RE: =EC 2010= Sky Arena


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6/25/2010 8:31:38

Eltaka
Member

The peaceful sound of a light breeze rustled the leaves near the arena, sending flies undisturbed for months scattering. For a famous location and even more famous event, the area was rather... malnourished? Filthy? Squalid? Yes, squalid was a good word, Volude decided. He walked closer to the battlefield of elements, the arenas of lore and legend, the temporary campsite hewn from a squalid land, contemplating the excitement that was to come. He wouldn't watch the championships from the crystal balls of magi, or gaze upon the carnage with the masses. This year, he would get a closer look. He had the skill to be invisible. No one would notice the wind riding alongside the fighters as he marvelled at the sheer power of the fighters.

Even more important, he thought, would be the chance of a wind master winning this year. Last year had ended sadly for him, when wind was vanquished yet again. Hopefully this year would be different. He suffered enough pain for his lord already, without needing to be reminded of wind showing weakness at the Elemental Championships.

By now, he was on the fringes of the arena. He saw eight tents near the center, all dedicated to an Elemental Lord. He grimaced in anger when he saw that light had a slightly larger tent than wind. That was his greatest hatred in life, the light fanatics. "We need light to see! We need light to plant things! We need light for everything! Wind brings storms and darkness, light brings peace and life!". Of course, they forgot that wind was the reason they could breathe, that wind allowed plants to live, that if wind brought darkness, wind had more power! One of these days... he would prove that his lord was better than some nightlight.

Volude set up his tent near his fellow wind followers, only a few yards from the wind tent. Being released from the burden of the heavy pack he had hauled to the arena was a great relief. Another light breeze came, energizing and refreshing him. He knew it would be his last bit of relaxation for a while. He could see the merchants weaving through the masses, with slaves and cattle in tow. They would be selling vile food, stale water, healing potions made with their own blood. They lived solely to make a buck off the Elemental Championships. It was an insult to the elemental lords!

His dread for the upcoming pain of wading through the merchants was interrupted by a piercing scream. It cam from inside the wind tent, and caught his attention quickly. With the speed of a practiced woodsman, he dashed inside. Anything was better than running from con-men. Once inside, he saw a man with a spear and a hammer. The hammer was bloody, as was the ground. The look of pain on his face was enough to tell what had happened, even without looking at the grotesque mess that was once a leg. The man had drove the hammer into his calf, hoping to avoid... combat, by the looks of him. But that made him a contestant in the arena, and since he was in this tent, he was likely a fighter for wind. He didn't think twice before he jumped forward and knocked the fool to the ground. He placed a foot on his chest, and shouted at the wounded hypocrite.

"You... traitor! You break a leg to avoid fighting for your lord! You defy your master!"

"I... I can't. I will not die for a lord I cannot see nor hear. I'm not even good at wind magic! Here, take the fighter's token! If you so desperately want to die for wind, go ahead!"

Volude caught the token in one hand, and stalked off. He would be punished for killing someone who was supposed to be a combatant, and if he stayed, that was bound to happen. Bloody traitor... now he was forced to fight, or be ashamed forever. He would not betray his lord like that... he would fight, he would win, or he would die trying.

A sole bead of sweat fell down his face as he approached the arena of sky. A bit of asking around, and he found that it was the only arena in need of a wind contestant. Mages stood at the ready to lift fighters to the spinning mass of stone above. A scribe ran around, assuring the identity of the contestants before they went up. As he reached him, he began to nod at the mages to send him up, then stopped, puzzled. Volude was a stranger to the Championships, after all.

"The other guy dropped out. I'm the replacement."

That was all that was needed. A quick hand signal, and a mage began to call upon the wind to send him rising to the arena. A downpour began, and he quickly decided against his stealth abilities. It would be worthless in this weather, and even the advantage of flight would be destroyed by magic of archery. He would fight without stealth, as much as that unnerved him. Still, it would only make the victory of wind more amazing to win without his greatest skill.

He strung his bow quickly and prepared an arrow for his first shot. He would select a fighter with their back turned, eliminate them before they noticed his presence. As his head rose above the surface of the spiraling vortex of stone, he took aim at the one man in white, white, and more white. He lined his arrow up with the torso of the man in white, and fired.

DF	Post #: 26

6/25/2010 20:18:31

Ryu Viranesh
Member

The bolt of lightning crackled and twisted through the air, headed straight for the body of his dark enemy. Marcos' attack seemed like it would burst right through the man and end this battle quickly, allowing him to take a quick moment in prayer to honor both his fallen foe and his patron before moving on to the next opponent. Unfortunately, that's not what happened. Soon after the Handyman's bolt of lightning had left the stick, his crafty foe had summoned a dark spire right in the path of his attack, his lightning colliding with the structure and the two powers annihilating each other. The man then yelled back at him, his voice piercing the void the collision of attacks had left, "A little lesson, fool! You don't stop and chat in the middle of combat!" After so insulting Marcos, this warrior then thrust towards him with his quarterstaff, but this was no normal thrust. As he attacked, a blade of impenetrable darkness spawned from its end and leaped towards the Handyman with murderous intent.

