RE: =EC 2010= Grand Finals


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7/19/2010 14:57:18

Guardian of Nekops
Member

The Champion for Darkness stood back from the Pillar of Water, his sword dragging peaceful on the ground as he backed away further, slowly. As he did so, he kept a sly look from the corner of his shaded eye on the minotaur, wary lest the juggernaut select the wrong target. Thus it was that he saw the creature stop and turned his gaze, curious, to see the beastly Champion for Earth lift its horned head to survey the arena.

Apparently, the thing was not happy with what it saw. It bellowed, "You cursed humans! You have made me a fool! I have come here to do battle with your warriors and champions, not your cowards and scum! For years my tribe has been in danger of an invasion from your kind, but if this is the best you can offer, then there is no danger at all! Send your armies and forces to the Eastern Plains, and my brethren and I will bathe the land red in their blood!"

The minotaur left then, stately and proud, but behind him Jarvis sneered. “Get ye gone, then, if the power of the Lords doesn’t interest you. I won’t mourn you, that’s for certain…”

The Worker’s blade flashed up, and his dark, soulless eyes pierced the Pillar to stare at the blasphemous fool suspended within it.

“Come now, Water… defend your vaulted honor. Expel this fool upon the sands, or let your Leviathan’s teeth crush his bones to dust… even one such as I knows your symbol cannot be used thus.”

Grinding, as the sound of a heavy block settling into sand, assaulted Jarvis’s ears and trembled up through his feet. Below him, the rushing of water.

“Water!” he screamed, enraged by the fickle nature of the gods. His face, staring up at the being who floated serenely in the Pillar, at one with the power of the Deep, would have been a mask of horror if not for the demonizing effect of his shadowed eyes. “You can’t let this happen! Take! Him! Down!”

The sands began to shift and sink beneath Jarvis’s feet, and he knew the time for words was done. Turning on the ball of his foot, the Worker reached out for a vaguely stick-like object-- probably a spear-- with a dark tendril of power as he fled. Behind him, in response to the pressure of his running footfalls, the crimson sands collapsed into a deadly pitfall, one that all his scrambling just barely allowed him to escape from.

Jarvis yanked at his shadowy line as he ran, pulling the object free from the sands in which it was buried and hauling it along after him. When he thought he had gotten far enough from whatever the Champion of Water was doing to be safe for the moment, he whirled about and caught the shaft in his left hand… Odd. All of it was shaft. It seemed that he’d snatched the fool’s staff rather than one of his spears. No good trying to impale him, then… bah, it probably would have just floated anyway.

Looking back towards the Pillar of Water and its impossible occupant, Jarvis saw that the hole that had appeared beneath his feet was widening at the edges, the sands around it slowly collapsing into the gaping, stream-hollowed void beneath. He knew he ought to flee… there was no possible way he could stand against a Champion and Pillar thus united. The power of the gods driven by the petty cruelty of man…

That said, the Lords could stuff it. If Water chose to aid his Champion so directly, shielding him and giving him strength that flowed from his very Pillar, then someone had to put a stop to it before the entire arena fell before that alliance. The Worker was no altruist… not anymore… but he had no delusions about his chances. If this half-naked fool was allowed to consolidate his power, Water would sweep the arena and surely take the Crown, along with that boon which was Jarvis’s only chance to resurrect his family. He could not let that happen.

Sheathing his unholy blade, Jarvis took the staff in both hands and held its length out before him. Breaking into a run, he charged straight towards the widening hole in the arena grounds. Several feet before reaching it, he shoved the end of the staff down into the crimson sands and leapt into the air, the thrust serving more to throw him off balance than to aid his flight. Still, he was well over the pit when he cast the weapon aside, and depending on how wide the swath of Water’s actions were under the ground… yes…

The Worker’s feet landed solidly on the sands near the Pillar, and he stumbled a few steps closer trying to stop. Raising his arms high, he reached out with hands both dark and metaphysical, his telepathy plunging into the waterfall and grasping for his enemy’s shoulder and belt. If the Champion wanted to hide in his Pillar, Jarvis would drag him out.

And if Water dared, DARED interfere in the natural course of things, and hid his Champion from the other competitors? Well then, Jarvis would spit in his eye.

< Message edited by Kellehendros -- 11/30/2010 17:19:57 >

AQ	Post #: 26

7/19/2010 20:34:56

Ryu Viranesh
Member

As his rod flew through the air towards the honored champion of Ice, Marcos expected the man to put up some clever form of defense or attack to meet his own; instead he found the warrior on the ground, quivering in fear. The Handyman was incensed, a sneer quickly melting over his face; why had such a pitiful warrior been chosen as the representative for the sharp and rough element of Ice? This was an insult to every worthy champion here; as nice as Norrand seemed to be, he didn't belong here. Marcos fully intended to put the disgraceful combatant out of his, and the Elemental Lords', misery quickly so that the real battles could begin. Then there was sudden change in the atmosphere around him, an ominous feeling shivering through The Handyman's body. The chill in the air became palpable, as though it was infuriated that he was trying to bring harm to its frosty master. This boreal breath of the Ice Lord penetrated to his very bones, as if it was attempting to freeze him and his conductor in place to protect it's honored chosen. The biting wind apparently hadn't counted on a man with Marcos' determination; it was going to take more than a change in ambiance to stop him from winning this fight. The smug look had long since been replaced with the gritting of his teeth, his knuckles white as the snow gathered under his opponent's pillar from gripping the rod so hard as it traveled towards his foe.

Then a change came over Norrand; he stopped shaking and appeared to have regained his composure. All Marcos saw was a flash of the man's bright blue eyes before he found his way blocked by a wall of ice that had manifested in front of him. His lightning rod slammed into the shield full force, causing it to crack, damage spreading as the energy dispersed over the slick surface. A few seconds later, he heard a laugh behind the slab of glass-like ice and saw movement towards the obstruction. These were the only warnings he had before a group of four spikes thrust themselves at his legs; this warrior was trying to maim him! Marcos leaped into the air, but he wasn't quite quick enough and the sharp edges of the barbs caught his shins mid-jump. They slid right across the skin, ripping the front of his pants to shreds and leaving shallow scrapes across half of his shins. His world turned into an all-consuming white fire; the cold burned the front of his legs numb as a small amount of blood stained the pristine beauty of the glittering crystals below him. The only thing that he could be thankful for was that since the wounds had been caused by ice, they would not get infected.

Blinking away tears from his eyes, the Handyman’s feet touched down on the curving upper portion of the shield and were already running, not letting the slippery substance find the purchase it needed on his boots to trip him up. As he reached the top Marcos leaped into the air again, his opponent just below him; the only problem was that he had no plan of attack. The searing pain in his shins subsided a bit and clarity returned to the Handyman’s mind as he realized what he had done and where he now was. There were only a few moments before he would descend from his jump and he wasn't in any position to think of a carefully laid out plan; he would have to do something that he didn’t like to have to resort to: improvising. A dozen possible images raced through his head, half of them feverish delusions and most of the remaining unworkable, but one found its way into his mind that would work.

He plummeted headfirst directly towards Norrand, flailing around, looking like a mixed up jumble of limbs. That’s just what he wanted the warrior of Ice to think; in fact he had something considerably more devious than usual in mind. Not relishing this break in his usual protocol, Marcos twisted as he reached the top of the frozen stalagmite and smashed the lightning rod in his left arm right into the ice, energy crackling like mad as it was finally granted the release that it craved. This wasn’t the end of his attack; although he had found an anchor to stop his descent, this didn’t halt his body completely. The Handyman’s right heel came crashing towards the alien host’s back, all of the momentum from his fall being transferred into this kick. If it landed, he intended to smash the champion of Ice right into his own defense; if that didn’t end the threat this man possessed, then the energy slowly weaving cracks through the ice would. Yet no smile came to the champion of Energy’s face; he was not pleased with being forced to do something so barbaric and primitive. This fight had just become personal since nobody, not even a champion of the elements, made Marcos act impulsively.

