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RE: =EC 2014= Fountain Arena

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8/24/2014 16:52:50   
unknown2215
Member

The short woman was the one to respond to his challenge, sending him a playful wink and raising her cutlass. Good, she wasn't using her guns, he was being underestimated right now. Krios would take advantage of that. He stood his ground as the woman stalked towards him, he'd remain on the defense for now and get a good gauge of how the woman fought before going in for the kill. An odd phenomena occurred as the woman walked towards him, she seemed to blur and enlarge to Krios's eyes, was this some sort of spell that she had cast without him noticing? An illusion perhaps? No, Krios did not feel the tell tale signs of him being placed under a spell. The woman was using some form of magic, perhaps she was manipulating the water in the air.

In any case, Krios scoffed as the woman swung the cutlass at his thighs, appearing blurred and enlarged due to whatever spell she was using. Parlor tricks, he thought in annoyance, crossing his left arm and holding his parrying dagger above his right shoulder. The steel plates on his coat's forearm would protect him if the woman's illusion hid her true attack. With his other arm, he stepped to the right and swung his rapier at the base of the woman's cutlass, meeting a minimal amount of resistance before the rapier slashed through the entire sword. Apparently the woman had only made herself appear larger.

As he was about to move forward and stab his rapier into the woman's chest, Krios caught sight of a glowing glass bottle flying into the gazebo. His eyes widened as he sensed the Energy within the bottle, he threw his parrying dagger at the woman, immediately activating the Lightning Beacon that he had left outside of the gazebo while he had been running earlier. The young rapier wielder transformed into lightning and vanished, striking the beacon that was left in his run to the gazebo with a thunderclap. In less than a second, lightning coalesced into a vaguely humanoid shape and from it, Krios reappeared, gritting his teeth as he witnessed a large explosion of electricity in the gazebo.

The mad man did not have enough power to do this, otherwise he would have done so when it had only been the two of them in the arena. The only other energy user here was the gunslinger. This settled it, Krios had to take out the gunslinger, with that amount of firepower, he was too much of a threat to ignore. Looking at where he had last seen the gunslinger disappear to however, Krios saw only a cloud of smoke. Narrowing his eyes in annoyance, he fired a several weak arcs of lightning into the large cloud of smoke, not expecting to hit anyone but firing anyway. Thankfully, he still had a large amount of mana left. While he had sent numerous bolts of lightning so far, all of them had been extremely low powered, the most mana that he had used was when he teleported to his Beacon. He could continue to fight at full efficiency.

Krios dropped another beacon on the spot, the fourth that he had used so far. He walked towards the cloud of smoke slowly, he wanted it to clear up before he reached, that way he could fight properly. As Krios walked, he kept an eye on the gazebo, looking for signs that one of the three others that had been inside at the time of the blast had survived. If any of them did, he could use the two beacons he now had inside of the gazebo to launch a surprise attack on them.
AQ  Post #: 26
8/25/2014 3:34:27   
Arthur
How We Roll Winner
Dec14


 Aeron noticed a couple more competitors enter the gazebo even as he himself was trying to gauge the gravity of the situation.

One of them was an energy user who wielded a rapier.

He's using a rapier and he's an energy user. He can very well combine those two to the best effect and deal a hefty amount of damage to anyone in this gazebo. Also, energy is a very versatile element that's good enough to maim anyone or stun them within seconds of contact. I'll make him my very first attack priority.

Aeron moved his eyes to the imposing Water Troll that stood on the other side of the fountain.

He's a Water Troll. That gives him both the advantage of his size and this location. There's a fountain here. Nonetheless, there's an energy user here so just a slight misstep on the Troll's part and he could electrocute himself to a crisp. The Water here does not look like it's devoid of conductors. Unless of course...

Aeron moved his eyes to the last person in the gazebo,a woman wearing a couple of cutlasses and armed with a couple of guns. She had just scrambled up after the Water Troll.

She's armed with cutlasses, no doubt proficient at mid range battle. Furthermore, she is armed with guns, that would compensate for the long range requirement. She would be a tough one but I doubt if she can fill the gaps with those firearms and two cutlasses. I'll decide once she engages me. As far as I am concerned, two cutlasses are only more of an hindrance and would leaving gaping holes in her attack pattern. Nonetheless, let us see.

All of a sudden, the woman, drew her cutlass and swung it at the Energy wielder, specifically at her lower half.

"Dirty," Aeron commented. "Now then, let's get to work, shall we...?"

The Water Troll had started to make his move even as Aeron, with one final pass near the curtain of fire near the entrance, drew Havensage from his back causing the runes on it to instantly flare a deep orange.

The Agnifron started to move towards the conflict when all of a sudden, something sailed into the gazebo that looked like... a black skull...?

It crashed at the base of the fountain and all of a sudden, an explosion roared through the gazebo.

"Hey.. what the hell...!!!" Aeron powered the string bracelet on his left hand and within half a second, his shield had materialised in his left hand. Aeron was blown back as he jumped and hid his whole body behind the Revenant barely in time for the explosion.

Thrown against the railing, Aeron continued to stay behind his shield before moving it away.

"What about the others..." He wondered as he massaged his right shoulder looking around the gazebo.


< Message edited by Arthur -- 8/30/2014 0:28:41 >
DF MQ AQW  Post #: 27
8/26/2014 1:38:48   
Micosil
Member

Zoroaster's advance towards the energy wielder was unhindered as the man engaged upon Ranlae, focusing his attacks on her. The troll's interception route passed close to the fountain, but didn't contact it, leaving his supplies of water as scarce as usual.

Ranlae had chosen to try and bluff the lightning user by amplifying her image - Zoroaster couldn't feel the water being manipulated from where he was, but he'd seen similar tricks back in his day. At the very least, it was an inexpensive trick to throw your enemy's accuracy off - and, when they relied on a precise, stabbing weapon such as a rapier it made it their attacks that much less effective.

The troll had positioned himself next to the swordsman, readying himself to strike when he saw a weakness in his defenses - when the fighter's eyes rose and opened in surprise. Immediately the old troll's eyes flicked over to whatever had caught his attention, catching a brief glimpse of lightning bounding inside a container of sorts.

There was but a brief instant to react, and the troll's motions were guided much more by instinct and impulse than by an actual plan, though later he'd try to reason why he'd acted this way. As the parrying dagger flew, the troll was leaping towards Ranlae, old joints straining as he smashed into her, driving them both to ground.

A sharp, stabbing pain in his side as they fell marked the moment a dagger was thrust into his body, unprotected now that he was sending the water around it to cover Ranlae's fortunately smaller form, the pain burning in his mind, but not enough to push the veteran fighter's focus beyond its breaking point. And, though the troll was certain that the dagger was the one that had been thrown by the energy mage, if he'd looked at the wound he would've seen Ranlae's hand holding its hilt.

A moment later, the woman was enjoying the same protection the troll had a brief moment ago, with two carefully separate layers of water providing isolation and conductivity in the right amounts. Zoroaster didn't know how much time there was until impact, but he braced himself as best he could against the coming attack, focusing on maintaining the barrier that would keep the younger woman safe.

A loud crackling marked the moment when the bulb hit the ground, and then the troll felt his whole body light on fire, pushed by the sheer force of the released energy, though he held on tightly to Ranlae. Bursts of electricity traveled unimpeded through his body now that he'd transferred his shield to his ally, muscles spasming and shaking involuntarily as he pushed the fierce agony aside and willed himself to maintain the water barrier, managing to keep it mostly intact through the ordeal, just losing a small amount of water to the floor.

The blast lasted but a brief instant, and then everything was back to an uneasy calm. The troll's body kept shaking weakly, widening the wound it had caused on entry; light smoke rose from his body, as well as a certain smell of burnt flesh, and the feeling of the lightning coursing through him had not left his body.

With a grunt of contained pain, he gathered his water back around him, from the human's body as much as from the floor, pulling away from the woman she'd just protected and slowly struggling back to his feet - trembling, burnt and wounded, but the fierce determination that shone in his eyes had not been diminished in the slightest.

< Message edited by Micosil -- 8/26/2014 21:55:39 >
Post #: 28
8/26/2014 2:15:38   
Dragonnightwolf
How We Roll Winner
Apr/Jun/Aug15


 And so it went as all good things must, that even the most carefully laid out plans can go up in smoke like so many scattered leaves in the wind. So, too was this the case for the death knight’s attempt on Connor’s life. Connor, by some miraculous, luck of the gods, managed yet again to escape death. This was truly unnerving and could present even the most patient killer or the most insane of the lunatics to new throes of madness.