With barely an instant left to react, Marcos quickly twisted the lightning rod that was still out in front of him, charged with electricity of course, into the path of the shadowy protrusion. As the two weapons crashed together, the Handyman was pushed back a few steps by the force of the attack, managing to keep his footing by carefully watching the ground. Marcos trusted that the shadow, which seemed to have a weakness to the electricity that he generated, was wittled away into nothing after coming in contact with his electrified staff. The quick-thinking Handyman decided that he wouldn't give his foe a chance to follow up on that attack and potentially cause more damage to him than just the scrape on his foot from earlier. So he quickly tightened his grip on the handle and the coils below it in his right hand and pulled his long ranged weapon, the whip, from its holster and let go of the long portion of the weapon, allowing it to unravel.

Marcos turned to face his foe once again, his gaze stern and unyielding, now completely determined to win this fight. He allowed electricity to flow through his whip just as it did through his lightning rod. Although the distance from his foe was at this moment just too great for his weapon to cross at the moment, that would have to be remedied later. Now the Handyman had to deal with the very real possibility that his opponent would be able to quickly attack again with his staff. In preparation for this, he kept his thunderbolt wand raised and electrified to ward off any attacks as he tried to start and move forward and to the right, trying to both make it harder for an attack to hit him and get into range to attack with his whip. As he moved, Marcos quickly thought of the bombs that he had spread across the arena; it wouldn't be too long now before they detonated, and when that happened, the battlefield would descend into complete chaos.

Post #: 27

6/25/2010 22:00:59

TormentedDragon
Member

The thrust was blocked; unsurprising, really, and of course this walking generator had worked out his weakness, as the tool used to parry was electrified. Another shock of pain went through his body, but he hadn't bothered to maintain his Shadow's form; to do so was pointless. Rather, he let it vanish, eyes locked on his opponent to read his actions as he pulled the staff back and up, preparing for the next strike.

The whip was now at the ready, so as he brought the staff up, his Shadow already racing along its length, he stepped back, determined to keep his distance from the lightning man. Down came the staff, out went the Shadow, splitting in three, one blade for the head and two for the shoulders.

Post #: 28

6/26/2010 13:01:31

xaxtoo
Member

Somehow, his clumsy opponent managed to cause a bit more drama than what Gohlin expected. The lovely stumble had blemished Gohlin's perfect record of always hitting where he aimed, and even adding a clean miss to his record. If he had a warrior mentality, maybe he would have lost some confidence, but his apathy sometimes plays the wonderful role of shielding him from disappointnment; however, it also tempered his enthusiasm, which according to others make him seem aloof and uncaring at times, but so far in the past months, he's had very little to bring him any sort of joy.

Even a warrior should know better than to worry about couldas, wouldas and shouldas, as in the heat of the moment, the only things that can be truly relied upon are training and muscle memory, and giving the reigns to the mind too much could result in serious danger. And having no reason to question or impede the firing synapses, Gohlin instinctively dodged to the side as his opponent stuck a palm out at him. Whatever that came out heated the air around Gohlin as it passed, leaving behind a wake of steam, serving as a visual interference between the two contestants, leaving one person at a clear disadvantage.

The mist, the inadvertent reaction from the man posing to be dangerous, while serving no tactical advantage to the more than obvious hot-head, obstructed Gohlin's potential adoring fans from seeing their hero. And as much as Gohlin would like to blow the mist away, giving up a clear tactical advantage could let him end up more dead than not, and no amount of adoration can cure a life of misery. And it's not like Gohlin would be without his own sense of drama for he was going to introduce a little mystery to the current programming as he poured a little energy into the surrounding rain as a small token of revenge against the water.

Of course water being water had no feelings but it made Gohlin feel better that he was making less of it, plus as a result, he was no longer getting wet. However, technically, instead of being hit intermittently by water, he had made it completely a part of his surroundings, but it did not pound his clothes into his skin anymore.

Inside his cloud, Gohlin strafed towards the center of the ring. A lot more surefooted than his opponent, Gohlin moved with intent and purpose, trusting the map that the mist had mapped out. As he moved, he shot more arrows, firing at the most two within the confines each individual spinning layer of the arena.

AQ	Post #: 29

6/26/2010 19:42:49

Ryu Viranesh
Member

It was indeed a good thing that Marcos had kept an eye on the crafty shadowman who was his opponent. Otherwise he probably wouldn't have noticed that his enemy had raised his staff into the air and after what looked to be bracing himself, brought the weapon down, three blades made out of shadowstuff extending from where the thing's reach ended. The triad of deadly curves arced down towards his head and shoulders. The Handyman cursed and continued to move as the attacks came within inches of striking, being lucky enough to have shifted out of the way of the attack aimed for his left shoulder. However, he wasn't so lucky with the other two blades, their targets having merely been shifted to either side of his neck, which could potentially be even more painful and devastating blows. Genuinely worried, he did the only thing that might have any chance of actually being able to stop those dangerous blades, released a burst of electricity from the sides of his neck. The shocking maneuver dissolved the shadowy tendrils that were going to cut deep into his body, but not before they each landed a small cut on their targets. Blood ran from the wounds down onto Marcos' trenchcoat as he continued to move as quickly as possible, trying to make it harder for the quick staff user to hit him, lightning rod and whip up on guard and a pained frown on his face.

