OK posting is allowed here now, Any out of character posts should be in this thread, the exceptions are; important OOC posts made by the judges (Aya, Khael, and myself), OOC posts accompanied with an IC (in character) post, and thats pretty much it for now.
OOC: Keep OOC posts to a minimum, only if accompanied by an in character post too and only if explaining something with that same subject as the in character post. The OOC Thread. that OOC thread is for all OOC posts and posting characters. :OOC
BIC: The structure you're standing in is a large, bowl-shaped, roofless building with a bare dirt floor, then on the peripheral circumference, gradually rising up to the tops of the outer walls are the stands. It immediately strikes you that you are standing in a unbelievably large coliseum.
The sky is black with hints of red and the inhabitants of the stands are immediately recognizable as Baatezu (devils); all except for the first row whose inhabitants actually look like civilized normal humanoids (although this may just mean they are higher rank and perhaps diplomats from other planes).
Suddenly you hear a unnaturally deep voice call for silence, you turn towards the speaker and see he appears as a white haired, but very young and attractive, human with slightly pointed ears. He raises his hand and the entire arena is silent, he speaks again,
"Welcome to Hell or as we prefer to say Baator, I am Sorcen Anenooata the ruler of this plane, but please do call me Sorcen. I have gathered you all here today to take place in a tournament, at the end of which the winner will get a great prize. I will choose who fights when all of our participants arrive, I hope you enjoy your stay and we will be calling upon our first combatants shortly." He pauses and looks around, "Feel free to ask questions and relax or train or whatever you wish until our tournament commences. That is all, carry on." he bows to the competitors gathered and then takes his seat on his throne queitly talking with his apparent queen, a beatiful woman appearing slightly vampiric but with the beauty of an angel.
OOC: I'll be posting all the other in character stuff that happened in the other thread so far after this first post. :OOC
Judge Entrances
Sorcen: see above text.
Aya: Aya suddenly hears the beautiful music coming from the arena below. As she listens closer the tune sounds slightly familiar to her. Then oddly enough past memories of her angelic past floods back and she begins humming along with it.
She continues humming and glances at Sorcen, who is unmoved by the melody, and smiles then closes her eyes and has a happily relaxed appearance on her face.
Khael: +Suddenly from above descends a great whirlwind filled with the sounds of grinding and splintering bone, and the screeches of metal under strain. It descends upon the great stand at the forefront of the arena siphoning down into a space a few feet across, before winding down to leave a figure, garbed as though a knight out of a fantasy story. A fantasy story told to frighten children, young and old, for where should be gleaming plate steel lies black metal enlayed with bone in intricate and horrific designs, where should be a cape of pure cloth, falls blackened bone-tipped chain and gut, where would be the folded steel of a knight's gleaming gauntlet, falls spiked gauntlets festooned with spars of bone, and where would be the face of a proud and virtuous knight is a nightmarish mask in the form of a skull hewn of bone and black metal with teeth and spars jutting outwards and a pair of intense spiteful pin-point-like red glares projecting from the sye sockets of this terror's helm...
The horror seats upon a third throne, just apart from the other two-taken throne, the third of the unholy triad in the stands...+
Sorcen: see above text.
Aya: Aya suddenly hears the beautiful music coming from the arena below. As she listens closer the tune sounds slightly familiar to her. Then oddly enough past memories of her angelic past floods back and she begins humming along with it.
She continues humming and glances at Sorcen, who is unmoved by the melody, and smiles then closes her eyes and has a happily relaxed appearance on her face.
Khael: +Suddenly from above descends a great whirlwind filled with the sounds of grinding and splintering bone, and the screeches of metal under strain. It descends upon the great stand at the forefront of the arena siphoning down into a space a few feet across, before winding down to leave a figure, garbed as though a knight out of a fantasy story. A fantasy story told to frighten children, young and old, for where should be gleaming plate steel lies black metal enlayed with bone in intricate and horrific designs, where should be a cape of pure cloth, falls blackened bone-tipped chain and gut, where would be the folded steel of a knight's gleaming gauntlet, falls spiked gauntlets festooned with spars of bone, and where would be the face of a proud and virtuous knight is a nightmarish mask in the form of a skull hewn of bone and black metal with teeth and spars jutting outwards and a pair of intense spiteful pin-point-like red glares projecting from the sye sockets of this terror's helm...
The horror seats upon a third throne, just apart from the other two-taken throne, the third of the unholy triad in the stands...+
Chros vs Korone and Arik vs Butcher and Kyranoc vs Gideon and Turlus/Thor vs Kyr and Gideon vs Korone
Korone vs Chros
I'll pit Korone against Chros, a vampire griffon with innate spellcasting much like a dragon's.
Granted this may not work out just right yet because I dont have my two judges. I should be able to pull it off alone considering its only sparring and getting used to the style of play.
BIC: A huge griffon steps up to challenge the dragon, Korone, to a sparring match. The griffon's muscles bulk as it steps forward and it seems to grow in size slowly. His beaked maw moves as if uttering words. He then waits for Korone to make the first attack.
OOC: I hope the arena is big enough.. and you can be sure this time I typed this in note-pad, not that retarded firefox.
___________
BIC: A medium sized humanoid wrapped in dark clothes enters the arena, aalking slowly. The clothes seems to be made out of shadow, absorbing the light around it, moving constantly as if it were multiples long tentacles snaking the air and the ground, even if there is absolutely no winds of any sort. Further examination reveals that the humanoid isn't touching the ground, instead he simply levitate.
He continu his way to the middle of the arena, examining the weak looking griffon, way too arroguant for a so frail and slim mortal... bird. Pathetic he thinks. Although, being in the arena, it should be worth to combat, even if Korone haven't met such an opponent for the last couples millenia. Instead, he simply eradicated large army of pretty much anything.
