Home  | Login  | Register  | Help  | Play 

RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena

 
Logged in as: Guest
  Printable Version
All Forums >> [Gaming Community] >> [Role Playing] >> The Championships >> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena
Page 3 of 4<1234>
Forum Login
Message << Older Topic   Newer Topic >>
7/4/2011 0:13:03   
Ruin
Member

As Colt neared the arena he stretched his bulky body, getting ready for the fight at hand. Rumors had swirled that he was one of the only fire combatants to be present at the annual tournament, something that could be both a positive and a negative depending on the opponent he was facing, he hoped it would turn out for the better. As he entered he immediately noticed the cellar downstairs adorned with a thick metal door, and a floating scroll that gave information about the cellar arena, specifically his participation as well as intelligence on the mirrored walls against the side of the square arena. Magical properties that would bounce back any projectiles that struck it, not something he would really use offensively, but it was good information none the less.

As he walked down to the Cellar Arena he immediately noticed a sudden warm dryness to the arena, something he didn't mind, humidity meant water, and he didn't like that, the dryer, the more flammable everything would be. Perfect for Colt's fighting style. He was excited to get this underway and he knew that he was already a little late, but that wouldn't do much for him, not that he really cared. As he walked in he took in the arena, very simple and he could see other competitors. Not that he bothered to analyze them, there was no point really.

Quickly as he had entered combat had began. One of the contestants had summoned ice shards that started to bounce quickly off the mirrors around him. No trouble at all for the pyromancer. He conjured up some fire using his mana and created bands of fire on his hands and shins, keeping a defensive guard up as the ice melted around him into water that quickly evaporated in the heat and dryness around. While all this was going on, he heard a loud howl in the back, the perfect backdrop to this chaotic arena. The Championships had started and Colt was ready to fight.
AQ  Post #: 51
7/4/2011 23:14:21   
Ryu Viranesh
Member

It seemed that the Lord of Light had chosen to truly bless her this day, as her foe didn’t move to block her attack; in fact, it didn’t even look like he’d seen the assault coming, his eyes busy elsewhere. Her fist smashed into the side of the man’s helmet and sent him reeling backwards as he took the full force of her punch. Its task complete, her arm retreated back into the light that had spawned it and rejoined the rest of her body, a soldier rejoining its battalion.

Since her foe appeared to be stunned by her feint, Leira took a quick glance over her shoulder to make certain that he hadn’t been distracted by anything that might be a danger to both of them. Quite to the contrary, her gaze fell upon another woman standing several yards away from them, back turned and her focus clearly on other matters. She was tall and thin, her skin lightly tanned and her hair short and brown, the whole of her body encased in a set of leather armor. Leira’s triumphant smirk became a wry grin as she twisted her head back towards her opponent, unable to keep the amusement out of her expression. There was no danger at all, just a man who couldn’t keep his eyes off of any pretty girl that happened to catch his eye. She’d have to teach him that it was rude to look at another woman when one was giving him her full attention, especially in such an intimate fashion.

These lessons would have to wait though, because Leira had bigger problems to deal with at the moment; she’d unwittingly fallen into the same trap that her opponent had, for as her eyes glimpsed him once again she saw that not only had he recovered, he’d also launched a counterattack. The three stones that had formerly made up his defensive perimeter were now headed straight for her, one aimed high and the other two aimed lower. Thinking quickly, Leira dropped to her haunches and pulled her head close to her knees, the rocks flying harmlessly over her, but the position leaving her open to the man’s follow-up strike with his stave. She extended her left leg outwards and bent her torso in the same direction, the movement not enough to completely avoid the attack, but enough to change where it would land. Leira gritted her teeth as the butt-end of the weapon slammed into the right side of her abdomen; she’d be feeling the bruise that it left for some time, but put it to the back of her mind as she used the force of the impact to spin around to a standing position several paces away from her attacker. She was breathing heavily, but not because she’d overexerted herself; this was the type of combat that she lived for, an intricate dance that could only be found between two honorable, evenly matched opponents. As much as she wanted to just continue on to the next step of the routine, she couldn’t resist making another playful comment in the interim since they were almost as fun as the fight itself.

“Not bad at all, sir. You might have a bit of an *ahem* wondering eye, but you’re no slouch when it comes to combat. I’ll just have to beat that unfaithfulness out of you and then you’ll be perfect.”

Satisfied that she’d given him enough time to recover, Leira fell back into the wonderful song of battle and allowed the melody to guide her next move. She drew back her left leg and once again raised her fists into position to strike, but this time it wasn’t her intent to use them. Her foe didn’t know that though, and he wouldn’t until it was far too late. She suddenly snapped her left knee upward, not even bothering to go into normal striking range this time since he was already aware of what she could do. Just as before, the limb faded from view just before it reached the apex of its height. It reappeared just below the man’s face, the accompanying flash hopefully serving to impair his sight as her bare knee rose towards his nose.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 52
7/4/2011 23:54:12   
jerenda
Member

Curses. Not only did both her attacks completely fail to hit the mage, but the sword’s momentum died at exactly the worst moment, right at his feet. She was really going to have to plan these things out better. For some reason, every single calculation she made involving the mage got screwed up. Didn’t he know he was supposed to be a fixed variable?! And now he was mocking her. The nerve! She was really starting to dislike this mage.

Gabriel felt her anger rise, coiling in her stomach like a cobra, hood flaring out with a hiss. Dangerous – too dangerous. She had to get control or she’d lose it completely, and in this setting such a mistake could be fatal. Just to be on the safe side, she tucked her knife back into its slot.

The sword – her sword that was supposed to go past the mage into the darkness where it would lie waiting for the shirtless wonder to step between it and Gabriel – okay, Reeve’s sword, but he wasn’t here right now – that sword came flying from the mage’s treacherous hands towards her. She envied his strength, allowing him to toss the massive weapon with ease, even as she prepared to step aside and reclaim the sword as her own… but no. Not even that paltry plan would be allowed to rise to fruition around that infuriating mage.

For a fraction of a second before the tip hit the floor, the blade hesitated. Blue light flashed, and ice crystallized on the pommel to form a small jewel. The crystal the mage was speaking of? Probably, as the weapon rose to chest height and came shooting through the air at her. One of the wolves’ strange projectiles changed direction in midair and skimmed just above the pommel of the sword, barely missing. Intent or accident? Gabriel wondered. It seemed like the work of a friend, but she couldn’t stick around to analyze it because the sword’s attack took priority in her mind and then she was moving very fast.

At the last second, Gabriel kicked her own feet out from under her, dropping like a stone to the floor. Simultaneously, she yanked at the thing with her power, raising the back of her left hand to protect her face even as she turned her head to the side. The result was that Gabriel fell to the floor and the sword fell down parallel to her body, the flat of the blade facing down as if gravity suddenly decided to reclaim it. Which it had.

Granted, it still collided with her upper body, but given the alternative it was infinitely preferable. Her glove’s metal plate protected the majority of her face and exposed neck, the side of the blade cutting a line just outside of her eye. Gabriel turned her head still further, breathing shallowly as she continued to pull on the sword. It slid out of the cut it had made, lying flat against her cheek. As long as she kept pulling, it couldn’t escape, but it trembled with a queer eagerness that disturbed her.

Gabriel’s right hand closed around the hilt, fingers seeking the ice charm. It was cool to the touch, but the arena was steadily dropping in heat. She hadn’t noticed at first, warm from fighting and adrenaline inside her leather armor, but her exposed digits were definitely feeling the chill. The blade, too, was cold as it lay unsheathed against her neck, but that seemed like more of the metal’s own properties than any ice magic.

The chill was doing one good thing for her, at least. Her anger, previously teetering on the brink, receded to more manageable levels. Somehow having death’s fangs pressed against her bare skin put everything into perspective. The Angelborn caught sight of herself in the mirror. Blood was trickling into her right eye, but it was invisible in the mirror. Angelborn didn’t bleed the same deep red as humans did… instead, a clear fluid dripped from her wounds. It still got in her eyes, but to someone looking for proper blood, it would be difficult to spot. She looked… defiant. Cornered, maybe, perhaps a little bruised, but not beaten. Certainly not beaten.

Gabriel released the sword, not with her hand but with her power. The sword immediately leaped into the air, and it was only due to Gabriel’s death grip on the handle that she didn’t lose it entirely. It jerked first one way, then the other, trying to shake her off so it could come at her again. She hung on grimly, fumbling with her left hand for one of her knives. Precious seconds elapsed as the cold increased almost visibly before she managed to have both of the weapons in a firm grasp.

It bucked one more time, nearly yanking her right arm out of its socket, and Gabriel drove the knife into the shard the instant it came down for another try. Her dagger connected with the ice, shattering it into tiny fragments. Unfortunately for her, it also connected with her middle finger, crushing the side of her finger. Great, yet another injury. I knew learning to use both hands was a good move… She added it to her mental tally of wounds and proceeded to ignore it.

The point of Reeve’s sword fell to the floor and gave Gabriel a pole to lean on as her eyes swept the room. Reeve was fighting one of the warriors who had attacked Marcos as well. That seemed silly to her, as they should all focus their efforts towards the mage until he was dead, but she assumed Reeve had a plan. Either way, she needed to get rid of this sword. It was much too heavy to be a good projectile, but it might be able to help her in other ways.

Gabriel gripped the sword with both hands, placing the knife on top of it so it couldn’t be seen. Then she swung in a circle, picking up momentum. A second before it pointed directly at Reeve, she let go, shouting “Reeve!” at the top of her lungs. The sword went arcing towards Reeve, dipping towards the ground even as it left her hands. It probably wouldn't be airborne the entire way, but if she was lucky it would reach Reeve without hurting him.

The knife she palmed off the top with her injured right hand, and as she completed the spin she let it fly directly towards the mage’s center of gravity. Whatever else the mage may be, he was still mortal, and mortal eyes had a tendency to follow the razzle-dazzle. His eyes would naturally follow the sword aimed for Reeve, missing the concealed knife that flew silently towards him. Please… she prayed to whatever gods were watching this fiasco, let this one thing injure him. I don’t know how I can fight someone I can’t even touch…
AQ DF  Post #: 53
7/5/2011 0:42:18   
superjars
Member

As expected of one so amazing, the woman expertly dodged his stone implements, but that was fine; they now traveled into the thick of another fight which waged on. Not entirely unplanned, of course, but not really something he thought this girl would allow. He was a little disappointed that she had allowed the rocks to pass to interfere with someone else’s battle, but he could hardly hold that against her. She was in the middle of a battle and being struck by those rocks would likely have ended her chances of winning.

Fortunately for him, the blow that he had intended to hit struck true, but not entirely in the fashion he had expected. This woman was a wily one, after all; he really should stop expecting that his blows would ever land where he wanted them to while he was fighting her. Perhaps that meant he should aim for things he had no intention of hitting... He’d have to give that more thought and try out the theory somewhat to see if it amounted to anything.

And then she spoke.

It was how she said it and what she said. Goshen’s stomach was suddenly turned to knots, clenching and restricted in his considerable paunch. And then you’ll be perfect? Perfect for what? he thought to himself, his mouth suddenly dry and his palms getting very sweaty. Had it gotten hotter in here? He had worn this rock armor many times, but had never had this much of a heat surge in it. He didn’t entirely like the effect that this woman was having on him; not at all.

And again, distraction was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Before he even realized what was happening, a knee appeared in front of him, aimed straight for the center of his lovely face. In the second he realized this was happening, only one thought permeated his mind: She would mar this beautiful face? And then, before he had any chance to respond, a glowing knee was connecting with his nose, a tremendous force behind it. Rocks spattered outwards from the spot, having just moved in place to protect him. At least there was one thing in his life that had some respect for his features, even if this woman seemed to want them destroyed. Perhaps this whole torrid affair was not meant to be. Or, at the very least, she had a strange way of showing her feelings; beating his face in.

He staggered back a few steps from the recoil of the attack, struggling to keep his feet. But then he realized something: if he continued to be straightforward in his attacks with this girl, he’d not get anywhere. Had to try to throw a few surprises her way. He made a show of flailing his arms around, leaning backwards as he did. A few seconds later, he flopped backwards, half of his own doing, half from the momentum of that knee. As he did, his legs kicked up, causing some of the rocks which had formed the back of his leg armor to be sent flying towards the beautiful, yet harsh, temptress, their ends forming sharp points as they flew. If luck was on his side, they might hit an arm or a leg, since he was aiming for her torso. Because, obviously, he would not hit her where he intended.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 54
7/5/2011 15:31:20   
.Discipline
Member

Dajaal felt the air grow colder still as he watched in glee as the harpy he had struck with his venomous tail shivered and suffered the slow hold of his poison, cackling in contentment as he watched the harpy's mind fail and question what on Lore had happened to it. Dajaal simply laughed harder at the helpless beast which lay before him, wildly swinging its weapon in pure fear.