“What the hell does it take to kill you, McCoy?!” Rowan thought as he watched the bang bulb go flying towards the death knight in response. Rowan took a single step with his left foot and at the moment that his foot suddenly started to give way beneath him, the death knight had responded by tossing the Bang bulb right back in Rowan’s direction. “Oh Crap!” Rowan thought as his right machete plunged straight up just barely missing the bulb as he caught his balance before taking a plunge to the dirt of the valley. “Holy hells that was close!” the madman thought as he felt a throe of the shakes strike him for a second.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw something move and turned his head slightly to get a better look. It was a competitor throwing something at McCoy, himself and the Knight. “Oh crap.” Rowan thought as he saw the object drop to the ground and smoke started to billow out of it like horses running wild on an open field. ‘Smoke! Act quick!’ the voices commanded. Rowan’s right machete turned upside down and he stuck the blade into the ground to free his hand. With his right hand holding it outwards, he cut off a piece of his shirt, then one-handedly tied it in place around his nose and mouth while the smoke grew steadily upwards dancing around his waist.

Picking up his machete, Rowan’s hands started to manipulate the energy around the smoke, as well as the fire that was near him on the steps. The energy began to rise steadily, as did the smoke. “Oh CRAP!” Rowan thought taking a quick glance back at the gazebo to see the bang bulb suddenly explode. The sudden circuit of energy over there, caused some of the random energy shooting out in a twenty foot radius to be sent towards Rowan’s manipulative skills.

As if all of heaven was angry there was a loud BANG sound which was quite similar to a huge thunderstorm. “OH CRAP!” Connor thought when bolts of lightning suddenly struck at his hands making him clench the handles of the machetes tighter and wincing slightly at the sting they caused. “What’s that old proverb? When it rains, it pours!” He thought bitterly. Getting much angrier than he already had been. These people were really testing his patience, his integrity, his mental conditioning and his limits of just how angry he could get.

“Oh BLAST IT ALL, NOW WHAT?” he thought hatefully; as the smoke finished enveloping his eyesight and hairline, hearing the sounds of running footsteps. It sounded like it was in McCoy’s direction. Rather than retreat from the smoke like everyone expected, Rowan continued to stay where he was. Hands closed tightly now around the machete handles, making his hands turn slightly red with the grip. The madman was extremely ticked off and was planning to kill as many people as he could. For now he waited, eyes watering, suffering from the clogged atmosphere. His breathing was relatively okay for now because of the makeshift mask. But that could only last for so long.
AQW Epic  Post #: 29
8/26/2014 18:34:47   
Apocalypse
Member

Connor's hat and poncho were hanging over a chair in the corner while his various weapons were strewn around them. Their owner was pacing in the darkened room while his pink companion sat on the edge of the bed. Her golden eyes followed him as he went back and forth in front of her.

"I don't mind the walking, but I can't say the same for the people beneath us."

The outlaw came to a quick halt. "Pardon," he said. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had been unaware of the clacking his boots made on the wooden floor. Had he been the one trying to get a bit of shut-eye, Connor knew he would have been half-tempted to come knocking with his colt to make some peace.

"It's about tomorrow, isn't it?"

Connor sat down, the bed creaking under his weight. "Of course it is." He shifted his gaze up to the ceiling. "Locked in an arena with all of Lore's greatest fighters? I'd be another part fool to not be worried."

Isra moved closer, her arm brushing against Connor's. His skin tingled at her touch. "What's the first part?"

The outlaw managed a small grin. "The first part was signing up."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What the hell does it take to kill you, McCoy?!” Connor only smirked in response. If that was the question his enemies were asking, then the gunslinger was doing something right. He would have reveled in the look on mad eye's face for a moment if it had not been for the realization that something had happened. Or rather, that something had not happened. He jerked his head towards the dead knight who still stood strong, the bang bulb held in his grasp. "How..." the outlaw whispered.

From seemingly nowhere, a burst of smoke engulfed the three combatants, stinging his eyes and obscuring his vision. The bandit held his breath as he pulled his bandana up to the bridge of his nose. He may have made more than his fair share of enemies in the arena, but at least his bandana was proving to be a trustworthy companion. Lightning flashed within the gazebo, followed by a large boom that filled the arena. It appeared that the dead knight had used the bang bulb for his own ends by flinging it towards the fountain. With his current run of luck, Connor would not have been surprised if all of the combatants within the structure poured out to come for the gunslinger's head. No matter, the outlaw thought as he set his Stetson back on top of his head, I'll just settle the score with these enemies first.

The smoke may have blocked his sight, but it would be doing the same for mad eye and the dead knight. The latter was an easier target as his blade's blue light was visible within the dark cloud. Without another moment of hesitation, Connor ran along the gazebo's wall and towards the orange glow emitted from the fiery steps. He tossed his hatchet ahead of him. It was not of use now, but it did free up his hand to pull out a second bang bulb. Connor wanted to see if the dead knight could pull off that little catching trick twice.

Three more bolts of electricity pierced through the smoke, their light illuminating two figures to the left. One was mad eye, that much could be certain, but the other combatant remained as shrouded in mystery as the combatants were shrouded in smoke. With no time to think, Connor relied on instinct and hurled the bang bulb between the mad fighter and the stranger. If Lady Luck decided to change her tune, then both would be caught in the following explosion. But Connor did not have a mind to sit back and watch. The sooner he felled his enemies, the sooner he could move on in the tournament

The outlaw drew his Peace Maker and burst from the smoke cloud. To his right the steps still blazed, their flames only adding to the heat on the valley floor. In front of him lay his trusty hatchet, waiting for him to return like a wife for her soldier at war. And off to his left...the dead knight.

"Tin can!" Connor leveled the revolver at the dead knight as he dropped down to pick up the hatchet in the hand already holding the Bowie knife. "Try catching these!" He fired twice, each Storm Shot heading straight for the dead knight's chest. The gunslinger holstered his weapon and switched the hatchet to his free hand before charging in. Connor doubted the bullets themselves would be enough to put an end to the armored foe, but they would provide the opportunity for his blades to finish the job.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 30
8/28/2014 0:10:41   
ringulreith
Member


There were some assumptions that you got used to making, after decades of literally carving out a place among the captaineering menfolk who plied the seas. Parrying was one of these; you redirected the momentum of a strike, you didn't stop it edge first. Blades just weren't generally made for that kind of action. So there was a modicum of shock, when Rapier swung counter to Ranlae's blow in order to stop it. Then his blade went right through, and there was no room for shock amid the disorientation, as momentum continued to turn her body forward.

You didn't get to be a woman captain by letting little things like shock and disorientation lead you off your game, though. Even as one half of her cutlass clattered against the marble railing, Ranlae adjusted her swing to aim at Rapier's other thigh. This man clearly had no idea what he was doing, if he went around blocking strikes by chopping the foe's weapon in half. Then he was throwing a dagger, which flew far off its mark even as he himself suddenly disappeared. Ranlae hoped this wrenching sensation would not become a mainstay, as once more momentum carried her beyond her intended target.

“Oof.” The grunt left her lips with an expultion of breath. Only the shifting of shadows cried a warning, before who she had thought to be an ally was upon her with his Trollish bulk. There were some assumptions that you got used to making, after decades of literally carving out a place among the captaineering menfolk who plied the seas. One of these was when a man bodily assaulted you, and knocked you to the ground. Ranlae had always known her body was frail and distinctly female, even as she worked to veil it in scarves of command and intimidation. The sea was the domain of men, and not all of them agreed with her manly aspirations. It had been a rough life, before she became good enough to fend off their often-expressed displeasure. So it was instinct that guided her hand; Even as the pain of a twisted ankle hissed out between clenched teeth, instinct drove her hand up and embedded the sawed-off cutlass beneath the troll's ribs. There was one moment of jagged crystal shard reality, then water assaulted her senses and she realized what he was actually doing. Grip slackened, she watched through some detachment as sparks burst into being, and traced glowing arcs through the gazebo. His body continued to spasm even after the stab, and she understood that he had sacrificed his own watery shield for her.

The troll finally stood up, and she after him, with a grimace of pain. Ranlae's emotions were running in every direction, but she clamped down on them with practiced discipline. Gratitude for saving her from the attack she had not seen coming, guilt over stabbing him, anger at his presumption... They had no place in a battlefield, so were thrown away for later contemplation. Right now there was a hidden attacker to hunt down and string up, a lord to impress, and an ally to conciliate. The wound was, thankfully, not visibly bleeding, probably as a result of his manipulation. She could return the favour some other way, though. Ranlae had always been a preternatural tactition, able to analyse an opponent or a battle with precise accuracy, the more time wore on. The troll was manipulating her own element, too, so it was not a large leap to conclude that he was somehow using the water around him as a physical shield. So she flexed the fingers on her arcane hand, felt out the channels of water around the troll, and commanded: “COME TOGETHER BE CLOSER BOND TIGHTER BROTHERS YE BE”

Water could be used as a physical shield because its surface tension could withstand an inordinately large amount of pressure. It was one of the more interesting properties of the universal substance, and one she did not amplify often. But it was within her powers, and she hoped that the troll would accept the apology, small as it was. Words would take too long to explain. She flashed a smile at him; twisted by years of learning to make assumptions, and eyes that had cried too many lonely tears. Maybe he would understand. She doubted it.

