasting far too long a time on his own pain, did he raise his eyes to see what had become of his foe.

AQ	Post #: 78

8/16/2008 1:37:35

The Dragon Knight
Member

The moment the bolt left the weapon, a thin stream of water was drawn from one of the two spheres to replenish the charge. More effort was put into the making of this projectile, however, as the rather dismal effect of the first was displayed. The shot had been rushed, without the punch needed to shatter the shield. Instead, the thing appeared to be barely holding together, as cracks spread through the tough surface. Considering the poor condition of the item, it was strange that the charging warrior continued to keep it before him. Surely he had to know that a single blow would send the shards flying back into his.....

Too late, the swordsman realized his foe's cunning plan. The head of the axe could be seen peeking just above the top of the tower shield, poised to strike. Considering the force that the weapon was capable of, Torrelle had no doubt that it was more than capable of shattering the protective tower. As the armor clad warrior came within a handful of steps, the swift mariner took a leap backwards. However, his movement was not quite fast enough to avoid the full onslaught of his opponent's attack.

The axe rendered the shield into a spray of fine glass shards, their many facets catching the light in a brilliant display of diamond dust. This beauty was simply a charade, however, as the force of Impact hurtled the tiny spears with lethal velocity towards the pirate's exposed hide.

Throwing his arms in front of his face to protect himself, Torrelle gritted his teeth as the first wave of needles dug into the bits of his exposed arms. If he had not moved before the actual blow had been struck, he knew that he would have been shredded where he stood. As it was, the remainder of the glass shield was swept away, as Torrelle's leap brought him into the raging waterfall of the Pillar of Water.

His momentum carried him clean through to the far side, and the injured pirate exploded from the pillar, hitting the ground in a short roll that immediately brought him to his feet. The brutal battering from the ever flowing torrent had left him shaken and bruised, his abused muscles screaming in protest, although it was certainly preferable to being torn to pieces. His legs wobbled unsteadily for a moment as he struggled to recover from his maneuver. His limbs moved stiffly for a few moments as blood once again expanded the veins that the water pressure had pounded flat.

The two spheres and his hidden stash of water had remained on the opposite side, close to his adversary. To Torrelle's surprise, he could see the Crusher doubled over in pain. Realization flashed through his mind in an instant: striking the shield he held with Impact meant that his shield arm had absorbed the full force of the blow. While the extent of the injury was unknown, the Maelstrom was pleased that his opponent had suffered for his attack.

Wasting no time, the Chosen of Water took command of his underground reserve and called it into play. With the bulk of the pillar between them, Roch would be hard pressed to attack with the axe without moving. Considering the advantage his armor and formidable weaponry gave, the Crusher was best dealt with from a safe distance.

Since the water had been stored directly beneath Torrelle's feet when Roch began his charge, the Crusher's close proximity to that spot made moving the moisture simple. In moments it had moved directly up to the sand beneath the Earth Warrior's feet, super saturating the granules the man stood upon. Rather than let gravity do the work for him, the wily pirate caused tendrils of water to reach up, intending to wrap his opponent's feet and yank him down into the small patch of quicksand much faster than nature would normally allow. With any luck, his victim would be momentarily trapped in place, giving the Pirate Lord a chance to come up with a way to attack the flesh and blood within the armored beast.

AQ	Post #: 79

8/16/2008 15:11:56

xaxtoo
Member

"Whap" and there goes a silly imaginary hand that tried to touch him. "Whap" and the stick hit a hand that was a little small for a grown person. Karddicj will not discriminate between eager groping clammy things, for a hand is a hand and no hand is too small. And again the whoosh of the stick was heard going through the air, but the snap never came. The swing had stopped in mid-air, quite mirroring the whole body of Karddicj, suspended in a half walk, foot still hanging above the sands.

The foot finally and emphatically struck sand, hammering home the shocking realization Karddicj just had. There's no reason to circle to the Water Pillar, there's a source of liquid deliciousness much much closer. His feet slid in the sand, turning his body to face the two contestants close by the Light Pillar. An idea came to his head almost immediately causing a small grin on his face.

Swinging the Swafan butt over his shoulder, Karddicj grabbed it with the other hand. With both hands holding firmly, he moved the stick from side to side. As he started stretching, he walked towards the snowman and warmly garbed lady cook. His pace matched his previous speed, not threatening, and in no hurry to get where he's going, just someone out for a leisure stroll in perhaps the most dangerous place in Lore at the present moment.

Taking perhaps all of ten steps, Karddicj felt he had loosened his arms fairly sufficiently for what he next planned, so he released the Swafan butt and used his neck as a fulcrum to turn the stick around back to one side of his body. Then in a smooth graceful bow with his body, the tip of the thing swung up and pointed at the sky as he bent close to the ground. In a brief moment, he was upright again like nothing had happened, but clenched in his hand was a fistful of sand.

When his back straightened, his legs bent, producing powerful kicks against the sand as they sprang into motion, bringing him to a speedy run, not a breakaway kind of dash but a fast one nonetheless. Despite the fact the Green Kard no longer played professionally, he regularly staked his life as an outcast, so his athletic abilities never diminished a bit since he dominated the league, so even his conservative pace, was quite a fast little run as the distance started closing between him and the people he wanted to reach, who are still slightly separated, kind of like goal posts he supposed. Makes everything a little easier when everything can be related to the sport.

With the combatants no more than several seconds away at his current pace, there was sudden movement amongst them and the goal size shrunk as they closed in on each other. Silly move by the slithering snow thing to get closer as the witch woman obviously can heat her possessions, one of which aided Karddicj in his snack and was also the key for him to solve the witch mystery. However, it had seemed the snowman got the better of the exchange and forced the sack of clothing and furs back.

Observing the brief clash of weapons, Karddicj actually slowed his run a bit, wanting not to get that much involved, but still quite on a pace to get there very shortly. Besides, the woman has quite a bit of natural armor to ward off a few thrusts of that thin weapon, and perhaps that might even infuriate her, likely causing a fiery rampage, making Karddicj's job much easier. And finally, by slowing down slightly, he'll be able to skirt around danger much easier with shifty direction changes. That interaction was unfortunately the last bit Karddicj saw as he fell into line behind the snowball, blocking further viewings of the action.

As the blob of snow lunged to presumably push his advantage, Karddicj was now less than 5 meters away and started twirling the Swafan stick in anticipation, slowly to avoid making too much noise as he neared, closer and closer. In such close distances, he commenced operation desert and drinks, which was quite plain, unfortunately. Karddicj had originally wanted to run up the tail of the thing, but it had seemed that might have been unfairly cold to his feet. He had also considered jumping and stabbing, but like always, he abandoned reckless moves in favor of ones where his feet are ready to take him whichever direction he would like to go. But charging a moving snow monster did seem to require abandoning some caution and the situation of charging at a blind opponent does quite resemble a perfect breakaway, but Karddicj's experience would not allow him to completely go without a backup plan.

So in two more steps, having crossed another few meters, Karddicj's foot crossed over his entire body before coming down and flexing inwards as it turned the momentum from the run into a spin. His body flowed with the foot sweeping a semicircle in the sand as the Swafan was suddenly still and pointed to strike. The foot in front of the spin slid along the sand dissipating all the leftover energy built up in the run before stopping exactly where he had planned, just close enough to initiate a thrust. And with both knees bent, he would have a quick getaway. The Swafan was almost grazing the tail sticking in the air. Karddicj moved his body inches towards the snowman to push the tip of the Swafan into the tail as a signal he had arrived. Tickle, tickle, abominable.

AQ	Post #: 80

8/16/2008 15:28:27

qbsuperstar03
Member

As Cryoface leaned forward into the blow that would finish off this insolent Fire user, he got a nasty surprise when two things happened: one, something came up from the sands and pointed at where his heart would be were he a human, and two, something felt like it was nibbling at his tail...

What? There was someone else behind him? Grinding this Fire Champion (who for some reason insisted on wearing layers of furs, though the efficacy of such armor against his special abilities could not be doubted anymore) into the ground had its place, but there was something tickling his behind, and it needed to be dealt with. Perhaps it was another one of this lady's tricks. Leaving her to lay in the sand for a moment, he turned to face this new opponent, but the forward momentum he established carried him into the spear, but the sudden turnaround meant that it didn't do as much damage as Enya had probably hoped. Still, it stung as the enchanted point plunged into the symbol of unworthiness the Ice Lord had laid upon Cryoface, as if to say, "My favorite never showed up. You'll have to do. Try not to die."