'Hahaha! I have simply opened your eyes, Skyborn,' he scoffed. 'The darkness will take you soon enough...'

Noting that the warrior would probably finish the harpy for him, Dajaal looked around the room for another foe, his bloodlust tantalized by the brief encounter with combat, spotting another competitor wielding twin blades milling around the arena, looking quite disorientated. Dajaal licked his lips hungrily, this would be a kill he could easily obtained if he simply snuck up on the unsuspecting victim. Moving slowly toward him and concentrating to make his shadowy aura almost impenetrable, Dajaal grasped out of the shadows, snapping the competitor's neck without a second thought in one quick motion before ripping open the corpse with his jagged claws and hungrily devouring the raw and savory flesh as well as entrails and some bones small enough to snap into digestible portions with his strong mandibles.

Noting the warrior's two blades were giving off a dark magical glow, Dajaal quickly repented to the Dark Lord, realizing he had taken one of his comrades and anointing himself across the face and chest with Ithon's blood and taking up his blades, which looked small in comparison to his monstrous hands.

'He died to serve a greater cause, Lord, for I shall slay the unrighteous with his blades as a tool. His flesh will nourish me to your ends, and I shall be the true champion of darkness, if that is what you see fit!' Dajaal growled as he knelt down, begging his Lord for forgiveness.

Still feeling the chill growing stronger in the arena, he grasped the blades tight in his hand and began to make his way toward the source of the cold, grunting as he ran.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 55
7/5/2011 16:09:59   
Nightlark
Member

Kainrahn's eyes were fixed on the azure creature, waiting for it to either meet its demise at his magic or suffer at his blades. Surely, it could not survive such a vicious attack. And even if it did, he would hunt it down and it would still perish. The temperature was dropping steadily, though, and he was sure that soon, the arena would be a winter wonderland unless he did something about that ice mage. Stuck-up fools, they are, the whole lot of them. They don't seem to know the limits, meddling with everything. He would show that blasted frozen bookworm what real power was, as soon as he got rid of this thing. Preoccupied as he was, his ears still picked up the muffled "thump" as something heavy landed close to him.

It was instinct and reflexes, honed by years of training and battling that translated the sound into danger and forced Kainrahn to the right, barely avoiding a wickedly sharp dagger to his leg. Spinning around to face the attacker, he found himself glaring at the man that he had thrown the dark bolt at. However, this time, his torso was bare, showing the impressive, if not, revolting display of scars and wounds along his upper body. The most disturbing sight was a spike of metal, obviously driven into the combatant's chest. There was no possible way that any normal person could live like that.

Another experiment? A supernatural being? Who knows? It didn't matter to the rogue, who was trying to decide if he should abandon the blue thing an attack this new threat instead. A mental image of the ropes and dark bolts flying towards the blue thing convinced him to face this new danger. Besides, he will be easy to chase down, injured, if he is not already dead after I deal with this one. All of this flashed through his head in less than a second, and within seconds, the pair of knives were in action, one aimed at the throat, and the other directly under his opponent's spike. Even though the dark fires had vanished as his initial recklessness and rage subsided, this did not make the knives any less dangerous.




The shadow man got out of the way and Reeve’s blade caught only air. Momentum from his roll carried him forward to meet the blades of his foe. A twist and a raised dagger saved the shirtless man’s life. Reflexes honed by years of hiding and running pulled the dagger to Reeve’s throat, his own weapon diverting his enemy’s strike enough to save his life, while a twist of his body stopped the second knife piercing his chest. He paid a price in blood for his life; a long but shallow cut under the left side of his chin and a gash that would leave him with a new scar running the length of his chest. Yet he lived, for now and he thought his blood well spent.

Relying still on reflex and momentum Reeve span away from his foe, leaving him looking south and still well within the striking range of the shadow man’s blades, now covered lightly in Reeve’s own blood. I shall pay him back though, Reeve thought grimly. He brought his left hand up with a sharp movement and a blast of force was released towards Reeve’s opponent, carrying with it three steel rings at a speed that could kill an ordinary man.

The rings were not the only part of the attack, the blast itself was not to be ignored and, if it caught its target just right it might even send him closer to the ominous sphere that dominated the centre of the arena. Even as these thoughts ran through his mind, he heard his name being called by a familiar voice.

Gabriel stood near the south western pillar, near the ice mage, and it seemed she was throwing something to him. With a start he realised it was his own sword and wondered if the girl was mad or traitorous; throwing a bladed implement at someone wasn’t often seen as an acceptable way to make friends, but as it hit the floor and skidded to a halt less than a yard from his feet, he raised his brow in surprise. If she planned that, that was actually very helpful, he decided; his now empty left hand itched to be armed and a sword would do nicely against a knife wielding foe.

Movement in a mirror nearly opposite him caught Reeve’s eye and instinct screamed at him to duck. He knew by now to listen to his instinct and followed its suggestion, dropping into another roll. As he passed it he grabbed his reclaimed blade, his empty hand wrapping around it gratefully. An instant before he rose out of his roll Reeve felt the tickle of the wind as something flew over his head, but he gave it no mind, his eyes instead searching for signs of his foe.




The blades did not hit where he targeted, but nevertheless, both of them drew blood. The blades cried for more blood, the crimson lines that graced the edges were obviously not enough to satisfy the daggers' bloodlust. It didn't satisfy his either, and the rogue was about to go in for another attack, but was repelled by a blast of force that pushed him onto his knees and sent him sliding back towards the general direction of the frozen orb. The air was uncomfortably there, the dryness of the arena and the chill of the air searing his lungs. Thinking that any other attack would be aimed where was now, Kainrahn pushed himself to his right, rising as he did. This turned out to be both good and bad. He was right to think that another attack, apparently three metal bands zipping towards him at deadly speed, would be aimed where the other man had thought he would land, but he was wrong to rise; one of the leftmost rings caught him on his shoulder, jerking him back.

Pausing for a moment, Kainrahn did a survey of the injury. His left shoulder was burning with pain, and he couldn't move his left arm. The should appeared to be dislocated. Darn. The magic inside me can't heal it now... Not in this arena. Gritting his teeth, the rogue popped it back, the area around it still throbbing with an aching pain. At least he could move it now, but it would still pose a problem, injured as it was. The throbbing in his shoulder also reminded him of the cut from the ice shard. His mouth twisted into a slight grimace as he stood again. He could fight one-handed, but against heavier weaponry, two knives would provide better leverage. With a weak left arm, trying to block or parry a swing, from, say, a heavy sword, would be more dangerous. Especially against one like his opponent, who was obviously well muscled.

Speaking of which...

Somehow, the guy had gotten a sword, which he now gripped in his left hand. This is not good... Not good at all... The man was coming to his feet, but the shadow did not intend to let him deal the first blow. Instead, he rushed at the man from behind and slightly to the left, his right dagger to serve as a distraction and his left to deal a fatal blow once a chink in his guard was to be found. Lord of the Dark, lend me your strength and skill so that I may show this imbecile the true power of the dark...

< Message edited by Shadowlord Drakious -- 7/5/2011 16:12:27 >
Post #: 56
7/5/2011 21:59:00   
Krey
Member

Might be wise to be a little more careful about where he threw his weapons in the future, Marcos decided, as one of the wolves' blades nearly ended his frozen sword's attack before it could truly begin. Something to remember for later, he told himself, as his focus shifted fully to the furry beasts. They were all fixed on him, and as one, they launched their blades. How, Marcos was still trying to figure out. But in the grand scheme of things, it was unimportant. All that mattered was that they were deadly, and at least one of them was headed his way. The other two... Were turning. So that was his trick. The wolf was trying to catch him between a pincer, and either the blades were designed to turn in flight... or they were being controlled. Not unbelievable, if his theory about the true nature of the wolves had any bearing in reality.

Simple enough to avoid, though. He dove forward, rolling under the blades as they zipped by overhead. The downside was that as he stood, he found himself a good several feet from his pillar, and nearing the center, where his Heat Sink floated ominously in the air, steadily decreasing the temperature throughout the arena. Deciding this was not a good place to be, he started walking backwards, keeping his eye on the mirrors so that nothing took him by surprise. As he moved, a book formed in the air in front of him, coated in frost and about the size of his head. His eyes flicked from the open pages of the book to the mirrors and his surroundings and back again as he moved.

“Usus glacialis ora.” As he began the incantation, he heard a shout, and his eyes followed the source to find Gabriel hurling a sword towards another of the combatants. The sword he'd sent her way, actually—well, she'd sorted that out quickly enough, and seemed to be taking her time in retaliating. Wait! A flash caught his eye, and he reacted just in time to avoid what could easily have been a mortal wound. Instead, he was rewarded with a slice in his vest and a stinging wound just below his left rib in front as he jumped back.

He grunted, and continued chanting. Well that wasn't comfortable. Nothing to be done for it now, though; there was no healing it, and while ice would keep it from bleeding and, probably, numb it, he knew firsthand how bad frozen body parts could be. “Demons of the frozen realms, imbue this space with your spirits.” It wasn't a particularly serious wound, but it stung, and blood was starting to run down his belly. Deal with it, he told himself. There was nothing else to be done. No time to bind the wound, and it wasn't serious enough to be life threatening for a while.

He continued backing away, his eyes shifting towards the girl who'd thrown the knife. The biggest threat in the room, so far as he could tell. In the mirrors he could see a rather large creature—demon, most like?—heading for the center of the arena. Perhaps it would investigate the Heat Sink? That would be entertaining, certainly. “Crystalline blades, circle 'round, come close, bring mine enemies to the ground. Nex glacialis!”

He stopped, a few feet from the pillar, his eyes shifting between the girl and the wolf, offering a toothy grin in response to the former's attack. The air around him sparkled with a cold blue light for a second, before a dozen jagged shards of ice, each about four inches in length, formed in a circle around him. They spun 'round his form swiftly, making it rather difficult to take count of exactly how many there were, but for the moment they seemed content to stay as they were, dancing circles around the mage. “So the game gets interesting!” He called, a stain on his pants in front from the faint streak of blood. “First blood has been drawn, though I'm afraid you'll have to try harder than that to bring me down, love.”
AQ  Post #: 57
7/7/2011 22:59:49   
Ryu Viranesh
Member

She was starting to wonder if her opponent was even attempting to fend off whatever she sent his way; he’d failed to attempt any semblance of blocking her latest attack, much like the punch before it. Though, with how quickly her attacks could sneak up on someone, maybe she couldn’t blame him. Her knee smashed into his face, or did it; instead of the oily, smooth texture of flesh, as she had expected, her strike connected with yet another wall of stone. Perhaps he’s more resourceful than I’ve been giving him credit for, thought Leira as she watched the man topple backwards, his body floundering around like a fish out of water. If her belief was correct, then it might be best for her to move out of his reach, since it appeared that he was most dangerous in close combat. The girl pulled her leg back to her body and used the recoil from the attack to skip back a few steps.

Unfortunately for her, this precaution wouldn’t be enough to shield her from the man’s next offensive effort. In the time that it had taken for her to swap positions the warrior had fallen onto his back, his legs flying into the air. The limbs weren’t alone though, as with them came a pair of earthen shards that flew through the air right towards her body. What her movement did give her was a bit more time to react to the sudden attack she was now faced with. True, it was only enough time to make a cursory examination, but this time she wouldn’t be struggling to avoid her opponent’s assault. Leira took a single step forward and then dropped into a forward roll, her body passing right under the the spikes as they continued on their now targetless path of destruction. As she came to her feet, once again only steps away from the man she was fighting, she curved her left hand at her side and raised her right defensively in front of her, carefully planning her next move.

Goshen landed on the floor with a crash, the rock thankfully shielding his back from any permanent damage. Not the most graceful of landings, obviously, but it seemed to have been effective. He rolled to his side, glancing towards the dismembering damsel to see what damage the twin spires had accomplished. He sighed as the girl appeared untouched by his surprise attack. It figured, but it was still kind of disappointing. He slammed a fist into the floor, sending the spikes a mental command to slither back over when they hit the ground behind the woman. At first, the rock wanted to come into the girl’s path, attack her again, but their Earthen master demanded that they come in a more circuitous route. They had their chance to attack and he would not tolerate them ambushing this honorable foe.

With a grunt, he pushed himself ponderously to his feet, shaking out some sore muscles, grunting at a sudden pain in his calf. Not his most brilliant plan so far, that was obvious from the aches and pains he had suffered. But at least they were only aches and pains and not wounds. His nose could have easily been broken by that last attack. It was at times like this that he blessed the bond he had with his boulder. It had responded immediately, protecting his blood from being needlessly spilt. With no healing possible in here, that was definitely a thing he was thankful for.