A tilt of the head, to scan the surroundings. Rapier hadn't gone far; he was just beyond the gazebo steps, striding towards a bank of smoke that had somehow appeared recently. Good. There was a clatter as the now ruined cutlass slipped from her fingers. Eyes narrowing at her target, Ranlae reached down and drew one of her pistols from around her hip. If he was so eager to deprive her of a weapon, maybe he just wanted her to use a different one on him. The gun had been loaded and half-cocked last night, as it always was when she slept on unfamiliar ground. Assumptions, you had to make. Paranoid assumptions, sometimes.

CLICK

The marble sent back a faint echo of the weapon cocking. Steady, steady, there. Ranlae lined the barrel up with Rapier's figure, and positioned a finger on the trigger.

And then there was sound.
Post #: 31
8/28/2014 11:28:39   
Necro-Knight
Member

His trick with the Gun Slingers toy had seemed to cause some chaos, as he heard the electrical charge off to his right and random sounds from the Gazebo. Everyone would hopefully suspect the other man for such a trick and would more than likely turn their attention towards him, while ignoring the Death Knight entirely. Once free of the smoke, the Death Knight noticed the Gunslinger again turning his attention towards him out of the corner of his eye towards his right and his eyes widened as he lowered his fire-arm towards him. Rowan didn’t know if he was going to use physical shots or his elemental alignment, but it wouldn't matter if the Death Knight didn't react in some way. As he was already moving forward, the knight of darkness used his already forward motion to drop to one knee and slams his shield down, tapping into his mana pool just enough to create a second layer of protection. His arms glowed a bright blue and black as the shadow claws formed around his gauntlets, creating a second armor that would help to diffuse the energy, if his enemy chose to use it over the physical shot.

The claws were barely finished when the two Storm Shot’s impacted Rowan’s shield and nearly knocked the Death Knight’s shield arm aside, not from the impact, but from the energy that now raced through the metal shape strapped to his arm. He grit his teeth as the raw energy bit through the Darkness Claws and stung at his skin, though not as severe as it could’ve. So, he could survive those hits, but he wasn't sure how many hits his Claws could diffuse before they dispersed. They didn't require mana to sustain, thankfully.

Ignoring the tingles still echoing up and down his shield arm, Rowan rose to see the Gunslinger quickly closing the distance between them. The only melee weapon he saw was a hatchet in one hand and a knife in the other. So, he chose these simple melee tools over his firearm, Rowan thought with a grin. He didn't want to leave himself open by just using his sword, which the man had already proven himself swift enough to dodge, so Rowan figured he’d use all of the tools at his disposal. The first action wouldn't be as strong as it could be with the energy having stung at his arm, but it would do its job all the same. Rowan snapped into motion, meeting the man’s charge head-on, and once within range… The Death Knight twisted his shoulders from left to right and then back, his shield arm painfully swinging first to try to knock the gunslinger’s weapons aside with a bash-like maneuver. While not all that graceful, the move would hopefully free up the path for his RuneSword, which followed the shield, swinging up in a roughly horizontal strike at the man’s torso.
DF MQ AQW  Post #: 32
8/28/2014 19:33:30   
Question Mark?
Member

The crack of the bang bulb jittered Yggdrasil's teeth in her skull. She stumbled, she swore, she nearly let her knife fall from her hand, but she continued her charge as best she could, dipping low to the ground and bracing her knife out in front of her, rushing through the smoke.

For a moment, everything seemed to slow down. Down at the gazebo, steel flashed, lightning crackled, water roared. On the mountain, Rowan Harper stood raging in the smoke, awash with magical electricity. And Rowan Moonstone's arc swung in a pendulous arc toward Connor's exposed stomach. Then, a number of things happened, very very quickly.

From the rapidly dissipating smoke, Yggdrasil made a flying leap, her body rushing forward a foot off the ground. With a sound occupying a world somewhere between a thud and a crunch, her shoulder collided with Connor's knee. This knee clicked into the other, and propelled by Yggdrasil's momentum and his own rapidly arcing center of gravity, Connor was thrown out of the way of the Deathknight's sword stroke. Connor struggled in Yggdrasil's grip, scrambling to break his rapid fall, but succeeded only in losing his grip on his bowie knife, which slid from his fingers into the grass, and in turning himself onto his back, which slammed hard into the ground. Yggdrasil quickly released him, and careful to keep her braced locked on either side of him, measuredly, deliberately, pulled her arm back, and slammed the blade of the knife into Connor's kidney. Or, rather, in the direction of Connor's kidney. By this point, Connor had recovered enough to regain his sense of self preservation, and had brought one gauntleted hand up to defend his vital organs from Yggdrasil's finely edged dagger. The result, unfortunately for Connor, was that the blade was instead lodged very neatly and very, very painfully into his arm.

Swallowing the pain, Connor swung his hatchet heavily in Yggdrasil's direction. Realizing that her attack had missed its mark, and that she was thus in danger of counter attack, Yggdrasil pushed herself up, leaping from his body and landing in a crouch to his left, next to Moonstone. She quickly shifted her weight onto her left side and swung a low sidekick toward Connor's head, bracing herself with her hands, but to her surprise he swung his upper body upwards, bringing himself back to some semblance of his feet and avoiding her attack completely.
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 33
8/29/2014 1:43:48   
Dragonnightwolf
How We Roll Winner
Apr/Jun/Aug15


 Smoke swirled and blossomed as if it were a thousand angry wasps, attacking a thousand angry bees, on a hot, dry, day. What else could be said? Connor, the cowardly gunslinger was fast retreating from the smoke. This much Rowan could tell from the sounds of receding footfalls. This smoke was not only blinding to the eyes, but it made the nose itch too! Curse his rotten luck. This was not how Rowan thought he’d be spending his day.

The thickness of it was enough to cause tears to roll down his face. “Why me?!” the lunatic thought trying to regain some sense of which way was which, when all of a sudden an electric bolt smacked into the madman from behind sending him stumbling forward. A second and third bolt just barely missed him. Than Rowan recovered enough to see a bang bulb coming “Oh no!” Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone else. That was his mistake, when the bulb plummeted he was sent flying backwards and landed against the gazebos side with a loud THWACK!

“Rise, rise. RISE!” the voices yelled and Harper finally stirred. Groaning, the man opened his eyes and stared for a second. Trying to desperately get his bearings. Water! that’s what he needed. Often enough, the felled were the dead. Rowan shakily reached for his machetes and went to the back of the gazebo. Grunting with effort and pain the madman climbed, sliding himself between the railing and the space of the landing. He stood there staring at the combatants in the gazebo itself. The guy with orange hair, the troll, the lady with a gun.

“Another gun wielder?!” He glanced in the direction she was aiming. The combatant he'd faced earlier! “hee hee hee ha ha ha hee ahem.” He got ahold of himself and breathed in deeply, ignoring the voices inside. Rowan walked forward, keeping his eyes trained on the other individuals as he approached the water. He removed the temporary gag and carefully stopped at the edge nearest him of the Fountain. Watching the others, he merely and carefully slipped his gag into the cool, refreshing, feel of water.

Even a human needed a drink. He had just been through hell and high water and back. Bringing the gag up while holding both machetes in one hand, the man squeezed and let the refreshing liquid pour over his face and down his clothing. Ignoring what it meant. The feel, revitalizing his senses. Awakening his thoughts. Now that he could see better. He dipped once more and put the gag up to his face. He drank the water that coursed now, it fell into the throat as if all of the lords had graced it with their allegiances.

“Hi there. Names Rowan Michael Harp” he stopped mid-sentence as he took a good look at the gun wielder. She looked quite similar to his girlfriend back on Earth. The one who’d died. The resemblance was uncanny. His face grew pale as all that could be done was to stare at her. “Ex. ahem. excuse me ma’am, For saying such a thing to such an agile and remarkable person such as yourself, but i’ll be damned if you aren’t a near spitting image of a person i loved so very long ago. Forgive my rashness, but perchance, would you like to have dinner when this is all over with?”

For once, there was no insanity in his eyes. No anger. The voices were silent as they awaited an answer. This was important. This was not death. This was not kill or be killed. This was a potential ally. A friend. Mayhaps a lover. Rowan kept the machetes lowered. To be as non-threatening as he possibly could be. Here, was a person who looked like his girlfriend on Earth. He could not believe his eyes. Perhaps this clarity would show somebody that there was still a possibility for his salvation.