It was the Champion of Darkness, trying to stab him in the back, perhaps. So, either the lady had more allies than I imagined, or maybe this opportunistic bastard just saw something too good to pass up, Cryoface thought to himself. He needed to reestablish distance so he could see how this new odd-man assault would shape up. Plus, he needed to get away from the Fire Champion, the Light and Energy Pillars, and this new threat in the form of some kind of black bug-man with a white face.

But wait! Behind the Energy Pillar was the Pillar of Ice! If he was able to reach that location, he would surely have an insurmountable advantage! Wasting no time, Cryoface took off towards the center of the arena once again, but taking a sizable turn to the right to dodge the Energy Pillar and reach the manifestation of his Lord's insurmountable might in the form of a giant icicle sticking up from the ground. If he could get there, he might be able to extend the reach of his already formidable powers, perhaps even squelch the less powerful Fire-based attacks the huntress might throw at him, but most importantly, provide him with a temporary base of operations to reset and plan another assault.

For some reason, Cryoface thought that the crowd was whispering into the ears of the rightful Champions: This one did not earn the right to be here. We can see the mark of unworthiness on him. He must be eliminated at all costs. If this protective barrier wasn't up, we'd do it ourselves. But Cryoface was determined now more than ever to make sure he would have the last laugh. All that depended, however, on getting to the Pillar of Ice before his rivals did.

< Message edited by qbsuperstar03 -- 8/16/2008 15:55:37 >

Post #: 81

8/16/2008 16:36:48

damselindigital
Member

What was this? Her opponent was choosing to ignore the obvious threat she presented in order to focus his attention elsewhere! The way he spun to face whatever was behind him somehow prevented him from being impaled upon her spear, though it was not sufficient to prevent the weapon from scraping along his body.

Foolish. So very foolish. For now his back was turned to her, the spearhead resting against the surface of the snow which defined his body. It was but a simple matter of what would be an otherwise clumsy one-handed thrust to push the weapon deep inside his torso. The snow warrior began to flee, dragging the spear out of her hand and causing it to fall to the arena floor, but it was far too late now for her adversary to escape.

There were elements in place far beyond the obvious which brought her opponent now to the very brink of destruction. Her weapon, crafted carefully of bone, was not smooth and uniform but rather rough and marked with small pocks and small irregularities. These tiny crevices were more than enough to carry a few grains of sand into the body of her foe. And due to the weapon still being gripped in her hand, she was able to channel her power through it and claim those granules. All that remained to her plan was the friction of the slower extraction of the spear to deposit some of that sand within his chest. It had all worked perfectly. Now he was hers.

She rolled to her left in order to establish herself in a crouching position before she called out to her retreating foe. There was no honor in destroying one who had so thoroughly underestimated her, so she would allow him a single chance to save his own life.

“It is over. Surrender now, leave these grounds, and your life will be spared. Continue with this doomed pursuit and I will melt you from the inside out.”

To emphasize this was not an empty threat, she allowed a small trickle of heat to warm the sand within him. It was not enough to cause melting, but she was certain he would feel the contrast within his body and know the truth of her statement.

“Please, do not make me kill you.”

AQ	Post #: 82

8/16/2008 18:10:14

qbsuperstar03
Member

The spear...that spear he had worked so hard to avoid...was now implanted deep within him, and it was getting hotter.

"It is over. Surrender now, leave these grounds, and your life will be spared. Continue with this doomed pursuit and I will melt you from the inside out. Please, do not make me kill you."

There was no way out of it. There was a heated weapon in him ready to do exactly that, and the bug-man that represented Darkness was in his escape path.

"Very well. I yield under the conditions you have set forth. Take your accursed weapon out of me so that I may leave in no more shame than you have visited upon me this day. I was disgraced enough when I was shunted here despite not earning the right, but now, having been bested once again, I find I would prefer a chance to live over a so-called honorable death on these sands. Enough people have been calling for my demise ever since I got here that I do not wish to honor their request. To them, as I am no doubt to you, I am just another monster to be slain in the course of trying to fulfill your own purpose in life. And here I thought I could change that..."

And with those words, the fallen Champion of Ice took his leave of the grounds, shuffling past the Champion of Darkness, taking a long look at his Lord's Pillar, silently asking him why his senses had abandoned him when he needed them most. Like any regret, it was focused at everyone's imaginary conspiracy against him, rather than at his own shortcoming. Cryoface knew he would return; stronger, faster, and with a vengeance against all those that thought little of him because of the inherent vulnerabilities of his physical composition. The humans had won this day, but, Cryoface hoped against hope that he had given the bloodthirsty spectators reason to pause and perhaps even fear the possibility that the strength of their race would be overcome someday by an exceptional individual of one of the other races.

And if Cryoface had his way, he would be that individual.

Post #: 83

8/16/2008 22:10:25

Guardian of Nekops
Member

When Roch lifted his eyes, the Chosen of Water was nowhere to be seen. All there was in front of him was the giant liquid Pillar, the perpetual waterfall which had swallowed up his little shards as if they had never been. There had been no time to go around the massive column of water, so there was no way his opponent could have escaped the rain of glass by getting behind it… yet there was no body, and nowhere near enough blood to indicate that the man had fallen. Could he have retreated somehow, as Wind had done?

A loud slurping noise at his feet brought the Crusher’s eyes down, and they narrowed in rage at what they saw there. He was sinking! Tiny tentacles of water snaked up hungrily to grip his armor’s boots, pulling him down into the arena sand, which had somehow changed and stopped offering resistance to his weight. He had never seen such a phenomenon before; it wasn’t Alchemy, but what was it?

There was only one thing Roch could be sure of as the water pulled him down. The pirate was definitely alive and still in this fight.

Just as he was beginning to fear, as the strange mix of water and sand swallowed up his feet and up to the middle of his calves, the tendrils of water retreated back into the sand and then left even the bog in which he stood, leaving it as dry as the sand all throughout the rest of the arena.

Unbeknownst to Roch, not all the water under his enemy’s control had actually left him. A fair portion of it still followed a more sinister directive, flowing up the hind portions of his greaves, over the rear which Enya so admired, and finally coming to rest on his broad back, where it spread over the massive plate into a layer two fingers thick and secured itself into place, careful to keep itself hidden from his sight.

With a hearty chuckle, Roch roared, “You think to trap me in my own element, Water?!”

Impact swung down, allowed to slide through the Crusher’s gauntlet as it went. By the time it reached the ground next to Roch, its handle was in his grip once more. The crimson grains fled before the might of the Gravity Axe, leaving a crater beside its owner more than sufficient to let him free his right foot. The left soon followed, a little tugging from above easily freeing him from the remnants of the pirate’s trap.

“Well think again!”

As Roch began to run around the Pillar, guessing that the Chosen of Water must have found some way to hide beyond it since he was nowhere else to be seen, the sunlight glistened off the treacherous load of water he was carrying.

AQ	Post #: 84

8/16/2008 23:51:33

The Dragon Knight
Member

His eyes closed, the pirate's magic allowed him to 'see' the movements of his enemy by way of vibrations through the very water he was controlling. Even though the bulk of the pillar stood between them, Torrelle knew exactly what was happening. Luck seemed to be on his side, for the time being, as his trap served its purpose. He had known quite well that it would be nearly impossible to trap the Earth Champion in his own element. Even if he had the energy needed to accomplish such a feat, the swordsman knew that he simply did not have the water necessary to completely submerge his opponent in a pit of deadly quicksand.

Having realized this from the beginning of their battle, he had opted for a different strategy. The small patch of quicksand had done its job well, drawing the armored warrior into its rough embrace for a handful of moments. This was all the time he required. Once Roch had been successfully trapped in the earth, the water receded, half of it sinking deeper into the crimson earth and making its way back to its master's feet like an obedient puppy. The rest, however, had a far different mission assigned to it.

Thin tentacles of water crept up the back of the Crusher's legs, making their way up to the broad, metal back of his suit. As the man used his fearsome weapon to free himself, the water collected as a second skin, shimmering slightly with his movements. It wasn't long before the last tendrils were absorbed into the clinging pool.