Some seconds looking at his opponent was enough to judge it. The griffon was big, compared to him now. Surely he played with his size multiples times in the past with tiny insect such as humans, now he'll reverse the game.
Two huge, constantly growing wings sprouts from the back of the humanoid. A large tail grow in his low back, snaking the ground. His whole body get bigger and bigger. A myriad of spikes grow instantly under the clothes, piercing it. Long sharp onyx black spikes. Its neck elongate, making his head finally appearant. The humanoid gain a draconic appearance to be fully transformed barely a few seconds later. A truly regal colossal dragon stand on his back legs, roaring at the small griffon in front of him. Grey-ish vapors get out of the burning mouth full of large black teeths, ready to eat in one bite the four legged bird in front of it. Korone looks at his opponent furiously, his deep cold empty black eyes giving a more than intimidating look at it.
He then fall back on four legs. Its mere weigt shakes the arena violently, crashing the large sculpted rocks that forms the ground. Around 500 feets at the shoulder, wings wide open, the dragon lower his head in the direction of the vampiric griffon.
Then, his voices booms everywhere in the arena, a insanely loud and gutural voices that would deafen mortals unlucky enough to be near him without a chance, talking in a tongue common to the griffon. "Death shall be yours, you who have made the error to challenge me. Weakling."
His sentence barely finished, Korone swing his house-sized hands with huge, deadly tallons at Chros.
OOC: Oh yeh the arena is plenty big enough, Sorcen counted on overly large opponents when he made it. I type all my stuff up in wordpad just in case something happens to delete all my hard work.
BIC: Chros looks up at the dragon as it grows to its now massive size. The griffon seems to continue growing and deftly dodges the claws and takes to the air hovering in front of Korone and steadily growing.
Chros' beak moves as if chanting and lightning arcs from his front talons towards the great dragon. This particular lightning is black and bright green in color and emanates a demonic aura, the lightning strikes against the dragon's chest with devastating force.
The hovering griffon cocks his head sideways looking at Korone, He speaks in a high pitched and dangerously beautiful voice. "So how do you like my custom lightning, and dont worry cuz thats just a taste of what I can do."
Chros flies a little bit back and seems to be waiting for something with a sly grin on his face, well as best as a griffon can grin.
BIC:
"Well, I do hope you are able to do better. Bird."
Korone barely look at his scales slightly scratched from the lightning, for he is partially demonic. He higher his front left arm and with a powerful move, he claw the air quickly. At the same instant, a part of the sky get more and more red during a second to become as red as melting lava.
A light cloud is formed in this region and a large number of large balls of flaming rocks, some in fusion, falls on the griffon fiercely. A loud cracks emanate from the cloud as the flame, rocks and lava falls on the griffon, recovering the ground an instant later.
"I too, can do magic."
OOC: Nice move Korone. It's not overkill dont worry, this griffon is a little tougher than that. :OOC
BIC: THe griffon pushes himself up off the ground slowly and spits blood and its shields flicker and disappate, he coughs and looks up at the dragon. "Nice move but you underestimated that lightning."
The griffons grins and watches as the dragon doubles over in pain. The spot where the lightning hit Korone starts hurting and burning unbelievably and suddenly produces arcs of lightning from the spot and the arcs strike various points on Korone's body in a radius from the point of initial impact.
Chros coughs more blood and flaps his wings to hover a few feet off the ground and allow his broken left back leg to hang limply in the air. One of his wings is bleeding profusely and he realizes he must land and rest on the ground.
OOC: Fire storm, not Meteor Swarm. Actually, the action would had been completely different from what I can read in the spell description. And don't worry, there's still a lots of 'secrets' to show. Meteor Swarm would had been, much more 'violent', in my opinion.
BIC:
Korone endure the pain from the lightning. He had underestimated this magic. He would not satisfy the griffon to express his pain in any way.
Seeing that his opponent is weakened greatly, he swing his wings at the bird quickly, with the intention to impale it without mercy, using the long spikes placed on top of his 'hands'.
OOC: Yeh I wasnt sure if it was meteor swarm or not, the lava part tipped me off. This is the part of the match where I'd need the 3 judges, to collaborate via PM and decide when to step in and say that one character is finished unless he can come up with somethin fast.
Pretty much I'm hoping the players will have honor enough to admit that their characters were hurt or even defeated. :OOC
BIC: The deadly wings heading straight for the incapacitated griffon strike against an invisible force just before reaching the target. The griffon rises to his feet once again, albeit very unsteadily and favoring his broken leg and battered wing.
Chros begins chanting and his wounds begin to heal. The wall of mysterious force holds the wings back and Chros' chants become more pronounced and violent.
Chros' voice seems to come the air around him now as he continues his chanting from his beaked mouth, "It was a nice match lizard, but it must come to an end. If you can survive this last little bit then you'll win, as I will have exhausted myself completely."
The griffon's chants get louder and his body stops healing most of way through. The sky grows very dark and Chros glows with a bright green and black aura crackling with lightning.
OOC: No problem about admiting the lose of our, at least my, character. Although when it comes to a dragon older than most of the know gods, well.. you know what I mean.
Other than that, I already have ideas for other characters if Korone ever die.
BIC:
Pretty much insulted about a simple wall of force stopping him, Korone cast a spell too, though, his is much quicker to cast.
A portal quickly open back of the griffon. While the gate isn't really wide, what comes from it is no less dangerous. A rather large insect comes out. Black with a long, rasor shaped horn, the insect is completely set in fire. Before it have times to move, three more similar insects comes out. They jump forward, flying quickly in the direction of the griffon when a huge and continuous swarm of these follow through the portal, attacking and disrupting the griffon.