< Message edited by Dragonnightwolf -- 8/29/2014 17:27:19 >
AQW Epic  Post #: 34
8/29/2014 3:53:44   
unknown2215
Member

Krios would not have been prepared for the short woman's shot if not for one thing, he was not far from the gazebo and thus, heard the woman’s shout. While surprised at her survival, Krios had seen her perform an interesting trick with the water in the air earlier, it would not be too much of a jump to assume that the woman had another trick that allowed her to defend against the blast. So when the woman took aim at him, Krios was prepared, crouching low when he saw her pull the trigger and avoided the shot. How annoying, he had been hoping for the woman and other competitors in the gazebo to have died from the explosion from the bulb-like object that he had seen flying into the gazebo.

He broke into a sprint, running towards the gazebo before the woman would have time to reload her pistol. Krios recognized her type of gun, it was less advanced than the other Energy competitor, taking a longer time to reload and having less power behind the shots. It was unfortunate that he had to abandon going after the gunslinger, but to expose his back to the woman would be tantamount to suicide. So he leaped above the gazebo’s railings and prepared to face the annoying woman once again, only to be surprised by the number of people populating the gazebo.

Not only did everyone survive the explosion, but the madman was here as well, looking worse for wear. Krios let out a breath of frustration, why did nobody die when they were supposed to? Acting swiftly, before any others could attack him, he abruptly lunged at the woman, aiming his rapier at her chest. His ranged attacks would be useless here, seeing as she had a way to negate the damaging effects of electricity, so he would simply stab her. If his stab successfully pierced the gun-wielding woman, in any part of her body, he would channel a properly powered Arc Burst through the rapier while it was still stuck in her. Doing so would send a large amount of electricity directly into her body. Then he would see if the woman could save herself from that.
AQ  Post #: 35
8/30/2014 0:42:13   
Apocalypse
Member

Isra raised a hand to Connor's face, caressing his cheek. Her touch was as soft as clouds, or what he imagined clouds felt like. She leaned in for a brief kiss...or was it a long one? With his heart beating so fast and his nerves feeling like they were on fire, it was difficult to tell. Connor had known what he wanted at the beginning of the night, but he had not expected this. Not expected to want this. Of all things he deserved, it certainly was not this.

When the kiss ended, Isra's gaze dropped for a moment before her eyes flicked up to Connor again. "A woman's kiss in my culture," she began as her fingers trailed along his arm, "is both a gift and a promise. A gift to the hero of courage to face challenges in dark times, and a promise of the hero to return."

"That's sweet and all," Connor said with a smile, "but there is one problem." His hand went for hers, and their fingers intertwined.

"I'm no hero."

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Some would say charging an armored dead knight wielding a glowing sword and shield with nothing but a hatchet and knife requires ace-high bravery. Connor was not in agreement with that. Not when it was the only real option in this fight. He supposed he could have fired a few more rounds into his foe, but there was no certainty that those would have made the dead knight any the easier to kill. Besides, the gunslinger had already used a third of his bullets and had yet to kill any one of his many enemies; no use in playing his entire hand before the game was over. The last bang bulb was out of the question. Last time Connor tried that the dead knight had caught it and sent it flying into the gazebo. He could not risk arming his opponent with any more weapons. As for running? Well, Connor was not quite familiar with all of the tastes of the Elemental Lord of Energy, but he imagined that flying from his opponent was not a good way to win favor.

So charging it was.

Even though the dead knight had blocked the Storm Shots with his shield, the bullets had done their damage by electrifying the metal, shocking dead knight's shield arm. Connor allowed himself a small grin underneath his bandana as he rushed towards the opening his shots had caused. Cashing in on this gamble would be the best pay off he had ever received.

The grin vanished not as the dead knight moved his shield to counter, but as a figure burst from the smoke cloud too quick and too close for comfort. The gunslinger had barely the time to turn his head towards the newcomer before she dove for his legs, knocking him flat on his back. The attempt to brace his fall with left hand was successful only in the loosest definition of the word and cost him his grip on his Bowie knife. His head hit the ground even as the shield and sword of the dead knight passed over him. Somehow he did not think that saving him was the intent of his assailant. Connor raised his head just in time to see the green-haired woman bring her knife downwards in a stab towards his left side. He managed to intercept the blade with his left arm, but the knife was sharp enough and the strike strong enough to pierce through the leather gauntlet and into his arm. The pain of the wound was only intensified as moss-hair pulled the blade out of the gash on the top of his forearm.

Connor struck as quick as he could with his hatchet, but moss-hair was already on the move. She leaped to his right, putting herself between the dead knight and Connor. Convenient, though the ensuing kick was less so. He jerked his torso forward, avoiding the boot to the head with all the grace he could muster for someone just thrown to the ground and stabbed in the arm. The momentum carried him close to fully standing up, and he jumped away from the combatants in front of him, stumbling a few steps before catching his balance in front of the fiery steps. Somewhere in the madness of this movement, his Stetson had fallen backwards off his head only to be caught by the string around his neck.

Sweat would have coated his forehead even without the flames burning behind him. His breathing was heavy and in quick bursts, no doubt to the constant danger he had been in since entering this forsaken arena. Before Connor were one enemy in full armor and another dressed in rogue's garb, the two as different as whiskey and tea. The possibility of mad eye hiding in the smoke to make a surprise appearance was still one to consider, and the other energy combatant could very well be aiming another bolt of lightning at him this very second. He was cornered like a rat, but even rats were dangerous when cornered.

"You know," said Connor as he pulled his bandana down with his hatchet hand. The air was still hot and dry, but at least he did not have spit and sweat-soaked cloth in his mouth during every breath. "I was hankering for a duel when I entered this tournament. Instead, I get you varmints." He held his hatchet in front of him defensively while his left hand hung loosely by his side. "But if you think the Lords give favor to yellow bellies like yourselves, then what are you waiting for?" The gunslinger bent his knees to prepare for the assault like a rattlesnake coiling itself before it sprung. But while rattlesnakes used their tails to ward off enemies so they did not have to kill, this outlaw was planning on it.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 36
8/30/2014 1:59:27   
Question Mark?
Member

The inn, if it could be called that, was hot and damp with sweat and laughter, but Yggdrasil only got to see her older sister occasionally, and this wasn't and opportunity she was going to waste.
"Aye, so there I was, outa breath, outa luck, an outa bullets, wif a right nasty slug in one arm and nofin ta use ta defend meself bu a pair a rusted up sheep shears. One me left, a nasty sorta feller wif a face like a squid munched it up an biceps the sizea ham hocks, an on me right... well, a dame wifa name that'd make the vilest villain blanch like a damn turnip! Wifa dead-eye stare that'd turn milk inta wine!"
Ascelia paused, taking a long drink and sighing contently.
Yggdrasil's eyes were wide with unrestrained awe. Finally, after a long silence, she swallowed quietly and posed the hanging question to her sister: "So what did ya do?"
Ascelia's eyes grew nostalgic. She smiled wickedly, revealing sharp teeth and a sharper tongue. Finally, she answered. "I stalled for time."

----------------------------

Yggdrasil stayed deep in her crouch, her left hand rummaging methodically through the tall grass. The gunslinger was fast. Faster than she thought. She would need to find away around that. Thankfully, his wounded arm kept him from being as signifiant a threat at close range, but that hatchet looked sharp, and could probably tear away a good chunk of flesh when swung with arms like those. She'd need to try something else, or maybe... No. She would save that. The death knight, perhaps, might merit it. Perhaps. if she could only find... all she needed was a good distraction... what if... Ah, there's the ticket.

And so,
for the first time in the tournament thus far,
Yggdrasil spoke.

"What were you expecting?" Yggdrasil said, with a toothy grin, "A gentleman's duel? An elegant death over a pit of cherry blossoms?"
(...where was that thrice-damned...)
"I hate to break it to you, but if you didn't want a dishonorable death, you probably should've stayed away from the whole, you know, being born affair."
(...ah, wait a moment, that felt like a handle... Yes!)
"Because if there's one thing that's certain," she quipped, spinning Connor's fallen bowie knife up into her off-hand grip, "It's that every living thing on this earth is going to die in vain, one way or another."
She braced her knives in a close guard, strafing sideways away from Rowan into a better position, opening both of them, and the fading smoke cloud, into the edges of her field of vision.
"All that's left now is to see which of us dies first."
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 37
8/30/2014 2:43:39   
Arthur
How We Roll Winner
Dec14


 Aeron shakily stood up, having suffered from the impact of hitting the wall. Looking around from behind The Revenant, Aeron found that the Water Troll had survived the explosion using his sheer size.