The Crusher's roar of confidence could be heard over the din of the nearby waterfall. Torrelle could 'see' the man beginning his charge, having obviously guessed the Pirate Lord's location. His armored feet crunched heavily against the red sands of the arena floor as he began rounding the pillar. No longer needing to concentrate on the water's voice to know his opponent's location, the Maelstrom prepared to enter what could very well be the final fray.

A cry of triumph erupted from Earth's Chosen as he came within view of the scarred and bleeding water user. Raising his axe high above his head with his right arm, he barreled down on the hapless swordsman, intent on splitting him in twain with a single stroke.

Knowing that he was no match against this armored behemoth in terms of brute strength, Torrelle decided to gamble. The water stored in his longsword's hidden reservoir sprang to life, coating the blade in shimmering fluid. He had an idea on how he would use it, but that would only matter if he could survive long enough to try. As the great axe swung down, the agile pirate made a quick diving roll, forward and to the left, coming up onto his feet at Roch's right. The great explosion of sand showered them both in gritty earth as Impact buried its bulk in the floor. Fighting off the pain that shot through his forearms from the sand rubbing into the lacerations from the glass, Torrelle rounded on the warrior, his longsword coming in for a thrust that would, hopefully, pierce through the thinner plates of the man's armpit.

AQ	Post #: 85

8/17/2008 1:53:16

xaxtoo
Member

As soon as the Swafan stick went into the sphere of condensed snow by a few centimeters, Karddicj drew it out again. He hurriedly reached out to touch the tip of the thing with his other hand, but to his great disappointment, it remained hard. Apparently the form of water that resides in snow isn't enough to soften the bug ooze. Well, the attempt never had more than a feeble chance of success, but it posed the least amount of danger so it was worth a try. Now, it would seem Karddicj would have to melt a good portion of the snow blob and do so in a fashion the water would drench his Swafan. This meant carefully timing his moves with the attacks of the half fur half woman. They'd be new and temporary teammates, so there will have to be a period when they need to feel each other out. A even greater problem with that tandem was that Karddicj was sure the fire witch has no intention of playing on his team. And perhaps the greatest barrier for the formation of the team was she had cooked already, so is therefore a servant, and being on equal footing with her then became unthinkable.

Suddenly, the moving mass of snow turned which swung the tail bits a little too close to comfort for Karddicj. He took a quick hop back, then a few more strategic hops for he had started feeling a little chilly, which was probably the result of staying too close to a wintery creation. With the warmth of the sunrays reflecting off the sands once more cloaking him in warmth, Karddicj readied himself to interfere with the snowman that's apparently trying to retreat, a most unfortunate choice. One that makes everything harder for Karddicj because that simply won't do. The warrior will have to fight the fire witch until Karddicj is sufficiently satisfied.

But he never got a chance to move as the woman spoke, bringing a halt to the action. Karddicj frowned, for if something happened like that on the playing field, goals would be scored. It would seem he had to wait for the snowman's response, hoping that it will be favorable, netting Karddicj at least a few precious liters of water. Groaning as the monster of a snow thing uncharacteristically acted like a scared little child, Karddicj once again prepared the spew of insults he had thought of and was about to fire them off at frosty. But, apparently, he had groaned for quite a long time, because the next thing Karddicj saw was the massive moving pile of snowballs brushing past him and chilling him with its depressing aura.

Karddicj wanted to stop it, poke it, maybe provoke it, but the massive thing seemed to have its spirit crushed, and even he's willing to forgo his desires for another's humiliation and utter dejection. No point making things tougher for the cold chap. But the thing's actions was inexcusable, lowly like a spitting bug--monster obeying a servant, making the thing quite despicable indeed. Karddicj wasn't even sure anymore if he wanted the water contained in those spheres.

Letting the thing go meant Karddicj was alone with the dangerous cook. Giving her ultimatums, it would seem the massive woman is going beyond her post. Her offenses included charging at Karddicj and also ignoring his question from earlier, but these could be laughed off, forgiven. However, just now, she struck three and that is one too many to let off. Disciplining is not something Karddicj usually does, but seeing as his head butler is onboard the forceship, he'll have to grimace through the manners lesson. Perhaps it was his duty, but it was still really displeasing for he had to get dessert still; she wasn't even his property; and furthermore, minutes ago, he didn't even know she was a cook. It's all the damn woman's fault for roasting the cat!

So as soon as the snow monster's tail brushed past, Karddicj shouted "you" at the woman at the same time he flung the sand in his hand directly at the opening in the crouching mass of fur he assumed was the woman's face. The single syllable continued throughout the entire motion of the underhanded tossing of the red earth, which will more likely create a chaotic cloud of crimson than actually gliding in close enough to sting her eyes, but Karddicj didn't stay around to see. Immediately after the throw, he phased into his world, appearing right before a pillar.

He had hopped backwards earlier to not just avoid the cold, but the final hop was just for this kind of moment. The map in his head is starting to become real handy as he started running around the pillar, circling it clockwise to go out of his way to avoid the same path the snow blob took to reach the woman, who would be directly on the opposite side of where he started running. The path the snowblob took might have traps and could very well interfere with his maneuvering once he phased back into the arena. He'll go to her in a direction she won't expect.

He set a blistering pace, a mad dash almost, for he had a destination in mind and time was the essence. His aching body from the fall groaned out in protest, but his recent movements have kept the muscles loose and he mentally drove the pain away, far far beyond some imaginary goal post. Promising the pain icepacks, he continued his sprint.

The woman would be a little beyond the pillar, and if he wanted to catch her back he'll have to overrun her position. Unfortunately, he could not assume anyone to stand still for long at all, which on the pitch was always a shoutable and sometimes benchable offense. Therefore, he can't chance the cook suddenly forgetting how to move, so he can't spend extra time in his homeland to risk phasing in too far away from her. Damn him for not employing scouts! He could make a much better estimate of where she might go to avoid his cloud of sand if he had a better idea of the woman.

Coming around the pillar, he felt around his abdomen with a hand until it found a slit and slipped through. His other hand was the stick hand and it is ready and eagerly waiting. The sprint will have costed a few precious seconds but that's coming to a quick end. Taking the last few steps, Karddicj phased into the arena, showing up less than a meter away from the fur coat's last known position. The arena wall at his back, the cook in front of him, the field for punishment is set. Or at least it would have been, but like he predicted, fur coat had moved.

The woman's back was facing Karddicj and her movements in the sand was apparently running. He would have laughed at the sight if he was stupid enough to give away his position. Taking note of her speed and direction, he phased once more and followed her progress at a speedy walk in his homeland. He'll give her an illusion of respite before springing once more. And oh he laughed then, a good hearty chuckle that spread a little mirth amongst the black world, yet even that quickly died for he did not want to attract attention, for here attention might be even more deadly.

AQ	Post #: 86

8/17/2008 1:58:36

Guardian of Nekops
Member

The Crusher growled as the nimble pirate dodged his blow, even managing to launch a counter-attack below his arm. The fact that the armor was thick enough, even there, to deflect the blow was inconsequential… the man was a demon! Speed enough to run around a Pillar in seconds, exceptional control of Water both at range and in sand, and now reflexes like these?

Just like the Ronin… Should have waited for Enya!

Unsure where exactly his foe was, beyond behind and towards the right, the panicked Roch gripped Impact’s handle tightly with both hands. Letting out a grunt of exertion, he swept the broad head in a wide arc, flat first. Sand sprayed before the axe as it went, sent flying by the weapon as he turned.

From the corner of his eye, Roch caught a glimpse of the glistening layer of water on his broad back. He had no time to recognize what it was, let alone guess at its purpose, but his heart flooded with fear once more at the sight of it.

AQ	Post #: 87

8/17/2008 22:42:00

The Dragon Knight
Member

The clank of metal against metal was Torrelle's only reward as his sword failed to penetrate the thin plates. This man's armor was incredible, he thought, as was the strength of a man capable of carrying such incredible weight on his own body. Since he had never wielded Impact himself, there was a limit to just what the pirate could predict, even with his research. He knew that the axe swung with the full weight of the armor, but he didn't know that it actually reduced the weight of the armor itself to next to nothing. He also did not expect the ferocious axe-master to be able to swing such a weapon without being affected by the momentum of wielding a six hundred pound axe head.