It was at this time that the Handyman's plan finally came into effect, and the four bombs that he had carefully seeded to be spread all over the arena finally detonated. They had all been intended to end up at certain points that would cause the greatest amount of chaos all over the battlefield and although they were not all in their proper places, they would probably accomplish this task just fine. The bomb that he had placed first and the one that had had the longest time to travel ended up in the exact place the he had intended, a little ways away from the Minotaur and the Light Magician, the only combat that had actually been started when he had arrived at the arena. So of course it had to be his first target, making an already chaotic situation even more chaotic. The second bomb exploded off course, ending up somewhat past the minotaur's original starting position and further in than the first explosion. The third grenade blew up behind the fight of the Prince Florindo and Gohlin, somewhere within the steam. An unintended target, but one that likely couldn't have worked better if Marcos had thought of it himself. The final bomb was the furthest in of them all and exploded relatively between the fights of the aforementioned group and the Handyman and Hass, although it was considerably further in than the fight of the former pair. Marcos couldn't help but turn his frown into a grin at hearing the sound of the bombs bursting, at least something was going right today. Soon it would be two things, just as soon as he could put his next plan into action, but he couldn't help but wonder exactly what his first plan had wrought.

Post #: 30

6/26/2010 22:04:53

kenzoku
Member

Excellent! Russell's opponent seemed to have exaggerated his own reach! This time the wizard easily sidestepped the blow, even as an arrow whizzed by from behind and opened a shallow gash in his shoulder. They would be repaid, but he knew he could not face away from this massive beast and hope to survive. He swung his round shield at the side of the extended ax in an effort to throw this beast man further off of his balance. With the sword in his other hand, he stabbed toward the head of the minotaur. "Nothing personal." Russell explained, calm despite the efforts it had taken him to reach this point. "But you are too much of a danger to me."

He hoped stabbing the minotaur hard in the head would be enough. Otherwise he would remain outnumbered two-to-one. He predicted the arrow would bounce off of the man's armor, but there was also a good chance it would penetrate. At any rate, he at least knew his next opponent was an archer. A heavy shield would be enough to protect him while he endeavored to bridge the gap between them. This was all merely speculation, of course. Judging by the accuracy of that shot, fired without even grounding himself, he was almost positive that his new opponent was for the wind lord. This meant he might possess the talent to curve his arrows.

The sound of an eruption startled him; he wasn't terribly familiar with explosives, so hearing the blast brought an entirely different concern to mind. Sounds like lightning. I hope I can count on this big ox to act as a lightning rod.

AQ	Post #: 31

6/27/2010 1:53:08

TormentedDragon
Member

"Pah!" The lightning man could, apparently, push lightning from any part of his body. Still, the strike had not been completely useless; blood had been drawn, and, best of all, he still had the advantage. He halted the downward sweep, holding the staff in a swordsman's grip, pulled back, and, with a shout, lunged forward- just as the various bombs his opponent had scattered about the arena went off.

Rivera was combat-hardened, so he knew better than to look. Nevertheless, the sudden explosions threw his aim off a hair, and so rather than striking for the exact center of his opponent's chest, the lunge was straight for the man's left shoulder. Difficult to block, but not nearly so staggering as it would otherwise have been...

Post #: 32

6/27/2010 15:28:57

DWeird
Member

It seemed like his descent took ages, and he didn't quite mind - every second not splattered into bits is a second well spent. But for everything there was a time.

And now was the time to dodge a watery explosion.

Twisting in the air with his whole body, Snibbor takes firm hold of his double-scoop, unleashing one of it's contents straight to the would-be impact zone - and straight into some archer's face, but who cares about someone who doesn't even have the guts to get withing spitting distance of the opponent.

The crystalized water magics turned into a sort of squirming translucent blue bolt, smashing into the arena's rocks and erupting upwards as an upside-down waterfall... Bouncing off of it center-wards into the ring, the mageslayer gets his weapon completelly of his back and uses it as a pole on one of the cracks between the wet stones, releasing an ugly *CRR-DUNK*, leveraging and gaining enough control over what was still a pretty nasty fall to slide into a roll.

Getting up and shaking off that strange little tingle that told him that there was energy magic running about, he looked behind himself with a sneer.

"Enjoy the shower, archer-boy?"

Post #: 33

6/27/2010 22:53:17

Apocalypse
Member

The mistake had cost Reinharn a possible killing blow as white robes had dodged the battle-ax with apparent ease. To make matters worse, the head of Earthshaker, unopposed by anything else, had dug deep into the stone beneath. It would not be impossible to dislodge the ax, but it would require time and effort that the magican was unwilling to surrender to the minotaur.

Reinharn released his grip on the battle-ax and stepped back to reach a defensive position. The wisdom of this move was soon proven as the magician thrust his broadsword towards the minotaur's skull. Reinharn countered by catching the blade from underneath with his left forearm much like he had done with the spear of golden light. The impact sent a burning sensation down his limb, but it passed within the moment it had appeared and left his head intact. Any physical harm was bruising at worst, and, in all likelihood, it would not matter in the long haul of the battle. Holding the broadsword at bay with his vambrace, Reinharn coldly replied to the magician, "You cannot begin to understand the danger..."

A fierce explosion from behind cut off the minotaur and resurrected his primal instincts. In a vicious frenzy, Reinharn pushed upwards with his left arm to throw the magician off-balance while simultaneously grabbing his first cleaver and swinging it from right to left at navel level. Upon freeing his left hand, Reinharn seized his second cleaver and struck at the foe in an identical yet reversed arc. These savage attacks were quicker than the ax blows, and they would need less recovery time as well. It would only be a matter of time before white robes would be shown his proper place on the battlefield: beneath the thundering hooves of his enemy.