"What the hell..." Aeron cursed as he retracted his shield, once again converting it to the string bracelet. Looking around, he found that Havensage had slid off next to the base of the fountain.

The Agnifron staggered up to the blade and picked it up, just as another figure came into view scrambling up the railings into the gazebo. Right in front of the Agnifron's eyes, this man, wearing a gag walked up to the cool fountain, removed his gag and drank from the fountain.

“Hi there. Names Rowan Michael Harp”, said the newcomer. He stood across from Aeron.

Aeron had no idea what element this person used so he twirled the blade, wore it on his back and jumping from the base of the fountain, rolled back and slid into a position where from he could see all who were present in the gazebo.

"Now it's my turn..." He once again drew his blade and poised himself to charge at the most probable opponent.
DF MQ AQW  Post #: 38
8/30/2014 18:53:43   
Dragonnightwolf
How We Roll Winner
Apr/Jun/Aug15


 The reflection in his eyes was that of a haunted man. There had been no salvation for her. No last hug that day. No goodbyes were exchanged. The years came back to memory, stilling the voices like a cool wind after a gentle rainstorm. He could see her now. The most beautiful hair, soft radiant eyes of gentle light blue. Glorious, lovely fair skin. Pleasant cheekbones. She was so very, very beautiful to him. So very radiant. She struck him with awe more than once.

The passions that were shared he dare not repeat, better not to repeat for fear he’d lose this gentle memory. She had been dating him for nearly five years. The only escape Rowan had from memories that were best left forgotten. The culmination of warmth and respect is what she stood for. She brightened his hopes and heart. To rid himself of the madness, to eliminate all the traces of agony and beyond, which had put the lunatic here. This was what he fought for.

“Oh, Rowan.” the madman could hear her say. “Oh sweet, gentle Rowan, I love you with every ebb that is in my soul.” He remembered the kiss. Rowan moved the left hand machete to the right, and placed his hand upon the cheek. He remembered now. The kiss. The love. The life of Lanelle Arnstron. She had so loved him. So very, loved him only to be removed. Cursed accident. That’s what it was a cursed, ill gotten luckless toss of the dice.

Rowan remembered being there. The two had been driving along at night, enjoying the pleasant weather and the scenery of “Old Gobbs Drift”. The memory turned violent, like a raging storm across the flowing stream of consciousness. The man’s body trembled all of the sudden as memories awoke. The nightmare that had plagued the mind and drove Rowan over the edge of sanity. Into the dark depths of despair he had fallen afterwards. Some animal, a deer or an antelope had come out onto the road unexpectedly. Rowan was driving and turned to give his precious Lanelle a smile. Her face of love turned to abject horror as she let out a scream.

Turning eyes back to the road, Rowan had seen it far too late. Jamming on the brakes. The vehicle made a screeching sound. The animal struck the front grill of the machine and Rowan was tossed right out the door in surprise and pain. As the vehicle flew over the side of the large, cavernous Gorge, the madman could hear Lanelle’s scream again. Her scream of terror as she plummeted two-hundred feet to certain doom.

“LANELLE!” The lunatic had yelled out pulling himself to his feet and running to the edge. To peer beyond and see the explosion. The breath caught in his throat. The love of his life, gone. Only so much wreckage and smoke and fire were left. His left hand closed slowly and tears rolled down his face for a second time. Reality came back into focus and Rowan spoke with such a pained expression on his face. Such an expression of misery. “Goodbye. Lanelle.”
The eyes which had been downcast slowly rose. The look of insanity in them lifted to clarity and precision. The feeling of the voices halted as if through some tremendous effort of will, or some deeper, striking emotional loss had caused everything to come into focus. The machete returned to the left hand as the eyes slowly gazed at the woman who had shared a remarkable resemblance to his beloved. “You. are not Lanelle.” the lunatic said simply. Both hands trembled.

He could hear that gasbag blowhard McCoy saying something about yellow bellies. “If there is anyone that’s YELLOW!” Rowan shouted out. “It’s you McCoy! You don’t even have the GUTS. All you have are TRICKS! You aren’t a man. You aren’t even half a man.” The madman said somberly. “You. McCoy, are nothing! You hear me? Nothing! Those guns you have? Their worth as far as a snake can spit, McCoy.”

This had been the last straw. “McCoy. If you want to really prove just how much of a man you are. Then you take your sorry, flea-bitten, low riding, ass on up here to the Gazebo and we’ll settle this!” Rowan stared over at Aeron. “And without the GUNS McCoy! No real man needs to hide behind a gun!” The machete’s glistened in the light of the sun that cast across the back of the gazebo. Casting a glint across the eyes of the lunatic. He’d had enough. It was time for people to die.

“And you.” He said staring at Aeron. “Take your best shot. It’ll be your last.”
AQW Epic  Post #: 39
9/1/2014 18:09:50   
Necro-Knight
Member

Rowan listened to the exchange of words, from the Gunslinger and the green-haired woman whose element he had yet to determine. He would engage in this conversation only when he needed to do so, but before then, he would prepare. The woman of green hair was standing in a position to see both him and the Gunslinger, but besides adding her own voice to the group, she made no move towards Rowan or Connor. The Death Knight’s blue eyes drifted to her for only a moment, before returning to the gunslinger. He was wounded, his arm hanging limp at his side like a piece of meat.

It will be about as useful to him, Rowan thought.

Glad he’d created his darkness claws only a few moments earlier, Rowan subtly let the shadows soften from his arms and flow down his arms. On his shield arm, the darkness settled into his palm and the Death Knight’s fingers clawed as he forced the energy to condense… This was similar to a trick he’d pulled last year, but he was using far less energy for it now, making the result less deadly while also making it easier to release immediately. On his sword hand, the shadows flowed from his arm into his blade, converting into a darkness bolt that longed to be released.

Now, the Death Knight spoke himself, his voice smooth and cold. He spoke no louder than he needed for his opponents to hear him.

“I have done nothing dishonorable against you or anyone else in this Arena. If you deem simply using your own tools against you as dishonorable, then perhaps you and I’s rules of engagement differ.”

The energy held in his shield-hand crackled softly and the bolt in his blade simply danced from hilt to tip as he spoke, calmly.

“Now…you are standing between me and my victory…”

The Death Knight snapped into action, raising both hands suddenly and unleashing the energy he’d been holding during the conversation. The darkness magic in his left palm was released from its condensed state, firing in a thin stream towards the green-haired woman. His sword unleashed the blackish-blue bolt towards Connor and while the condensed magic followed a precise path, the bolt arced like a snake upon it’s path of destruction towards Connor.
DF MQ AQW  Post #: 40
9/1/2014 19:28:19   
Question Mark?
Member

Yggdrasil held some faint respect for the man in the hat, after his little speech. Not that she would admit it, of course. Understanding the dangers posed by your enemies and assessing their threat level was one thing, but once you started to respect them, you started to get funny ideas about how they might be fixed, or changed, or made more human, and once that was done, a dangerous threshold is passed. It is very hard to protect people you think are in the right when your enemies are unclear and your tactics are unprofessional. So no, she would never say it aloud, but nevertheless she had something approaching respect for that strange, dusty fellow. He had realized the difficulties presented by his current predicament and was working stealthily and subtly to remedy them. While Yggdrasil had successfully prevented the further use of his off-hand, and disarmed the appropriate weapon, he still had a very powerful close-range tool left in his arsenal, and although he was not as skilled with the hatchet as he might have been with his other equipment, it would still pose a serious threat, due to his great strength. In a close, scrappy fight, one more fair and, yes, more honorable by any decent metric, the gunslinger would certainly be able to hold his own against her, and do some decent damage in the process. His monologue, however brief, was sneaky and duplicitous without being overtly nasty, and that was something Yggdrasil valued. That kind of subtlety to achieve one's own ends reminded her, almost, of herself, although of course she would not be so sloppy as to get into a position to require such a trick. Of course.
The thing to do, then, was to survey the situation. Connor was in a fighting stance, hatchet up, but not doing anything as of yet. Unable to fire without dropping the hatchet, he would no doubt employ a charge, probably toward the Death Knight. Without the Knight's interference, she could probably intercept him, or at the last trip him up and let the Knight gain the advantage, but she had already done so once before. Perhaps the Knight would be able to finish him off. She had seen him fighting before and had no doubt in his ability to chop things into little cursed bits, especially against an opponent with less-than-optimal melee capability. then again, it was entirely possible that the Death Knight had the recognized the same tactical advantage that she had, and would come for her instead. This was frustrating. She typically staked out her enemies, learning their habits and methods, before she made her move. There were a great many variables here. She had a weapon that worked against non-living enemies, but only one, and wrapped up deep in her bag. What if something bigger came along? No time to chalk a circle either, and no flat ground to do so, even if there was. No, better to hope that the two take each other on, and then remove the survivor from the equation. Hopefully by removing some vital part of their anatomy from their body. (Ensuring that her enemies were as dead as she thought they were had always been a recurring difficulty for her.)
The Death Knight was talking now though, and, ah, his voice was quieter than she had expected. Smoother, too. She had met only one Death Knight before, and her voice had been a guttural growl. Nasty piece of work, that girl. But this fellow seemed restrained, almost. That, she supposed, was what one got for making assumptions about other people. And... oh. That's quite a lot of magic he's got th~
Yggdrasil leapt forwards, sliding onto the ground as the beam of etheric energy flashed toward her like a stream from a very small occult fire hose, searing strips of leather from her bag and sending most of its tumbling onto the ground. Yggdrasil quickly turned her attention to the problem, shrugging off her scorched and tattered backpack, flashing her eyes back and forth between the fight and her supplies. There were too many things in here for her to carry. Too much equipment for her to deal with. She quickly sheathed her dagger and set to to bag with Connor's bowie, trying her best to cut the straps from the bag to create an impromptu carrying strap. Every so often, her eyes flashed to the clashing opponents nearby, trying to judge the time she had. Why did things always have to go wrong in such painfully trivial ways? Couldn't she, just for once, get... ugh. What? An elegant death over a pit of cherry blossoms? Damn his eyes. Let's hope this leather gives quickly.
AQ DF AQW  Post #: 41
9/1/2014 22:12:51   
ringulreith
Member