OOC: I didnt mean that bit to be accusative if it sounded that way, I was just stating it. Yep I understand completely about the power of this dragon, and its good to have some other ideas for more characters just in case.
I'm debating on whether to allow multiple characters per player or not, it may be a bit confusing if two characters by one player have to fight. :OOC
BIC: The griffon retains its concentration while under the attack of the creatures. Chros' eyes shine and he suddenly shimmers away and appears in the air at Korone's head flapping his wings to stay aloft.
The sky grows almost black and it begins raining, and the thunder and lightning follow soon after the rain. Each bolt of lightning strikes the great dragon and wind begins to pick up.
Chros is still chanting and reaches his front right talon upwards and catches a lightning bolt in mid-flight. The lightning takes the form of a lance and swells and crackles with the green and black energy and emanating the same demonic aura.
The griffon lets out a shrill shriek and dives towards the dragon, aiming to impale Korone's heart with his demonic lightning lance. Following the diving Chros are many bolts of lightning from the storm, about 12 in all.
The dragon's great size prevents it from dodging out of the path but a slight movement will make Chros miss his mark and only deal minimal damage to Korone.
OOC: Chros is bleeding and hurt from the attacks of the bugs and still from the fire storm attack earlier. This is essentially his last attack here. Korone you decide if he hits the heart or just strikes a harmless spot beside it. The effect of the impact of the lance will just hurt and shock him and puncture through him enough to be deadly if it struck the heart. :OOC
BIC:
Luckily, Korone dodge the griffon's bolt, although, his roar echos in the entire arena. He near his head where the bird stand and say lowly: "Missed."
A fraction of second later, a large, long spikes pierce through Chros's torso. The 18 feets long rasor sharp bone impaling the creature. A second later, Korone attack with his second wing, impaling it in the stomach, breaking through the spine.
Now at his mercy, the dragon raise up on two feets, his gigantic wings forming a circle around him. He move his head near the griffon and screams as loud as he can. After some seconds, without ending his scream, Korone begins eating Chros' soul.
OOC: I'll let you make the finishing post. Korone will simply throw Chros' body as soon as he'll have finished.
BIC: Chros' soul fights against being eaten and the life slowly ebbs from the broken and bloody body of the griffon. After almost two minutes of fighting against being eaten, the soul of the griffon finally falters and is consumed by Korone.
The dragon tosses the body to the side and the lifeless griffon skids to a stop a few feet from the stands. The crowd cheers at the dramatic conclusion of the battle and at the victory of Korone.
A black robed human with great red horns protruding from his forehead levitates out to the arena and escorts the victorious dragon from the arena. Hellcats are tied to the fallen griffon's body and are commanded, by a pit fiend riding the dead Chros, to drag the body from the arena.
OOC: Tomorrow morning I'll post the intro for the Arik vs Butcher battle. So what do you two think of how it works, any suggestions or ideas to improve it? Hopefully the judges would solve the problems with it but theres that problem of recruitment. :OOC
BIC: A short but wide cloaked figure walks into the arena and stands perfectly still. Sorcen stands and speaks, "Arik Raum, if you would be so kind as to report to the arena for the sparring match you requested. This is your opponent Butcher." The archfiend sits back down and waits for Arik's entrance.
OOC: Hmm, I seem to have forgotten about the vampire part of Chros, on that note: Meet Butcher, vampire dwarf gunslinger/fighter. :OOC
Granted this may not work out just right yet because I dont have my two judges. I should be able to pull it off alone considering its only sparring and getting used to the style of play.
BIC: A huge griffon steps up to challenge the dragon, Korone, to a sparring match. The griffon's muscles bulk as it steps forward and it seems to grow in size slowly. His beaked maw moves as if uttering words. He then waits for Korone to make the first attack.
OOC: I hope the arena is big enough.. and you can be sure this time I typed this in note-pad, not that retarded firefox.
___________
BIC: A medium sized humanoid wrapped in dark clothes enters the arena, aalking slowly. The clothes seems to be made out of shadow, absorbing the light around it, moving constantly as if it were multiples long tentacles snaking the air and the ground, even if there is absolutely no winds of any sort. Further examination reveals that the humanoid isn't touching the ground, instead he simply levitate.
He continu his way to the middle of the arena, examining the weak looking griffon, way too arroguant for a so frail and slim mortal... bird. Pathetic he thinks. Although, being in the arena, it should be worth to combat, even if Korone haven't met such an opponent for the last couples millenia. Instead, he simply eradicated large army of pretty much anything.
Some seconds looking at his opponent was enough to judge it. The griffon was big, compared to him now. Surely he played with his size multiples times in the past with tiny insect such as humans, now he'll reverse the game.
Two huge, constantly growing wings sprouts from the back of the humanoid. A large tail grow in his low back, snaking the ground. His whole body get bigger and bigger. A myriad of spikes grow instantly under the clothes, piercing it. Long sharp onyx black spikes. Its neck elongate, making his head finally appearant. The humanoid gain a draconic appearance to be fully transformed barely a few seconds later. A truly regal colossal dragon stand on his back legs, roaring at the small griffon in front of him. Grey-ish vapors get out of the burning mouth full of large black teeths, ready to eat in one bite the four legged bird in front of it. Korone looks at his opponent furiously, his deep cold empty black eyes giving a more than intimidating look at it.
He then fall back on four legs. Its mere weigt shakes the arena violently, crashing the large sculpted rocks that forms the ground. Around 500 feets at the shoulder, wings wide open, the dragon lower his head in the direction of the vampiric griffon.
Then, his voices booms everywhere in the arena, a insanely loud and gutural voices that would deafen mortals unlucky enough to be near him without a chance, talking in a tongue common to the griffon. "Death shall be yours, you who have made the error to challenge me. Weakling."