As she gave her now standing foe a once over, she smirked at the robust yet spotless appearance of his armor. It looked like he would be a tough nut to crack, tougher than any she’d had the pleasure of splitting open in some time. But maybe she wouldn’t have to; if a nut remained inside of its shell for too long, it rotted. Perhaps she could turn the impregnability of the man’s shell against him, and she had just the tool to do it. Before she could put her plan into action though, he opened his mouth to speak.

“A rigorous encounter we’re having,” the large man rumbles out in his deep bass, winking at the girl across the way and tapping his toe nervously on the floor of the arena. “Are you ready for round two, or do you need to rest?”

“I’m more than ready to continue our little dance. The question is: have you learned the steps?” Leira flashed him a small smile, raising her still cupped left hand to join her right.

“I’ve not usually been much of a dancer, but you’re quite the talented teacher,” he smirked, cracking his neck slowly to the side, hearing it make a pleasant *pop* as he did. “I’m afraid I’ve got two left feet though, for this type of thing.”

She cocked her head at him, her eye alight with amusement as she carefully drew back her right leg, the rest of her form remaining in position. “Even people like that can learn if they’re willing to put the effort in. Are you? Are you willing to stop following my footsteps and try leading for yourself?”

“Let’s find out, shall we! Time to tango!” Goshen spat out, surging forward with his towering form. Raising up his considerable girth, he brought a fist from behind his head, up and over and down towards her sleight form.

The girl had been waiting for her opponent to make a move and the moment he took a step, it was time to make hers. Within the cusp of her left hand formed an orb of brilliance the same divine shade as the light rolling off of her skin. She brought the arm back and thrust it forward, the will-o-wisp streaking away from her palm like a comet streaks across the night sky, its trajectory taking it right towards the man’s face. Luckily for him the shining star would curve away short of impacting with his corneas. Unluckily for him it would return after several moments, the heavenly body now in a fixed orbit around his skull.

Brightness encompassed the poor man’s gentle visage, burning at his eyes, causing him to blink to dispel the sudden glare. Unfortunately, this also threw off his aim for the strike he had planned. He staggered sideways while coming down, bringing his fist down onto the ground nearby. As he did, the earth around his upper arm plummeted from its place and onto the ground, splintering out in all directions, causing a ripple of needle-like shards to pulse out of the ground as it spread. This had been his intention the entire time, to make this area around him uncomfortable to stay in while he prepared his next strike.

She’d been expecting his attack to miss after she made his life a little bit brighter, but hadn’t expected the sudden spray of thorns that his impact with the ground had produced. Leira quickly made a diagonal dash to the right, trying to position herself behind the stone giant so that she might avoid some of the painful little missiles. As she rounded his form though, she had another idea that would give the man some trouble as well as protect her from these prickling pins. The girl bent her right arm around her neck as she ran and then sent her forearm skimming through the air, the appendage vanishing midway through the extension. It reappeared several feet away behind the warriors vulnerable left leg, the hand flat as the chop rocketed into the area behind his knee; she was aiming to make him fall on his own attack.

The large man’s knee buckled under the pressure of the attack on him, dropping it to join his other, his left fist slamming into the ground as well to retain his balance. As he did, the orb passed once again before his eyes, flashing his eyes with the girl’s bright lights and causing him to lurch forward to swipe it away. Spots were beginning to form in his eyes from this silly orb, and he had to get rid of it as soon as possible if he wanted to complete his attack. He spun around to face the girl, a wide grin plastered on his face and his body surrounded on all sides by leaping shards of dirt and rock.

Leira’s arm returned to her, as all such limbs separated from her by such means did, and she turned to face him as well. She couldn’t help letting a small laugh escape her lips at the sight of him, though she didn’t know why.

“That’s an attractive look for you, sir. Really brings out the dancing fiend trapped deep inside of you,” she said, with just the lightest trace of sarcasm in her tone.

“This orb of yours is quite the little annoyance. If you wanted a better look at my face, you could have just asked,” he commented, chuckling as the orb passes again, his eyes finally starting to adjust to its interruption of his sight. “Rather, I think it brings out the dancing fool that I’ve been the entire time.”

“Oh, I think that you’re being a little harsh on yourself. I’ve seen MUCH worse dancers than YOU,” she carefully enunciated, “but as to the “fool” part, I suppose that’s up for debate.”

“You cut me to the quick, my fair maiden, but your jibe is well placed, as are your attacks. It has been an honor to fight against one such as yourself,” he said, mock seriousness seeping out of his voice. “But I’m afraid I need to end this battle to pursue another.”

Leira raised an eyebrow at the man, almost as though she was gaging the validity of what he had said before she responded, her voice aping his in both tone and volume.

“I see. Well, that’s too bad since I just finished getting warmed up, but if you must, you must. Thank you for the compliments; they mean a lot coming from such a distinguished combatant like yourself. I hope that I don’t disappoint your expectations in the end.”

“You already have far exceeded my wildest imaginations. However, do you not feel the chill that settles upon the air?” he called out, right hand stretching towards the heavens slowly. “A potent opponent rears his ugly head, and to not challenge such a man would be a disservice indeed.”

“I do feel the frigid power that seems to have taken possession of the arena,” said the girl, who shivered slightly as she made the declaration, “and agree that such a dangerous foe should not be left to his own devices. Yet, we’re left with the issue of how to resolve our own combat: Shall we simply walk away, an action that goes against the very spirit of this tournament, or shall we end this battle with one final clash, regardless of the outcome?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he said simply, a wide grin flooding his face, fingers cracking as he moved to the attack.

“Perhaps I already do, and simply wanted to voice it aloud,” she responded, shifting her right leg backwards and crossing her arms in front of her, ready to take whatever he threw at her and send it right back.

< Message edited by Ryu Viranesh -- 7/8/2011 20:33:42 >
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 58
7/9/2011 17:31:52   
Geddesmck
Member
 

Reeve heard the shadow man’s approach and was not slow to get out of the way. He moved to his left with a spin and watched his foe miss his mark. He didn’t lunge in to take advantage of the half-instant where his enemy was left off guard, knowing full well that he was much slower than the shadow man. If this is a knife fight, I can’t win. That close to him his extra speed and strength leave me vulnerable. As if to confirm his thoughts the two wounds he’d just received throbbed painfully.

His grip tightened on the sword now in his left hand and the hint of a smile played around his lips. With a sword though, everything changes. The extra reach will win me this fight. He took a step back, so as to be standing nearly half way between the two northern pillars, with his back to the north-easterly one. A new thought came unbidden and distracted him slightly. There’s something on the hilt of my blade. Blood? No, it can't be, I'm sure I didn't see any. The substance worried him; it could be a poison or acid of some description, but he forced himself to put it out of his mind as much as possible. He had more pressing matter to attend to.

Before launching an attack on his enemy, he quickly looked him over again, looking for any signs on damage. Unfortunately the shadows that cloaked him hid everything, injuries and all. Reeve’s eyes darted over to look near the base of the northwest pillar and he saw two of his rings lying nearby. So two of them missed at least, but where is the third? Did it actually pierce his skin? It was too much to hope for Reeve realised, and indeed he saw the third ring not too far from where the shadow man had previously stood. So one may have hit him then. That’s something at least.

Like a striking serpent Reeve struck, sudden and precise, his sword cutting a path that would end in the shadow man's heart.




His first attacked, missed, which he expected, as his opponent was skilled and experienced. A mere test to see how the energy contestant would respond. What slightly surprised him was when he heard no whistle of a blade as his side was exposed for a moment. Being a gentleman, eh? We'll see how polite you are when you're close to death's door. Swinging his left foot forward to stop his momentum, the rogue looked up to see that the shirtless man had moved so that he was in between both pillars, his sword out, ready to strike. Now that he was no longer within a close knife-combat range, this man would be far more dangerous. At this range, the longer reach and greater power of the sword would work to his opponent's advantage.

Kainrahn stepsided to his left, avoiding the jab at his right side, moving forward as he did, but did not hesitate as his opponent had and aimed his left knife at the warrior's stomach, his right hand shooting forward to grab his wrist and disarm him, knife still clutched tightly in his grip, seeking to take advantage of the slight moment of vulnerability. He grimaced slightly as his left side protested, an flare of pain coming from his cut and a dull throb coming from his shoulder. An itching rivulet of blood slid down his side from the wound, and Kainrahn had to resist the urge to wipe it away.

Instinctively, the rogue knew that the lunge had been too quick, too light to be a real attack. Most likely, the dark-haired man would be retaliating with something heavier. This did not stop him nor make him hesitate; rather it encouraged him. His job now was to stay close to the man, where his agility and light knives would inflict more damage than the large sword. Two knives would not hold up to a sword at the swordsman's comfort range, where the rogue would be bombed with heavy blows that he could not block.

Parting the shadows before his face, his thin lips curled into a sneer that said it all. Oh, so that's all you can do? Pathetic. Come and try harder, maybe you'll actually get close this time. Kainrahn was trying something risky by taunting his opponent. If he were to be infuriated, this might work to the rogue's advantage, since he could use the clumsy blows and reckless moves as a chance to get past his guard. Off balance and at his comfort range, the darkness participant knew that he could make short work of the warrior. But on the other hand, if it only boosted the man's determination and encouraged him to strike with his best, then that would be more dangerous to him than a calm opponent.

Ah, but what does it matter when his Goliath of a sword can't reach me? After all, I don't think he's mastered the art of fighting someone between his torso and weapon. Let him hack away all he wants to.




Despite witnessing it already, Reeve was still surprised by the shadow man’s speed. His lunge was dodged with ease and suddenly the knife wielding man was inside his sword’s reach, where the large weapon would be next to useless in either offence or defence. Of course that wasn’t a problem if Reeve wasn’t there.

Reeve did not have the superhuman speed that his enemy could rely on, but that was not to say he was slow either. Almost before the lunge had really finished he was moving back, pulling his entire body away from danger. The knife that sought out his stomach met only air, while the other knife was deflected by the retreating steel of the Reeve’s sword.

The shadow man had revealed his face; a pale, thin-lipped man looking out from that all-concealing darkness and bearing a smirk that mocked and challenged in equal measure. Did the man think Reeve could be baited into making a mistake so easily? No, it was not so simple. Reeve replied with an even, unblinking look.

The smiling foe was not fazed by his failure. His next attack came seamlessly, almost seeming to be simply a continuation of the initial offensive. The deadly, blood stained blades flashed through the air and only instinct and luck kept them from tasting Reeve’s blood again. Reeve’s few attempts to respond were clumsy and slow by comparison, his own dagger occasionally darting out to threaten an exposed arm, or his sword swinging to strike a limb if the shadow man left enough room for Reeve to manoeuvre. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Reeve knew the arena was unnaturally cold, but the exertion was such that he barely felt it. A knife came far too close to taking an eye and all thoughts except survival fled his mind.

He did not stop moving backwards; making sure to hold the steel sword extended before him to ward off his foe. His progress was slow, but it was still not long before he felt a foot touch the base of a pillar; the north eastern one.

Moving directly east had been foolish in some ways; he now had no easy way to retreat further and keep his precious distance from his foe. He was also now further from Gabriel; his (he searched for another word and found none) ally. On top of all that, he’d left three pieces of his equipment near the north western pillar; equipment that may have proved useful.

Reeve let himself smile now.

Everything was going to plan.

Now it starts to get hard.




The two men stared at each other with cold smiles and eyes that promised murder. Both bloodied and both unwilling to give an inch. The very air seemed to still in anticipation; the breath of the arena itself held while it waited for the coming together of two great forces. For less than the space of a heartbeat the two men; Reeve and Kainrahn, stood still, but to them it seemed a lifetime.

Little did either man know that their encounter was fated. Both were the children of a secret war that raged silently across the world. Both were the victims of this war, and the weapons too. Experiments they were called, the very name denying their humanity; their right to exist as free people anymore. They were tools to be thrown away if they proved without use. And so they faced each other now, unknowing soldiers on different sides of an unknown war.

They moved together, as if the same thought filled each mind. Kill! Steel collided with steel only long enough for it sing a single harsh note. Then they were apart again, but not so much this time. Kainrahn would not give his foe an easy win and he danced within the range of Reeve’s sword without fear. The weapon was dangerous, but so was inaction. Better to die fighting.