Post #: 34

6/28/2010 16:25:14

Ryu Viranesh
Member

Marcos had only just taken a step when his enemy moved into his next attack, the enemy's hard wood staff surging swiftly towards the Handyman's left shoulder, not even a second after he had repelled his opponent's previous attack. Well, no rest for the warrior, he supposed. This was exactly what he had signed up for and he wasn't backing out now, he had promised too much to the Energy Lord and to himself to give up and let himself die now. This man seemed to have the advantage at the moment; well perhaps it was time that that changed. Perhaps it was time that the momentum of this battle shifted in his direction so that he could be the one dealing out attack after attack. In order to do that, he had to break his foe's rhythm and there was never a better time to do it then the present. So with these thoughts in mind and no time to plan anything more than a vague idea, the Handyman began his crusade to take the battle back.

He quickly raised his left arm, which was already at chest level, that held his lightning rod, which had been used to block many of the attacks that his sly enemy had launched at him. This time, however, the weapon would have a use that was a little bit different. A mere instant after he had raised it he brought his shock stick down at a slight angle towards the approaching staff of his opponent and slammed the electrified instrument into the long weapon, delivering the Energy Lord's well deserved wrath to this servant of Darkness. Marcos' intent with the sudden attack was twofold: First to knock the long, dangerous weapon away from him so that he couldn't be hit or have shadows suddenly piercing through his insides; he'd taken enough damage for a while now. Second, this turn of events would likely give him a few seconds with which to launch a counterattack at his foe and start to shift the combat in his favor, something he had to do sooner or later. As of course, no one won a battle from being on the defensive forever, you had to attack.

So with barely a glance at the whip in his right hand, he knew what he'd have to do. The weapon had been more of a detriment than an advantage in this fight and those odds likely wouldn't improve anytime soon. Even if they did, he still had his roll of wire with which to work with, and that could function as a whip if it absolutely had to. He had to admit that bringing out the whip against this particular opponent had been a horrible tactical blunder, but he'd have to move past it and fight on if he wanted to win. This idea would also give him a chance to take out another, far more useful weapon from his bag of tricks, and he already had an idea that would likely send the battle even further to his corner, and that was something that the Handyman couldn't really resist. So, without much regret and no sympathy at all, Marcos brought the charged whip around for a slash, even though he was still out of range; his enemy must think him crazy. Then, at the height of the weapon's swing, the Handyman simply let it go, flying through the air, in what would soon become a tangle, towards his foe. He could only hope that the weapon would retain at least a little of its charge when it reached the man, so that he wouldn't be able to easily block the thing with his shadows. The fact that the whip was such a long weapon would likely help that and give him a few precious seconds. As soon as the weapon had left his hand, Marcos would carefully stop moving to the right and go straight backwards, trying to move out of the range of his opponent's staff as he reached inside of his trenchcoat with his now free right hand, trickery on the brain.

Post #: 35

6/29/2010 10:04:00

Geddesmck
Member

A familiar and unpleasant sound whizzed past Florindo’s ear. An arrow had just narrowly missed him. It seemed the steam was doing its job, although perhaps a little too well. His attacker, which he assumed was the Rainman, had been unable to hit him. Unfortunately, Florindo didn’t actually know where he was.

He took a guess as to where the arrow originated and began moving in that direction, making sure to duck slightly, lest another arrow was aimed for his head. He found his movements slower and it was agonizing. He had to be slower to avoid more stumbles, but, just as importantly, he was also finding it difficult to put too much pressure on his left leg. The wound he had received was shallow, but it was also painful and it was still bleeding. A thin trickle of warm blood was slowly pooling in the sole of Florindo’s boot.

His slow movements would make it difficult to reach the Water archer and the frustration was difficult to keep under control. In order to manage his anger, Florindo released another heat wave in the general direction he believed his opponent to be in. This was much hotter, but unfortunately had no real target.

Another arrow flew towards Florindo and missed him ever so slightly, barely missing his right arm. It seemed the spin of arena had thrown off his foe’s shot slightly.

Post #: 36

6/29/2010 11:12:58

kenzoku
Member

The bull beast had saved himself a head full of steel. At first this seemed like a minor inconvenience; without a weapon, he was just a horned, armored, amazingly strong man. Except, he was not without a weapon for long. Soon he was coming at him like a butcher, and the only way to survive was to not be in his way. Unfortunately, this was where Russell was. He backed up as quickly as humanly possible, ignoring that the ground beneath him was unreliable. The minotaur was advancing, and there wasn't yet breathing room to consider a counterattack.

Suddenly the arena was gone. Clouds greeted him from all sides, and nothing was beneath his feet. The earth was meandering toward him. Russell gulped, forming his prismatic wings. That was altogether too close a call. He flapped hard, and soon he was hovering next to the arena. "I'm sorry. You were a magnificent opponent, but it would be a great disservice to us both if I were to continue; I was planning on floating here and shooting arrows at you, and that neither glorifies my lord nor favors your survival. As I'm here for the former alone, the latter is worthless if I can't engage in battle honestly.

"So I am afraid I must resign from this tournament."

The magics of the arena mages pulled smiling Russell from the sky, returning him to the earth. "Additionally, I have an appointment." He thought aloud, going about his business as if the tournament had not happened. He headed back to his room for his hat before leaving town, going who-knows-where.