Post #: 27

7/20/2010 14:04:34

Viking_Jorun
Member

The fairy had engulfed herself in a whirling fire tornado. “Oh I plan to make it all the way," said the fairy. Eiro found it hard to see his opponent, but he could use his ears, if that was any better. He heard a minute snap. The fire disappeared into the sand. Ember took to the air and curtsied. She danced, and elegantly finished a fiery pirouette. The flames seemed to move with the fairy. Ember was dancing and the fire responded to her movements.

Ember stopped spinning. From what Eiro saw, Ember thrust her hands towards him and the flames rocketed towards him, directly at his face. Eiro raised his stave, and the shield followed. The fire made contact with the shield of wind. The heat intensified. Curses. Wind only makes fire stronger. If only i can withstand the attack for a little while longer. Eiro proceeded to rotate the shield to an odd angle. The flames bounced off the shield and sped off in another direction. Common physics could play a role in this battle of fire and wind, but that wouldn't last too long. Eiro jumped sideways to dodge the remainder of the attack, with this the shield dissipated.

He rolled through the sand and came to a stop with one knee on the ground and his stave supporting his body. This is one strong opponent. Hopefully I can muster up something. Eiro looked around at the sand. Hmm, let's see. I could manipulate the sand, but it's early for that. I should weaken her first. Eiro flicked his stave and a blast of wind shot out of the diamond at the tip. The blast was a good foot in diameter and spiraling winds encompassed a white ball of pure trapped wind raging in an orb. It was a spiralling orb of wind. It looked strong, but it was only a basic attack, but Ember was unaware of that which helped Eiro in this circumstance.

Hopefully this will throw her off enough until I can think of something. Eiro stood up and resummoned that shield, in preperation of anything.

AQW

Epic

Post #: 28

7/20/2010 21:28:13

Clyde
Legendary Artist!

Enough of the electricity had left his body that Cyros' sixth sense now slowly started to return to him. His opponent stood out to him clearly now; he appeared like a living being under thermal imaging. Cyros had been awed to see his opponent's response to his earlier attack. The Handyman had not only dodged the attack, but actually jumped onto the ice wall!

A cold shock of surprise ran through his body with a rush of adrenaline closely following after it. The Energy Lord had chosen his champion well. He was capable of all sorts of tricks and clever moves; as quick as lightning itself. Cyros was both annoyed and pleased he had to face such a worthy opponent. It was too early in the battle for him to make any judgement about his opponent. History had repeatedly shown that there was no point in judging a book by it's cover. He had known the Elemental Championships would be a tough challenge which he enjoyed, but he had wanted to conserve his energy just in case he actually made it into the Final three. There was no way he was going to able to do that now.

Cyros would do whatever it took to win this battle and survive. As primal and primitive as that may be, it had been his true instinct since birth. Almost every living being fought for survival at some point in their life and many still do. This was life and Cyros knew that all to well; while Norrand and Cyros had separate minds, their hearts beat as one inside the same body, they would do whatever it took to keep living.

After the Energy Champion had climbed the ice wall, he jumped for some odd reason. A grin spread over to Cyros' face as he concocted his own surprise for the Handyman: he stood up quickly, using the momentum to swing his sword at his ice wall, slicing it in half. His blade passed through the ice like a knife cutting through butter, but stuck fast before slicing all the way through. Using both of his hands and exerting energy, he lifted the ice wall up as if it floated on thin air until it was just a few feet away from him. He waited for the Handyman to land so he could send him flying.

As expected the Handyman was full of surprises; just moments away from the ice, he jabbed at it and stuck his lightning rod in as an anchor. Before had he landed the ice was easy to control, but with almost two hundred-plus pounds weighing down on it, Cyros started having trouble holding it. The pressure buckled him back down onto both knees, but he wasn't going to let it keep him down. Keeping his right knee against the ground, he brought his other leg up and slowly pushed himself to his feet

It was a cleverly executed attack: the Handyman swung off the lightning rod with his feet together in an attempt to kick Cyros. Either Cyros was too low or the Handyman was too high because his attack didn't go as planned. Instead of hitting his back, his kick had connected with the Ice Champion's left shoulder. The force alone would have been enough to dislocate his shoulder if Norrand's armor had not received. He had either been lucky or maybe he was given another favor from his Lord; Norrand believed it was the latter, while Cyros insisted it was the former.

While the attack managed to make Cyros stumble a bit, it wasn't effective enough to stop his next move. He turned to face the pillars that stood next to his own (the Fire and Water pillars) and used all the might he had to swing both of his arms forward. This move's main intention was to toss the Energy Champion as far away from him as possible, but he hoped for something else. When the ice wall reached outside of Cyros' aura, it, possibly soaking the Handyman in the process. Cyros wished he could wait a moment to catch his breath after completing feat, but he couldn't just sit around and waste time.

The remaining half of his ice wall began to break apart, piece by piece and Cyros reformed it above his head. When it was finished, it would be prepared for whatever the Energy Champion had next. Cyros laughed just thinking about what the Handyman's reaction might be. His money was on surprised.

Post #: 29

7/21/2010 17:02:30

xaxtoo
Member

Apparently, allowing the water a natural passage way to flow disturbed the natural order of magically things of having it not flow onto the sand. Before much work was done on cutting up the earth, Gohlin started feeling resistances to his urgings and reverse digging became harder and harder. Still, he carried on, and when the man retreated, Gohlin's plan had finally worked for once.

Just as the brief retreat stopped, the other branch broke through the arena floor and reared up behind the unsuspecting pervert, who started running as if sense its presence, for the man then decided to pole vault across and started charging the beginnings of a moat. He ran, the small budling tentacle, no more bigger than a tomato stalk chased, cutting up the earth as it fast-wiggled in its prey's shadows.

Gohlin did not let it pounce, he didn't need it to, for it would be so much more potent the closer it was to the source before it acted. Plus he wasn't used to playing with a shifting weapon, especially one that didn't require him to generate the necessary water molecules. While still deciding on what he really wanted the delightful tentacle to do, the man reached out with both hands and with an intense look started doing something.

Feeling a tug to his midsection, Gohlin panicked, in no scenario, training exercises he went through as a child was there preparation for this. The pervert shall not have him! Frantically, he put both his hands behind him and pushed out as much water as his body would allow him. He hated doing so, because he hated generating water, because shifting massive amounts of water through his system always felt weird, which is why he has yet done so at the tournament. But in lieu of his current situation, the unpleasant feelings be damned! He has to prevent worse unpleasantries.

A slight rumble in the water alerted him to a gaping mouth, seemingly coming out of the sands moments away from taking him. Stuck between a Leviathan acting to protect its artificial environment and a disturbing pervert, it almost seemed to Gohlin he really had no choice to make. But between teeth that will rip him to shreds and teethmarks, Gohlin went with the logical one and struggled onwards, fighting off the advances of the man.

With the Leviathan so close that Gohlin the discoloration of the many rows of painful incisors, Gohlin started losing to the pervert. Desperately, he shot water out from his feet too, before finally a weight lifted off of him as his pants flew off, and his combined thrusting from all four limbs overcame the pull. Quickly changing the direction of the flow, he darted inside the water beast's mouth, barely beating the teeth as it came down. Making sure that the tongue wouldn't get a chance to push him back, he flew into the esophagus, which apparently satisfied his host. He had escaped with his purity and that was all that mattered.

The little branch that observed the entire incident? It grew as the danger did, in case Gohlin was caught, it would cool the tensions of the entangled men. And when Gohlin was eaten, it lost its purpose and broke apart, raining down onto the sands, which absorbed it away from existence, just like its brief master, sharing the fate of becoming part of something greater than itself.