They moved again, Reeve bringing his mighty sword around in a vicious arc that would have removed Kainrahn’s head if only it had stayed where it was. The air Kainrahn had occupied was empty, his body now well inside Reeve’s reach and aiming to do his foe harm. One knife cut a path to Reeve’s throat and another searched for a place to sheath itself in the shirtless man’s chest. Yet just as Kainrahn found a way to keep his head, Reeve managed to escape injury. His own dagger intercepted the blade that would have pierced his chest while a impressively rapid movement of the upper body kept his throat out of range on the other weapon.

Neither man had any time to catch their breath; a flurry of blows were exchanged, along with grunted curses and looks of hatred. For a few short seconds the two men came apart, each sporting a dozen tiny cuts newly earned in the fight. In truth, Reeve had the worst of it, his upper arms and shoulders looking as if he had fallen through a thorn bush. The man was slower than his opponent and suffering from worse wounds. His earlier encounter, still only moments before but feeling like days, had left him with two large cuts that steadily let his lifeblood dribble to the floor. All this was only compounded by his inability to retreat now, the pillar behind him forcing him to stand and fight. He was slower already than Kainrahn, and he was slowing.

But he was still smiling.

Kainrahn attacked again, this time avoiding his foe's sword with barely a thought; it seemed to move much slower already. His blades leapt out again as fast as arrows, but missed their mark once more. For all his speed, Kainrahn could not seem to gain a meaningful advantage over his opponent. The sword was part of it; even though he was much more agile than Reeve, Kainrahn had to be wary of the longer blade. More than that though was the experience and instinct of Reeve. Reeve knew how to get out of the way and it was this, and this alone, that kept him alive.

Kainrahn cursed as he felt a heavy boot slam into his shin. The pain and surprise would have left a lesser man off guard and unable to avoid the incoming dagger. But Kainrahn was better than that. He rolled back and out of way of the dagger in a movement that seemed effortlessly graceful, especially against the otherwise barbarity of the fight. The roll did not get him out of danger though; the long blade of the sword sweeping down and aiming directly for the centre of his skull. Had it hit it could easily have cleaved the man in two, but hit it did not. His own blades intercepted the attack as it came crashing down, Kainrahn’s strength more than a match for that of Reeve. He twisted and came to his feet, but felt a knife ripped from his grasp as he did. His right hand seemed empty without the blade, but he had no time to retrieve it as more attacks assaulted him.

An ordinary man would never have dodged Reeve’s next attack; a sword stroke intended to slice through his foe’s torso and a dagger aimed at the same man’s heart. But Kainrahn was no more ordinary than Reeve. His right hand was empty, but that did not mean Kainrahn could not stop the sword that threatened his life. Again demonstrating his extraordinary speed, Kainrahn managed to grab Reeve’s left wrist and hold it in place; stopping the sword stroke ever being completed. The dagger was even less of a problem; with an almost dismissive swipe of his own blade he parried the dagger and then plunged the already bloodied knife into Reeve’s upper arm.

Reeve let out a cry of pain as the cold metal parted his skin, letting yet more of his blood free of his body. His dagger, soaked in his own blood now, dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor at the base of the pillar. Never letting go of Reeve’s wrist and never removing the blade from his right arm, Kainrahn pushed Reeve further against the pillar, as if mocking him for trying to run in the first place. Reeve’s smile was gone now, replace with a snarl. Kainrahn moved his face closer to Reeve’s, letting the defeated man take a good look at his killer before he left this world. Kainrahn twisted the blade in Reeve’s arm before pulling it out, earning himself a few more screams of agony. His thin lips turned up into another mocking smile and he prepared to finish the fight.

And Reeve head butted him.

Reeve forehead collided with Kainrahn’s nose and the sheer unexpectedness of the crude attack was almost as effective as the force. Kainrahn stumbled back a few paces, letting go of his grip on Reeve’s wrist to hold his nose, which was bleeding heavily, perhaps even broken. He recovered quickly, but not quickly enough. A blast of force similar to the one Reeve had used earlier took Kainrahn in the chest, sending him flying back through the air to land a good few feet away on his back.

Instead of pressing his advantage, Reeve moved around to the south side of the pillar and lay his back against it, taking a second to catch his breath. Unfortunately, that was all he could allow himself. Another blast of force shot from Reeve’s feet, this one not so powerful as some others, and sent him throught the air and across the arena towards yet another pillar; the one in the south east.




As the momentum from his kinetic blast wore out, Reeve was still a few paces from the pillar. He hit the ground heavily, but managed to get himself to his feet and, without too much delay, he had staggered to a stop at the pillar.

He slumped against the stone and for a moment considered just staying there. He was in pain. He was tired. He was bleeding. He was really in pain. But he couldn’t rest yet, the shadow man was still a threat, not to mention the ice mage. He had to keep going, for just a bit longer.

He straightened once more, ignoring the blood that continued to flow steadily from his countless wounds and forcing his brain to work through the cloudiness summoned by pain and fatigue.

Not much longer now.
AQ DF  Post #: 59
7/10/2011 1:52:38   
jerenda
Member

Yes! Gabriel exulted silently, a fierce grin rising. Not only did Reeve’s weapon slide to a halt right in front of him, allowing him to pick it up easily, but her secret plan worked! The mage dodged at the last minute, but her knife sliced into his chest, opening up a thin line of blood.

And still he continued chanting. Hmm. Gabriel flickered mentally through his last two chants, and noted that her best efforts to date had been unable to distract him from his spellcasting. Granted, it’s only a minor hit, he could be thrown by a serious injury. Still… I may have to give up the distraction idea. If I can’t stop him from casting, I’ll just have to kill him outright. Nothing less will do.

Gabriel followed the knife with her eyes, marking where it fell and memorizing its position in relation to her body and the figure of the mage. Keeping the position in a corner of her mind, she glanced towards the southwest pillar where Kainrahn’s knife was lying. Easy as math, she reached out and attracted the knife to her. It flew straight and true, landing with a solid thunk in the center of her shield.

One-handed, Gabriel traded the knife for one of the odd, L-shaped pieces of wood on her belt, turning her attention to Marcos. The now-familiar light blue of his magic engulfed his body, and when it had vanished some twenty-odd spikes of ice were circling him. Spikes that, oddly, reminded her of Reeve… but now was not the time, she had to focus. “So the game gets interesting!” the mage called out to her, smiling with his dangerous, not altogether cheerful grin.

Well, that ended the debate on whether to replace her shield or not. Those ice shards looked suspiciously like projectiles, and she didn’t want to be caught on the receiving end undefended. Speaking of ice, it was cold. Very cold. She could see her breath when she exhaled, and her nose was beginning to suffer, especially now that she was relatively still. She desperately needed to move away from the center, even though she disliked the idea of giving the territory up to Marcos.

Away from the center… ah. Suddenly, the pieces of this puzzle fell into place, all her pieces lining up. And he was still talking, and she was still not paying attention! Why did everyone have to talk so much?! “…I'm afraid you'll have to try harder than that to bring me down, love,” he finished.

Love?! What was that supposed to mean? Gabriel ground her teeth together, choosing carefully to ignore the ‘first blood’ comment. Her blood still trickled down her cheek, gathering on her chin to form what looked oddly like a tear. The young woman stepped backwards, moving towards the area beyond the two southern pillars, as she hefted the strange piece of wood in her left hand.

“The name’s Gabi,” she called, the conclusion of a fierce, silent debate about whether or not the mage could use her name against her, “and challenge accepted.” With that, her arm moved in an arc that ended with the flick of a wrist, throwing the wooden object towards him, snapping out a one-second burst of power to pull the mage towards her and hopefully knocking him off-balance.

The wood object was a weapon developed by her people, and she had found during her explorations in Lore that the anomalous corner of the universe where her people existed seemed to be completely unknown to others. With luck, the mage’s books wouldn’t be that extensive, and he would be caught unawares of the item’s properties. The weapon, called a ‘boomerang,’ traveled outwards and then back in a narrow oval, returning it neatly to the caster’s hand.

If it hit something along the way, it wouldn’t return, but that wasn’t a problem with Gabriel’s abilities. She wasn’t actually aiming at the mage, however- she was aiming for a space to the left of his head. Close enough to make him worry, but unless he stepped into it he probably wouldn’t be hit. The weapon would fly towards the mirrors, maybe going half the distance to the wall, before turning back and then flying directly for the back of his head.

Moments after she released the mage and the boomerang simultaneously, Gabriel tugged on the knife she had left lying on the floor behind him. It was a gamble- if someone had kicked the knife or something in the interim, she would end up catching hold of the floor and falling forward, so she only pulled for a second and a half, just enough to set it flying towards him. Ideally, she saw him turning with the boomerang, becoming distracted by the knife, and failing to block either one or both of the attacks.

She had a secondary move planned, just to close off her options, but she was distracted by a thud from the pillar behind her. The young woman turned, reaching for her belt, but when she saw who it was she relaxed slightly. Reeve! He looked terrible; whoever he had been fighting had managed to cut him up quite a bit. And in this arena, the bleeding wouldn’t stop… he could die. Her eyes narrowed, face darkening like thunder. The icy chill vanished, replaced by burning anger at the idea of allowing her unwilling ally to die. But what could she do?

She had no bandages, nor any loose clothing that could be used as bandages… clothing! Gabriel completely abandoned her follow-up, reaching for the east. There it was, Reeve’s shirt, lying exactly where he’d dropped it. With a flashing grin, she attracted the t-shirt towards her. Reeve was standing approximately between his shirt and Gabriel, so it should hit him on the way. That was nice. “Reeve, catch. Bandages, okay?” Her voice was oddly calm, for all of the stress she was under. Finally, finally she turned back to Marcos and hoped that her momentary distraction wouldn't have too high of a price.
AQ DF  Post #: 60
7/10/2011 2:12:08   
Dragonnightwolf
How We Roll Winner
Apr/Jun/Aug15


Twice now, twice, that mage had dodged like some wild cat out for a midnight stroll.
The blades were not taking Marcos down. Nightfall’s teeth snapped shut in frustration. “We must be rid of him, should he continue to live more calamity will ensue!” Nightfall thought. Nightfall’s ears picked up a strange sound of whoosh!

Ears turned to the sound and a quick glance in a side mirror told Nightfall that some rocks had flown past his position to carry on their merry way. That sensitive nose twitched a few times and Nightfall pondered what to do next. “Has the dark lord forsaken me and left me alone to-No! There must be a reason for this. The dark lord always has plans in the making. Why would he put me in this position and-“ at that moment Nightfall stopped thinking, his mind heard something.

The shadows of darkness around him seemed to enclose and whisper. “Kill him, kill the mage. Kill. Kill.” Nightfall’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as Nightfall A: and B: moved to the left and right, standing at a half foot apart from one another. Nightfall’s ears took in a mad shriek and a quick glance out of the corner of his eye revealed the source. That harpy had been struck by the demon. He had also taken down a second opponent in less time then it takes to breathe.

But the smell of blood, oh, sweet, sweet, beautiful blood. Nightfall licked his chops hungrily; the smell was coming from a few directions. Gabs, though nightfall couldn’t quite see any wounds, he could smell blood there. He could easily see the blood from Marcos. The opponent that had been slain by the demon had lots of blood pooling onto the floor. Oh sweet juicy, delicious, blood.

Nightfall licked his chops again, he might be a man-wolf, but he still had instincts of a wolf. Hunger made Nightfall that much more dangerous to face.
A howl, long, low, and deep echoed out of Nightfall’s throat. A mad look across eyes of deep red told that perhaps Nightfall was no longer toying around. He meant to kill, and he meant to kill NOW!

The three blades came back to their owners and slid easily away, A quick movement of Nightfall A and B's paws to their chest sent out a second bladed weapon, One that was relatively larger then the spinning disc looking one. This blade split into four smaller blades as it spun through the air, So now 8 blades landed in quick succession in a circle around Marcos's feet and each blade exploded on contact, so 8 booms at 10 to 30 percent damage.

All this time that had been spent with Marcos in control no longer would be allowed. Marcos must die if any other opponents were to battle. A sound caught Nightfall’s ears too. A deep heavy thudding sound made Nightfall look into a mirror just to his left. The demon was headed towards them. What’s more the temperature in that room was starting to feel cool.

Cool weather meant that deep zone of cold, was starting to take hold of the rest of that arena.
How was Nightfall going to take down a demon? No time to worry about that right now. Marcos was positively the most important threat currently.
Again shadows whispered but this time Nightfall heard them clearly.
“Destroy, kill, kill the mage” These voices in his head, they had been part of the curse too. For when Nightfall got angry, psychotic madness set in ever so slightly.
AQW Epic  Post #: 61
7/11/2011 15:31:36   
.Discipline
Member

Taking a deep clear breath inwards Dajaal shivered as he spotted the source of the cold, an orb in the center of the arena, which appeared to be either creating cold, or absorbing heat. He felt very strange as he drew closer to this orb, there was something that felt familiar about it, something very... Demonic. This was going to be tricky to deal with, demonic magics often are... he had an idea of who must be responsible for this freezing magic. He swiveled around, his eyes snapping onto the icy mage from earlier and his teeth grinding and gnashing in an enraged fashion. Dajaal wasn't just about to let the entire arena freeze over and kill him off, he was going to end the sorcerer and his affiliation with the impure Ice Lord.