The speed with which the Crusher removed his blade from the ground was impressive. Torrelle was just withdrawing his sword from the space between the man's arm and chest when the metal-clad right arm swung about. Being so close to the man meant that dodging was impossible. Although he had expected an attack like this, he had not expected it to come so quickly. Bracing himself for the impact as well as he could in that split second, the pirate knew that he was about to find out what 600 pounds of force felt like.

The man's bicep caught the swordsman squarely in the chest, the force of the swing lifting the lighter man up from the ground and sending him tumbling a short distance away. As he hit the sands, Torrelle felt a sharp pain along his right side. One of the ribs must be cracked, he supposed, gritting his teeth and sucking in the air painfully as he quickly scrambled to his feet. No time to worry about that now, however. He wrapped his left arm about his chest, favoring the bruise, making certain to keep his own short sword tucked safely out of the way.

Something was wrong here. The blow had been painful, yes, but it did not have the same kind of force that Torrelle had witnessed in the past. He had felt blows like this from any number of strong opponent, so why wasn't the axe imparting its force? As he analyzed, he began sidestepping around his foe, trying to keep to the man's side, but at a slightly larger distance. Even with his injuries slowing him down, the Malestrom was confident that he could dodge most normal attacks, so long as he was careful and kept moving.

Once his feet had begun their movement, he also took control of the liquid skin that he had placed on his opponent's back. The water rippled, coming to life as it found the joints in the armor, quickly penetrating the suit from the spaces at the waist and on the side where the breastplate and back piece connected. In moments, the last drop of water had seeped into the space between the armor and the man's skin, collecting around his legs and chest.

As his water completed the second phase of his trap, the pirate reached a theory regarding his foe's weapon. Perhaps the reason that he had not been hit by the full force of the man's weight was because it had not been the axe itself that had connected, only the arm that held it. If that was true, then dealing with the man might be a little easier than he had originally anticipated. That, however, was like saying that a fight against a fearsome dragon had been improved by the smallest possible percentage. The man's weaponry was still dangerous, and he was swift and well trained with it. Torrelle would also not forget that this man had demonstrated his ability to use alchemy on more than one occasion; the pirate's nose was still sore, despite his Lord's blessing, from his first "encounter" with the ability.

Circling his opponent warily, the pirate searched for an opening. Time was against him, here, and he had to find some way to attack without getting killed in the process.

AQ	Post #: 88

8/18/2008 1:26:36

damselindigital
Member

The snow warrior decided to retreat, apparently valuing his life over anything that could be gained through the competition. Enya felt it was the wisest choice he had made during the duration of their encounter. Of course, his withdrawal also meant that she did not have to give more of herself in order to assure her victory, and this also pleased her. She had already lost a noticeable portion of that which she could safely give of herself. And it was certainly likely that further uses of her gifts would be necessary before the championship reached its conclusion so any of her power she could retain was a blessing.

Unfortunately, she was not allowed to revel in her victory because as soon as the Chosen of Ice began his retreat, another took his place. It was the strange creature selected to represent Darkness who she found to have been standing only a few feet behind her defeated foe. Seeming to have waited just for this opportunity to reveal his presence, he immediately sprang to attack, throwing a handful of the red arena sands directly for her eyes.

Instinct took over and from her crouched position Enya rolled left, a near perpendicular course to that of the airborne grains. Such a maneuver succeeded in keeping her face free from the potentially blinding granules and as she retook her feet, she prepared to counter a follow-up attack with the blessed spear she still possessed in her left hand.

However, none was forthcoming. In fact, her ambusher no longer even appeared to be present. No tracks led away from its last known position, but the strange beast seemed to be entirely gone. Of course, this was not the first time Enya had encountered the creature’s ability to appear and disappear at what, to her, seemed to be random. Yet at those times, she had other concerns and paid it little heed. Now with the unknown entity threatening her well-being, she wished that she had diverted a little bit more of her attention to its actions. Those she had managed to witness during the course of the entire event did not make any type of sense to the fur-clad woman. It was simply too far out of her realm of experience.

One thing she did know was that stationary targets were the most effortless to strike. Enya had no intention of making her demise that easy upon her enemy. So she ran. Her first instinct was to enlist the aid of her ally, even though it galled her to ask for his help after she had berated him not long before. Yet she did wish to survive and sacrificing a modicum of her pride to that end would be unfortunate, but acceptable.

After a short distance, when the ominous black surface in the center of the arena loomed before her, the woman’s better sense finally screamed at her. She was following the exact same actions that the Ice warrior had pursued so foolishly. Should she not wish to end up in the same fashion, at the business end of her adversary’s weapon, she needed to alter her plans. Immediately.

Her feet dug furrows into the sand as her course changed. The arena’s center was dangerous and open, but she now knew of two locations where she could help guard herself as she attempted to rejoin Roch. The first, of course, was her Lord’s own monument. But thanks to her ally’s earlier actions she was aware of the Earth Pillar’s guardian and suspected that she too might be able to make use of it. At least, as long as she remained a safe distance away. It was to that marker she ran, planning to circle it in a clockwise direction, daring even to come within a ten foot radius of the Great Tree.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as, for the first time, Enya felt awash in fear. The nature of the hunt had changed at the very core. No longer was the survivalist from the lands of eternal winter in pursuit of a quarry.

She was now the hunted.

AQ	Post #: 89

8/18/2008 19:23:55

Guardian of Nekops
Member

The back of Roch’s arm connected with the pirate and sent him flying, but the Champion of Earth still frowned. A hit from the armor was better than no hit at all, surely, but if the pirate was too nimble to allow him to bring Impact to bear then his options would be severely limited. Worse, it would probably not be long before his opponent tried another trick like burying his feet again.

As if on cue, water soaked into Roch’s clothing and nestled up against him, lingering unnaturally around his legs and chest like a second skin. The Crusher’s eyes went wide with fear as the water trickled into place; somehow the other Chosen had managed to infiltrate his armor, and his mind was filled with images of liquid knives stabbing into his abdomen and groin. His foe was going to rip him to shreds from the inside!

And yet, seconds later, there was still no movement from the water. It held itself in place, making his movements uncomfortable and causing his skin to crawl at the feel of it as he turned to face its master. The pirate was circling cautiously in a time-honored dance, and Roch stepped into his own part effortlessly, mind whirling as he moved automatically to keep in stride with the other.

He’s looking for an opening… means he has to get close for some reason. I haven’t lost yet, then.

Roch smiled slightly behind his helmet, shifting the Gravity Axe fully into his right hand. The red posts of glass that were all that remained of his shield glistened on his left arm, four lethal points of broken glass fused to his armor. He clenched his gauntlet into a fist and drew it back, ready to strike if the man got too near. He would aim to miss, to strike his foe with the shards of glass rather than his metal fist.

He needs to get close. Keep him away, or make him pay to get near.

Leaping forward with a speed that belied his massive armor, the Crusher brought Impact down towards the pirate’s left shoulder with all his might. The buccaneer leapt backwards from the deadly blow just in time and the axe struck the ground, causing the sand to erupt in a burst of crimson grains. Unlike Roch’s earlier strike to free his foot, the axe was not held back this time. The crater reached up to his knees as he rose from his crouch.

Grinning through the red sand as it fell back to Earth, Roch waited for Water’s counter. He might be soaked, but he wasn’t beaten yet!

AQ	Post #: 90

8/18/2008 21:17:52

xaxtoo
Member

Following this lady gave Karddicj a little time to rest and to think. While he was engaged with walking quite speedily and also ticking off seconds in his head, he really still had quite a lot of mental capacity leftover for other ruminations. So in these brief moments Karddicj had, he used to first to call out commands to the forceship for the crew to ready the behemoth for moving, then he enjoyed the little time he had left to really appreciate his dark homeland shining with metallic sheen despite not really having real natural lighting. However, the dancing lights in the ground provided more than enough to leave one with a lasting impression of the world. For having so many natural pillars, this area was particularly beautiful to Karddicj. Those things were damn practical for bug escape. Unfortunately a spot did mare the experience some, an area he created in fact, the absolutely horrid red sand covering land with a circle of good size, ruining natural beauty with its incongruency. Didn't help that the dancing lights avoided the reverse terraformed land like it was a plague, and with none coming near, the area was darker than the rest, marking it further with natural dread and discomfort. To make matters worse, Karddicj was getting close to it.