AQ	Post #: 30

7/21/2010 18:45:08

Kellehendros
Eternal Wanderer

The Leviathan rumbled, a deep basso sound that would have been terrifying had not the water around the massive creature muted it to nothing but a slight increase in the roar of the water that was the Pillar. Still, Gohlin got off rather badly due to it, being in the creature's maw and all. At which point the man got a surprise, as the Leviathan unleashed a tidal flow of water, that blasted him back up the creature's throat and out into the Pillar again. Of course, that was of little comfort, because the Leviathan's long neck stretched back, and then, faster than any striking snake, flared forward, its razor sharp incisors tearing into the former Champion of Water, killing him instantly as his lower body was engulfed in the creature's bite, separating Gohlin's upper torso from the rest of his body. A second bite reduced the man's remains to only his right arm, which, as the Leviathan turned and swam back into the depths of the Pillar, was pushed by the current out of the Pillar and onto the sands of the Arena, much the pleasure of the cheering crowd.

Post #: 31

7/22/2010 12:43:17

Krey
Member

Well good, it looked like little Ember wasn't going to be disappointed! At least not yet. The gout of flame flew true, but flared as it hit her opponent's shield of wind. It might have burned through, if he hadn't shifted to send the line of fire streaking through the air, where it blasted against the shield wall before the spectators in an explosion of heat and flames, before fizzling into nothingness and leaving naught but the memory in its wake. Still, the simple fact that she might have gotten him with such a straightforward strike was somewhat disheartening. Would he not hold up to his predecessor's ability?

She smiled, her fires already building up anew, lines of flame whirling around her body excitedly as she danced gracefully in the air, an entrancing and distracting image to all who looked upon her. Of course, this also made it hard to target her actual body, as the intense heat from the flames created something of a mirage effect. She'd not tried this against Na'-As-Big-As-Medium-Sized-Jim-But-Bigger-Than-Wee-Jim Jim, as for most of that fight she'd been rather flabbergasted (and flustered and frustrated and all manner of annoying unpleasantries!), but against this substitute Champion of Wind... Well, she was finding herself quite calm and collected!

Of course, she'd trained her fiery dance for combat, so it wasn't as if she stopped paying attention! She saw her opponent roll, coming down to one knee, and this he followed with a flick of his staff. Well, if this wasn't a cliché maneuver! Fancy staves were known for supplementing their owners power, and in many cases even incorporated into it. So to see a blast of pure wind launch from the tip was no surprise—rather, it was quite expected!

Her dance shifted swiftly into an upward spiral, and the only effect of the vicious winds was to spread her flame into a raging cloak behind her. This, really, only lasted for about half a second before it all returned to its enticing dance with its mistress, but t'was a lovely display nonetheless! Up, up into the air she went, hovering above and to the fore of her foe, and gave him a gracious smile even as her flame gathered at her front again. This time, though, it was at two points ahead of her, to the left and right. Her dance slowed, and even as her flame moved, she face her foe, and thrust both hands forward.

As the wee fingertips touched the flames, not one, but two gouts of fire (each smaller than the one had been, you'll note!) shot forth. Each arced outwards in an opposite direction, and then rejoined halfway to their target, both spiraling around the other in an entrancing, dancing beam of fire. Even as they flew, the fairy danced, and subtle movements of her hands in this dance were reflected as the flames spread apart once again before they'd have hit their target. Each flew wide, and then curved back, finally converging upon the Champion of Wind to assault him from both his left and his right.

And as the fires burned their vicious streak through the air, a sound could be heard; t'was the joyful giggles of a fiery sprite as she traced a playful dance in the air.

AQ	Post #: 32

7/22/2010 13:41:03

Guardian of Nekops
Member

Gaining a good grip on the shirtless blasphemer even within his Pillar, Jarvis hauled on the dark tendrils that ensnared his prey with all his might, the physical action focusing his mind and granting his psychic efforts more force. All was in vain, however, because this catch had some new tricks up the sleeves it was not wearing. Extending first his arms, and then his legs, the Champion for Water began channeling streams of water to propel him back, and back, and back against the pull of Darkness, seemingly oblivious to the looming, angry maw of the Leviathan behind him.

Just as the fool began to push so hard his pants came flying off, the Worker let him go and released his hold on the garment, disgusted. Turning about, the man fled into the mouth of the Leviathan, using his jets of water to propel him to certain doom… not oblivious, then. Just insane. And dead, now, I suppose… bit anticlimactic, really.

Turning his gaze to the rest of the arena, Jarvis yanked the staff of fallen Water into his hand once more. Reaching up with his left arm, he pressed his shadow-dripping bracer to his chest, soaking the magical shirt with Darkness to restore it as best he could while he surveyed his options. There seemed to be some commotion over at the nearby Pillar of Wind that the Worker could capitalize on… the man appeared to be attacking with rather ordinary balls of wind, and a good shove of telepathic energy could likely counter that easily. Only… where was the man’s opponent? Swirls of flame could be seen around him, but the source…

A wet, meaty THUMP on the sands beside him caused Jarvis to leap away, brandishing the well-worn staff in his hands to keep the perceived threat at bay. Whirling to face the noise, he discovered only the severed arm of Water’s Champion, dripping blood and slime and water into the crimson ground. He looked up, eyes full of fear, to the Pillar of Water, only to sigh with relief as he saw the Leviathan’s broad back rather than its angry, rearing jaws. The Champion of Darkness was not of interest, just yet, to the enraged monster within the Pillar… even so, best to leave before that changed.

Breaking into a slight jog, Jarvis made his way through the gap between the two arms of Water’s channel, where the ground was still solid beneath his feet. Sparing one last glance at Wind and Fire, and still completely unable to discern the actual progenitor of the flames in that battle, the Worker began to sprint across the middle of the arena, trusting the two to keep each other busy as he made his way past them to the other combat, between the Pillars and the Champions of Energy and Ice. Not a perfect opportunity for him, perhaps, but at least he could see both competitors.

< Message edited by Guardian of Nekops -- 7/22/2010 13:47:02 >

AQ	Post #: 33

7/23/2010 21:13:36

Ryu Viranesh
Member

The Handyman couldn't have said that he expected his crazy improvisation to work exactly as planned; that would have taken more than one Elemental Lord smiling on him. Still, he couldn't believe that his hastily constructed plan could have gone wrong like this; this just drove home a lesson that he'd known all his life: improvising was bad news. His father's "improvising" on several experiments had almost cost the lives of several villages, and the man never even felt regret for it; always considering the people "the price for his great work." This situation, however, took the cake for bad decisions that he'd made in his life. First, the champion of Ice had cut his frozen shield in half while he'd been in midair and picked up the top half of the slab, holding it above him. Not the biggest problem, but it had pretty much ruined his plan to kick the man into his own defense; well it was too late to back out now. So jabbing his conductor into the top of the ice Norrand was holding, Marcos had lashed out with his feet in an attempt to drop the mass of ice on his foe. Of course, his thrice damned calculations were off, and his legs had only smashed into the warrior's shoulder, not even close to the crippling back blow that he planned for. Then to complete his total failure, the miniature iceberg that he was hanging onto was lobbed into the air by the vengeful Ice champion; maybe he was like his element in more ways than Marcos had thought.

As he flew through the air with the wind flying past him, Marcos glanced this way and that, his mind rushing to try and find a way out of this situation. His eyes almost bugged out of his head with worry over his tenuous situation; could he even escape it? Why had he allowed himself to improvise and come up with this stupid plan, the flaws of which were as obvious as the panic on his face right now; he had to save himself. Wait, what am I doing!? Is this how I'm going to go down, the champion of Energy, scared like a small child? NO! I stopped being that child long ago, I'm the Hand of the Energy Lord and it's about time I acted like it, no more beating myself up over every slight miscalculation. I'm human and I have to live with that, but I can change everything else: starting now. A calm flowed into his mind and cleansed all of the fear from his brain as if it was a disease that had just been cured. Marcos finally took a true look at his current situation as well as that of his foe and couldn't hold back the grin that flashed onto his face; this was all it took and it was so simple to do, he almost laughed.. His body relaxed as he became the suave Handyman once more, confident in all that he did and not afraid to try almost anything so long as he thought it out. Grasping the lightning rod in his right hand tightly, he gave a final farewell glance to his handhold on this icy mountain and allowed his hand to slide off. The Handyman headed right for the ground, around 7 feet from where he'd first been fired into the air like a piece of hail in the wind. Both hands lay atop his conductor as he completed his descent, and plunged the baton into the ground.