Grasping tight on the hilts of his newly acquired blades and scuffing his hooves against the ground he ducked down, as if ready to gore the opponent on his sharpened horns, growling deeply and viciously as he sized up his foe. Concentrating hard to ensure his battle technique would be flawless and his dark aura would extend around him and blacken so that no light would penetrate the immediate area, he took more deep breaths in and out, clearing his mind of all but pure hatred toward the foe. This practice reminded Dajaal of the decades he spent floating in the pitch black void of the Darkness Realm, slowly gathering more and more malevolent energy. All of the hatred, the rage and the sadness that the town of Bren had endured flashed through his mind as his purple eyes glowed deeply.

'Dark Lord, guide your soldier...' he growled under his breath as he began to take up the charge toward Marcos.

He knew this would be dangerous. He had already felt the sharp pain of the mage's shards pepper his hide and the bitter chill of the frosty air from his orb spell on his wounds as the air grew colder and colder. But this mage had to be stopped, he stood for the Ice Lord's gains. Only the Dark Lord would be allowed to prevail in this battle, only the creatures of the dark would be given the right to survive and as Dajaal had already consumed his fellow brother of faith for this task, it would be so much more important to make himself a champion.

The floor trembled under his heavy feet as he sprinted in pitch darkness, holding both blades in front of him in an attempt to block attack as he attempted to ram the frost scholar so hard that his bones would shatter and so would his magic. Opening his mouth and letting loose a loud, bloodcurdling roar which would likely deafen those in close range, if not shock them out of concentration.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 62
7/11/2011 23:43:40   
Krey
Member

The center of the arena was getting crowded. As much as Marcos' initial plan had been to turn it into his own personal killing field, there was something to be said for making a new plan when the first began to look like a deathtrap. There was an area of darkness hovering around his Heat Sink, and he could only imagine that whatever filled it was something he did not want a close encounter with. The wolves to the north were still focused on him, and the girl to the east had just pulled something out of her belt. Wooden? It was hard to get a good look, and he wondered if that void that almost blocked her from his view was playing with his eyesight.

His eyes snapped back to the wolves, as he caught two of them making a motion. A very familiar motion; he'd seen it twice already when the wolves had attacked him before. More projectiles? Well, he didn't want to stick around and find out. Time to fall back and rethink his plans. The girl threw her wooden stick... thing, and he darted to the right, just in time to feel himself being pulled towards the girl. Not this again! It had to be her, and he would have to keep a closer eye on her. It was only enough to make him falter, but it slowed him down, just enough that the blades met their target a few feet behind him. In an instant, he was very glad not to be standing there. The explosion was enough to blast him with a wave of heat and to help delay him regaining his balance, and pain in his legs and the ring in his ears meant he'd not come away unharmed. Tiny shards of metal had embedded themselves in his legs, enough to be painful and annoying, but not enough to slow him down... too much.

Then there was thudding. He continued to move, chancing a glance towards the source, and circling around to the other side of his pillar, just as he heard a roar that trumped any sound he'd ever heard. It left his ears ringing and his vision fuzzy as his senses fought to deal with it, but it seemed he was far enough away to avoid any real damage. His ears were ringing worse than he'd previously thought possible, and he'd gained an instant headache, but otherwise nothing seemed out of sorts. He didn't realize his hands were already over his ears, and that helped to protect them from any potential major damage.

He came to a stop at the other side of the pillar, leaning back against it and taking a deep breath. The frozen shards danced around in the air before him, and he watched them with a grin as he regained his composure. Turned out, moving had been a good call. He'd have died if he'd stood where he was. There was no getting around it. The explosions from whatever weapon the wolves had thrown would have been enough to kill him, and if, by some miracle, it hadn't been, he'd have been a sitting duck for that cloud of darkness.

Best to keep the ice shards handy he decided, and kept his hands over his ears. His staff floated beside him, as it always did on the occasion that he dropped it without thinking. That seemed to happen rather often, actually!

If he wanted to turn this back around in his favor, he'd have to do something big. The shards hovered before him as his eyes shifted across the mirrors, taking stock of everyone's position and identifying potential threats. Definitely had to keep a close eye on the void; nothing good could come from that. The book that appeared before him now was actually a fairly small one, bound only in leather but surrounded by tiny particles of frost which seemed to emanate from and dance around it.

“Glacies contego,” he began, and started walking towards the southwest corner of the arena, his hands still over his ears as defense against the roar from the midst of the unknown void. “Spirits of the Realm of Ice, your master comes under attack. Glacialis phasmatis!” He stopped halfway between the pillar and the corner of the room, and turned, eyes scanning the arena. Granted, he was more in the open now, but it would still be nigh-impossible for anyone to sneak up on him here. “Grant for me protection, barriers, guardians against that which means your master harm!”

“Gelu parietis!” The air around him began to chill, a blue glow forming to either side of him. The frost which surrounded the book began to flow into the two separate areas, filling them, thickening, expanding until solid slabs of ice floated to either side of him. Each was about two feet tall and half that in width, nearly six inches thick. They floated lazily beside him, ready to move to his defense as swiftly as his mind could react. These, along with the dozen ice shards which once more circled around him, would help to keep him protected until he could formulate a plan. It was nearing time to turn this battle around, start picking off his competition.

It was time to show the superiority of the Ice Realm.
AQ  Post #: 63
7/12/2011 0:40:36   
superjars
Member

While they bandied about, words as dangerous as their attacks, he had begun to gather his stone boulder from its various places to his left shoulder. If the girl was looking properly, she would find what appeared to be a large tube sitting over his left shoulder blade, eight round holes cut in a circle around its edge. As it finished forming, he flipped it up and over his shoulder, aiming it directly at the girl and unleashing a barrage of round terrestrial bullets, spattering the area she was standing in, hopefully injuring her even further and ending this fateful fight.

Leira had been ready and waiting for the man to launch his coup de grace, but even she couldn’t have anticipated that he’d do it in such a fashion. Beyond the flashy presentation though, it was simply another barrage of rocks being launched at her, and after all the “quality time” that they’d shared together, she knew how to handle those. Firstly, she couldn’t remain in the same spot or she’d be stoned, so she quickly broke off to the right to avoid her opponent’s first salvo while she tried to figure out how to counter it. As she curved her head around to watch for any further shots, her eyes glued to the tube on his shoulder, an idea struck her. It would require her to get closer, but if it worked, she might come out the victor yet.

The young woman spun around and reversed her momentum, now aiming to run back across the earth-strewn battlefield to reach her goal. As she kicked off, the second round of shots hit the ground behind her, where she would have been standing had she not chosen to change directions. Unfortunately, her shoes were unable to avoid the perils of the terrain, their soles quickly worn down by the vast amount of stones on the ground. On top of her footwear being ruined, the man was relentless in his assault; the third group of “bullets” were now heading towards her. As Leira hurriedly attempted to duck her torso beneath the attack, a couple stray stones still managed to smack into her side and made her let out a distinctly audible gasp. She stumbled and almost fell over before she was finally able to catch herself and regain her footing, the girl still wincing as she continued on towards her destination. Finally, she broke through to his left side and continued running, her target visible right in front of her. It was finally time to put her theory to the test: were humans projectiles?

Leira pushed off the ground a few feet from her intended point of impact and twisted her body around in midair. Moments later, her feet struck the mirror and she was thrust back in the direction that she had come from, only at a slightly different angle. She flew right over the warrior’s fourth (and final) stream of earth and once again bent her right arm around her neck, a wild grin on her face as she flew through the air. Moments later, her glowing elbow smashed into the canister that he’d been using to assault her; if her guess was correct, the structure should break free from whatever was holding it in place and smash right into the side of his head. She’d already been right once today, maybe she’d be lucky enough to be right again.

The four shots had minimal effect on this woman, unfortunately. The large man’s shoulders sagged slightly, saddened by the lack of damage to his sprinting opponent. Dejectedly, he allowed the rocks to start flowing back into place, with the pool of spikes that surrounded him starting to flow back towards his massive trunks. This was poor timing on his part, as the woman came darting from off the mirror and aimed right for him. For Goshen, it was as if time had slowed. He could see the glow around her elbow as it found a path through his disappearing weapon. He assumed she had meant to shatter his implement, but what she got instead was much more devastating. The stone flowed around her elbow, leaving a path to his face as it inched around to face her appendage.

And then, much to his dismay, time resumed its normal speed and the elbow burst into his face, connecting at the base of his nose. He could feel his feet, and the rest of him, lift off the ground, but the stone flowing over up his legs held him tight, much to his chagrin. His head snapped back and he caught himself staring at the ceiling, which was slowly rescinding from his vision. His head cracked against the floor, stars exploding before his eyes, blood gushing from his nose. At the same time, he also vaguely heard a roar which echoed throughout the arena. However, he was so out of it from the blow, it barely reached him.

Leira was shoved backwards by the recoil from her successful attack, airborne for only a
few seconds until her feet collided with the smooth ground beneath her. She stumbled several more steps towards the mirror before she was able to regain her balance and take a shaky step forward; not exactly what one would call a perfect landing, but at least she hadn’t hurt herself. Just as she’d finally found her footing once more she heard a roar, the carnal sound of the hunt; it was far enough away that it didn’t damage her hearing, but significant enough to make her wince at the noise. If the cold hadn’t been enough of a reason to move their attention elsewhere, the echoing roar drove home that they simply couldn’t let the rest of the arena be. First thing was first though, now that she was no longer in danger of having another, less friendly meeting with the mirror behind her, she turned her eyes to her opponent and strode toward him. She would see what damage her attack had wrought with her own eyes.

The stone continued to flow over him, blanketing him with its presence, protecting him from any further assault as he collected himself. When it had all made its way to surround him, he lifted a hand towards the girl, “That packed quite a wallop, my dear! Would you help a poor man up after such a blow? I think you’ve made your point.”

She smirked, extended her own hand to grasp his and pulled sharply backwards, “Glad to see that it was well received. Though, a young girl like me also wouldn’t mind the big, strong man helping to pull his weight in such a situation.”

Goshen clambers to his feet with her assistance, his face flushing with crimson at her comment, “Well, there are ways to treat ladies and there are ways not too. Wouldn’t be taken too kindly if I was too rough with you.”

Leira’s smirk vanished and she increased the force of her grip to a level that a normal person would consider uncomfortable. “Etiquette is one thing, but never assume that you can be “too rough” with any woman. You understand?”

The large man was taken aback by the girls odd reaction. Living on his own for so long had obviously dulled his sensibilities. He stammered out an apology, his free, and bloody, hand impulsively streaking through his sweat-drenched hair, “Sorry, miss. I got it..” He attempted to pull his hand out of her grip, feeling it go numb from her vice-like grip.

The girl was silent for a moment and then suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter that she had been holding back for far too long. While she was in the throes of her laughing fit, she unconsciously loosened her grasp on his sweat-soaked hand, allowing it to slip free. After another moment, she managed to regain her composure enough to make a response, even though there was still a wide grin on her face. “It...It’s alright; I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. Seeing you confused like that just brought back all of the amusement from earlier.”

“I see,” he said simply, raising his eyes to lock with hers. “If we both survive these next fights, promise me we will continue our battle until one of us has triumphed. But for now, the rest of this arena awaits!” This last piece he bellowed out, his face flowing into a large grin, partially marred by the blood that still flowed freely down his face.

Leira stared back at him, the light in her eyes hardening like her resolve. “I promise you that we will finish our battle once the others in this arena have been terminated, and it will be a clash that will do both of our Lords justice. First, we have to earn that closure though.” She averted her gaze for a moment, staring at the ground beneath her before she raised her head again. “My name is Leira Wainwright, follower of the Lord of Light; engrave it into your memory.”

“I am Goshen Shaljrne, a simple man desiring to find his home. I will not forget you, Leira. We shall meet again!” With this, he turns towards the rest of the arena, bellowing out for all to hear, hands cupping his mouth, “Mage of Frost, I come for you! But if anyone else deigns to get in my way, I will deal with them first!”