To factor in the slower speed one travels on the arena sands, at the count of 7 seconds, Karddicj's pace suddenly picked up. It was such a sudden acceleration that the lights that swirled around his feet was left momentarily without a place to go, so they instead danced around something that wasn't there, creating a beautiful blue outline of a footprint.

In 2 steps, Karddicj reached the arena sand, and with two more he overtook the woman. He then took a final step to stop his movement and spin him around right in the stupid out-of-place sands. Mid-spin, he phased back into the arena. Using the spin for more intensity, his hand brought the Swafan stick around, swinging for some height close to the woman's head.

Somehow though, the target wasn't there to intercept the stick whirling through the air with so much power. With the event so unexpected, Karddicj wasn't prepared for the consequences as the momentum of the swing brought him completely around in quite an hideous pirouette. During his spin, he found the woman, who instead of taking blow to the head was running towards the Earth Pillar. Since the moving fur coat obviously had turned before Karddicj even made his move in the terraformed sands at 8 seconds, she was now a good few meters in front and to the right of him.

A soft growl escaped Karddicj's throat as he seethed. She was making him react to her! He would not get roped into doing something the defense does, which was to studiously follow a single target to make that all important tackle or save or something. The defenders were all very servant like, valuing anticipation more than creativity and treating patience a virtue as opposed to attacking. He, not the woman should be the target, the one causing plan changes! Needless to say her move surprised him, but immediately after getting a 360 view of the field again he moved in a direction most beneficial to him without totally deciding what to do next. He had saw something interesting and was simply moving to check it out.

Turning around, he sped inside the black patch, which didn't take long as dark soil gave Karddicj a speed boost as he approached his ball. In the brief moments before he got there, he pondered the all-important dilemma of duty verses the ingrained nature from playing ball. On one hand, the fur coated cook has gone too far. But all her offenses seemed a little trivial compared to him having to play defense. Suddenly Karddicj knew what he was going to do. So in the compromise of a century, he'll do both at the same time--go on a little tricky offensive of his own and the woman will just have to be satisfied with his remaining attention. The fire witch is becoming a rather cold topic to Karddicj.

Upon reaching the ball, his left foot lightly grazed it on top, sending it softly rolling in the direction of the Earth Pillar. And much to Karddicj's surprise, the ball went silently. The foot came down wide of the body, letting the Green Kard set his other foot up to take a precise and powerful kick at the ball, lifting it into the air and setting it spinning, again without any noise from the ball. Given its course, the ball will hit the back of the woman and send her sprawling to the ground.

Unfortunately, the kick would have made a little noise, revealing his plan to her, just the image he wanted her to see: him still focused on her and getting a little desperate to catch her. And to add to the desperation as well as giving her a little bit else to think about, his arm flew out of his slit with some bony toes that he had recently eaten along with the holiday pudding. They'll signal to her Karddicj is still in her footrace by scratching and tearing her furs with some last ditch effort of skeleton's scraps. Still looking at the woman, he ran until the end of the circular black patch before disappearing once more. In his homeland, he immediately turned just enough to avoid the hideous red sands and remaining on the blessed black ground. With a quick signal, the lightning forceship started moving, following him towards his real target somewhere beyond the Water Pillar.

AQ	Post #: 91

8/18/2008 23:18:35

The Dragon Knight
Member

Sweat was starting to drip from his chin as fatigue began to set in. The constant parry and thrust, coupled with his overuse of water manipulation, was beginning to take its toll. As skilled a fighter as he was, Torrelle knew that he wouldn't be able to keep this up. As if to drive this fact home, the axe-wielding killer sprang forward with astonishing speed, his left arm drawn back to strike should the pirate attempt to dodge the falling axe-head by rolling to either side.

Knowing that survival depended on avoiding the blade at all costs, he took the only option available to him; leaping backwards, away from his target. The growing gap between the two warriors was preventing him from making use of the water trapped beneath the Earth Master's armor. Knowing that the alchemic fighter had probably realized this did not help the seaman's mood. His leap backwards had been painful. The cracked rib, along with the other internal injuries, were starting to make their presence known in his performance. His knees wobbled slightly as he landed, threatening to give out completely. It was only through sheer force of will that he remained upright, his eyes narrowed and focusing on the dark space in the helmet visor. He wished he could see his opponent's expression. Being able to view your adversary's facial tics and eye movements could go a long way to predicting how they would move.

Lightning flashed within his brain as an idea struck, and he acted on it immediately. Being able to see your opponent was certainly helpful in battle, but obscuring the view of one could be even better. Luckily, he already had something prepared for just such a maneuver.

Roch's visor beckoned, the dark space that hid his opponent's eyes taunting him like a bulls-eye at an archery range. Whipping his left arm out from his side, the crossbow came to bear on the helmeted figure in a blur of speed. Knowing full well that his bolts were incapable of penetrating the armor, and figuring that he currently lacked the accuracy needed to thread the projectile through such a narrow gap with his current injuries, the Pirate Lord opted for a different tactic. As soon as the weapon was leveled at the Earth Warrior's face, the bolt sprang forth, covering the handful of feet between them in a heartbeat. However, this shot was far different from the first.

The moment he fired the bolt, Torrelle gave a silent command to the pressurized cylinder. As the deadly needle bore down on the metal shroud of the visor, the command resulted in the simple release of tension. The extra pressure that he had put into the forming of this bolt, just before the shattering of the tower shield, was now free of its bonds. The bolt exploded in his opponent's face as the speed of its travel, along with the sudden expansion, tore it to pieces. A sharp bang from the suddenness of the blast rang in the Crusher's ear, accompanied by a brilliant rainbow in the air as drops and mist were sent flying through the gap, obscuring his vision.

Not wasting this precious moment, the opportunistic spellsword released his grip on the short sword in his left hand and then dashed forward, to his opponent's right once more, ducking down low as he put forth a tremendous effort into coming up on the man's side. His left arm was outstretched as he attempted to lay his palm flat against the steel plates of Roch's abdomen.

His quick thinking and subtle planning had paid off. He was rewarded by seeing the man's head turn away from the exploding bolt, giving the wily pirate the opening he required. A quick dart, and his hand softly connected with the metal plating. Although his wounds screamed out in agony and his breathing was painful, he felt the thrill of excitement as he poured his energy into the water behind the steel.

Molecules sped up, their vibrations generating heat, and once more he made use of steam for its destructive power. The water that lay nestled against the Crusher's skin flash boiled, the speed of the reaction only possible by the point-blank proximity. Victory suddenly seemed within reach. He only wondered what the cost would be.

AQ	Post #: 92

8/19/2008 9:18:52

damselindigital
Member

If there was warning to be heard, it was masked entirely by the continual cheering of the crowd. Thus it was without preamble that Enya was struck by an unseen source from her left shoulder nearly to her spine. Pain blossomed, a short cry of pain forced from her lungs, as whatever had issued the blow caused her body to spin with its power. She fell hard upon the sands, only appearing somewhat graceful due to the full midair twist the momentum imparted upon her.

Enya was now upon the ground, breathless, unaware of her attacker’s location, and, above all, vulnerable. Wonderful.

As she scrambled to right herself and spot her elusive pursuer, the only thing she managed to accomplish was to note the presence of a sphere coming to a slow rolling stop upon a new patch of blackened sand a few feet away. Near as Enya could tell, the real threat to her wellbeing had once again vanished. The creature could be bearing down on her even now. Another unknown object or objects split the air overhead, only missing her due to the earlier strike’s effects. She had to move, needed to escape, yet no longer was certain of any location being safe from her hunter.

Panic.

Then something red hot cut through her mindless attempt to retake her feet and flee. The very nature of one of her claims had altered significantly. Because they had to be held in her mind in order for her to make use of them, there was a constant monitoring of the ambient heat around each. One of the two that continued to exist had suddenly marked a rise from a normal body’s temperature to a level that had the potential to kill. She did not even need to search her senses to determine which location had changed. Obviously it could not be that which she had borrowed from her Lord.

Roch! He was in mortal peril!

Yet there was something she could do to save him and that action, in turn, might also serve to preserve her own life. Her right hand, buried in the sand during her crazed scrambling, laid forth the third and final claim she could simultaneously utilize. Before she even safely drew her fingers away, she opened the link between the marker she had left upon Roch and this newest one. It would not be sufficient to allow the heat to naturally traverse the pathway and dissipate. Far too much time would elapse and her ally would perish.

So Enya pulled.