Marcos had seen his opponent gathering ice over his head for some type of large scale move; what else would he do after seeing The Handyman like that? However, it wouldn't matter if he had counted on the planner making such a quick recovery; he was going to be taught a hard lesson. Marcos had a plan, but didn’t have the angle to perform it from where he was; that was no hindrance to him though, he’d planned for a situation like this beforehand. This challenger may be powerful, but he clearly didn’t have the foresight that the Handyman did; or the sense for that matter, how could he put out such tantalizing bait and not expect it to attract a large predator. The Handyman licked his lips and took one final glance at Norrand, a feral gleam plain in the Energy champion’s eyes. With both hands still on his lightning rod, he charged it with electricity and then allowed a bolt of lightning to leap forth from the metal, like an apprentice eager to do his master’s bidding. His target wasn’t the hurler of hoarfrost; no he had something a little different in mind. The lightning crackled and arced through the air before colliding into one of the other lightning rods he had left staked into the ground. The crashing sound that marked the impact was echoed by another crash seconds later as the lightning left the checkpoint and roiled towards its real target, the large mass of ice over the foolhardy frost-former. If his attack connected and worked properly, the serac would burst into a deluge of diamond dust to engulf his foe and cut him with his own weapon. If he was lucky, the lightning and ice touching each other would also produce another boon for him; a cloud of steam that would mildly mitigate the Ice champion’s chilling aura and hide The Handyman from his icy stare.

Marcos had to work quickly now; this may be the only chance that he had to push his advantage on the Ice champion. Into his right hand came his glaive, while his left pulled on the wire on his leg and started to tie it around the haft end of the weapon. With a truly devious idea forming in his mind, The Handyman was unable to suppress a chuckle that sounded oddly like the shattering and cracking of a piece of ice. Just as he finished tying the careful knot and broke into a run towards his foe, Marcos pulled up short as he caught a glance of something in the corner of his eye. There was a man, the champion of Darkness if he remembered correctly, who was running towards his battle. This changed things a bit, since if this snake was slinking over to bite him, he didn’t want to show the serpent his back. He'd have to avoid direct combat for now since doing so would get him caught between these two opponents. In fact, maybe he could even turn this situation to his advantage if he played his cards right. Yes, there was no need to worry, The Handyman had this battle completely under his control and he planned to keep it that way. Allowing his left hand to fall from the wire back to his grounded conductor, keeping his eyes on both of his opponents as best he could, Marcos started to speak. "Champion of Ice, Norrand was it? You may want to take a look over that way,” the Handyman said, pointing towards the warrior of Darkness, “since it seems that our fight is about to be rudely interrupted by someone with dark intentions. What exactly do you suppose should be done about that?” Throughout his speech, the planner’s hands had remained on his weapons, not letting his guard down even once; if either man thought it would be wise to attack him while he spoke, they should kindly think again after they got a jolt they’d never forget.

< Message edited by Ryu Viranesh -- 7/23/2010 23:09:31 >

Post #: 34

7/25/2010 13:21:59

Viking_Jorun
Member

Ember sent two spiraling flames toward Eiro. They swirled in beautiful harmony. Eiro was about to retaliate when something whispered in his head. No. Eiro hesitated. Suddenly the flames broke apart and went in opposite directions to each side. The flames turned and flames shot at Eiro with him being in the center. Eiro stuck his stave in the sand, and opened his spellbook. He raised his right fist and pointed it straight at Ember. His eyes started glowing a bright white. Eiro exhaled. "Tempestite!" Eiro's stave started glowing violently. An orb of air emerged protecting Eiro from the attacks. The flames hit the shield.

When the flames made contact, Eiro felt as if the flames were starting to dissipate, when the flames started to combine with the wind. Intertwined within the orb, Eiro was in a raging circle of wind, fire, and death. He knew that this may just be his last few moment alive. I'm sorry, Eiro. You were not strong enough to make it far, said the voice in Eiro's head.

Beads of sweat started rolling down Eiro's face only to be blown away by the raging winds. Then, Eiro realised who the voice was. "I'm sorry Lord of the Wind. I have failed you!" Eiro closed his eyes, bowing his head. Tears welling up in his eyes.

On the contrary, you proved to me all you needed to. You proved you were strong, level-headed, and knew what was best. That's why, even though you lacked some traits that didn't make you my number one competitor, you were strong enough to be number two. Don't get me wrong, the warrior before you was very strong. You should be honored to be the very next choice. You made me proud.

Eiro's tears stopped. Sweat was drenching his body. "Yes," he said, "yes. I did it. I made him proud!" Eiro waved his hand and the raging orb of fire and wind ceased to danger him no longer. Eiro's robe was smoldering in random spots that didn't matter to him anymore. His goal was accomplished.

And now, young Eiro. It is time to take your leave. The voice was warm, and welcoming. The kind that was heard from a proud father to his child.

Eiro gathered his stave, and turned around. But before he left he turned his head to Ember and yelled out loud, "What can I say? You've bested me. Now do what you and I said. Go out there and win the Championship!" Eiro smiled and made his way out of the arena. Despite failing at the Grand Prize, he couldn't believe what had happened, and boy would he never forget a thing of it, too.

AQW

Epic

Post #: 35

7/25/2010 21:20:09

Clyde
Legendary Artist!

Cyros reveled at his victory. Even though it was a small one, he had gotten what he wanted as the Energy champion landed a few feet away from him. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was having fun. The Handyman proved to be many things: resourceful, clever, and fast. They were all traits he admired in his opponents. Unfortunately just like all the others who fell to his frosty fury, the Handyman would soon follow in their footsteps. Either dead or frozen.

Luck was on their side again it seemed, Cyros smirked on the inside; while the Handyman did gain some distance from his previous attack he still was within his Radian chill. As his cold blue eyes gazed upon the Energy Champion he watched as he poured energy into his lightning baton. What gave it away was the heat traveling to his weapon, he obviously planned on attacking. When the Handyman thought he had the advantage, Cyros would catch him off guard and end his life right there.

Pride made Cyros refuse to stop collecting his ice together. Moving away would only have interrupted the process and it would take even longer to gather. He could have sped up the process, but that was more energy than he wanted to waste. No. Instead, he grabbed his sword and threw to side of him before he ducked to keep himself lower than it. This would provide as the lightning rod to the Handyman's attack while keeping himself safe. The fact that the blade was made of metal and there was some energy in it, Cyros was sure it would work.

Sure the Handyman was resourceful, he was clever enough to plant something in advanced and knew just when to use it. However, Cyros was far more resourceful and he would prove this cold hard fact to his opponent. Right after the Handyman's attack drained into the ground and finished, Cyros stood back up on his feet. The ice had returned to Cyros, prepared to either bring more damage or to protect it's master. It spun around him in pieces and shards, taking no single solid form. If used like this at an opponent, they would severely be sliced multiple times instead of frozen.

Just as he readied to use his attack the Energy Champion interrupted with some interesting talk. "Champion of Ice, Norrand was it? You may want to take a look over that way,” Cyros didn't bother correcting him, he kept his gaze at the Handyman. “since it seems that our fight is about to be rudely interrupted by someone with dark intentions. What exactly do you suppose should be done about that?”