His sentence barely finished, Korone swing his house-sized hands with huge, deadly tallons at Chros.
OOC: Oh yeh the arena is plenty big enough, Sorcen counted on overly large opponents when he made it. I type all my stuff up in wordpad just in case something happens to delete all my hard work.
BIC: Chros looks up at the dragon as it grows to its now massive size. The griffon seems to continue growing and deftly dodges the claws and takes to the air hovering in front of Korone and steadily growing.
Chros' beak moves as if chanting and lightning arcs from his front talons towards the great dragon. This particular lightning is black and bright green in color and emanates a demonic aura, the lightning strikes against the dragon's chest with devastating force.
The hovering griffon cocks his head sideways looking at Korone, He speaks in a high pitched and dangerously beautiful voice. "So how do you like my custom lightning, and dont worry cuz thats just a taste of what I can do."
Chros flies a little bit back and seems to be waiting for something with a sly grin on his face, well as best as a griffon can grin.
BIC:
"Well, I do hope you are able to do better. Bird."
Korone barely look at his scales slightly scratched from the lightning, for he is partially demonic. He higher his front left arm and with a powerful move, he claw the air quickly. At the same instant, a part of the sky get more and more red during a second to become as red as melting lava.
A light cloud is formed in this region and a large number of large balls of flaming rocks, some in fusion, falls on the griffon fiercely. A loud cracks emanate from the cloud as the flame, rocks and lava falls on the griffon, recovering the ground an instant later.
"I too, can do magic."
OOC: Nice move Korone. It's not overkill dont worry, this griffon is a little tougher than that. :OOC
BIC: THe griffon pushes himself up off the ground slowly and spits blood and its shields flicker and disappate, he coughs and looks up at the dragon. "Nice move but you underestimated that lightning."
The griffons grins and watches as the dragon doubles over in pain. The spot where the lightning hit Korone starts hurting and burning unbelievably and suddenly produces arcs of lightning from the spot and the arcs strike various points on Korone's body in a radius from the point of initial impact.
Chros coughs more blood and flaps his wings to hover a few feet off the ground and allow his broken left back leg to hang limply in the air. One of his wings is bleeding profusely and he realizes he must land and rest on the ground.
OOC: Fire storm, not Meteor Swarm. Actually, the action would had been completely different from what I can read in the spell description. And don't worry, there's still a lots of 'secrets' to show. Meteor Swarm would had been, much more 'violent', in my opinion.
BIC:
Korone endure the pain from the lightning. He had underestimated this magic. He would not satisfy the griffon to express his pain in any way.
Seeing that his opponent is weakened greatly, he swing his wings at the bird quickly, with the intention to impale it without mercy, using the long spikes placed on top of his 'hands'.
OOC: Yeh I wasnt sure if it was meteor swarm or not, the lava part tipped me off. This is the part of the match where I'd need the 3 judges, to collaborate via PM and decide when to step in and say that one character is finished unless he can come up with somethin fast.
Pretty much I'm hoping the players will have honor enough to admit that their characters were hurt or even defeated. :OOC
BIC: The deadly wings heading straight for the incapacitated griffon strike against an invisible force just before reaching the target. The griffon rises to his feet once again, albeit very unsteadily and favoring his broken leg and battered wing.
Chros begins chanting and his wounds begin to heal. The wall of mysterious force holds the wings back and Chros' chants become more pronounced and violent.
Chros' voice seems to come the air around him now as he continues his chanting from his beaked mouth, "It was a nice match lizard, but it must come to an end. If you can survive this last little bit then you'll win, as I will have exhausted myself completely."
The griffon's chants get louder and his body stops healing most of way through. The sky grows very dark and Chros glows with a bright green and black aura crackling with lightning.
OOC: No problem about admiting the lose of our, at least my, character. Although when it comes to a dragon older than most of the know gods, well.. you know what I mean.
Other than that, I already have ideas for other characters if Korone ever die.
BIC:
Pretty much insulted about a simple wall of force stopping him, Korone cast a spell too, though, his is much quicker to cast.
A portal quickly open back of the griffon. While the gate isn't really wide, what comes from it is no less dangerous. A rather large insect comes out. Black with a long, rasor shaped horn, the insect is completely set in fire. Before it have times to move, three more similar insects comes out. They jump forward, flying quickly in the direction of the griffon when a huge and continuous swarm of these follow through the portal, attacking and disrupting the griffon.
OOC: I didnt mean that bit to be accusative if it sounded that way, I was just stating it. Yep I understand completely about the power of this dragon, and its good to have some other ideas for more characters just in case.
I'm debating on whether to allow multiple characters per player or not, it may be a bit confusing if two characters by one player have to fight. :OOC
BIC: The griffon retains its concentration while under the attack of the creatures. Chros' eyes shine and he suddenly shimmers away and appears in the air at Korone's head flapping his wings to stay aloft.
The sky grows almost black and it begins raining, and the thunder and lightning follow soon after the rain. Each bolt of lightning strikes the great dragon and wind begins to pick up.
Chros is still chanting and reaches his front right talon upwards and catches a lightning bolt in mid-flight. The lightning takes the form of a lance and swells and crackles with the green and black energy and emanating the same demonic aura.
The griffon lets out a shrill shriek and dives towards the dragon, aiming to impale Korone's heart with his demonic lightning lance. Following the diving Chros are many bolts of lightning from the storm, about 12 in all.
The dragon's great size prevents it from dodging out of the path but a slight movement will make Chros miss his mark and only deal minimal damage to Korone.