“Just as I won’t forget you, Goshen,” she quietly whispered before she too turned to stare out at the rest of the arena and the embattled war zone that it had become. Mirroring the man who stood next to her, she also yelled out to the combatants present before her. “I too issue a challenge to any willing to take it up. I promise a difficult, but honorable fight. That’s really all I have to offer.”
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 64
7/13/2011 14:49:01   
Starstruck
Member

Tantatto turned swiftly, just in time to slide his blade out and bash a bolt of shadow that was coming towards him at high speed. When the sliding plate on his arm sliced through the bolt, it vanished in a little puff. Following that miniscule onslaught was a storm of darkness bolts that threatened to put unhealable holes through his little shell!

Tantatto dodged furiously, hoping to high heaven that the bolts were flying behind him and hitting the mage, but he had no idea what was going on; darkness was everywhere, and bits of it were striking him. Most had no real effect, but one hit him squarely on the left shoulder, leaving a nasty black mark. If Tantatto had had pain sensors anywhere on his body, it probably would have burned like fire, but he simply ignored it for now.

Three ropes of darkness came screaming at him, but the hardy ninja aimed his arms at them and fired twin beams of focused Pulse that hit the two darkness streams like a ton of bricks; they evaporated as if they were just smoke and mirrors hit by a breeze. The third was more worrying, but Tantatto rolled under it and managed to avoid it by running flat-out to where the shadow man was dueling with another contestant. The ninja had originally intended to kick the shadow man in the face, but now it seemed that that would be a bad idea with another angry contestant so near. Turning, Tantatto searched for another target…

…and found one in the shape of a tallish mage with enormous ice shields revolving around himself. Perfect. This man made the arena cold, which was good for Tantatto (even now, he could feel the familiar chill making his movements more fluid and graceful), but now that it was nice and chilly, he had to admit that the only thing the mage could possibly bring now was unexpected surprises like flying sharp things or explosions, neither of which would be very good. So the mage must die, or at least be made unconscious.

Tantatto ran just ahead of the darkness rope, aiming directly at the ice mage. When he reached the revolving shields, he leapt up and hit it directly in the middle. Clinging to the sheer face of the moving plate, he jumped off in the opposite direction. The darkness rope, unable to change direction so swiftly, went in between the revolving plates and was lost from Tantatto’s field of vision. Tantatto landed smoothly, assured of his safety, and pulled out two small, thick metal bars. He crossed his arms and crouched, activating the hidden springs, and small blades popped out. These were tanto, ninja daggers that Tantatto had taken as his chosen weapon.

It was time to shed blood.
DF MQ  Post #: 65
7/13/2011 15:44:25   
Geddesmck
Member
 

Drip.

The pause between each breath was becoming longer.

Drip.

The cold didn’t bother him anymore.

Drip.

The pain seemed to dull.

Drip.

The sound of his blood falling to the stone floor seemed too loud. He tried to ignore it. Drip. Drip. Drip. He failed and snarled. The cursed arena meant that all his wounds, even the tiny nicks and scratches, continued to bleed as much as if they had just opened. His breath sounded like a draft of cold air blowing under a closed door; forced and drawn out. His life was seeping out of him, slowly still, but surely now. He would not survive the see the end of the fight as he was.

It was an too much of an effort for Reeve to even stand upright. He did not seem to have enough energy for anything but staying slumped against the pillar. He tried to think, but all his brain wanted to do was inform him he was tired and in pain. A thick fog closed off the higher functions of his brain and some part of Reeve knew he was about to pass out.

As he teetered on the edge of consciousness he found himself slipping through memories. A boy of no more than ten years stood covered in blood amongst a pile of charred corpses and ash. A knife in the boy’s hand was red with gore and the smell of death filled the room. The memory of the smell had not faded through the years, nor had the smell of burnt flesh and hair. The whole memory was clear, and always would be to Reeve. It had been the first time he had felt freedom.

And that is why I’m here, he thought. He tried to get up again, but his body barely moved. Freedom is worth anything.

Drip.

He groaned.

Drip.

He straightened slightly and lifted his head.

Drip.

Reeve pushed gently away from the pillar, standing again under his own power with only the hint of a sway.

Drip.

He was not entirely sure how long he could keep fighting, but he felt that he really had no choice. Failure meant death or worse; enslavement. His grip on his sword tightened enough to make his knuckles go white. The few thoughts that actually managed to form in his mind tried to assess the current situation, but before they could make sense of anything he heard a voice.

“Reeve, catch. Bandages, okay?” It was Gabriel, standing not too far away with the Ice Mage before her. She was fulfilling her part of the plan, but he had no idea what she was talking about. He caught no sign of anything heading towards him. Unless...

He turned as swiftly as he could to catch whatever was incoming but even before he completed the turn his world went dark. A soft thwump filled his ears as some kind of horrible debilitating spell engulfed his head. He couldn’t breathe and his cries sounded muffled to even his own ears. He dropped his sword in a panic and clutched desperately at his face, trying desperately with his good left hand to rip the strange creature from his face. Whatever it was put up a good fight, but eventually Reeve managed to yank it from his head and held it before him at arm’s length.

He studied the creature that lay vanquished in his hand, only to be surprised (and more than a little embarrassed) to be confronted only with a shirt. His own shirt in fact. Suddenly everything made a lot more sense and without further delay Reeve went about ripping it up to make crude bandages for his many wounds. He was quick with is work and soon his torso and right arm were heavily bandaged, the tight cloth covering most of his chest but leaving the spike uncovered. The cloth quickly began to soak with blood, but it seemed to help minimise the blood loss. Not that blood loss was much a threat at the moment; most of the blood had escaped to Reeve’s cheeks in shame.

With as much dignity as he could salvage Reeve turned back to face the rest of the arena. The sight that greeted him was unwelcome; the Ice Mage was gone. He had fled the space within the pillars, leaving Reeve to wonder if there as any point at all in continuing his plan. Of course, he thought, there are plenty of others in range. Why not keep the plan on track; if I don’t kill the mage at least I’ll thin the competition somewhat.

With a nod to himself as if to confirm his choice Reeve pulled a new spike from his belt with his right hand, while taking hold of the head of the one in his chest with his left hand. He repeated the earlier motion; removing the spike in his chest and replacing it with another in a fluid motion.

Or at least he tried to. His injured right hand was clumsy and the roar that almost knocked Reeve off his feet helped none either. Both spikes fell to the floor and he fell to his knees and covered his ears, leaving the hole in Reeve’s chest unfilled. For a moment nothing happened and then great bolts of energy leapt from Reeve’s chest. They struck the pillar and stone around him with such force that tiny chips of the floor were thrown up and the stone itself was scorched. The energy also sought out the two spikes on the floor and the power of a thunderstorm ran through the metal, making them glow slightly as they became incredibly hot.

Pain greater than anything a blade could produce left Reeve almost helpless. Without the spikes Reeve’s powers were unstoppable; they lashed out and sought to destroy everything around them. Even Reeve. With an effort and a titanic force of will Reeve reached for another spike at his belt. He struggled silently as the energy around him tore up the ground, but somehow he managed to place the spike in his chest.

And suddenly Reeve didn’t hurt anymore. Strength filled Reeve’s limbs and his wounds, although still bleeding, seemed no more than mild inconveniences. The pain and fatigue that had clouded his mind where suddenly no more than minor distractions buzzing annoyingly at the back of his mind. In a motion of such grace that it seemed like a dance Reeve retrieved his sword and got to his feet. Everything he did now seemed precise and controlled, but also effortless. His right hand absently figured the hilt of his remaining dagger, as if debating whether he’d even need it with his newfound strength and speed. Even the right arm seemed perfectly fine, the large wound he’d suffered now barely registering.

He smiled slightly. If he had enough erion he thought he might just spend all his time like this. Unfortunately the metal was rare, so he’d have to make it count. With long assured steps he began to walk towards the south west pillar, the completion of his plan and victory.
AQ DF  Post #: 66
7/13/2011 16:36:29   
jerenda
Member

Gabriel turned, and the dreaded impact never came. Instead, a huge black void filled her vision, and the Angelborn paled. Whatever it was, it was huge and moving at thunderous speed. Gabriel took an involuntary step backwards before her brain caught up to her eyes and informed her that the creature was heading for Marcos, not her. She had a moment’s second of relief before something hit her, shaking the core of her very soul.

The Angelborn wasn’t conscious of falling to the floor. Blackness engulfed her, wrapping around her mind before it moved on, leaving her feeling vaguely defiled. She regained her senses curled up on the stone floor, hands pressed against her ears as if she could block the horrible sound from penetrating them. Her shield had managed to stay on her arm by the simple expedient of the strap slipping around her wrist, which was lucky because she certainly couldn’t have picked it up if it had fallen. I can’t… I can’t stay here… Gabriel gasped, shaking with the effort it took to think past the awful noise.

Someone else was shouting. Their words echoed in the arena, a man’s deep treble and a woman’s lighter tones, and Gabriel’s mind was distracted from the hammering roar just enough to begin rising to coherence. Unfortunately, just as she started to recover, something brushed her back, attracted to the metal at small of her back, and entered her body.

Gabriel’s mouth opened in a silent scream, spine arcing as power like she’d never known shot through her slender form. The pain forced her to move, rolling sideways away from the southeast pillar to get away from whatever it was. She found herself lying on her side, facing Reeve, who was in the act of placing another spike into his chest. Oh… that must be it. The thought drifted through her mind, seemingly disconnected.

Without really knowing what she was doing, Gabriel dragged herself to her feet, keeping her hands tight against her ears. It didn’t really help, but it made her feel a little better. What did help, however, was imagining those two voices. They sounded in her mind, clear as a bell, driving away the darkness. Her face was pale and tight with tension as she glanced around the arena, but when she caught sight of the couple she smiled briefly, despite the desperate state of things.

The mage had escaped. Her boomerang was nowhere to be seen, as the black void appeared to have swallowed it up, but the knife had fallen midway between it and Gabriel’s pillar. In addition to that, the metal plate where Reeve’s electricity had entered was uncomfortably warm. She was going to have a scar from that later… Mm. She knew what she had to do, but she didn’t have to like it. With an expression akin to that of someone running pell-mell towards certain death, or perhaps similar to a child being forced to take lemon-flavored medicine, Gabriel started running towards the dark… thing, passing Reeve with her light-footed grace.

Two-thirds of the way there, just before she lost sight of Marcos entirely, she flipped the knife lying on the ground up with her foot. It spun into the air, catching what remained of the light with a flash. The young woman pivoted on one foot, hands still over her ears, and kicked the knife as it came down.

She managed to catch it with her ankle, not as precise as if she’d hit it properly, but it still went flying towards the south wall, turning end over end as it traveled towards one of the huge hanging mirrors. As she turned back, she caught sight of Marcos. Two slabs of ice now hung around him, something that would make it more difficult to fight, unless she did something.

Gabriel reached out with her power and took hold of the ice mage for what she hoped would be the last time. She started to pull as she started running, her lithe form gaining a kind of desperation as she pushed her body past its limitations. As long as she kept pulling, the ice mage would follow her center of gravity, and she didn’t want him to pick up too much momentum before she got into position.

Her next few steps brought her into the cloud of darkness, and Gabriel closed her eyes. Not only did the banshee wail get stronger the closer she got to the thing, but she felt… something. The same darkness that had assaulted her earlier was everywhere now, causing the hair on the back of her neck to prickle.

Thoroughly disturbed, Gabriel counted out the steps to where she judged would put her exactly behind the pillar, and therefore put the pillar between Gabriel and Marcos, where she stopped. According to her calculations, even with the movement, the ice mage should fly directly towards the pillar. From there, she held her ground, fighting the urge to run screaming in terror, or at the very least curl up into a little ball on the ground and whimper. She had to remain standing, to align everything properly. Eerie aura of darkness aside.
AQ DF  Post #: 67
7/13/2011 16:52:16   
.Discipline
Member

Raising his head to see the mage muttering a spell of defence, Dajaal reconsidered his charge. A head on assault right now could only go badly for him and so he would have to halt for now. Dajaal gritted his teeth and hunkered down his claws to reduce skid, but increase friction, slightly grazing the skin at the base of his feet. He stopped just short of the southwest pillar as the ice mage halted his charge, angering him ever more-so. Standing back against the pillar and plotting his next move against the tricky foe. An explosion where his foe had been standing reassured him he had been smart to stop before he was burnt and scattered across the arena floor. That was a close call indeed.

Suddenly Dajaal felt a sharp prang in his lower back as an flying object struck him bluntly, leaving the small area of impact stinging as he gazed, fixated on Marcos. Dajaal wondered how he was being attacked when he had full view of the mage... this confusion simply enraged him further. He smelt something he took great pleasure in, the smell of fear... something or somebody very close to the demon was full of panic. Another smell soon combined with this... blood, and lots of it, too, causing him to lick his lips in hunger. The final smell he picked out was one which filled Dajaal himself with a great deal of apprehension...