"He's right Cyros, someone is approaching you both." Norrand confirmed the Handyman's direction. Cyros turned his attention towards where the Handyman's finger was pointing. There was someone approaching them slowly. His clothing was grey and for some odd reason he resembled a snake to Cyros. He couldn't bother to remember his name, that was back when Norrand was in control. The fact alone that he was able to make it to the Finals of these wretched Elemental Championships means he was a worthy opponent.

"Why should I care?" Cyros stated, "I'll just finish off this guy then focus on the snake."

"No!" Norrand cried out, "Just hear him out. This fight was going nowhere, maybe if you both work together we...I mean you, can win this thing?"

"Listen Norry, I didn't hear any proposal for an alliance out of him." He turned back to look at his sword. The sword was blazing red hot from the lightning attack. He knew the electricity had dissipated into the ground by now. Approaching his sword, he inhaled deeply before he exhaled a concentrated cold breath at the sword. After the blade let out some steam, he had grabbed the handle of his sword before he sheathed it.

"Handyman, right?" He looked back at his current opponent. "We obviously can't continue fighting if we know that there's a snake in the grass, right? If you believe we can continue our fight after we take him out together then by all means, go ahead. Just know that if we do beat him, we're still fighting."

Post #: 36

7/25/2010 22:35:03

Krey
Member

Up in the air the fairy's dance continued, singsong laughter floating down upon the sands to engulf the Champion of Wind, even as two streaks of fire closed in on him from both sides. It seemed he'd managed to raise a defense against her attack, and for an instant they seemed to falter... But the swirling winds mixed with the dragon's fire, and ultimately served to feed them, creating a raging inferno around the substitute Champion.

All signs pointed to her victory. And, well, all signs were right! Wasn't quite what she expected, though.

Her fire was, unexpectedly, dispelled. How it happened, she didn't know. His shield seemed only to be strengthening her fire one moment, but the next, it was just gone! Did he have some unexpected trick up his sleeve? Or had she just gotten cocky? Or, well, more cocky than usual. What followed, though, was unexpected. He took up his staff and turned away. Away? Away! Why in the world did he turn away? The fairy stopped her dance, sinking slowly towards the sands as she stared dumbfounded at her windy opponent.

He shouted to her. Well, not just to her—she imagined the entire arena probably could have heard his shout! Once he'd said his piece, he turned and left. She blinked. Once, twice, thrice, whatever comes after thrice... and then grinned. “What a silly boy,” she squeaked to herself, and, her flames once more wrapped around her form, she shifted in the air to take stock of the field.

Three left. Two were already engaged, and the third was making way towards them. Well! She could not break into an ongoing battle, so that left only the gray-clad man, who... seemed as if he might do just what she refused to! Well, by keeping her honor intact, she could stop him from breaching the same! It was a perfect situation, really. She needed an opponent, he was without an opponent... And she could keep him from making a dishonorable mistake at the same time! Why, she may as well have been good friends with him, considering the favor she was about to do for him!

So, away she flew, from the Pillar of Wind towards the area of the Pillars of Energy and of Ice, where the man in gray seemed to be preparing to make a terribly dishonorable mistake. “You, the man in gray!” She squealed as she came near, a high-pitched number that managed to be rather easy to hear (Ember, after all, had an amazingly powerful voice!) despite her miniscule size. “It seems you are entertaining dishonorable thoughts! To interrupt a battle in progress is the pinnacle of dishonor, the worst of insults against all that is just and right and true! If you've any measure of honor, then I, Ember, servant of the Elder, Morkengraamir, challenge you to combat!”

There was a pause, a brief moment where the fluttering fire-sprite contemplated something. “And unless it would insult you, I believe I shall forgo flourish—just this once, mind!—in the interest of... um... not wasting more time on something I've already done twice in this arena!” She tapped her lips with a fingertip, giggling, “Also I think I need to think up a new challenge. What do you...?”

She shook her head (and the rest of herself, in the process) quickly, “Focus! I have given my challenge, do you accept?”

AQ	Post #: 37

7/26/2010 14:48:23

Guardian of Nekops
Member

Jarvis raced as fast as he was able across the red sands of the Great Arena, pouring all his might into the effort. It was imperative that he reach the Champions for Ice and Energy before they had any chance to react to his approach; it was no advantage to intrude upon a fight, after all, if one did so slowly, with a cheerful “Hello!” and handshakes all around. However, the grains beneath his feet simply would not cooperate and flew backwards in his wake instead, stealing much of his speed and reducing him to an embarrassingly slow amble. Horrified, the Worker watched in slow motion as the two pointed towards him, recovered a weapon from the ground, and began to make ready for his approach together.

As if this was not bad enough, a streak of red flame blew past him at blinding speed. Faster than a wildfire driven by gale-force winds, quicker than the sparks that flew from a crackling hearth when a new log was added, more rapid than the Darkness that fills the space that Light has just vacated, flew the thing. It was wreathed in flame, it was agile, it moved with impossible speed. It was hovering right in front of the Worker as it spoke, rapidly pouring out the words, yet making each one clearly understood as it hung stationary in the air with respect to him, easily keeping up with his pathetic, earthbound rate of speed. It was no mere fireball, then. This was sentient.

“You, the man in gray! It seems you are entertaining dishonorable thoughts! To interrupt a battle in progress is the pinnacle of dishonor, the worst of insults against all that is just and right and true! If you've any measure of honor, then I, Ember, servant of the Elder, Morkengraamir, challenge you to combat!”

At this point, somehow, the little woman managed to insert a pause… a pause so quick that it hit like a punch. “And unless it would insult you, I believe I shall forgo flourish—just this once, mind!—in the interest of…” pause, “um…” pause? “not wasting more time on something I've already done twice in this arena!” The little fairy, for that was what this appeared to be, tapped upon her lips… three times, in hyperactive succession so rapid that Jarvis could not tell when the little finger was going down and when it was coming up again. “Also I think I need to think up a new challenge. What do you...?” A quick headshake, and then a correction that miraculously still fit into the last few steps he had remaining before he reached his targets, “Focus! I have given my challenge, do you accept?”

“Out of my way, pest!” screamed the Champion for Darkness, raising his left hand up in front of his face as if to ward off a blow. Up came the right hand as well, bearing Water’s staff held by the middle and raising it into position behind her. Twin waves of dark force erupted from his palms, sending the simple wooden staff flying horizontally at the face of Energy and, if she was not quick to react, also flinging the little bundle of sprightly fire at the Champion for Ice. Following in the wake of these attacks, the Worker’s recently freed hand darted down to the blade at his side, drew it, and swung it in a wide, unnatural-green arc towards the unprotected head of the unarmed Champion for Ice.

AQ	Post #: 38

7/28/2010 21:03:32

Ryu Viranesh
Member

The Handyman did not simply wait for Norrand’s response or for the devious Champion of Darkness to reach them and try to attack both of the embattled warriors. No, Marcos was thinking of ways that he could attack one or even both, if the situation allowed it, of the men who wanted to end his life and claim the championship title for themselves. A grin couldn’t be suppressed from the planner’s face as images rocketed through his mind, just like a bolt of lightning; quickly appearing and vanishing less than a second later, but something that will always be remembered. It wasn’t long before everything started to come together: the Ice champion’s response to his query was heard loud and clear, at least to him. Norrand had agreed to help him, but warned that there was still a fight between them. With one front taken care of, the majority of The Handyman’s attention returned to the aforementioned snake, who was the greatest source of danger to both of them. He was greeted by an interesting surprise; the flittering, fiery fae, for now he could indeed tell that it was a fairy, had appeared before the warrior who served Darkness and appeared to be asking something of him, the Lords know what. The brief facade of peace was shattered in the next moment though, when the serpent yelled out into the tense air, “Out of my way, pest!” The angry champion then held up his hands, the right one grasping a staff that was catapulted straight at the champion of Energy’s face.