OOC: Chros is bleeding and hurt from the attacks of the bugs and still from the fire storm attack earlier. This is essentially his last attack here. Korone you decide if he hits the heart or just strikes a harmless spot beside it. The effect of the impact of the lance will just hurt and shock him and puncture through him enough to be deadly if it struck the heart. :OOC
BIC:
Luckily, Korone dodge the griffon's bolt, although, his roar echos in the entire arena. He near his head where the bird stand and say lowly: "Missed."
A fraction of second later, a large, long spikes pierce through Chros's torso. The 18 feets long rasor sharp bone impaling the creature. A second later, Korone attack with his second wing, impaling it in the stomach, breaking through the spine.
Now at his mercy, the dragon raise up on two feets, his gigantic wings forming a circle around him. He move his head near the griffon and screams as loud as he can. After some seconds, without ending his scream, Korone begins eating Chros' soul.
OOC: I'll let you make the finishing post. Korone will simply throw Chros' body as soon as he'll have finished.
BIC: Chros' soul fights against being eaten and the life slowly ebbs from the broken and bloody body of the griffon. After almost two minutes of fighting against being eaten, the soul of the griffon finally falters and is consumed by Korone.
The dragon tosses the body to the side and the lifeless griffon skids to a stop a few feet from the stands. The crowd cheers at the dramatic conclusion of the battle and at the victory of Korone.
A black robed human with great red horns protruding from his forehead levitates out to the arena and escorts the victorious dragon from the arena. Hellcats are tied to the fallen griffon's body and are commanded, by a pit fiend riding the dead Chros, to drag the body from the arena.
OOC: Tomorrow morning I'll post the intro for the Arik vs Butcher battle. So what do you two think of how it works, any suggestions or ideas to improve it? Hopefully the judges would solve the problems with it but theres that problem of recruitment. :OOC
BIC: A short but wide cloaked figure walks into the arena and stands perfectly still. Sorcen stands and speaks, "Arik Raum, if you would be so kind as to report to the arena for the sparring match you requested. This is your opponent Butcher." The archfiend sits back down and waits for Arik's entrance.
OOC: Hmm, I seem to have forgotten about the vampire part of Chros, on that note: Meet Butcher, vampire dwarf gunslinger/fighter. :OOC
Tyrion vs Septimus
BIC: Tyrion walks out into the arena, looking at the crowd with a smile on his face. The air seems to be a little whiter around him then anywhere else, and his quarterstaff pulses steadily a golden-white radiance. He fishes out two rings from his belt, and puts one on one hand, and one on another. His fists insatantly blaze to life with a green flame, but the air around them is cold, as if landing a nasty blow would chill the target to the core instead of burning him. He says something softly under his breath, and then the bracers on his forearms glow softly red once, then the glow subsides. the air around him seems even more warped than usual now, almost as if he was standing behind a wall of water. "Septimus," he shouts in a cheery voice, "come out so we can entertain our hosts! We should not keep them waiting." As he says this, he turns and bows to the judges. He slips his quaterstaff into it's holder and stands with his arms crossed, a smile playing about his lips. He looks just a little dangerous as the green light from the flames on his fists illuminates his face, flickering and dancing across his weathered features.:BIC
OOC: Just wanted to let everyone know that I added a couple items to Tyrion's stuff. I'll post them later:OOC
OOC: I reserve Septimus's right to have an arsenal of magical items from his description.
BIC:
Septimus rushes onto the arena.
"Sorry I'm late, everyone! But the master magician is here at last, so let's get this party started!"
Septimus proceeds to buff himself.
BIC:Tyrion smiles as the mage comes rushing inot the arena, apologizes, and starts casting spells. Tyrion gives him no time. Rushing forward almost too fast for the eye to follow, he leaps through the air at Septimus, chuckling as the mage raises an eyebrow just before being knocked to the ground.
OOC: Just to let everyone know, Tyrion's boot's of striding and springing give him a 120ft. speed.
What appeared to be Septimus raising an eyebrow, was actually Septimus's eyebrow elongating and changing position. As he is knocked to the ground, his body has become swallowed up in massive layers of fat which cushioned the fall. Septimus swiftly got up, layers of fat fading but his skin changing into chitinous armor and his proportions shifting.
Septimus fires off a Quickened Soundball(Fireball with energy substitution), followed by Greater Dispel Magic
Tyrion rolls off of Septimus, a little surprised by the mage's swift transformation. As the bead of sound zips toward him, Tyrion lashes out with his fist, sending the spell rebounding at Septimus. Tyrion feels the magic of Septimus trying to rob him of his powers, but he calls on a tiny portion of his draconic gifts and takes the energy into himself, bolstering his strength and speed. Tyrion takes a turn to cast a spell of his own. He flings a quickened cone of cold at the wizard, then dissapears from sight.
Tyrion's Cone of Cold rolls off Septimus without appearing to harm him.
"I can see that this will be no ordinary battle. I must find a way to deal with your speed. Ah, this will do nicely."
Septimus strikes the ground with his staff. The ground trembles slightly.
Tyrion takes advantage of Septimus's actions and while the mage is striking the ground, he enables the power of one of his tatoos. Reappearing as if from nowhere, he hits Septimus with a flying kick in the chest, his foot seeming to become iron, his toenails enlargeing to form long claws that rake through the mage's robes and claw his chest. Tyrion made sure not to strike too hard, and while he knocks the mage off his feet, his blow only left a large bruise. He vanishes again, the speed of his attack and his retreat faster than greased lightning. He prepares another move, while Septimus gets off the ground.
Septimus laughs, as Tyrion's foot is caught by an adamantine chain that came from the ground. Other chains rise up like tentacles of some deranged demonic squid and grab Tyrion's other limbs.
"I'm getting knocked down all over today. Well, no problem."
Septimus performs a few quick movements with his fingers. As he does this, his form changes once again, so that his legs disappear under a wide base, while his face is slightly transformed.