“Hi there. Name's Rowan Michael Harp”. Ranlae had seen eyes like his, swirling with the haunted emptyness of the sea that drove some men to madness. His approach had gone unnoticed, with her focus on Rapier. Those maelstroms latched onto her face with a fierce hunger, and flighty clarity landed amid his wet lashes.

Ranlae turned away at the stream of desperate words that flowed out of this newcomer's lips. There were more important matters to attend to, like the Energy fencer leaping back towards the gazebo, after having avoided the shot. Age had tought her face stoic resignation, but the bitter tang of disappointed anger coated her tongue. She should have... She should have expected for this to start happening again. As it does many things, the sea had washed away her memories, of being a girl, of being treated like a girl, of when the bulk of reputation and respect and fear hadn't disguised her accursed female figure. Of course, here in this arena where canvases came to be washed, people would treat her like any other frail woman. Fool her, for expecting the land to echo the sea.

The pistol was hard in her grip, as she slid it back into its customary position at her hip. A wasted shot, with no time to reload. Useless. Ranlae's body showed none of her inner termoil as that same hand arced back up, to clutch at the second cutlass strapped at her back. Rapier was charging back, and she wouldn't let him get away this time. Fool her, but not without hope. A boon from the lords themselves, for the last gladiator who refused the deadly call of those scarlet sands. A boon from the lords who had sparked her life and shaped it into a female mortal form, and could so reshape it at their whim. Ranlae had ventured to land a woman, and she would die before leaving it as such.

“Her onrushing tide, will sweep all asside!”, a section of the audience were still clammering, and their voices drifted down to join the melee as well. She had a bet waiting to be collected, and damn if she lost it. Ranlae. Bet. To. Win.

The cutlass hissed through the cool gazebo air as she drew it, but there was no time to strike. Rapier was already upon her, deadly sharp blade poised to skewer her through the chest. Ranlae attempted to dodge into his guard. The shift in weight agrovated her twisted ankle, and it complained with jolts that shot up her leg, and turned her dodge into a sideways stumble. The rapier arced past her chest, on a direct path to her right shoulder.

The tip penetrated below Ranlae's collarbone as she lost balance, and continued to score a deep gouge counter to her fall. The path of fire it traced through flesh suddenly flared with tremendous fury, as energy raced down the weapon and into her body. Pain that had been held back behind clenched jaws exploded into screams that sundered the gazebo. White marble dissolved into specks that swam in spirals through a crimson world. There was gravity, and a shrill buzzing, and a flat cloud of cold stone.

At some point, the buzzing petered off into silence, from which rumbled up another sound. It was... Words. “aaa... oooh aaah... Oh crap!” The was more rumbling, but the clarity receded like a tide. There was something about that, tides... Water... Ocean... That clarity too, receded. There were more clouds, but they were warmer and softer. Floating through the white specks, leaving them behind and rising through the crimson towards a distant light.

The world slowly resolved, as if black water was being sucked down a drain to reveal the white porselane beneath.

“If you’ll pardon me saying madame, You look like hell. I bet you that nick you just got, hurts almost as bad as my own shoulder does.” Ranlae came to hearing the sound of... It was Rowan... Speaking above her. It was much, much hotter, and the side of the gazebo was to her back. Sweat glistened on the man's naked torso, and a quick examination revealed his shirt to be slowly redening around her shoulder and upper arm. The deep wound was even visible through the cloth, and generated a constant surge of pain. It was nowhere near as great as the original shock, so Ranlae grit her teeth and bore it. More worrying was the lack of response from the rest of the arm, which refused to carry out the desire of grasping the marble ledge to stand; the entire area was numb. Scrabbling with the other hand, she dragged her battered form into a crouching position. Her breaths came out in sharp yelps, as evidence of some lung damage. The abdominal muscles further down her sides were cramping and sluggish.

There was a burst of sudden hatred towards the face she saw, as Ranlae raised her head up. He was here, witnessing her at her worst and weekest, proving all the insecurities right; she was a woman, and would never account to anything; she was weak and helpless; just give up and become a serving maid, girl, and leave the see to men. Turning her head away, she shuffled away, the gazebo her cruch. She was not dead, yet.

The thoughts came sluggishly, as she reached for that mental switch. The pain had turned it off, but thoughts did come, and her final limb folded out once more. “steam”, she commanded with battered confidence. Hot and humid as the air around her was, it took little effort to plunge the water over. A cloud of steam slowly curled about Ranlae's hunching figure, growing to obscure her from sight.
Post #: 42
9/1/2014 22:42:07   
Dragonnightwolf
How We Roll Winner
Apr/Jun/Aug15


 While he stood down Aeron with an icy stare, out of the acorner of his eye he saw movement and heard a loud cry. His head spun in the direction and when he saw Ranlae flinch as if in utter pain. The lunatic turned and ran towards her. He dove out, sliding on the marble and catching her body as she took the literal plunge. One of his knees, skidded across the marble to a stop and his machetes dropped beside him with a loud clank.

“Oh Crap!” he said staring at the wound that had so neatly tucked itself across her shoulder and arm. “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!” Rowan said as he quickly pulled off his shirt and tied it around her shoulder to stop the flow of blood. He caught her gun as it plummeted from her hand with the free left hand, while the right hand held her. “Oh crap! need to get you someplace safe!” The lunatic said. “Hang on, I got you.”

Rowan grunted with Effort hoisting her up onto his right shoulder and placing the gun into his belt, he ducked down and grabbed his machetes with the other hand. The pain was already searing in his shoulder but he ignored it. Running to the left end of the gazebo and jumping over the railing. The madman landed on his feet just barely managing to keep from plunging forward with her and he let out a yell of pain as the shoulder burned with the effort it took to do this stunt.

“You should be safe here for the time being.” He said placing her off his shoulder and gently in a sitting position on the ground. He took a quick peek past what he could see to the interior of the gazebo and glared across at the energy wielder that had done this. “Damned you!”
he thought bitterly. Rowan looked back down at the woman. She was in bad shape. “If you’ll pardon me saying madame, You look like hell. I bet you that nick you just got, hurts almost as bad as my own shoulder does.”

The troll, seeing the ally get hit and suddenly being dove off the side of the left wall of the gazebo, stumbled over, bruised, battered and burned. Taking a good long look at what lay before him the old troll raised an eyebrow ever slowly. “That’ll do, youngster.” He said to Rowan.
The madman looked up at the Troll leaning on the railing. Before he could speak, the troll suddenly winced, his face lining up in pain. The troll reminded Rowan of a great grandfather he’d met when he was 10 just before the man died.

The troll plummeted over the side of the railing. “Oh crap!” Rowan said with shock again dropping the machetes on the ground to catch the old troll in his arms. “I got you old timer!”
Rowan’s hand strayed toward a machete but it stopped at the last second. NO! his will of mercy fought off his bloodlust. This old troll had done no harm to he. Nor taken a single shot. The old troll deserved respect!