Marcos had almost no time to think about a possible response to this attack: it was coming at him far too quickly for that. So he allowed his reflexes to take over and do the one thing that did come to mind: The Handyman quickly brought his glaive up and smashed it down towards the incoming projectile, aiming to try and slice it in half. Things didn’t go quite as he planned, and although he managed to deflect the staff away from him without causing any injury, it didn’t cover the sting of him not noticing that a staff had been among his foe's weaponry. This was the second time this fight that it he had made a mistake; how could he be messing up so much at a time like this, when his strategies and carefully filtered thoughts mattered most!? He should have looked more at his foe instead of just assuming that he hadn't brought any weapons to bare; he was a failure of an observer. No, wait! This was how he had almost lost before; letting his emotions get in the way of his mind’s inner workings. Maybe this was some kind of test that his Lord was giving to him; to see if his chosen could surpass his faults and continue on to victory. That could very well be true, but that wouldn’t change the way that he felt about anyone who had caused him to gain such an undeeded amount of stress. He’d already promised that he would exact retribution on the champion of Ice before he left this arena, but for now his rage had a different target; one whom it was far easier to divert it towards. The man who represented Darkness had to die; there was no way around it; with Norrand’s help it would just be all the easier to let the snake be devoured by the mongoose that was The Handyman.

Marcos' brought his gaze to light upon his opponent, eyes narrowing as a devious plan to destroy the man formed in his head. The snake was rushing for his ally with some type of sword that exuded a sickly green glow from its metal, as though the very air was being contaminated by the weapon’s presence. The Handyman allowed a cheshire grin to split widely onto his face like a massive wound opening up. This man needed to learn how to scheme better if he hoped to triumph over the planner he had made an enemy of. Marcos burst into a run towards his intended target, his hand lingering on his grounded lightning rod until the last second, having decided to leave a small parting gift to further confuse his foe. He launched a bolt of lightning that was considerably weaker than usual; a crackling and sparking mass that would barely make it halfway between this lightning rod and the one he had used to attack from another angle previously. However, the amount of noise that it made would hopefully make the Darkness champion think that he had simply fired another of the devastating attacks. All the while this was covering up The Handyman’s real plan of attack, using his now free left hand to pull more wire out of the roll as he approached the snake from behind, to beat this annoyance at his own game. As soon as he judged that he was close enough, Marcos ducked and slid along the sands, his right hand stabbing his energized glaive to make a cut right across the man’s right shin, his left hand trying to get the electrified wire it was holding around the man’s other leg. This was a risky move, but if it meant that he could get this accursed disgrace on the ground, then it would be well worth it.

Post #: 39

7/29/2010 17:52:03

Krey
Member

“What!?” Squeaked the wee fairy, as the answer came in a form she very much did not appreciate! Pest? Had he seriously just called her, the avatar of the Great Elder, a pest!? Ooooooh he was going to get it so bad! She was going to...! No, calm down. Focus, Ember, no losing your head like last time! Keep it cool, keep... Wait, what were his hands doing? Up came the one, as if to defend, but she'd not launched an attack on him! And then came the other, and in the next instant she both saw the staff fly, and felt a wave of energy approaching. Her body reacted before her mind, wings flitting to throw her body up and clear of the wave, even if the manner of her ascent was rather graceless.

Up into the air she went, and from her vantage point above the field, she could see the intended victim of the staff not only reacting to the attack, but moving to counter it! So Ice and Energy were allying themselves to deal with the intruder. Well, in any other case, this would be acceptable, but he was hers! In his assault on her, he'd accepted his challenge, whether he wished to or not, and she would not have her battle interrupted!

No, she would take control of the field. She would ensure that honor was fulfilled one way or another, if it meant she had to burn all three of these ruffians! But so far Ice was not in on the dishonor, so for now, she only had to deal with Darkness and Energy. As she came to the top of her spiraling arc, she flipped herself over and dove straight down, aiming for Energy as her fire focused on two points, one at her left hand and one at her right.

“He's mine!” She shrieked as she cut a fiery path down through the air. Her left hand swung forward, launching an arc of white-hot flame directly into Marcos' path even as her dive turned into a swoop, and she cut a low arc, just above the ground, towards her next target. The flutter of her wings kicked up a small cloud of sand in her wake, and as she came near Jarvis from behind, she called out again, “My challenge has been made and in your brash assault, accepted. Your opponent is me!”

Having sufficiently warned her opponent that she was about to burn him, her right hand swung now, and launched a second arc of burning fire at the Worker, aimed like a whip to lash clear across his back. With both assaults away, she curved off and to the left in order to be clear of any immediate retaliations.

AQ	Post #: 40

7/30/2010 0:57:45

Clyde
Legendary Artist!

The tension was rising.

Before the Handyman had a chance to respond to his request, he was interrupted with an attack from the Snake. This crafty cloaked man was brave, Cyros had to give him that. Without so much as batting an eyelash he attacked every other champion with a succession of quick and concise moves. He sent a staff flying towards his newly appointed ally and attempted to send the fire fairy flying back. She was a feisty one and managed to escape the attack.

Shortly after he attacked the other two champions, he concentrated on the Ice Champion. He unsheathed a dark green sword that glowed with an ominous green and swung it with the deadliest intent in his eyes. Cyros smiled, finally the Snake was careless enough to show it's fangs this close! He waited until the right moment, when his sword was close enough he would strike. The swarm of ice shards that slithered in the air around their master moved against and around the Snake's blade before it merged together to form solid ice towards his shoulder. He had hoped to encase his entire sword and arm within the ice. Maybe his arm would fall off from or be damaged from second or third degree frostbite? Maybe the ice was heavy enough to leave the Snake bent forward with the ice weighing his arm to the ground? Just disarming the Darkness Champion from his weapon seemed good enough to Cyros.

As a kid Norrand and Cyros would watch idiot captains attempt to ride their ships through ice-filled waters and fail horribly. The ice was strong and sharp enough to puncture ships and sink them. He watched whether cold enough to damage body parts. This was their ignorance at work, one misjudgment and it was all over for them. Cyros only had a glimpse of the Snake's abilities, but he knew his control over ice would dominate him.

Cyros refused to let the Snake get off easy though. Not letting the seconds pass him by he withdrew his sword before he rushed to his left. The tip of the sword grazed the sand before he lifted it up to perform a horizontal slash at his torso. If his blade came in contact with his skin it would have frozen the wound instantly. However, deep down Cyros knew this would not be an easy fight.

Norrand sat back, amazed. Cyros was actually having a good time? He felt his emotion as he battled. His smilies and grins were no longer shallow and fake. They were as real as possible and these emotions, these feelings, were foreign to Norrand. Amazement, anxiety, fear; these were only a handful of emotions he could describe. It was amazing... Everything surrounding him stirred his senses. He was alive! No, THEY were alive.

Cyros wondered why Norrand was laughing, but didn't bother to ask since his attention was on the fight at hand. Norrand could only wonder, how this all could have happened? They were not like this in the beginning. The Elemental Championships had changed them little by little, in a good way. The creature that inhabited him no longer seemed like a cold blooded killer, he was something else entirely. Norrand started to doubt his reason for joining this tournament. If he were to get rid of Cyros, he would be getting rid of himself as well. He was Norrand and Norrand was Cyros.

They were one.

< Message edited by Clyde -- 7/30/2010 16:10:34 >

Post #: 41

7/31/2010 3:03:52

Guardian of Nekops
Member

The Worker’s blade flew towards its target, slicing through the frost-chilled air and leaving the scent of plague and death in its wake. Behind him, the world exploded with the crash of Energy, the high-pitched screams of fey rage, and the roar of Fire. It was all too quick and intermingled to differentiate between the different elements or to hope to react to any of it, but Jarvis was able to shift his weight as the blade came down. Instead of letting the swipe be short and quick to facilitate further attack, like a rapier should be used, he would throw his entire weight behind it as if it were a broadsword, and let the momentum drive him to his knee. Hopefully that maneuver would bring him low enough to dodge attacks launched at him from behind, and bring him out of the path of whatever power was searing its way into the shadowed cloth on his back.