Tyrion uses another of his spells, and his entire body turns to whitish blue energy as he slips from the chains and dissapears from sight. The chains wave about, searching for their prey, and Tyrion thinks The deranged demonic squid must be angry...
Septimus looks around.
"Hm, monks with spells are annoying. Well, I'll soon put a stop to that."
Septimus starts to chant as mysterious glowing runes rise up.
As Septimus begins chanting again, Tyrion activates another of his tattoos. The stylized tattoo of a crab on his shoulder begins to glow a soft orange (even though no one can see him).
The runes Septimus has raised up disappear. They reappear a second later, covering Tyrion's tattoos.(About 12). A new batch of runes appears in front of Septimus.
The tattoos latch onto Tyrion, and he frowns at them thoughtfully. They seem to quiver like jelly, then dissolve into goop and evaporate.
As the runes disappear, they suddenly flare up, doing 1d10 damage each(SR nonwithstanding). The new batch latches on to Tyrion's tattoos.
"Fool. Do you really believe that your magic can defeat me?"
Septimus yells out a single word and is covered in a shimmering globe.
"No, I do not think my spells can defeat you. But do think this can." Tyrion becomes visible, then begins to twitch. His skin takes on a silver sheen, and he starts growing in size. He falls down on all fours, and wings burst from his back. A tail snakes into being, and his fingers and toes elongate into sharp, black claws. A dragon bigger than almost any that has lived now stands before Septimus, towering almost eighty feet above him. His silver scales reflect the red sky, and he booms out, "I am Tyrionalithxanus, and I have received the blessing of Ishtalnomaaz, eldest of the silver dragons!" He fires off a quickened meteor swarm (OOC:epic spells :BIC), turning the area all around Septimus into fountains of earth, lava and fire. He then charges into the smoke, claws dancing with eerie green flames.
The effects of the meteor swarm bounce off the globe.
"Hm. For this, I may require something more powerful. Wait for a second. Or less."
Septimus makes a fleeting gesture with his hand, and time itself is stopped, as Septimus escapes in between the ticks of the clock. He reappears no time at all later, wrapped in layers upon layers of magic.
"I think I may change form as well."
Septimus begins to grow and lean forward, his teeth elongating.
OOC: Sorry for being gone so long, everyone. I've been really busy and this is the first time I've been able to get on my computer in days.
BIC: Tyrion blinks for a moment, seeing Septimus in one spot one second, and another even before that second as passed. He chukcles, and says, "A mighty spell, Septimus. But, may I introduce to you one that you may find interesting?" The colossal dragon dissapears from sight in a flash of blue light again, and a moment later Septmus feels his layers of magic peel off and lash back at him. Tyrion's voice booms out of nowhere, "I invented this spell. It is made to combat the most powerful foes I fight. Many a great red wyrm has met his doom when this spell stripped him of his magic protection, spells and abilities."
Tyrion feels his own magic strip away, as the spell is turned back on him.
"What's good for the wildboar is good for the sow, Tyrion!"
"I call for an early ruling! I do not wish to kill Tyrion, for he is my fellow in the service of Good!"
OOC: Just wanted to let everyone know that I added a couple items to Tyrion's stuff. I'll post them later:OOC
OOC: I reserve Septimus's right to have an arsenal of magical items from his description.
BIC:
Septimus rushes onto the arena.
"Sorry I'm late, everyone! But the master magician is here at last, so let's get this party started!"
Septimus proceeds to buff himself.
BIC:Tyrion smiles as the mage comes rushing inot the arena, apologizes, and starts casting spells. Tyrion gives him no time. Rushing forward almost too fast for the eye to follow, he leaps through the air at Septimus, chuckling as the mage raises an eyebrow just before being knocked to the ground.
OOC: Just to let everyone know, Tyrion's boot's of striding and springing give him a 120ft. speed.
What appeared to be Septimus raising an eyebrow, was actually Septimus's eyebrow elongating and changing position. As he is knocked to the ground, his body has become swallowed up in massive layers of fat which cushioned the fall. Septimus swiftly got up, layers of fat fading but his skin changing into chitinous armor and his proportions shifting.
Septimus fires off a Quickened Soundball(Fireball with energy substitution), followed by Greater Dispel Magic
Tyrion rolls off of Septimus, a little surprised by the mage's swift transformation. As the bead of sound zips toward him, Tyrion lashes out with his fist, sending the spell rebounding at Septimus. Tyrion feels the magic of Septimus trying to rob him of his powers, but he calls on a tiny portion of his draconic gifts and takes the energy into himself, bolstering his strength and speed. Tyrion takes a turn to cast a spell of his own. He flings a quickened cone of cold at the wizard, then dissapears from sight.
Tyrion's Cone of Cold rolls off Septimus without appearing to harm him.
"I can see that this will be no ordinary battle. I must find a way to deal with your speed. Ah, this will do nicely."
Septimus strikes the ground with his staff. The ground trembles slightly.
Tyrion takes advantage of Septimus's actions and while the mage is striking the ground, he enables the power of one of his tatoos. Reappearing as if from nowhere, he hits Septimus with a flying kick in the chest, his foot seeming to become iron, his toenails enlargeing to form long claws that rake through the mage's robes and claw his chest. Tyrion made sure not to strike too hard, and while he knocks the mage off his feet, his blow only left a large bruise. He vanishes again, the speed of his attack and his retreat faster than greased lightning. He prepares another move, while Septimus gets off the ground.
Septimus laughs, as Tyrion's foot is caught by an adamantine chain that came from the ground. Other chains rise up like tentacles of some deranged demonic squid and grab Tyrion's other limbs.
"I'm getting knocked down all over today. Well, no problem."