'Angels...' he growled to himself. 'Where are you?' he questioned, spotting nothing in the immediate area except for the pillar directly behind him. No matter, he would have to stay focused otherwise the mage would take him out, already Dajaal could see thick slabs of ice encircling his quarry, and definitely did not want to be on the business end of the razor sharp shards which fluttered in between them. This was going to be harder than he had originally anticipated, but he felt like calling the caster's bluff, his head was already overheating with the rage and adrenaline of battle which would inevitably guide his decision.

Taking a back-armed grip on both of his weapons so that the blades pointed forward with the armored plating on his forearms ready to bash. He put his horns down into goring position and crouched low, digging his claws into the ground. Smirking to himself, he raised his dripping and venomous tail into prime defensive position, raised just above his midsection. All of these actions were, however, shrouded by the growing cloud of shadowy energy. He was ready for whatever the mage planned to throw at him, any direct attack would be met with a lighting sharp flurry of blows from his weapons, claws and tail. Dajaal's smile widened.

With the angelic energy taunting him from his back and the putrid smell of fear lingering in his nostrils, Dajaal laughed loudly and decided to play with his opponent.

'What's the matter!?' he roared. 'Afraid of the dark?' he questioned, accusingly. Hoping that his taunt would draw the mage into an attack, he roared loudly once again, focusing all of his adrenaline and rage. Feeling slight force pull through him he didn't move an inch... the side effect of some other magic, he decided. Which magic, however still alluded Dajaal as he stood ready to strike, with full force, anything that dare to attack him this time.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 68
7/13/2011 17:51:03   
Nightlark
Member

Still muttering curses under his breath, the rogue clutched his nose, feeling the blood run down his hand. It was broken, for sure. He could feel that the cartilage was not where it was supposed to be. Oh, how the others back at the lab would mock him for this. The rogue had been caught by surprise, something that rarely happened. He could hear the voice of his trainer admonishing him for his failure. A low snarl escaped from between his clenched teeth. Kainrahn had a score to settle with that man, but now was not the time to daydream about ripping his head off. The pain from his broken nose and a variety of other cuts and bruises reminded him that he had some wounds to take care of.

Ripping off a strip of cloth from his cloak, Kainrahn quickly bound the wound on his side. At least the implants are still fine... The last thing I need is to worry about something malfunctioning while I'm fighting for my life. Quickly grabbing the knife that had been twisted from his grasp, he sheathed both blades, wiping away the blood that was freely out of his damaged nose. A few other blade wounds were bandaged, as there was a steady flow of blood gathering in their openings. There was really nothing much he could do about his nose right now with what he had, but as long as it was aligned properly, it could heal on its own once he was out of this arena.

And to get out of the arena, everyone else had to die, starting with that accursed ice mage.

Backing away from the open, he retreated to the safety of the shadows and took stock of what was happening. The arena was in complete chaos, with the ice mage battling the wolf and a girl, both of whom seemed to be failing to do anything but annoy the mage. A mass of darkness was moving towards the center, heading for the blue orb. Kainrahn could hear the sounds of battle elsewhere as well, although he had no wish to join in any of them right now.

Ducking back behind the stone column, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, focusing on tapping into the dark energy, but a roar the blasted his eardrums destroyed that effort, forcing him jam a finger into each ear, in an attempt to block out the sound. Still, the wail was loud enough to leave his ears ringing, although that began to fade after a few seconds. The shouts of another man and woman were drowned out, but by the tone, they seemed to be challenging the rest of the combatants. Not now.

Peering out from behind the pillar again, he saw that there were now thick slabs of ice floating around the mage, although the blue creature he had fought earlier did not seem discouraged by this and was leading the last shadow rope that he had failed to destroy towards the mage. The girl he had seen earlier was not out in the open, but he could see her reflected in one of the mirrors. The energy combatant had bandaged his wounds and was battle-ready again, although the rogue wondered about the patch of scorched earth and the chips of stone around him. Interesting. What could've happened?

The ice mage had his back to him as of now, on the other side of the pillar. Although confident that he would be practically invisible to most of the others, the fact that the ice mage was so close would bring others to the northeast, which would increase his chances of being found. Frowning, he realized that he would have to dispose of the mage in some way without alerting the others to his presence. His eyes fell on the mirrored walls. Taking a deep breath, Kainrahn tried to concentrate again, but the roaring continued, threatening to break his focus.

Oh, will you be quiet already?! Gritting his teeth, he tried to tap into his magic, but failed. Frowning, he reached for a throwing knife, having to search for his second one as his hand met cloth where the first knife used to be, reminding him of the fact that he had lost it somewhere amid the fighting. I think I'll have to get that back, wherever it is. In a single fluid motion, Kainrahn released the blade and it flew at the mirrors at a sharp angle, where it would bounce off and hopefully hit the ice mage, although he himself doubted his throw's accuracy. Sure. he could throw knives well enough, but his accuracy was not one of an expert. He figured that the most the knife would do was annoy the mage or distract him, hopefully so that one of the others could land a blow. The mage was apparently arena enemy number one right now, and most of the combatants' attention were directed at him.

Sheesh, it's really getting cold in here. Someone had better slay that ice fool before we all freeze to death.
Post #: 69
7/13/2011 22:12:19   
Dragonnightwolf
How We Roll Winner
Apr/Jun/Aug15


Both ears swiveled toward the sound of the approaching demon.
Both eyes had been watching Marcos intently. Finally, something had worked!
The desire to chew on flesh was starting to make Nightfall Ravenous. He forced himself to ignore the instinct and continued to keep Marcos in his vision.
A quick glance in a mirror told the wolf here comes Mr.Demon, but at the last second, Nightfall remembered to duck so that the shrapnel from his blade bomb would fly past his ears.

But then a loud roar came out from the demon. Instant pain! Loud noise! Pain! FLEE! Nightfall quickly retreated running to a corner where the noise was least hurtful, gave a quick look at the demon with his posture saying. "What are you thinking?" The wolf gave a quick bark to indicate annoyance and both Nightfall A and B disappeared for the time being just as they walked into the shadows.

Both ears flattened down to dull out the sound and Nightfall went into a psychotic rampage. He flung himself at one of the pillars furthest away from the demon and started striking it with his paws, clawing and scratching and digging in a furious frenzy of pain, madness and anger. Nightfall A joined him in this action, attacking that support in a mad frenzy. Nightfall B monitored what the other competitors were doing. Something must be done! Nightfall thought in terrible rage.

The dark lord will be appeased I shall destroy that mage once and for all.

Nightfall continued to strike and claw in what could only be described if someone else were to view him, a wolf gone completely and totally nuts.

Again and again and again, blow after blow after blow his paws dug furiously at the stone support non-stop, except for taking in breaths of air. The cold was starting to creep around the area and the wolf was getting mad at the cold.

Bit's and pieces of the stone support started to fly down and some pieces fell away.
"I can't beat you with speed or with my normal attacks." The wolf thought in a state of anger and madness. "Then I will destroy all. I shall kill all. I Must. I will. I..pain. anger. pain. I shall destroy you Mage, if it means taking down the entire. Madness! I shall rip you to shreds and chew on your insides."

The wolf dug harder, faster now at the stone support, madness in his eyes. Nightfall apparently had gone into a psychotic madness.
"you will bleed mage." he thought angrily as Nightfall A helped to strike at the stone.

Nightfall A in a frenzied manner swung his paw around at a mirror throwing out that spinning blade that splits into four. Since Nightfall A and B had vanished, and were remade, taking a little of Nightfall's energy, but up to this point, Nightfall hadn't been very physical. The blade had been aimed towards where the wolves had last seen the mage retreat and they split into four and landed just below where the mage was floating. While the tremendous boom of the blades went off, Nightfall furiously clawed and chipped away at the pillar when energy came crackling at him from the side. Nightfall turned sideways just as the arc of the blast singed his fur and fizzled out in the ground. Nightfall resumed his mad rage attack on the pillar, somehow thinking the mage was directly behind his pillar, which was inaccurate.

Marcos was further away then that.

Bit after bit of pillar continued to chip and break and claws scraped and clawed madly at the pillar. "Kill, must, death, kill him."

Nightfall B who's ears stayed flat against skull to dull out the sound spotted the mage floating and threw his blade that spilts into 4 at the mage's ice defense, aiming carefully drowning out the pain of sound with a focused stare and quickly throwing the weapon so it would accurately hit the ice shield and go boom.

"Must kill." Nightfall angrily growled as did his copies. He swung a massive hit with his claws that threw a chunk of pillar at the wall that he had been clawing at frantically. Nightfall's eyes narrowed in anger and a second shot of energy blasted into the pillar right in front of Nightfall's face. He pulled back at the last second with a yelp of surprise shutting his eyes for an instant so the shot wouldn't blind him.

His eyes opened and he saw spots of red and purple, but still could see beyond that. The fur around his ears was singed. Nightfall B stayed on guard, while Nightfall A and Nightfall attacked the pillar some more with a frenzied choked off gargle of a growl.

Than, just like that, The madness was gone. The curse had receeded for the moment giving Nightfall Clarity. "I know what to do my lord. Just give me amble enough time to pull this off."

As soon as the 4 bit blades had exploded, Nightfall dismissed the copies who ran into the shadows. Nightfall moved into the shadows himself and quickly the copies came back and carefully on the East and West sides of the pillar, a quick throw of exploding blades was sent directly at the base of the Pillar. Nightfall standing far enough away that any shrapnel coming his way, he could dodge since the demon had now stopped roaring completely.

Again as soon as the blades exploded, the copies ran into the shadows and once more Nightfall summoned them and again they threw the exploding blades at the pillar. Nightfall let his tongue come out of his mouth and breathed in the deep chilly air. It was getting chilly fast.

Nightfall glanced at a mirror to see where all his competitors were, and he could smell where the assassin was from the scent of the man. Nightfall was still wanting to taste blood and he would. But now he must desperately complete the dark lords bidding.

All the combatants were focusing in on Marcos, this gave Nightfall amble enough time to try something else.
Again the copies went into the shadows to vanish. And again they came out of the shadows moving to their positions to throw the exploding blades with accuracy.

As soon as the blades made contact, They ran into the shadows again.
Night fall stopped at that point and ducked an incoming piece of shrapnel. He ran to the pillar and stuck an ear to it. He tapped here and there on the section he was at. Listening closely. By sound Nightfall could tell through the noise the light tap made, how far or near from reaching the goal the man turned wolf actually was. Nightfall made an estimated guess based on the sound and stepped back into the shadows calmly.

Once again the copies came out and went to east and west and threw another round of exploding blades on the pillar.

Nightfall sidestepped an incoming shrapnel piece but it took a piece of his fur with it. He gave a strangled gasp. "Gotta be careful about that." he thought to himself, his eyes on the mirrors which told him where everybody was.

< Message edited by Kellehendros -- 7/14/2011 19:38:40 >
AQW Epic  Post #: 70
7/14/2011 19:28:45   
Krey
Member

The darkness was still roaring... Or, wait, no, it had stopped for now. But it was a threat not to be taken lightly. Another roar like that from the void could disable him long enough to be deadly. He knew there was a spell in one of his books to handle that... Right! It was in the same book as his hair supplies! A small black book appeared in the air before him, the pages starting to flip of their own accord, just as Marcos noticed the small creature which had tried to form an alliance with him earlier approaching quickly. Well! This was interesting... And now it was airborne! He took hold of his staff swiftly, grinning wickedly, and raised it towards the... thing? He wasn't sure what to call it.

Either way, where nary a second before there had been a slab of ice to stop the creature's flight, now there was nothing, as both slabs had moved sideways. “You've bothered me for the last time, pest,” Marcos taunted, and thrust his staff forth. The razor point pierced straight through the creature's shell, into his body, rupturing several organs in a single blow as the little ice ninja impaled himself upon Marcos' staff. Rather than take the force of the impact upon his own body, Marcos shifted his right leg back, swinging the staff in a wide arc so that the creature slid off, bouncing along the ground towards the mirrors and landing in a lifeless heap. Ice crept along the creature's form, proof of the nature of the weapon which had struck him down.

He stood as he was, left side towards the dark void which now hid the southwest pillar from his view, and released his staff so that it floated beside him, and began to read from the book. “Sanus cancer.” Connie's Codex of Cool Conjurations was an odd tome, to say the least. It seemed everything started as spit, no matter what purpose it was to serve; from hair gel and ear protection to ropes and chains. Marcos decided he was quite glad never to have met Connie. Regardless, the spell was useless; he held his hands out, spit into both, and started chanting. “Neighbors being bloody loud? Use this if you're in a crowd! Have no fear, won't hurt your ears, just make it so you cannot hear!” The spit began to congeal, turning to an odd, chilled kind of slush. This he took from each hand and proceeded to shove into his ears... to realize that, most likely, they would result in quite the headache. They were, after all, rather cold.