Despite the din of his enemies behind him and the heat that he could already feel leaking through his shirt from the back, the Champion for Darkness grinned wickedly in the reflected firelight. Future dangers notwithstanding, none of that could stop him now. His blade was nearly to his victim’s face, and then there would be only two left to oppose him… only two that stood between his family and resurrection from the dead.

Suddenly, the swirling aura of ice that surrounded that Champion began to plink, rapid-fire, against his blade, ringing against the dark metal like hailstones. Each strike stole a bit of the weapon’s momentum, and each shard melted and split upon the edge, freezing once more into a growing, heavy mass that slowed his blow still further, dragging his arm down and off course. Despite Jarvis’s best efforts, the rapier slammed down to the sands mere inches before it could touch his frosty target, leaving him to kneel uselessly on the ground as his enemy unsheathed his own sword.

Desperate to divorce himself from this anchor as soon as possible, the Champion for Darkness opened his hand… only to feel the spreading cold freeze over his unprotected wrist and the back of his hands. His fingers, thankfully, were saved from the ice by the rapier’s basket hilt, but he was losing feeling between the hand guard and his sleeve. Besides, the ice was spreading over his forearm now, of one piece with that which had swallowed his blade, and before he could move the rime had his elbow as well. The magical armor provided to him by Itch was doing its job admirably, protecting him from the chill where it covered as well as any other attack, but soon that would not matter. He was trapped up to the shoulder, now, and Ice was charging in from the right with sword held ready… the Worker could not rely upon his shade-soaked clothes to save him this time.

Throwing his free arm back, Jarvis reached for the only remaining resource he had in this fight-- the simple, mundane staff he had stolen from the foolish blasphemer for Water. A dark tendril of power lashed out from his palm to grasp it, yanking the honest wood towards him with as much speed as he could muster, racing against the blade that was even now in motion to end his life… but no. Blasted, kneeling Energy was between him and the staff, and though it flew with all due loyalty and speed towards its calling master there was no way it would ever reach him before the vengeance of Ice. Seeing no reason to stop it, Jarvis released the staff and turned back to meet the fate that was, even now, crashing into him.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered, the tears invisible within the shadows of his eyes, “I’m so… so sorry…”

A resounding CRACK filled the air as Ice’s blade slammed into the fortress of ice and darkness that was the Worker’s frozen arm. Starting at the elbow, the sword carved a deep furrow through the encasing rime and sent fissures spreading out all along the arm, then hammered into the anchored rapier with enough force to shake the weapon all the way down its length.

Jarvis grinned broadly, for he knew a second chance when he saw one. Placing his free hand upon his ice-encrusted forearm, he screamed in a voice still hoarse from tears, “Despair! All your lives are forfeit, you selfish, murderous fools!”

With a simple, powerful Nudge from the Worker’s left palm, the ice shattered into a thousand pieces and he was free.

AQ	Post #: 42

8/2/2010 16:36:23

Ryu Viranesh
Member

Everything had been going perfect: He'd avoided being damaged by the sly champion of Darkness and the man didn't even look to have noticed him as he moved to launch his devastating attack. If this combo hit it would be simple to follow up with another, far deadlier attack and finish Darkness before he even had a chance to react. Yes, victory would be sweet music to his ears after all of the disappointments he had stacked up in this tournament. It was as he went down to the ground to slide up to his target that all of his plans and delusions of grandeur went up in smoke; a whip of flame descended out of nowhere and headed straight for him. The Handyman dug his heels into the sand in a desperate attempt to avoid becoming charcoal and losing all that he had worked for, everything that he had given up to get to this point. He ground to a halt just before the scorching cat'o nine tails crashed down in front of him; so close that he smelled the burning scent left behind by the lashing attack. Over the roar of the blaze he heard the inflamed screech of the fiery fae he had noticed before; she angrily claimed the Darkness opponent as hers and hers alone, and launched a similar whip at the snake to further mark her territory. So the fairy wanted to be possesive, huh? Well that was just too bad, she should have kept better control of her opponent so that he couldn't have attacked the champion of Ice, MARCOS' opponent. She'd had her chance to prove herself and she'd lost it; now it was The Handyman's turn to step up. Where Fire had failed in this tournament, Energy would succeed and give Darkness the shock of its life.

Just as he started to stand and make a move towards the slippery serpent before he had a chance to react, there was a rush of air behind Marcos. In less than a few seconds, there was a cut on the left side of his neck; a match to the one he had received in the previous round. As The Handyman sank to a crouch he glanced forward and saw the instrument of the vicious attack: the staff that Darkness had launched at him previously, now stained with his blood. The stinging pain of the wound quickly subsided and was replaced with a much hotter feeling, rage. The snake had attacked him again, even while he was distracted by his battle with the warrior of Ice. Marcos was tired of this: tired of being everyone's punching bag in this event and tired of blaming himself for everything. Now, he was MAD and he intended to make those who had made a fool of him pay; they'd all pay, starting with the champions of Darkness and Fire. He'd crush the petulant fae into fairy dust with his bare hands and leave the slippery serpent as a smoldering corpse before his wrath would be sated. The Handyman was DONE playing around and being made a fool of; the contestants in the arena could respect his strategies after they were dead.

He quickly rose to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins with the seething rage and speeding his reaction time. Both of his hands grasped his glaive as he spun the haft-end around to meet one of the lightning rods still on his belt, barely a crackle passing between them as The Handyman pulled the now connected weapon from its sheath. He then twirled it quickly through the air, the smell of ozone wafting to Marcos' nose as his weapon came to rest at his left hip now, repeating the previous process. His weapon -his masterpiece- now complete, he spun it around one final time, slicing through the wire that had been tied to it near where it was knotted to the pole of the spear, the remains falling to his pant-leg. As the weapon came to rest horizontally, the blade pointing outward towards the champion of Darkness, a lightning bolt discharged from the haft of the weapon, burning the air itself as it fulgurated towards the last lightning rod he had placed. The shaft of electricity was quickly redirected by the conductor and arced upwards towards the fluttering fairy of Fire. That was not the end of The Handyman's assault though, as he used the momentum created by the release of energy to move forward and swing his polearm around and down, straight for Darkness' right arm. He had seen Norrand's courageous attack on that very same limb and did not intend for his efforts to go to waste. Marcos' face was hard and unemotional through the entire attack; there was nothing that would distract him from victory any longer, no petty emotions left. There was only the anger that he was taking out on the other champions right now.

Post #: 43

8/2/2010 17:58:54

Krey
Member

Up and away the fairy flew, and once satisfied she was clear of any immediate retaliations, she entered into a quick spiral, streams of fire whirling around her body in a dazzling circle as she came to rest in the air, several feet up and to the side of the immediate conflict. Her eyes flitted to and fro between her foes, narrow. She'd not have fought two at once, ever, save in large-scale combat. This was not large-scale, however. This was a competition, and very quickly it had degenerated into a combat without standards. It was totally unscrupulous!

For the fluttering fae, it was an insult to her very existence, and it would not go unpunished. For a century she'd served the Great Elder, and always was honor at the forefront of his teachings. Not only did he demand this from his followers, but he practiced without fail, in all his doings! She modeled herself after him, and as such had adapted his way to be her own. This competition would end soon, and it would end with Energy and Darkness burnt to ash by the Elder's flame, offered as a sacrifice to the Lord of Fire.

While her fire grew, ever burning, ever engulfing, her focus shifted from Darkness, who was in the process of recovering from the results of multiple attacks, to Energy, who was doing... something. She felt the magic, faint, but present, before she'd ever have seen the bolt, and t'was likely that factor alone that allowed her to avoid having the life zapped out of her in an instant. The bolt erupted from the haft of Energy's glaive, and already she was spinning. As it hit the lightning rod, she twisted, and as it ripped its way through the air, she flicked to the left with the speed only a fairy can muster, just clear of the bolt's deadly path. And now her hair was rather a large puff as the proximity to the bolt set her entire body to tingling!