AQ	Post #: 37

6/30/2010 17:34:29

TormentedDragon
Member

Deflected. Darks, this man was fast. He pulled the staff back, his left hand loosing its grip, his right hand sheathed in binding Shadow, and stepped in again, as his opponent threw his whip at him, no doubt leaving it with a charge. Feh! Enough of this foolery! He reached out with his free hand, his Shadow growing from alabaster skin, enlarging his hand until he could do nothing but catch the flailing length of metal. The charge shot up his arm, portions of his Shadow vanishing, but compared to the earlier jolts, it was barely worth noting.

With a harsh tug of the Shadow, the whip slid through his Shadow-bound hand, the handle forced around give him a proper grip on the thing. By the end, he stood, eyes on his opponent, staff at the ready in his right hand, glittering wire whip in his left, Shadows of the cat-o'-nine-tails writhing about its metallic form. "Guard for your life, lightning rod!" he bellowed, shifting the staff to point at the man's head, and with only this for warning, what was once a six foot staff became an eighteen foot pike.

Post #: 38

6/30/2010 21:45:27

Apocalypse
Member

The minotaur snorted in response to the magician's little speech. White robes spoke of how he could continue the battle and be victorious, but he could not do it and still be in favor of his Elemental Lord. The words were tainted of lies for pride and self-assurance. White robes had already been cast from the floating stone by Reinharn, and should the magician be injured again, there would be nothing to break his fall. In short, white robes feared for his life and determined that fleeing was the best option. A coward afraid of a true fight...at least he had been right about the losing of favor with his deity.

With his personal adversary dispatched and the other competitors locked in battle with one another, Reinharn received a period of recovery. That is, a recovery of his weapons. Reinharn clipped Ravager and Destruction back into place before crossing over to his battle-ax and bending down next to it. Placing one hand on the shaft near the head and the other on the top of the weapon, the minotaur pulled straight upward to free Earthshaker. After a few precious moments of lifting, the ax finally escaped its rocky prison. Reinharn quickly inspected it and found that the ax was in good working condition; perhaps minor damage and dulling of the blade, but nothing that would stop it from hacking an enemy in two.

Reinharn glanced over the arena to seek his next target when he laid eyes on two men engaged in combat: one wearing an unusual cloak and the other partially covered in chain mail. They were only two stones away, making them the closest and most accessible. Reinharn trotted off in their direction, pausing only to retrieve the Razor he had thrown earlier in the battle. He leaped onward to the next stone, taking his time in making a comfortable landing. The minotaur cut across the last stone separating the two combatants from himself before coming to a rest at the edge.

Upon doing this, Reinharn raised his arms and head to the sky and unleashed a tremendous roar that would make the blood of most men run cold. It would, of course, alert cloak and chain mail to his arrival, but that was his intention. After his display of primal instinct, Reinharn hurled his Razor at the new foes. The projectile targeted just below the ribcage of chain mail. And, should the blade continue its flight, it would strike cloak as well.

Post #: 39

6/30/2010 23:59:25

xaxtoo
Member

Gohlin's arrows flew straight and true and pierced his opponent's mobility so sharply he fell to the ground in so much pain he had to bow out of the tournament, and as much as that could be one eventuality, but it’d be no better than a lie, for in a less than ideal setting, say like reality, his arrow missed again! And in the not so perfect world, one needs contingencies, and perhaps, to combat his foe's extreme luck, Gohlin might have to call on plan B, or C, or if it came to it plan D, something reeking with so much anguish and evil, Gohlin is not even thinking about it; one could even say Gohlin does not know what that is and still be at least 90% accurate.

Another heat blast shot past Gohlin, signaling that the fire man inability to aim at his body heat. This fact was quite a relief but did the air wave have to warm up the mist unnecessarily provoking sweat to come out? Gohlin already fought rain, and if he can help it, he's certainly not going to tackle the problem of self-induced wetness. And in retaliation of the man being the natural enemy to Gohlin's comfort as much as having the convenience of the bowstring already being drawn, Gohlin fired another moisture guided arrow he knew will miss.

With a spirit no longer willing to aim at a target that he can't hit, Gohlin stopped firing, but he knew his audience would want more; however, he would have to keep them in suspense and mystery a little while longer, letting the unknown simmer until the climax is ready to explode, or rather jump out of the white misty hazy covers, and no one would know where, as there would be no arrows to point to his approximate location anymore, and Gohlin had effectively hid himself inside the huge torus arena as if he were like the fat inside a donut.

Stowing plan A away, Gohlin drew out a couple of spears, with the tips pre-coated with the quasi-liquid in the vials. He let one drop to the ground and with a little aid from his watery powers, he propped the tip up, pointing it low towards the legs of his incoming assailant, signaling no more violent intent than before. Then Gohlin moved away to place the next stake, closer to the center of the arena.

AQ	Post #: 40

7/1/2010 9:08:54

Eltaka
Member

Volude's first arrow missed, as the target fled the arena before it could hit. Talk about nasty luck. Now he was fair game, and he had yet to eliminate one of his foes. He reached backwards to his quiver, and drew two arrows. He held them both somewhat gently by their tails, placing one on his string and keeping the other in his drawing hand, held with three fingers while his thumb and other finger fired the first projectile. He looked around, making a point not to ignore the sky in a sky arena, and found a man using a metal object to throw crystals at the ground. He aimed, and was promptly thwarted by a blast of water erupting from the ground. Had he not dug his heels in for his shot, he would have stepped backwards off the spinning rocks. What kind of attack was that? From mid-air as well... the man was more skilled than he had thought.