The deadly rise in temperature would be immediately checked and reduced to safe levels within a mere handful of seconds. Meanwhile, the area about her would suffer an influx of heat only rivaled by her use of her Lord’s own power. Should her pursuer endeavor to finish its kill, hopefully the scorching sands would deter it for a few critical seconds. That would be all she needed.

Calmer now, she succeeded in regaining her feet and stood her ground. Her fingers tingled uncomfortably beneath her gloves from an amount of heat even she could not safely endure and a light coating of sweat broke out across her brow. Yet her prior fear had been completely replaced by a sense of indignation and fury that one would attempt to utilize her own element upon one under her protection. It would not do at all, and so she became emboldened. If her pursuer reappeared, she would be prepared to return its strikes in kind, if only to speed her way to Roch’s side. Should the creature turn away from her hastily constructed defense, then her return would be expedited.

She prayed for luck and time to be on her side. She could not afford to waste either in returning to the cute behind she had sworn to defend. After all, it was clear now he needed her in order to survive and she did not wish to depart this arena alone. Not as long as there was something she could do to ensure the life her dreams saw so much potential for.

Hold on Roch! I’m coming!

AQ	Post #: 93

8/19/2008 20:56:52

Guardian of Nekops
Member

The water which surrounded Roch’s legs and covered his chest suddenly burst into searing heat at the pirate’s touch, driving the trifling annoyance of the spray in his eyes from the Crusher’s mind. Steam rose quickly and filled the armor, flash-boiling him as the channels in his armor uselessly circulated the attack’s energy, serving only to bring the temperature of his armor up faster.

For five seconds that felt like an eternity, Roch roared in pain, in fear, in impotent rage as the water cooked his body. All the massive plate he wore was for naught… it could not protect him from this attack. Panicked, his hand fumbled for the transmutation circle carved inside of his left gauntlet.

Then a strange thing happened; the heat energy pumping through his armor’s veins was suddenly stolen away, and as the hungry ley lines absorbed more of it from the steam that too vanished. Soon, though he was unable to explain it, Roch was cool once more, with only minor burns to remind him that anything had happened.

It works without a Ground? That can‘t be…

So how…?

Looking down, the Crusher grinned wickedly at the sight of his foe still resting a hand on the steel abdomen of his armor. With a mocking chuckle, he demanded, “Is that the best you can do, Water?”

Throwing his massive bulk towards the enemy and trusting to the crater they were in to keep the man from dodging, Roch did not bother with weapons.

“My turn!”

AQ	Post #: 94

8/19/2008 21:10:22

xaxtoo
Member

Karddicj had abandoned the woman and therefore all thoughts of her got shuffled back into the obscure regions of his mind, stored along with the strategies made in Fountain Arena and a few other tidbits he had learned today. He knew he was headed for the two other contestants still fouling the arena with their presence, but out of the two, he really had no preference which he should help or hinder.

Since creating that wonderful slide, the metal mountain had been surprisingly dull and showed quite a lack of any creativity with one charge after another. And on top of being boring, he had destroyed his Swafan, spilling food all over the arena. Well not completely all over but that one piece left in the sand kept on nagging at Karddicj, beckoning him to go over and pick it up.

And Karddicj had no real grievances against the water user, except maybe he is currently engaged with the tin man, but with the man's genius fading, his favor with Karddicj also did, so in the current state of things, Karddicj will just have to let his inspiration take him once he gets a clearer view of the situation between the two. He'll likely go for the more tempting target.

Speeding through the bare blackened earth, Karddicj could feel the huge forceship literally breathing down his neck. He expected the driver to fly the ship low, in fact he had ordered it since there were no pillars in their paths, still despite him giving consent, his instincts hate being tailed so closely. Despite being absurd, Karddicj couldn't shake the thought the forceship was trying to tackle him.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Karddicj saw that the ship was indeed about to serrate him with a nearing fin. So immediately, he sprang into action. He slowed down a smidgen and ducked beneath the moving edge while shooting his hands out to quickly grasp it firmly in his palms. Digging his feet he pulled on the fin. With his weight plus the additional force pressing down on the top of the thin structure, it curved down. He continued until his body stretched out like a spring, and just as the tension felt right, his feet left the ground.

Like trapped water finally breaking through a dam, the release sprang forth all the stored energy as his body sailed through the air using the fin as a fulcrum. Kicking his feet out, he started flipping, and when his waist came above his head, his hands let go, letting him complete the rest of the rotation above the thin structure he was preparing to land on. Once his feet touched something solid, he bent foward, stopping his momentum, effectively steadying himself.

Karddicj had done this kind of maneuver before in spirit of fun and games, and every time his make-shift landing pad leaves him with the impression of, "Damn the forceship is fast!" Riding on the fin gave him a very short while to catch his breath, for in brief moments he was almost on top of where he wanted to go.

Leaning forward like a swimmer before entering the water, he dove off the fin with a strong push from his legs. Surprisingly, it was a purposeful dive with no real showmanship at all. Perhaps it was a show that the Green Kard is weary or perhaps it was to simply build up tension. Fans of the once celebrated athlete would be on the edge of their seats anticipating the latter. Either way, Karddicj phased in mid-air. With his body still horizontal to the ground, he showed up into the arena. He had timed his jump so that his entire lower body was inside the falling cascade of the Water Pillar, which pushing with her torrents, spun Karddicj's right to his feet. Such a perfect landing, bow worthy, and to top it off, Karddicj kept the Swafan dry. Yes it would have been enjoyable to suck it up, but he still had a use for it; it had good reach. And since he had already waited this long for dessert, there's no harm to wait a little longer.

However, that landing did cost him a little. The fans better appreciate the fact his legs and ass were more than a little abused by the water during their brief interaction. The new injuries got added to the old injuries which were all pushed away by adrenaline, which kept him alert, which made him realize he wasn't feeling the excitement of being threatened with danger. Without fearing an attack, a dripping Karddicj made a motion to bow, but midway through hunching his back, he stopped, little shocked, almost scandalized. There seemed to be two contestants in a small hole! They seemed to push the limits of regular boyish rough-housing, even going as far as to dig themselves a little den.

It may very well be impolite to interfere with what they were doing, but with the tin can in such a position that Karddicj couldn't even have wished for more, he approached, quickly, giddily, and swinging the Swafan stick in anticipation.

He circled around until he was in a position to keep a wary eye out for the fur coat woman, the lonely threat, then he started hitting the metal derriere, back, shoulders and head--essentially the entire percussion set--with rapid strokes of the Swafan stick, carrying out exactly what he had promised. While the stick repeatedly struck metal, he recited,

"Tin man did the naughty in a hole,
While I kept beating him with my pole.
I said to the poor tin can
This is for my dear Swafan."

< Message edited by xaxtoo -- 8/19/2008 22:56:48 >

AQ	Post #: 95

8/20/2008 20:52:44

The Dragon Knight
Member

For one brief, shining moment, victory was within his grasp. The sound of his foe's scream of pain gave every indication that the fight was nearly over.

Then, in an instant, fate turned her back on the injured pirate. The steam lost its energy, the heat being siphoned off somehow, cooling the flesh instead of searing it. His opponent had hardly been injured at all. Minor burns were all that had come out of all his planning and effort. He had sacrificed so much in order to make this plan work, and now it was foiled by some unknown ability. The weight of failure settled heavily about the man's shoulders, his left hand falling, useless, to the sand as he looked up at the faceplate of the Crusher, seeing the white glint of grinning teeth. The booming voice reeked with mockery as the massive warrior laughed off the attack. The seaman had given so much of himself into beating this person that he had very little left to give. Despair came in an overwhelming tidal wave, sapping the strength from his limbs as the Chosen of Earth began moving forward, intent on crushing the hapless swordsman against the crater wall.

Torrelle's eyes closed as he prepared to accept his fate, bereft of any confidence or hope of victory. He had been beaten, foiled, shackled. He was unworthy of being called the Champion of Water. However, in that instant when his lids fell and shut out the brutal reality of the world around him, an image came to his mind, unbidden. The face of his beloved wife formed out of the sea mists, her lips smiling sadly, sympathizing with his pain. She knew he was suffering, for her, giving his all, for her, bleeding, for her. She knew this, and she grieved. For a man to lose so much, and gain so little in exchange, was a terrible tragedy. She had wanted him to show the Water Lord's mercy and power. That wish had held him back, stayed his hand when otherwise he would have struck true. He had been trying to defeat his opponent without killing him, to overpower or incapacitate, to show mercy in the face of such incredible odds. In so doing, he had been brought to this state. It was all because of his desire to fulfill her wishes.