“Are you okay?” Rowan asked with a face of focus and concern. “M.mm…..my ..h..heart.” The old creature said clutching his left most hand to the chest in a tight embrace. “I..i..h.e..l..p.” All at once the lunatic realized what was happening. A heart attack! He’d seen plenty of those back on earth in the Asylum before breaking out. “God dang it ya old codger, not here! not now!” He tried to pull a manipulative trick from his skillset. A hammer of energy but it fizzled out before it could even beat on the trolls chest. “Oh. Crap!” the madman said with desperation. “I don’t have the power. I can’t manipulate a hammer. GODDAMMIT!” he yelled out loud striking the old troll’s chest with his right hand hard. “Don’t you do this darned you! Don’t you die now!” Rowan’s face perspired as he swung his fist down again.

The old troll’s face continued to line up in pain for a moment, a deep inhale. A sharp, shapely exhale before the troll slumped forward into Rowan’s arms. Dead. “GODDAMMIT!” Rowan yelled out again in anger. He placed the old troll down on the valley floor and grabbed both of his machetes. He looked over at the woman starting to conceal herself. He spoke to her again. “You’re tougher than the seven seas.” He said gazing toward the gazebo. He struck his fist against the railing he could reach and instantly regretted it. “Oh crap. That’ll leave a bruise later.” He muttered feeling the left fist throb with pain.

He looked at Ranlae hiding in the steam. “Just know this. I don’t look down on anyone who’s as strong as you are. In will and in strength.” He pulled himself up into the gazebo again and she could hear him say in a venomous tone. “If i live through this tournament. I swear i’m going to ask the Energy lord not only to rid me of this madness, but to give me some real power so i can do something RIGHT for a fricking change!”

He was focused, but he was clearly upset. The old troll brought back a memory that had been buried. He forced his willpower to silence the voices once again and glared across the arena of the gazebo at Krios. Without even saying a word Rowan pulled his hunting knife out of the sheath with a quick snap of his fingers in motion and threw it with the precision of a man who could throw knives with uncanny accuracy. Having played many games of darts and throwing knives at billboards when he was in the asylum.

The knife was aimed in a clear shot for Krios’s heart.
AQW Epic  Post #: 43
9/2/2014 9:49:46   
Apocalypse
Member

"What were you expecting? A gentleman's duel? An elegant death over a pit of cherry blossoms?" Connor only gave a slight shrug in response. Moss-hair did have a point, even if her words were a bit flowery for his taste. I just didn't expect my stupid little head to be in such high demand. Almost as if his thoughts had been spoken aloud, Connor heard mad eye from within the gazebo start spewing words with enough venom that a rattler would have been green with envy. Something about McCoy being a yellow-belly and being gutless and that he was less than half a man. There was also something about his guns being worthless, yet mad eye wanted to fight the yellow-bellied coward without the guns being in play. Connor rolled his eyes. He was not here to interpret the ravings of a mad man, and he already had far too much on his own plate for his own good.

“I have done nothing dishonorable against you or anyone else in this Arena..." began the dead knight. Was this some strange custom in the arena? Fighters spend the first few bits trying to kill each other without proper introductions and then take a breather to chat for a while if anyone was still alive? As strange as it was, Connor was a bit grateful for the interlude. Any time for an extra breath or two was time well spent. Although the dead knight was not doing this for the sake of holding a ceasefire; even as he spoke, the dead knight's sword came alive with electricity. Or rather, it looked like electricity but was black and blue instead of the bright yellow and white Connor was accustomed to seeing in Dr. Lee-Kan's laboratory.

“Now…you are standing between me and my victory…” Connor tensed his legs and smiled. This one was a talker and enjoyed the flair of dramatics. And nothing was more predictable than a dramatic talker.

Even as the dead knight lashed out with his hands, sending his blast and bolt to moss-hair and the gunslinger respectively, Connor was already in motion. He was nowhere near as quick as lighting, but he was quick enough for a dead man in an armored suit. The outlaw jumped into the air, pushing off the ground with his right foot and swinging his left foot in the air behind him. The momentum spun his body up and away from the bolt as it blasted past him. "Nothing dishonorable?" Connor asked as he landed. He began sidestepping so as to put the dead knight between himself and moss-hair. It appeared she dodged her attack as well, though her bag was not as fortunate. "You tried to cut off my head from behind without so much as a 'howdy' or 'hello'! Or is backstabbing an honorable practice here?"

Connor stopped moving as soon as all three fighters were arranged in a perfect line. Now for a gamble. "Hey, moss-hair." The outlaw took slow steps towards the dead knight, his hatchet at the ready. "How about we have a go at this dead knight before fighting each other? We kill him, we fight each other, everyone wins." He kept his left arm loose by his side. No sense in playing all of his cards when the game was still young.
AQ DF MQ  Post #: 44
9/2/2014 11:21:28   
unknown2215
Member

The short woman had managed to draw her second rapier out of its scabbard and attempted to dodge into his guard, admirable, but ultimately futile. His other arm was held beneath his chest, he would simply use Thunder Palm to blast the woman away when she passed his rapier. But that didn’t happen, the woman stumbled and his rapier dug into her shoulder, beneath the collarbone and continued to tear through her flesh as electricity coursed through the blade. Krios had been planning on impaling the woman and channeling energy through his blade only to stun the woman before pulling the blade up through her skull. With the magical enchantments on his rapier, he could certainly do so, slicing through flesh and bone were as simple as slicing a loaf of bread.

Unfortunately, the woman had been stumbling and his burst of electricity did indeed stun her, causing the woman to fall and his rapier to cut through her collarbone. He did not even need to pull the blade up. The madman had been yelling retorts at the gunslinger’s taunts as this happened and Krios felt his respect for his fellow energy competitor grow. Only for him to raise an eyebrow in surprise as said madman dove and caught his water-manipulating foe before she hit the ground, carrying the woman on his shoulder before running to the left end of the gazebo and jumping off it.

Electricity sparked around his blade, aftereffects from the Arc Burst he had channeled into the woman earlier. Krios shook his head as the old troll stumbled after the madman who had taken his comrade away, was there no one who would fight face to face in this forsaken tournament? The only reason that he had joined in the first place was to have a good challenge and he had been sorely disappointed so far. The troll fell from the railings, odd, but not unwelcome. At this point, Krios just wanted to move onto the next opponent in the gazebo, the man with orange streaked hair. Now that one, he looked promising, with a sword and shield made out of a strange grey metal that he couldn’t identify and runes inscribed onto them.

“Hm?” Krios saw something glinting in the pool of water, he strode towards the pool and reached into it with his empty hand, grasping onto a familiar handle. He grinned as he pulled one of his parrying daggers out of the pool, this was most likely the one that he had thrown at the woman when the bulb of energy exploded in the gazebo. Having had no actual practice at throwing knives, it had flown off course and landed in the pool. He stepped back from the pool, facing the fire competitor once more. “Well then, fire user, shall we begin? It is not quite what I had in mind, but I hope that we have a good duel.” He heard shouting from the side of the gazebo, the madman, but he paid it no mind, he was finally going to have a proper fight!

Krios held his weapons in a loose stance as he readied himself, watching the fire competitor closely when suddenly, the madman pulled himself into the gazebo once more, glaring at him for some odd reason. Krios raised an eyebrow in curiosity as the madman pulled out a hunting knife, throwing it towards him in a snapping motion. He read the path of the knife and sighed, shaking his head as the hunting knife bounced off his enchanted steel breastplate. “It seems that we will not get the chance to test each other’s mettle in battle yet, fire competitor.” Krios spoke mournfully.

Focusing himself, he glared at the madman, “I had thought that you regained your senses after that speech to the gunslinger. It seems that I was wrong.” He swung his rapier, advancing swiftly as he did, unleashing the remaining energy from the Arc Burst he had channeled into the woman earlier. A weak, thin flurry of electricity shot at the now shirtless madman. There were only three weak bolts of lightning fired, most of the energy had been expended electrocuting the water-manipulating woman earlier, but it would keep the madman occupied while Krios approached him and that was all he needed. When there was only fifteen feet between him and his fellow energy competitor, he stopped, falling into a stance and waited for the madman’s move. There would be no banter to trade, no words of respect, this madman had interfered in what might have been his only chance at a proper fight in this competition.

The madman would pay for it in blood.
AQ  Post #: 45
9/2/2014 20:39:18   
Dragonnightwolf
How We Roll Winner
Apr/Jun/Aug15


 The old proverb went “When it rains, it pours.” The other proverb, which currently fit Rowan to a T, was “Out of the frying pan and into the fire!” Because it would seem that is exactly what the lunatic had done. Gone from one bad situation with Connor and made it worse by going into a situation with a rapier-wielding, lightning-blasting, armored snake in the grass. This was just downright unbelievable. Rowan had seen the armor earlier when they’d first faced off; Why oh why did he not recall that important detail?