“Enough of this,” she squeaked quietly as she shook herself, and then her dance intensified. Fire whirled around her even as it grew, and suddenly to spot the fairy would have been a fine accomplishment indeed! Her dance took a wide path, and its entirety was wreathed thick with the dragon's fire that Ember channeled. “I shall wipe the dishonor from this arena, in the name of the Elder. To the Burning Father I shall commit these wretched souls, that he might do with them as he sees fit. Their bodies shall burn with the heat of the Elder's Fire, and this arena shall be cleansed of their taint!”

The chant, high in pitch as it was, almost seemed to be wreathed in divine fury, and suddenly it was clear how this tiny creature could lead armies to battle. Her voice carried the power to inspire an army. As her fire grew, as her body danced, as her voice offered prayer to the Lord of Fire, the flames took on a life of their own. Two forms broke away from the main burn, each taking a shape identical to that of the fairy, if slightly larger in size. The two fakes, seeming to have a life of their own, floated to the left and right of Ember. The fairy herself was in the center, and encased in a flame which held its form beautifully, finishing the image. Three burning fairies, each identical in outward appearance, floated near the remaining combatants.

No longer did they speak, for that would give away the main body. Now she was playing a game at which she excelled. Both opponents were fair game, in her mind. Ice, still, was safe from her fury, as he'd done nothing more than defend himself. If it went beyond that, however, she would include him in what, to her, was wrath in the name of the divine.

They spiraled several times, and then they moved. Two flew for Jarvis, her chosen opponent, and a third rushed off towards Energy. The fake spiraled off 'round towards Marcos' back, flitting to and fro before dashing straight for the small of his back, aiming to fly directly into him. Hopefully, it would light his clothes on fire while searing his back, and that would leave no end to pain. The other two, moving for Jarvis, spiraled around one another, and then whipped 'round to his back, flying headlong towards the spot she'd already struck earlier.

At the last second, one of the fairies dashed clear of the strike, flying off to the side. In truth, the remaining fairy, the one aiming to fly directly into his back, was the real Ember. The fake flew off, aiming to draw attention to itself while Ember made to collide directly into her foe. If she made contact, all of her fire would aim for his cloak, and the flesh beneath.

She aimed to burn a hole right through him.

AQ	Post #: 44

8/5/2010 1:53:12

Guardian of Nekops
Member

The sword of the Champion for Ice rang in his hands from its impact with the hilt of Jarvis’s anchored rapier, giving the Worker a few crucial seconds to recover if he used them well. Of course, his own sword arm had also been shaken profoundly by the blow, but that was why-- even in their profound and selfish ignorance-- the Lords saw fit to give Man a spare.

Limp, frozen fingers fell free of the weapon’s basket, only to be replaced by their strong, though less deft, counterparts from the other hand. The blade was almost useless, of course, held point to the sands as it was, but that was unimportant right now. Jarvis had knelt on the arena sands for far too long, and two of his three enemies were unaccounted for; he needed to move, and fast.

Thus it was that the left hand of the Champion for Darkness ripped his blade free from the sands as he whirled about, its tip flying wild through the air and catching the back of Ice’s hand completely by chance. The wound was a mere graze, and though the corruption of undeath began to spread from it the affected area was small. It would have been no more annoying than a bit of scar tissue, in all likelihood, if not for what came next…

Energy’s glaive sped down through the empty air, its wrath-sped blade deprived of a target by Jarvis’s quick pivot. Instead of the Worker’s vulnerable arm, the weapon slammed down on Ice’s armored shoulder… one inch too far left to simply slide off the plate. Instead, it was deflected inwards, slicing deep into the man’s neck and stealing the light from his eyes even as he fell to those hallowed, crimson grounds.

Unchecked by the flow of natural life, the taint of the Worker’s blade ran rampant through the body of Norrand Alurus. As Jarvis fled to one side to try to escape Energy’s strike, the dark power stripped flesh from bone and burrowed deep inside, causing that which was useless to waste away in its heartless search for the two priceless treasures it could sense within this host: the Champion’s soul and the extraordinary source of power represented by the child of the Celcios.

Over the inert bones of Norrand, still hidden beneath the armor he wore in life, a thick layer of frost began to form.

Of course, Jarvis was fighting for his life, and he knew nothing of this. All he knew was the give of the sand beneath his knee, the rush that filled his veins as he slid to safety, at least for now. Rising to his feet and seeking out Fire, who had yet to be accounted for, he came to know something else… sheer, unadulterated terror. Instead of the flitting little spark he expected to find, already too tiny and blindingly quick to catch and wielding a mastery over her element which he could never match, Jarvis saw three copies of his opponent. Not illusions, no, for these moved of their own accord and were perfect to each detail, down to the flickering of their flames. The fairy was splitting, reproducing, spreading just as her element was wont to do… just as the flames which had consumed his family and his life all those months ago.

Just as that fire had, the triune Champion for Fire flew straight for him, eager to consume his flesh in what was, doubtless, a righteous flame. To his shame, the Worker’s response was the same as it had been back then. Throwing his arms out wide, Jarvis panicked and pushed with all his might, in all directions at once. Ripped from his hand by the force of his instinctive mental effort, his sword was cast away from him, riding the wave of shadowed space that drove sand, steel, and flame before it.

AQ	Post #: 45

8/6/2010 11:06:41

Krey
Member

So close. As the fake made its escape, attempting to get itself clear of the Champion of Darkness and thus mark itself as the real one, something unexpected happened. The Worker panicked. On the wave of fear-driven, shadowy force, the false fire-sprite was dissolved, as Ember relinquished her strain in favor of keeping herself on course despite the supreme effort that required, set on burning her way through the first dishonorable one, so that she could shift her attention to the other.

But what was this? In the corner of her vision, through the flickering of her flames, she could see something... wrong, something which shook her to the core. Something was eating at his flesh, an unnatural power cleaving it from the bone, bringing memories to the fairy's mind of battles with the once-dead followers of darkness, the undead. Horrible creatures; fire could burn them, but often would not end them nearly so easily as it would a human life, and they were so unnaturally resilient! But how, here, now? It was... It must have been... Darkness!

In her distraction, the wave took her, and threw her reeling backwards in an uncontrolled spin. Wrapping her fire around herself, she screamed, a shriek of wrath and hatred as her wings fluttered in overtime. T'was a slow process, but she managed first to bring her spin under control, then to slow her backwards flight until, finally, she came to a stop, several yards from the Champion of Darkness. Her eyes fixed upon him, narrow, tiny fingers twitching in anger. A disgrace and an abomination, this bringer of undeath, and she would have his life! His soul would be offered up to the Lord of Fire for judgement, and she would regret only that she could not be there to see it, for she was not yet ready to relinquish her hold on life.

Floating in her spot, she shifted her right side forth, the same hand rising before her, perpendicular to her body and aimed at the Champion of Darkness. “Die,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes narrowed with hate. The coating of fire left her form, focusing against her outstretched hand into a small, white-hot orb. Even as her flame continued to manifest, it moved, tiny streaks of fire sprouting from all over her body to feed this one focused bolt. A rare look at the fairy, unprotected by fire, was given as she assembled her rage, her hatred, into this assault. To look at her was to look upon the grace and beauty of the Fae, all wrapped into a tiny, fiery package.

Finally, it flew. A narrow gout of flame, like a beam of white-hot power, ripped forth through the air. T'was similar to the assault she'd used against the Champion of Wind at the start, but where she had been just starting things, toying with her foe, now she was aiming to kill, in no uncertain terms. The gout burned the air in its path, aimed at Darkness' heart and fueled by rage. She would kill him, one way or another. He would die, and her piercing cry left no room to doubt her intent.

“BURN!”

AQ	Post #: 46

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