For causing the man she loved so much pain, she wept.

His eyes snapped open, the sea-gray orbs swirling with chaotic energy as he felt a white hot rage building within him. His wife was crying. She blamed herself for his injuries, his crushed spirit, even though he had chosen to do this willingly. Well, he would be thrice damned if he would allow his love, departed though she may be, to shed any more tears on his account. He would continue to fight, even if his flesh should be flayed from bone, even if he should be torn into bloody chunks. He would find a way to defeat his opponents, all of them, or die in the attempt.

His fury consumed him, an animal-like emotion that drove the fear of death and any thought of mercy from his mind. How in the nine hells had this man managed to overcome his technique? He shouldn't have been able to do a damned thing! Anger towards Roch and his mockery flared up, and the pain of injury was forgotten as Torrelle moved.

The walking suit was bulky, cumbersome, even with the weight reduction of Impact. As the man stepped forward, the Pirate Lord launched from his crouching position, side stepping to Roch's right and spinning to face the broad, metal back. Using the rage within him, he called forth the water that had remained in the earth, bringing it up under the Crusher's forward leg, swallowing the foot in the suddenly liquid ground and throwing the giant off balance. Bracing one leg against the crater wall for extra force, the Maelstrom placed his shoulder against his opponent and shoved. Without sure footing, the man's forward movement should help to send him tumbling face first into the ground, onto the crater wall. With any luck at all, it should stun the man for a moment and give Torrelle the time he needed to escape from the small pit and come up with his next strategy.

However, as a cough erupted from his throat, accompanied by a splatter of bright red blood that stained the steel, it remained to be seen whether luck would smile on him, or on the murderous hunk of steel he was trying so hard to defeat. As the Crusher's foot sank into the soft mud, the sudden pressure on his back threw him past his center of gravity. Metal groaned from the strain as the knee joints struggled to compensate, failing as he pitched forward.

With one last shove, Torrelle pushed himself away from the falling wall of metal, stumbling backward into the crater wall before catching himself. Roch crumpled over the ragged edge of the depression with all of the grace of a crumbling tower, the boom of his great armor impacting the earth echoing across the arena. Being trapped in such a small hole with the man was not the smartest idea, so the pirate spun and mantled out of the pit. He was alarmed at the sight of the strange darkness user suddenly appearing in his own pillar. Two enemies at once in his current state would be next to impossible!

Dashing off a few yards to the side of the Water Pillar closest to the Darkness Pillar, the worn out pirate sank to one knee, gasping for breath. Blood was seeping out from the corners of his mouth and breathing was getting painful. He would have to think of something fast.

< Message edited by The Dragon Knight -- 8/20/2008 21:52:28 >

AQ	Post #: 96

8/20/2008 23:49:13

damselindigital
Member

Her heart beat hard and fast not only out of self-concern, but from the dread of what might have become of her ally. Despite the nearly constant cacophony of sound that arose from the spectators, the woman had difficulty hearing anything above the pounding rhythm in her ears: the cadence of mortality. The only measure of time she had in a place where events were occurring much too quickly. Yet simultaneously, an unquestionable sense that these moments were being eternally suspended gripped her in its unsympathetic fist.

Through it all her mind whirled, threatening to sweep her away in a torrent of desperate and foolhardy actions. The thudding of her heart became her anchor as she counted each time life was again forced through her veins: assurance of her continued existence.

Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.

The heat ran out. She had nothing left to pull upon and still there was no sign of her pursuit. Sweat dripped into her eyes, making it difficult to see. With the back of a hand she wiped it away, knowing that her precious allowance of time was ebbing away. Yet this was not time to move. It could still be stalking her, silent and unseen, for too few contractions of her heart marked time’s passage. Assuming now that her hunter had been successfully deterred by such a simple protection could well prove to be a terminal mistake.

Thirty-one. Thirty-two. Thirty-three.

She could feel the air and sands around her cooling. The only defense she had erected was dissipating in response to the currents of wind sweeping through the arena. It was time to flee, yet she was forced to hesitate. With shaking fingers, she cinched her belt tighter, blessed spear resting against her shoulder. If she tripped and fell now upon clothes grown overly large, it could prove to be her end. The creature was still out there, stalking its prey, and would pounce if it sensed any sign of weakness from the few who remained. She would not provide it the opening, willing it to seek an easier target with a form of mad desperation.

Forty-four. Forty-five. Now!

Never before could Enya recall a time where she had run so quickly. Unburdened by a significant portion of her weight, her agility and speed increased, giving her the sensation of skating over the crimson arena sands. She abandoned her plan to skirt the pillars and again rushed forward in a direct assault, aiming to circle around Water’s monument from the side facing her Lord’s Pillar. Too much time had passed to allow her to traverse the safest course. Roch had likely been forced to deal with another onslaught once his enemy’s attack had been foiled. If he had survived the intense heat at all.

No! She did not wish to contemplate such things, but the thought stole into her mind like the inescapable grip of winter. It wasn’t her fault! She had been forced to tarry in order to ascertain a trap had not waited to ensnare her. In the beast’s grasp she could be of no use to her ally. Worse, she would be a liability. And he required her protection, even if it was from his suicidal charges aimed to preserve her own life. The fool! Why did she ever leave him alone?!

Unbidden, a new mantra replaced her frantic counting, mentally repeated each time a labored breath hissed between her teeth.

Let him survive. Let him survive. Let him survive.

AQ	Post #: 97

8/22/2008 23:51:01

Guardian of Nekops
Member

For just a moment, as the Crusher charged, his victim seemed to have given up. Eyes closed, shoulders drooped… the life went out of him. The confident grin on Roch’s face widened further; he would crush the poor man easily, make sure he was no threat, and then carry his limp, broken body from the arena to keep him alive. Neat, clean, hardly even any mess.

Then it all went wrong.

The Champion of Water’s eyes shot open, full of fire. The man exploded into action, dancing nimbly around the Crusher and calling upon his accursed magic to turn the ground to mush beneath the armored boot. Roch went tumbling into the short wall of the crater as his footing failed him, and suddenly the pirate was behind him, giving him an unneeded shove in the back to ensure his fall. His foot passed both in and out of the patch of quicksand before it hardened, but the damage was done.

As the Chosen of Earth stared into the red sands beneath his nose… his sand, damn it!… he heard his foe cough wetly behind him, heard the fluid hacked up from the man’s lungs splash onto the back of his armor. Glaring over his shoulder and clenching his gauntlet around a fistful of the red earth, he saw the man rushing away to the Pillar, where he fell to his knees. He looked helpless there, but Roch was convinced he was not defeated yet. The slippery Water would be difficult to catch, despite his obvious fatigue; his prior outburst proved the man still had plenty of fight left in him.

Before the Crusher could rise and pursue his downed foe, the spindly creature who had thrown the paddle to him at Energy began beating his metal hide noisily and ineffectually with a similar piece of material. It focused mainly on his behind, like it was disciplining an errant child… all the while chanting an insulting and poorly constructed rhyme.

Releasing his handful of sand, Roch struck the chest plate of his armor with a resounding clang. The green glow of his Alchemy spread from the steel over his heart, illuminating the sands before him as a tendril of the metal was pulled free like thread being spun. The Circle of Form on his hand lay dormant, however… it was the circle inscribed within the chestplate that was responsible for the arcane light.

The cable he was forming sped from the slab that birthed it as quick as Roch’s thought, dashing down to form into a wide weave beneath him, the fibers of which were strong, tight, and flexible.

Roch grimaced as the complexity of the transmutation took its toll on his exhausted will, each strand paining him as if he was tearing it from his very soul rather than his armor. The humiliation he had suffered, and was suffering, at the hands of Water and Darkness was too great to be borne, however, so he persisted in the work despite the cost as yard after yard of metal found its place in it.

The continued loss of metal laid bare the blue-tinged ley lines of his armor where they crossed over his heart and yet he continued to ply his Alchemy, working his way around the sacred tracks as he reached for more material beneath them.