“I had thought that you regained your senses after that speech to the gunslinger. It seems that I was wrong.” Great, the armored guy was angry. Wonderful. That was all the madman needed. The fluid motions of the rapier-wielder were met with equal movements from Rowan’s machetes. Rowan could see the pattern of lightning coming at him. The first bolt missed the mark wildly when Rowan moved his head to the right sharply, hearing the electrical sizzle flying past him.

It made his hair stand on end. The next blast came for his chest. The lunatic swung both of his blades into an X and as soon as the energy shot into the machete’s he turned them upside down in a swift motion and deposited the energy into the railing, of the gazebo. The third struck his throwing hand and he let out a yowl of surprise and pain, dropping to a knee and sending his fist down into the marble where the energy faded out of his hand.

He stood up again and narrowed his focus on Krios in a calm manner. His voices whispered to him. “Kill him. Destroy him.” He forced his willpower to silence the voices and his eyebrows narrowed. “Brave talk coming from a guy wearing an armor plate!” Rowan gave the man a careful look over. The energy wielder’s body armor went to the chest and stomach. Legs unprotected, neck and head area unguarded. Groin area as far as he could tell was the coat and such. But he could gamble a bet there might not be protection down there.

Secretly his hand trembled. It wasn’t locked per-say, but it certainly was feeling the effect of that last electrical zap. The lunatic showed none of this in his face. The hand trembled slightly but he didn’t give anything away in a card game and he wasn’t gonna give anything away here. “Dammit!” he thought. “This is not going to end well." "So, friend. Why don’t you at least tell me your name and the reason you are fighting today hmm? What drives you to this battle? For me its my sanity and real power. What about you?”

Krios was a dangerous man and had to be dealt with professionally, there was no room for error. The next series of attacks had to be precise and they had to do significant amounts of damage. They had to cripple Krios. Rowan waited and gazed at all the vulnerable spots thinking of which possibility to go for. The face? The rapier-wielder would expect that. It had to be the groin, legs or somewhere thereabouts then.
AQW Epic  Post #: 46
9/3/2014 2:12:05   
unknown2215
Member

Only one of his bolts had hit the madman, not the best result, but it was better than all of them missing their mark. Krios stood fifteen feet away from his target, outside of striking range. He ignored the madman’s banter, his chance at having a glorious battle was ruined, the fire competitor would either use this opportunity to try taking out both him and his fellow energy competitor or leave the gazebo in search of other opponents. The lunatic spoke more, meaningless and desperate drivel rolling off his tongue, perhaps he recognized the situation that he was in.

Krios advanced, not bothering to respond to his opponent’s obvious ploy for time. At fifteen feet though, the madman would have an ample amount of time to respond to any of his attacks. Instead, when there was merely seven feet of space between them, Krios lunged for the deranged energy competitor’s heart. His rapier held the greater reach and the madman would impale himself upon Krios’s blade if he attempted to move forward to strike at his unarmored regions.

Dodging such a hideously straight forward stab was still simple however, and Krios would not stop there, the lunge was only an opening move to his next set of attacks, a mere feint. He would redirect his blade at the last moment and swing at the madman’s left arm instead, compensating for any movement that the madman would have made to dodge the stab. Arc Burst would be channeled through the blade as he had done for the woman earlier. Regardless of the outcome, Krios would then step to the side and swipe his rapier at the madman’s torso, releasing whatever remained of the Arc Burst towards his target at nearly point blank. Krios moved with the grace of an experienced fighter and struck with speeds that most warriors found hard to keep up with.
AQ  Post #: 47
9/3/2014 2:45:43   
Dragonnightwolf
How We Roll Winner
Apr/Jun/Aug15


 Krios was no lackey when it came to attack range. Rowan recognized right away that the rapier might be a weapon that could give some troubles. Unfortunately, for the rapier wielder he didn’t know a thing about the lunatics past. Or his life therefore, before all this change had happened. The man didn’t bother to waste a minute moving forward and attacking Rowan in what could only be called a feint move.

The madman had a stepfather who once took him to some fights. Several of those included fencing matches back when he was 12. He recalled the memories of those matches. The movements, the fluid swings. Everything that had ever gone on in the matches the madman recalled. True that the rapier was a weapon for reach and speed, but it also had similarities to fencing. If only he’d had a better weapon. Wait. He did have a better weapon. A gun with a single bullet.

He dared not use it right now. That would be foolhardy. He needed an opening. One which Krios clearly wasn’t going to give without a real match. But what could Krios be planning? Clearly; the man’s intent was written on his face to a small degree. If one knew what to look for and a lunatic certainly knew what to look for after spending so long in the asylum. So how best to respond?

Rowan knew how to make an opponent bleed. So when the straight forward stab came at him, Rowan merely spun to his right kicking a rock that had somehow come up from the valley with his re-entry and sent it flying for Krios eyes, while that was going on his right hand machete swung in a simple slashing motion aimed towards the middle of the knee. He might not have enough reach except that a machete was longer than a knife, shorter than a sword. His side-step spin moved him as if in a dance towards his opponent.

Krios could never have known that the lunatic knew much about long ranged weaponry through the guards own bo-sticks and fencing-like weapons they themselves used in the asylum. That record was confidential and had never been made public. What the guards did to him, would actually pay off in helping him to beat back the rapier-wielder now. The left machete would stave off an attack in case a counter at the wrist was needed. Meaning he’d use the machete to force the wrist of his opponent upwards and not the rapier itself.

He couldn’t tell why, but some gut instinct inside him told Rowan that to aim for the weapon itself could somehow be a mistake. Plus he had spotted a weapon that clearly looked like it had been broken in his previous lunge to save that gorgeous girl he’d just risked his life on.
Something deep told Rowan he had to be careful or else all bets were off and he’d be dead.
AQW Epic  Post #: 48
9/3/2014 3:02:10   
unknown2215
Member

The madman was a crafty one, kicking a stray rock that had somehow made its way into the gazebo at his face. Krios ducked down to avoid the incoming pebble, continuing forward in a crouch. His plan would have to be abandoned, instead, Krios slashed downwards forcefully, rapier meeting the machete that the madman had positioned in a counter. Out the corner of his eye, Krios saw the lunatic’s other machete descending towards his knee. He caught the tip of the oversized knife with the prongs of his parrying dagger and redirected the blow to the side, rising as his rapier slashed through the machete.

Krios’s respect for the lunatic grew slightly, if nothing else, the man could improvise and fight smartly. If he had decided to simply swat the rock flying at his face with his left arm to continue with his original attack plan, his knee would have been wide open for the madman’s slash. Unfortunately for the madman and fortunately for him, he had abandoned the feint.

With merely a split second to make his decision, Krios twisted the parrying dagger that had caught the madman’s right machete, forcing the blade out of the madman’s hand. He abandoned the parrying dagger and continued his advance, bringing his rapier back up with a twirling motion and aimed an open palm at the madman’s diaphragm. With hardly any space between the two of them, his palm would definitely hit something and he would activate Thunder Palm to shock and blow the madman away.
AQ  Post #: 49
9/3/2014 3:18:05   
Dragonnightwolf
How We Roll Winner
Apr/Jun/Aug15


 Krios proved most resourceful and didn’t disappoint. The left handed machete was destroyed just as that gut instinct had warned Rowan about. Sure enough his weapon broke upon the cut by the rapier. “Oh hell, Now what am i going to do? If i make it to the finals i need my weapons. Crap!” It was swift, and it was sure and now Rowan was down one machete.

“Oh crap!” the madman realized just a second too late as the parrying dagger swung down and interrupted the aimed swing for the knees. The other motion caused the machete to fly from his hand. As it did so, Rowan reached down to the belt grasping the gun. He saw another attack incoming and as he drew, swung his right arm upwards. The gun pointed dead blank at krios face not giving the man even the air to breathe before the hammer pulled and the bullet went flying out with a violent bang.

At that very instant; the shoulder that had been previously injured, took the shocking blast that sent Rowan flying. Right out of the gazebo and landing on the ground outside with a loud grunt. His arm hurt like hell and Rowan was without weapons now. The gun, empty, had landed just outside the gazebo wall on the left side. Even as the madman swung his right arm down into the ground violently to stop the pain he felt.

Rowan shook the cobwebs from his head and stood up again. He couldn’t keep taking too many more hits like that one or else he was going to fall and not get up. As it was the pain in his right arm throbbed. The lunatic swung his arm into the gazebo with a grunt of agony; hearing the loud “Pop” sound of his shoulder going back in place. Now it wouldn’t hurt quite as violently. But Rowan thought to himself “Oh crap. Now what? I’ve lost my weapons, my arm hurts like hell, and unless that last attack did that energy wielding son of a b in, I’m frigging helpless. I could use rocks. But that’s only going to get me so far. Crap. Need a plan. need a weapon. Dammit!”
AQW Epic  Post #: 50
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