As he thought about spinning rocks, he noticed that the crystal thrower had landed on a ring spinning in a different direction than he was. Judging by the velocity of the rings, he had ten seconds before the man could approach him for a melee attack. Ten seconds... it was almost as if the arena wanted him to win. He focused on his target, firing one arrow at his head. Quickly, he spun the other arrow in his hand, drew back, and fired it towards the man's torso. He made sure to aim a bit to the left, to negate the effects of the spinning arena. To finish, he drew three arrows from his quiver. These ones, he had modified slightly. Tied between them was a net of fibers enchanted to be impossible to cut with normal metal. While quite vulnerable to direct magic attacks, this made it ideal for attacking a man who wielded a metal object.

Hoping his two arrows had given him a distraction, he aimed slightly up to compensate for extra weight on the arrows, and fired. In mid-air, the net expanded to be human-sized, and the arrows fell to the ground, hopefully bringing the net down upon his opponent.

DF	Post #: 41

7/2/2010 6:51:29

DWeird
Member

Arrows to the face! What a jerk thing to do!

Nooot that different from a bolt of magical energy, though - and he had plenty of experience with the latter. Pushing himself even further arena turn-wards and away from the opponent with his scoop, he rolls to the side, hearing a very satisfying *swish* just where his beloved body parts had been.

But of course, that wasn't all - it never was. Turning on his heel and getting up to full height to face his newly found opponent, he found an iceforsaken net being flinged at him! What was he, a water dolphin to be caught and then processed into chunks? Raising his scoop-staff almost instinctivelly to counter the net and jumping out of its way simultenously, he eliminates the threat nigh instantly, with the net wrapping around the free end of the scoop. One of the arrows, with their force of momentum changed so abruptly, slides by the side of Snibbor's white leather vest, puncturing a long-ish hole in it, doing significant, one would say irrepairable damage to its stylishness.

The net, however, did seem to want to stay on the scoop, slumping off of it after a few moments into a crumpled, useless heap, with a strange, irregular-sided hole right in its middle. It was at about the same time that the mageslayer felt a familiar weight at the end of the scoop, and grinned widely.

"Enchantments, eh? Right back at you!" He cackled out, swinging the contents of the scoop - wind! no surprise - out towards the arrow-flinging archer and rushing forward right after it. The wind blast just released, even if it won't blow the opponent off his feet or at least off the slippery wet rock, would make it downright impossible for him to shoot any arrows with any degree of precision... Giving Niksab both the time needed to close the distance and a very nice opening, what with the opponent winded by the attack.

< Message edited by DWeird -- 7/2/2010 7:05:43 >

Post #: 42

7/2/2010 14:09:58

Ryu Viranesh
Member

As Marcos moved backwards, he saw the path of his whip as it descended towards the warrior in front of him. The weapon looked like it would hit the man straight on and give him a precious few seconds. Yet as he watched, the man's left hand became shrouded in shadows and the shadowhand grew larger and larger as it reached up in the air right towards his whip as if to...grab it. The Handyman drew his focus from this spectacle and forced himself to accept the loss of the whip, it had been his choice to get rid of it and there was nothing that he could do about it at this point. Besides, there were more important things to take care of right now, and he had to suppress a smile as he withdrew his right hand from his trenchcoat, four bombs safely ensconced in his palm. Marcos took a final glance in the direction of his foe, who had caught the tesla coil in his gargantuan shadow appendage, and noticed that another potential opponent seemed to be approaching the fight behind the man (maybe he'd be lucky enough to kill two birds with one stone!). Marcos then released a spark on the back edge of his lightning rod as quietly as he could and lobbed the bombs high into the air towards the other two competitors.

As soon as he had done so, the Handyman kept his eyes carefully trained on his opponent, he would have to time this move just right. It was a good thing that he was watching the shadowman, because by this point he had Marcos' whip in his left hand, shadows running up and down its length, and the man then yelled at him yet again, "Guard for your life, lightning rod!" The next thing Marcos knew, the man's staff had been raised towards him, a pike of shadow was zooming with incredible speed towards his head, and he was already ducking and rolling out of the way. This quick thinking dodge saved his skin in more ways than one, since he would have inadvertantly moved out of the pathway of the Razor that the minotaur (which he could now identify after his roll) had thrown at the shade if it continued on its flight path. Despite just having narrowly avoided death, the Handyman raised his lightning rod to aim for the bombs as they came down and cause his original enemy, and perhaps this minotaur as well, some much needed explosive and electrical pain. His right hand was now resting on another of his lightning rods, ready for a quick draw at any time it was needed.

Post #: 43

7/3/2010 19:03:26

Eltaka
Member

Wind. Volude loved it. It energized him, reminded him of the greatness and generosity of his lord. But not when he needed his arrows.

It was bad enough that all his attacks had missed, but the true misfortune avoided him until the wind magic on his net was sent at him, impairing his movements and keeping him from shooting arrows. As an archer, that kinda kept him from doing much. He could almost hear the moans from his supporters down below. He slid his left hand subtly down his bow, until he was gently touching the hidden blade stored within. If it came to close combat, that would at least give him something. Even a fool knew that a fast knife could even beat a mighty hammer.