Sweat poured relentlessly down his brow as his construct neared completion. Now, instead of simple cable, fist-sized chunks flowed full-formed from the steel, spreading themselves equidistantly along the edges of the pattern. Several yards of material followed them, coiling neatly at his feet without joining the rest of the weave. Grinning through the pain at his success, Roch added the final touch, moving the tether from the depression at his heart to the wrist of his left gauntlet, attaching it there as firmly as if it had been there at the armor’s forging.

All this was accomplished with the extraordinary speed of Alchemy, the green glow fading from the completed weapon before five strokes fell upon his steel-clad hide. The Crusher’s hand slammed down into the middle of the metal weave and snatched it up. He whirled, screaming, upon his insulting attacker with the newly revealed metal net swinging free towards the creature’s face, followed shortly by the massive head of Impact.

The Champion of Darkness leapt back easily out of the way, warned by Roch’s cry and movement. Though his attacker’s agility angered Roch still further, it did provide him with all the room he needed. He had to focus his rage, take out the opponent who had already demonstrated a genuine threat.

Turning towards the pirate where he knelt panting, Roch cast his net with a mighty underhanded toss. The weights that surrounded it pulled the mesh apart as it sailed through the air, straight for the wounded Chosen of Water.

Ignoring the little Dark Champion who had possessed the gall to spank him for the moment, the Crusher lumbered after his net, following the steel tether. One way or the other, Water was his.

AQ	Post #: 98

8/23/2008 22:28:41

The Dragon Knight
Member

Desperation was beginning to show in his movements and strategies. No longer was he planning out the course of battle; now he was being forced to react as his opponent dictated. There was no hope of acquiring more material from the Pillar in his current condition; the energy required to manipulate his Lord's symbol was simply too great for him to succeed in his worn out state. Even as he dashed from the pit, he was searching, madly, for something, anything that he could use.

Just before rounding the pillar he had seen it, a slight glimpse of a reflection in the sands between Water and Fire. The icy trail that had been laid by the now defeated Ice Warrior had succumbed to the heat of Fire and sun and turned into a thin puddle of water that stretched across the arena, and covered a significant expanse of earth in the area where Ice had met Wind. The sheet had been thin enough to melt quickly, but thick enough to support the creature's weight; perhaps an inch thick or more in some places. It was perfect.

Wasting no time, Torrelle immediately began calling for his newfound source. Most of the water had already seeped into the sand of its own accord, the glimmer on top simply being the last vestiges of the ice as it melted. The fact that it was already underground helped him, but the supply was spread thin across a vast area. He could not count on gathering it all quickly, or perhaps at all. His body was shaky and his breath was labored. It was entirely possible that he lacked the strength to command his elemental ally, especial from a distance.

No! He could not allow himself to doubt. To doubt in his own abilities would be to admit defeat. He must maintain his focus, even if it ran him into the grave.

The cry from the Earth Champion startled him, and the pirate swung his head about in alarm. Surprisingly, the man was not already barreling down on the exhausted seaman, but rather swinging his axe and what looked suspiciously like a net around, trying to swat the annoying Darkness user out of the way. The pirate raised himself to his feet, turning to face the mighty warrior as the man angled a throw in Water's direction.

The steel mesh sprang open, the heavy weights keeping the device spread in order to capture its prey. Torrelle knew that those same weights would wrap around whatever the target was, making escape next to impossible in this short timeframe. Without sufficient time to access the water from the icy sheet, he was forced to rely on a backup. It was lucky that life on board a pirate ship involved dealing with falling rigging on a fairly regular basis, especially under battle conditions.

The native enchantment of the longsword flared to life as he brought it about in a sweeping uppercut. The reservoir of water came out in a rush, following the directive of its master. Thankfully, the enchantment of the sword prevented a very tired pirate lord from having to use his own magic to control it. Commanding the water reserve with his will, as his sword swung upwards the water sprang forward, forming a long, thin whip. Since the distance was not great, and the speed of the net was minimal, the tendril hit its mark.

A crack was heard as the whip snagged the top of the mesh at the apex of his swing. With a fluid motion, he changed direction with his blade, bringing it sharply toward the ground. This movement translated into the watery whip snapping downward, collapsing the net as it dragged it into the loose sand. It was going to take more than a simple net to catch this prey.

Not wanting to take any chances that his opponent could control the net from a distance in ways other than the obvious tether, the pirate called the whip back into the sword. The tentacle released its grip on the steel and retreated back up itself until it reached the safety of the blade. Catching sight of the lumbering form of the Crusher headed in his direction, Torrelle began back pedaling, skirting around the pillar to bring him closer to the arena's center. Closer to the thin field of water that was beginning to gather beneath the surface of the earth.

As he maneuvered his way backwards, he kept throwing anxious glances over his shoulder in both directions, while trying to also keep his attention on the moving mountain of steel in front of him. Fire was still out there, as was Darkness, and he had no desire to be caught unawares. The almost fearful look in his eyes was not entirely an act; after so much fighting, his weakened condition certainly left room for concern. He gave off a very convincing appearance of a man whose back is against the wall and is searching for a way out.

Still, he was not beaten yet. He was injured, fatigued, drained and at a severe disadvantage, but he was alive. That was what truly counted. He would worry about failure after he was dead.

He was not, however, looking to allow that to be a possibility. He kept moving, his ribs throbbing and the taste of blood thick in his mouth, but he still forced his broken form to continue. Life still beat within those veins, and as long as it did he would continue to devote himself to the memory of his beloved, and to the honor and glory of his Lord.

AQ	Post #: 99

8/23/2008 23:45:36

xaxtoo
Member

"What a great hunk of metal", Karddicj mused almost admiringly to himself while bringing the Swafan stick down on the thing over and over again. Despite it making a great "ting", the armor, even after taking on a sickly green glow seemed to protect the beast inside a little too well. As if on cue, the little mite screamed. Finally, a reaction, it was almost like Karddicj was beating on a rock, which couldn't be that far off the truth, for the man was boring like one

Reflexes made Karddicj jump back from a potential threat, which luckily for him turned out to be quite real as a net of some sort and an axe swung past his eerily white face. Sticking a hand out, he waggled a finger at the tin man, who had just hysterically spun about and staggered a bit recovering from the momentum of the swing. Suddenly Karddicj wondered how awesome the armored being could be when inebriated. A most dangerously fun dude!

The corners of Karddicj's mouth twitched almost uncontrollably, and finally to transfer the latent energy to better use, Karddicj's mouth opened with the serious intent to taunt the metal lumberjack. Just for the added effect, the finger stopped wagging, pointing in brief moments at the skin before curving down to point at the man. And with the Swafan stick raised over his head, Karddicj was ready to deliver unto the man a good beating of the most detrimentally insulting fashion, right into the ears of the thing which seemed like could not be enforced to drown out the assault.

Just as the suspense hang in the air, Karddicj realized with a great shock and widening of the eyes that he had forgotten to do something very important. Swinging the Swafan down with one smooth motion, he bowed to the fans. With a few claps in their direction, he phased.

Back into his homeland, Karddicj was just in time to see the forceship sail over a pillar and disappear out of his sight. He really thought he had told the thing to stop. Sighing with discontent, he shook his head in disbelief at the utter stupid nature of everyone on that damn ship.

In an instant, he decided not to chase the thing right off, for it already had a good lead on him. So he ran towards the Earth Pillar taking pains to avoid the bit of transformed area of ugly arena sands. Taking into account a potential hit of the ball on the woman and factoring the roll afterwards, he estimated a spot which he phased back into. It had turned out quite close to where the little thing actually was. Quite pleased with himself for such great ball anticipation skills, Karddicj took two steps with which his foot touched it and he phased again, disappearing with the ball.

Kicking it slightly in another direction, he started dribbling it towards another area. Soon, right after the ball had just left his foot, he phased again leaving the little thing in his homeland. Appearing back in the arena, he quickly bent down to pick up the Swafan head and disappeared once more.

With some sort of weapon in each hand, he gave the ball a hard kick, sending it non too gently in the direction of the forceship. He speedily took off after the ball, almost recklessly one might say. With the lightning forceship in such a big lead, he had no choice except to take a few chances with the bugs in this area. Besides, should bugs show up, he has a form ready to give even them pause.

Under normal circumstance, Karddicj would have enjoyed such a long run, especially one where he can play with a ball. Today though, even dribbling brought no joy as his ship and last symbol of status sailed away, souring his mood. Damn that crew!

AQ	Post #: 100

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