With the spell complete, everything went silent. If the darkness decided to start making noise again, it'd be in vain; Marcos would be totally unaware. The downside was that this left him unable to detect assaults audibly, but hopefully that wouldn't be too much trouble. At any rate, it would protect him from the potential debilitation which that void's roar could bring about.

Just as he solved one potential problem, he realized a much more immediate problem had reared its head. He was falling again, towards the darkness. No problem this time, it turned out! One of his ice slabs slipped into place between himself and the source, and held him fast, serving as a platform. Marcos took advantage of this, shifting his body so that one knee was planted against the chilly surface, along with the other foot, so that he knelt... atop the slab? Kind of. Except the mirrors were now up and down, instead of left and right. The floor was now a wall, to his right, and the pillar, shrouded in darkness, was now below him. How interesting! Exploring his surroundings, he saw another blade coming at him and instantly recognized it from before. The second slab shifted into place to his right, absorbing the explosion and the shrapnel, though it took precious little damage from the reduced strength of the blast. This was followed shortly by another, and this time both slabs moved in an arc, bringing him closer to the western side of the arena so that the knife zipped by harmlessly, bouncing off the mirrors and flying off elsewhere.

He leaned forward slightly, fixing his eyes on the void that was... well, below him! The slab was cold against his bare shin, and the air in the arena had a noticeable chill to it now. Still not enough for anyone active to be affected by, but it would not be too much longer now.

“Prepare yourselves!” He called out, unaware that he shouted against the roar of the shadows beneath him, “You shall all feel the sting of my ice!” With that (Mostly a bluff, really!) the razor shards of ice he'd been saving spread out from his position, forming an arc around the void. There they floated, a dozen deadly chunks of ice just a few feet from the furthest reaches of the darkness, jerking up and down, back and forth but remaining within a foot of where they'd come to rest. There was no telling when they would move.
AQ  Post #: 71
7/15/2011 0:33:48   
superjars
Member

Pain seared through the large, stone-clad man’s head as a roar finally pierced the adrenaline of these last few moments, but only for a second. The earth which surrounded him slid two small plates over his ears, protecting them from the cacophony which filled the space of the arena.

“Glacial guy of frosty frivolity,” he belted out, still barely able to hear himself over the roar and his new earth muffs, “I challenge you in this arena.” Content that he had done his best to express his intentions to the chilly combatant, Goshen began striding south from his current position (just to the west of the northeastern pillar) when two things caught his eye.

The first of these was the fact that there were a pair of wolves tearing at the other side of the pillar as one sat by, staring out over the remainder of the arena. As they entered his view, he noted that they looked just like the strange creature which had given him an odd gesture at the beginning of the competition. Goshen gulped as a pressure built in his head, urging him towards the wolf, threatening violence or whatever it took to stop the creature from ripping up the stone. He pushed those feelings down into the pit of his stomach, trying to refocus on the task at hand.

The second thing that grabbed his attention (as well as effectively helping him to completely ignore the first) was the three rocks he had sent at Leira on their return trajectory from the far wall. This sparked a fun idea in the large fellow’s mind, one which he decided to put into immediate action. As he walked his way south to intercept the path, he absentmindedly felt himself sidle to the left, his hand raising to pet the wolf on the head. Obviously, the rock was pleased with the wolf who wasn’t participating in the destruction of its brethren and wanted to express that. Not Goshen’s first choice in actions, but sometimes he didn’t have much of a say in these matters.

That being completed, the man began lumbering in the path that would catch the three rocks on his side of the center area. As he approached them, he cocked back a fist, sending it flying at the center of one of the rocks. The melon-sized stone changed direction, heading off towards the ice mage, aimed to connect with the mirrors directly south of the pillar and careen off towards him.. The large man spun around, his elbow striking the next piece of earth to send it off towards the mirrored wall on the west side of the arena.

“Whoa!” the man cried out as, suddenly, he was airborne; the living stone that covered him shot his body up into the air, spinning him around so that he is first lying suspended on his back, and then upside down, his feet flailing around. As he noticed what was intended, he kicked his leg out, catching the final piece and sending it up to the ceiling a few feet away, where it sticks and starts rolling towards the southwest. Then, as abruptly as the stone picked him up, it let him go, leaving him to crash to the ground, albeit unharmed.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 72
7/16/2011 15:14:49   
Ryu Viranesh
Member

Leira stood helplessly as her cry was swallowed up by the bestial roar that was still echoing throughout the cellar and setting her ears a-ringing. It was unlikely that anything she screamed would be heard over the roar, so while she waited for the sound to abate the girl took a better glance at the carnage taking place before her. She had been right in describing the center of the arena as a war zone, since her eyes were greeted by a scene of absolute chaos; there were combatants moving every which way and implementing a dozen different strategies to try and overcome their opponent, who was more often than not the mage of Ice who had chilled the Arena.

There was a small blue creature that leaped for this very man in some kind of daring aerial attack only to find himself impaled on a spear that the magus had waiting for him. Leira averted her sight from the incident, not squeamish by any means but not willing to watch such an event if she didn’t have to. This action inadvertently brought yet another curiosity to her attention: a mass of black and darkness off to the side of the mage, its very presence serving to darken the atmosphere. She stared at it for a moment more before she shook her head and moved on, catching sight of a pair of wolf creatures that were engaged in some questionable activities and a man who was rising up from a patch of scorched earth.

Before she could take in any more she heard a movement to the side of her and turned to see Goshen walking towards his next opponent, the mage if the earth warrior’s multiple shouts were any indication. She smirked; if he was moving on it probably meant that it was time for her to do so as well. After quickly scanning the area one more time, her gaze settled on the swordsman striding forth from the southeast pillar. He looked like he’d provide her with an ample challenge, but she’d have to catch him first. Leira took a deep breath and then broke into a sprint towards her target and unintentionally, after Goshen. She ran right past him as he was redirecting his boulders from earlier, slowing just enough to give him a wave before she returned her mind, and her legs, to the matter at hand.

Unfortunately for her the swordsman wasn’t making her job any easier, as he too was striding off in the direction of the ice magus; was there anyone besides her in the arena that the man HADN’T angered? Nevertheless, that still presented her with the issue of how to catch her opponent-to-be’s attention. Sound was still out, and unless she was closer that wouldn’t have worked very well anyway. Light was great for attracting visual attention, but it often attracted far too much for her liking; using an orb of light was out. It wasn’t until she was more than halfway to the southeast pillar that an idea struck her and she veered off to the west. She wasn’t quick enough to catch her prey on foot, but she was quick enough to get within 20 feet of him. Once she was in range Leira thrust her left arm out to the side, the limb dissolving into light. If her target continued on his current path, he’d find his eyes assaulted by a sudden flash of light and a limb stretched out to block his way about 3 feet in front of him. At the same time she would yell out another challenge, a more personal one, hoping that he could hear her.

“Warrior! Since so many others are engaged in battle with the ice magus, I was wondering if I might borrow just a little of your time. I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” she yelled, her lips curving into a grin.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 73
7/16/2011 20:53:03   
Edgemaster Scion
Constructive!


Calestern staggered as the harpy went for his head. He was evading her strikes with great speed, taking care not to obtain any flesh wounds. With each evasion, Calestern began to realize something about the bird-woman's movements. She was sluggish, and her movements suggested that something was slowing her down. Was it the dryness? Perhaps the suspicious dropping temperature? It didn't matter. Following one particularly weak movement, the dark swordsman made his move. Eclipse flew, and found a resting place in the harpy's stomach. Before it could react, he released the blade, forcing the harpy to stagger from the force of the strike, and drew the loosely wrapped dagger on his back. It took only one flick of the wrist to decapitate the servant of the Wind Lord.

The battle was unexpectedly long, and his foe was handicapped in his favor. Other battles would be impossible against a well opponent. Was dying worth the chance of power? Would he be willing to put his entire life's effort in vain due to greed? No. As the chaotic skirmish continued behind him, he turned back to the stairway, and walked toward it. As a safety measure, he put up one last magical field around him that would last until he exited the arena.

Had he stayed, he would have seen the demon, another darkness competitor, and some sort of ice ninja freak-of-nature charge at the ice caster. He would have seen the ice ninja stabbed and ended. He would have heard the howls of wolves and the sounds of battle cries filling the battlefield. Instead, what he heard was the boo's and hisses from the crowd of blood-lusting people. The sounds of cowardice and failure. He continued on until he was out of sight, and out of range of the mocking yells. He wasn't ready for the Elemental Championship. If the Darkness Lord would still accept him, he would try again the next year. Regardless, he would train, and continue to grow in power.

Someday, those mocking sounds and cries for blood could be replaced with fear and pleas for mercy, as he would take joy in extracting his vengeance. For now, however, he rests.
AQ DF Epic  Post #: 74
7/17/2011 17:03:32   
Geddesmck
Member
 

On some level Reeve knew that his wounds were slowly killing him. On some level he knew that he was not adequately clothed to deal with the very decreasing temperature of the arena. On some level he was aware of the danger that surrounded him.

But none of it seemed to matter. The pain, the cold and the danger seemed unimportant next to the sheer power that filled Reeve’s body. He felt like a thunderstorm made flesh; light and heat and violence in a body too small to contain it. He wanted to lash out and break something, to test his strength and laugh in the face of death.

This is freedom, he thought with a grin upon his face, free of pain. Free of worry. Free of everything but my own strength. This is all I need. His long, confident strides ate up the distance between the two pillars, the south western one coming ever closer. As he moved, his right hand pulled his remaining dagger from his belt. The blood on his hand stained the steel hilt red.

One some level Reeve was aware of the effect the erion was having on his thinking. Normally Reeve’s abilities let him extend his power beyond his body; usually as blasts of electrical energy or, with the use of anakion, kinetic energy. Erion was different; it trapped the power inside Reeve’s body. The trapped power manifested as an increase in speed, strength and endurance. That power was dangerous. When using an erion spike Reeve was less aware of the damage inflicted on his body, because he barely felt any pain and the enhanced endurance let him ignore most wounds anyway. More than that though was the effect it had on the way he thought. The power of erion brought with it arrogance and pride; arrogance and pride which led Reeve to a dance with death.

One day he would miss a step.

He was close to his destination when a flash of light and an odd sight caused him to pause. Hovering mere feet in front of him, right across his path, was a disembodied arm. It looked as if someone had severed a woman’s arm a strung it up before him. For the briefest of instants he thought it belonged to Gabriel and all his arrogance was stifled by cold dread and panic.

But it wasn’t her arm. “Warrior! Since so many others are engaged in battle with the ice magus, I was wondering if I might borrow just a little of your time. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” The words were spoken by the woman who evidently owned to levitating arm; evidenced by the glowing stump that would connect nicely with the similarly luminescent stump that the arm ended in. Another pretty woman, he thought, perhaps I can actually function like a fighter around this one.

He raised his dagger and faced the woman. He wondered whether he could afford the time to fight her. I can’t afford to not fighter her, he realised. The disembodied arm proved that distance was no obstacle for her; Reeve could not escape a fight by running.

So he had to fight.

His only sign of acknowledging the woman was shallow nod before he brought the dagger up to throw it...

...at the south western pillar.

Even as the dagger left his hand he was moving towards the woman, sword raised and ready. His steps were quick but precise.

On some level, he was aware of the dagger hitting the stone of the pillar and dropping useless to the ground. And that was enough. He grinned as his right hand dropped to grip another spike.
AQ DF  Post #: 75
Page:   <<   < prev  1 2 [3] 4   next >   >>
All Forums >> [Gaming Community] >> [Role Playing] >> The Championships >> RE: =EC 2011= Cellar Arena
Page 3 of 4<1234>
Jump to:






Icon Legend
New Messages No New Messages
Hot Topic w/ New Messages Hot Topic w/o New Messages
Locked w/ New Messages Locked w/o New Messages
 Post New Thread
 Reply to Message
 Post New Poll
 Submit Vote
 Delete My Own Post
 Delete My Own Thread
 Rate Posts




Forum Content Copyright © 2018 Artix Entertainment, LLC.

"AdventureQuest", "DragonFable", "MechQuest", "EpicDuel", "BattleOn.com", "AdventureQuest Worlds", "Artix Entertainment"
and all game character names are either trademarks or registered trademarks of Artix Entertainment, LLC. All rights are reserved.
PRIVACY POLICY


Forum Software © ASPPlayground.NET Advanced Edition