Septimus performs a few quick movements with his fingers. As he does this, his form changes once again, so that his legs disappear under a wide base, while his face is slightly transformed.
Tyrion uses another of his spells, and his entire body turns to whitish blue energy as he slips from the chains and dissapears from sight. The chains wave about, searching for their prey, and Tyrion thinks The deranged demonic squid must be angry...
Septimus looks around.
"Hm, monks with spells are annoying. Well, I'll soon put a stop to that."
Septimus starts to chant as mysterious glowing runes rise up.
As Septimus begins chanting again, Tyrion activates another of his tattoos. The stylized tattoo of a crab on his shoulder begins to glow a soft orange (even though no one can see him).
The runes Septimus has raised up disappear. They reappear a second later, covering Tyrion's tattoos.(About 12). A new batch of runes appears in front of Septimus.
The tattoos latch onto Tyrion, and he frowns at them thoughtfully. They seem to quiver like jelly, then dissolve into goop and evaporate.
As the runes disappear, they suddenly flare up, doing 1d10 damage each(SR nonwithstanding). The new batch latches on to Tyrion's tattoos.
"Fool. Do you really believe that your magic can defeat me?"
Septimus yells out a single word and is covered in a shimmering globe.
"No, I do not think my spells can defeat you. But do think this can." Tyrion becomes visible, then begins to twitch. His skin takes on a silver sheen, and he starts growing in size. He falls down on all fours, and wings burst from his back. A tail snakes into being, and his fingers and toes elongate into sharp, black claws. A dragon bigger than almost any that has lived now stands before Septimus, towering almost eighty feet above him. His silver scales reflect the red sky, and he booms out, "I am Tyrionalithxanus, and I have received the blessing of Ishtalnomaaz, eldest of the silver dragons!" He fires off a quickened meteor swarm (OOC:epic spells :BIC), turning the area all around Septimus into fountains of earth, lava and fire. He then charges into the smoke, claws dancing with eerie green flames.
The effects of the meteor swarm bounce off the globe.
"Hm. For this, I may require something more powerful. Wait for a second. Or less."
Septimus makes a fleeting gesture with his hand, and time itself is stopped, as Septimus escapes in between the ticks of the clock. He reappears no time at all later, wrapped in layers upon layers of magic.
"I think I may change form as well."
Septimus begins to grow and lean forward, his teeth elongating.
OOC: Sorry for being gone so long, everyone. I've been really busy and this is the first time I've been able to get on my computer in days.
BIC: Tyrion blinks for a moment, seeing Septimus in one spot one second, and another even before that second as passed. He chukcles, and says, "A mighty spell, Septimus. But, may I introduce to you one that you may find interesting?" The colossal dragon dissapears from sight in a flash of blue light again, and a moment later Septmus feels his layers of magic peel off and lash back at him. Tyrion's voice booms out of nowhere, "I invented this spell. It is made to combat the most powerful foes I fight. Many a great red wyrm has met his doom when this spell stripped him of his magic protection, spells and abilities."
Tyrion feels his own magic strip away, as the spell is turned back on him.
"What's good for the wildboar is good for the sow, Tyrion!"
"I call for an early ruling! I do not wish to kill Tyrion, for he is my fellow in the service of Good!"
Gideon looks reflective, and blows some smoke-rings at the judges.
Well, isn't this exciting?
After waiting for several more minutes, he turns towards the stands.
So, any of you seen a giant flying lizard recently? He's got a world of pain coming, and I'd hate for him to miss it.
Standing in the back of the little man, the dragon is invisible, floating in his humanoid form. Without a single sound, he create a long magical vorpal sword, replacing his right forearm completely. He rise his arm slowly in the air. In the middle of Gideon's sentence, he swing his newly formed sword infused with negative energy at the mortal as quick as he can, trying to smite it.
So predictable.
Another man, exactly the same as the one face down in the dirt, appears out of thin air on the other side of the arena. He wears an odd pair of goggles, and appears to be able to see the invisible dragon.
My battle with that damn changeling reminded me of the dangers of being hasty when I found my foe helpless. I would have thought you to would know that as well. However, in your defense, it was a convincing effigy, was it not? And you...not in your dragon form I notice. Good. Flesh tears so much easier.
Gideon aims his staff at Korone and invisible blades scour Korone's body, ripping off strips of flesh, which fall to the ground.
With a quick gesture, Korone raise a hand. Where Gideon stands, the gravity change completely, propulsing the small man into the air at an amasing speed. A second later, six arms sprout from his back and under his original arms. Long flashy white spears appears in his upper arms, sickly greens ones in the ones lower which let a very thick and opaque liquid poison flow slowly, the third pair hold even bigger spears which seems to be made out of purple-ish lightning striking the ground around them.
Korone wait a second so Gideon can be at a good height. Although his moves is completely unknown to most of the audience, his attack will not be. The dragon throw the flashy spears at Gideon first. The spears leave invisibility as soon as Korone throw them, producing a blinding light in the entire arena. With a uncanny and robotic move that only a boneless creature could make, he throw the green spears almost immediately and then, with a loud deafening sound, the purples ones snakes the air in Gideon's direction.
At the same time with his two remaining hands, two red-ish black orbs which seems to absorb light appeared in the palm of these. They grew to a size of five inch of radius. Once all six spears are throw, Korone clap his hands, propulsing both balls on his sides. The magic balls follow symetric curves, leaving a tail of light behind them. The balls return at Gideon's direction to smash him simultaneously, producing two heavy distortioned explosions of flames, negative energy, force and electricity.
While the columns of smokes produced by the explosion falls slowly in the air, Korone cast a spherical wall of force around him and immediately begins preparing more spells.