Second means of protection. He called on his limited vestiges of wind magic, not to eliminate the wind buffeting him, but to minimize the effects on him. Normally it would eliminate wind resistance, make him faster. But right now, it would only let him fight like a normal person unhindered by wind.

Finally, he drew a single arrow and prepared it for a shot.

By the time he was done, his foe was close. His ring was spinning in an opposite direction than his, so he would be within a couple feet of him in seconds. Not the best situation, since he had that metal thing with him. But now that he knew enchantments would be used against him, he could make a strategy to combat him effectively. First of all, if he got hit, the winds assailing him would only increase, as the thin layer of wind magic surrounding him would be absorbed by the man. Second, every twenty seconds he would have the wind at his back, and would be faster than a normal human. That would be his chance to get the kill, or fire off a quick arrow if the chance came.

That was all he could get, before his opponent was too close to wait. He fired his arrow at his torso, the largest target, knowing the wind wasn't strong enough to deter it at that range. Chances are, it would still make it through to the other side of the man's stomach. Without leaving time for a possible attack, he drew his blade and put his bow on his back in one swift motion. With his right hand, he drew a short knife from his belt. His right foot moved back, his weight moving with it, as his left side prepared to defend by all possible means.

DF	Post #: 44

7/4/2010 0:53:28

TormentedDragon
Member

The pike vanished as soon as it missed, and here came more balls, more bombs! A roar to his back bore the news of a new contender, and as he stepped to the side, he turned his head, in time to see the Lords-damned bull coming at him, and tossing a blade his way. Nigh instinctively, he turned his sidestep into a full spin, his staff twirling with him, Shadow flying out of its other end to intersect the Razor on its deadly flight towards him. Shadow grasped steel, his staff jarred against his shoulder, and he kept turning.

Never one to waste momentum, he slashed with his stolen whip, Shadow tendrils flicking out to snap at the charging bull, seeking eyes, mouth, and any skin exposed upon the arm. With a few more steps, he had come full circle, staff Shadow whipping the minotaur's weapon around him as came to a halt, to let it fly, course altered for the Handyman's gut. His eyes wide, nostrils flaring, teeth bared in a cheshire grin, Rivera began to laugh...

Post #: 45

7/4/2010 9:40:42

Geddesmck
Member

Florindo frowned.

How was he supposed to impress his Lord when his foe refused to fight? His initial rage was subsiding, the stimulation fire of fury being replaced by the biting sparks of frustration. Frustration is a form of anger, but a form directed at oneself, and in battle, such feelings are not beneficial. The Prince could not win until he could foucs on, and direct all his energy towards, his foe. Unfortunately, this was impossible while the coward ran.

Perhaps this Rainman had some pride? It seemed unlikely, but if he did, Florindo could use it for his own means. After all, Florindo himself knew all about the dangers one would risk for the sake of pride.

"Rainman! Coward! You are not worthy of fighting in his championship. Real men, real champions, do not run from battle. Show your true colours Rainman, be you a champion or a coward?"

Post #: 46

7/4/2010 22:06:19

Apocalypse
Member

Reinharn buckled down as the tendrils of shadows came rushing towards him. He swung his battle-ax upwards in front of him, thus sending four of the whips above to pass harmlessly over his head. Strangely, these weapons did not vanish upon impact like the golden spear conjured by white robes. Was chain mail a more powerful opponent?

The question was answered by the hail of shadows that punished the minotaur. Reinharn had instinctively raised his left arm in defense, but only one tendril had bounced off his vambrace before continuing its path. A second tendril had scored a cut on his left upper arm while two others struck a knee and a thigh. Perhaps grievous for a human, but only a slight burden to the Prime Minotaur. However, the real prize in the assault was the last shadow tendril. Its flight had the shadow target Reinharn's face, and only by pulling his head back did he prevent a direct hit. Despite the intervention, the tendril grazed his left cheek and left behind a shallow wound as a reminder of the tournament's peril. Peril...brought about by a human?

Chain mail...why have I not found you sooner?

As chain mail began laughing, Reinharn bellowed with the ferocity of a stampede. One might have thought the man was mad and the minotaur furious, but this was not the reality of the situation. Reinharn roared for the adrenaline of the battle, and he was certain that the man laughed for the same reason.

Seizing control of the battle, Reinharn leaped straight for chain mail and swung his ax at chest level, secretly hoping deep down that this would not be the end of the exciting encounter.

Post #: 47

7/6/2010 0:01:53

Ryu Viranesh
Member

Marcos helplessly stood by and watched as his perfect shot at the man in chainmail was ruined, his target moving out of the way and negating the possibility of a direct hit. Of course, this wasn't all that had happened, far from it. The Razor that the minotaur had launched had been intercepted by the ever clever shadowman and his accursed umbral staff as he spun around to launch an assault upon the minotaur with his acquired whip. The weapon's many tentacles struck the brute all over his arms, legs and face. While the wounds weren't major, they should have caused the bull-man to let out some sound of pain, but instead the minotaur was...roaring, be it in anger or ecstasy he didn't know, it definitely wasn't pain though. Marcos simply grinned at this and tilted his lightning rod slightly as he fired it at his bombs, the bolt containing a weaker charge so that they wouldn't explode for a couple more seconds, not until they hit the ground right near the shadowman and the bull. It was at this point that the bovine brute leaped towards his opponent, axe drawn and aimed straight for the shade's chest, and that the man in chainmail completed his rotation at the same time, releasing the Razor that he had captured and redirecting it towards the Handyman himself.

As the Razor flew through the air like a bullet towards him, the Handyman rushed forward, putting his plan into action and drawing his second lightning rod to start. He knew that this would be the moment of truth in this battle; it was now or never. He hadn't forgotten the Razor either and tried to swerve out of the way and met with some minor success. Instead of spearing him straight in the gut, the blade smashed into his left side and slid along past it before going some distance and clattering to the stones. However, it hadn't left his body without a calling card from its brief visit; he could already feel his side starting to bruise and the sore feeling that was resonating from the afflicted area was no less pleasant. In addition to these bodily injuries, his chainmail had been gashed inward at the point of impact, the links becoming jumbled and caught with each other; the armor would need to be repaired before it could see another battle.

The Handyman pushed on through the pain, although he was clearly favoring his injured side, trying to keep as much weight off of it as he could. Marcos actually had to hold off laughing in joy himself, this battle was truly pushing him to his limits unlike anything ever had before and he liked it, but at the same time he had to at least make some effort not to be wildly noticeable. Besides, with that injury on his side, laughing would probably not be a fun thing to try at this moment in time. Lightning rod in hand, he adjusted his path to take him towards his enemy from the right, marking the shade's position carefully. Marcos then slammed the two charged weapons together just as the bombs exploded, a small cloud of smoke appearing above and near the explosion. As he rushed into it, the clever inventor changed his direction of approach from the right to the left, close to the center of his foe, but just off from it. His lightning rods were at the ready for his trump card to be used, this would show that shrewd and cocky shadow shaper a reason not to take him so lightly. In fact, after this move, he may not have any shadows to shape at all, chuckled the Handyman to himself.

< Message edited by Ryu Viranesh -- 7/6/2010 0:15:03 >

Post #: 48

7/6/2010 12:01:23

xaxtoo
Member

When Gohlin places the first stake, his opponent was there, somewhere just outside the fog, and when the second spear was propped up, his hot-headed dude still had not moved. Well, like the norm of this battle, nothing is going according to Gohlin, for an elaborate trap will not be very impressive to his fans if the other person will not play. Furthermore, if Gohlin's not careful, the fight would never get any more exciting, and surely a hungry mosquito would have been more interesting than all the posings and actions so far in a bout that has had no more pain and horror than some sweating.

On cue, the perp, who has done almost nothing exciting other than trying to create the atmosphere inside a sauna, had the gall to call him out. And if Gohlin had no pressing needs of having to look good, then he would have shot the man right there, but as things stand, Gohlin will have to respond in a manner that's very undeserving of a gentleman of leisure, and would have to resort to close physical combat.

And as for the question of self-preservation, what's the use in that if all face is lost? The interconnectedness of needing his image to get a girl to get her cooking and to continue living is by far the more dangerous threat than his current problem of a steam blowing fireman. If he can't impress some woman-folk, he might as well be signing his death warrant, and in order to be hero-like, he will have to remove all the mist or leave it so his ladies can see him. Besides, he got called out, he had better respond.

Turning around, Gohlin starts walking towards somewhere right in the middle of his stakes, while he walked, he started removing most of his gear. Anything larger than a newspaper became part messy sloppy wake, one that would do any guy proud. And in mere moments he was carrying almost nothing except for various containers of water. Seconds later, his damp shirt came off and became a waist security blanket, giving him an unkempt look as well as allowing him to hide the stuff attached to his belt. And as an additional bonus, perhaps surpassing the other uses in terms of importance, his body glistened with the moisture from rain and sweat. Just as he tied the knot with his shirt sleeves, he reached the almost exact center of the two markers.

He turned to face his opponent. Taking a brief second to make sure he actually wanted to carry through with what he's planning, and started his charge. No longer needing the stakes, he changed the commands to the water-coated tips. The one closer to the center of arena flew towards his opponent, and the other one went up and out, slightly speeding ahead of Gohlin's run. Finally, he called one more spear to him, and one hurried to him before settling in at a pace matching that of Gohlin's. Get ready, viewers, Gohlin will be making a shiny re-appearance!

< Message edited by xaxtoo -- 7/6/2010 12:15:14 >

AQ	Post #: 49

7/6/2010 21:35:58

TormentedDragon
Member

The whip had served its purpose, and he let it go, metal coil falling to the rock below. Its Shadows melded together as he laughed, flying forward to form another shield, even as the minotaur's enormous axe came flying through the air. The blade met Shadow, and Shadow gave way, parting to let the blade through, it the shield still served its purpose. Rivera, himself, remained untouched. "You'll need more than that, you walking steak!"

The lightning rods bombs triggered at nearly the same instant, and shrapnel pelted shield, rock, and anything else in the area, a few wayward shards finding their way into the Rjyt's unguarded skin. He was moving, of course, the first few steps of a run to his right, cirling the bull while the Shadow Shield tightened on the greataxe, holding it fast. Both hands once more on his staff, he swung at the bull's exposed calf, a scythe blade of shadow promising to cut deep into the 'taur's flesh.

Post #: 50

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