As Korone starts to move again, another of Gideon's rings begins to glow, and his next movements happen almost instantly. He draws a notched dagger, grabs Korone's neck, and slashes down, cutting through hair, skin, and muscle. Then, stepping back, he throws a small crystal cube to the ground and vanishes, surrounded by the solid cube of opaque force that is projected by the crystal.
The cut was precise and clear through the neck. During a second, Korone do not move, as if he received a lethal blow. He then fall on the ground, merging in the rocks exploding in a cloud of black smoke. The smoke begin to recover the ground quickly around the force walls surrounding Gideon.
The rocks around Gideon get more and more red until they are of a bright yellow-ish red. The rocks get more and more hot until they melt together, now being melting lava.
Hidden in the newly formed lava, the dragon being playing with it. Four walls of lava rise around the cube of force and merge together on top of it, recovering the cube completely.
Korone now stand under Gideon, seeing through the lava without a problem, even seeing Gideon himself. He cast a sphere of desintegration, destroying the cube of force completely. The small crystal cube fall through the lava, going deeply through it. The wall of lava immediately fall, merging Gideon completely. At the same time, Korone cast an anti-magic field where the cube of force was.
Gideon is nowhere to be seen.
That soul was not even worth taking.
He scream at the judge. "Pathetic !!!" His roar bells in the entire arena as he return visible. Although he doesn't really take a change, he turn incorporeal as the same time. Visible, but not material. He then cast some other defensive spell in case Gideon comes out of nowhere. He'll simply exit the arena, disgusted.
Gideon walks out of a planar rift in the center of the arena. The gate then closes behind him, and he is left standing alone. His wounds are gone, and his clothing has changed slightly. For some odd reason, his beard seems longer, as if he hadn't shaved in a while. He looks quite satisfied and, against all odds, cheerful.
Leaving, were you? Just when its getting interesting? Maybe you're right. Maybe I am pathetic. But since when is fleeing a superior fighter pathetic? A tactical maneuver, yes. Pathetic? I think not. I know I can't match you physically...but strength alone won't always win.
And maybe my soul isn't worth taking...but I don't even think you could take it.
So saying, Gideon fires another beam at Korone. Korone's defenses crumble as his magic again fades and dies. The magic strips his demon guise from him, leaving him in his true form.
So beast...what will it be? For a short time your magic is gone, but you have your strength. I have no strength, only my mind and magic. Wyrm, will you try your luck or do you forfeit? Come on, try your best.
"You dare calling me a... wyrm? One of these small weaklings? You will regret your ignorance, mortal."
"Your miserable strength and magic are no use agaisnt the strength of a Ivrhoxdxowageqwurona."
At barely half of his true size, with a powerful move, the dragon smash the ground with his wagon sized hand. The heavy impact create a waves of fragmented rocks and smoke around the massive fist. The wave quickly hit Gideon.
The dragon rise on his back legs, now towering around 200 feets high. Although his draconic form is almost complete, he will still take a lot more of expansion. With a loud and deep roar, Korone begin to walk in Gideon's direction and enter a draconic fury. Dark purple-ish blood begin to flow slowly from his scales, his eyes changing from deep opaque black to a illuminated pure white leaving a tail of light as he moves.
Korone move a wing in front of him, producing very strong wing, pushing rocks, dirt and smoke on the small men. Then, with a quick move, he swing his second wing at Gideon, attacking it with his biggest talon on it, now bigger than its target alone.
The great black dragon continously roar with a deafening power. The continous sound is most likely to give a deadly headach to anything too near of him, as is Gideon.
Impressive. But you made a fatal error.
You allowed a human to trick you.
As Korone's talon swings back, Gideon reaches into his coat, pulling out a bracelet with a single charm on it. He rips the charm off and hurls it to the ground. The charm flashes briefly before cracking open with a noise that drowns out even Korone's roar.
Like a thunderbolt from heavens, a massive force crashes into Korone, knocking him to the ground. Enormous claws rip through his skin: arterial gysers of blood spew from Korone's hide, drenching the ground in blood and ichor. Another dragon, obsidian scales glistening with Korone's dark purple blood, towers hundreds of feet above Korone's prone form. It opens its mouth, expelling a pillar of pure black flame.
Like it? Wonderful, isn't it? I made use of my disappearance. Stronger, faster, smarter, tougher...my magic improves upon that which could be called perfect. Does it seem familiar...it should.
It's you.
OOC: Korone...sorry to do this to you, but you now (please, and if Korone survived [I'm assuming he did]) run two characters. Since I don't know Korone's abilities, I don't know what Korone 2.0 can do. Just remember: Korone 2.0 knows Korone's strengths and weaknesses, and vice versa. Play fair please.
"Interesting, mortal. Very interesting... but very useless."
As the copy jump on him, mouth wide open, Korone breath on it, a large column of black fire going from his mouth, hitting the false dragon on the head. The intense heat produced by this unique fire completely disolve the head, a major part of the neck and a wing of the dragon's copy. The rest of the immence body fall on the ground, breaking in pieces. The dragon jumps in the air so that the blocks of ice don't touch him. The return on the ground, creating a even heavier waves of rocks, dirt and ice all around him.
The large pieces of ice begins to melt quickly, the black fire still active on it at multiples places. Suddently, the so called fire begins to move in Gideon's direction. These are no ordinary fire, but elementals. Four huge black fire elementals runs in the small men's direction. Two literally jump on it with a striking speed.
Korone barely need to move to reach the men with its claws and wings, swinging them in his direction again.
"Escape you will no more, human."
OOC: Although it might seems all of a sudden, the copy's tactics was to hold Korone's neck to make sure that he could not use his breath on it, but he has been a little more slower than the true dragon. Ice agaisnt such a breath can only prove deadly.
What?! That's impossible. The spell must not have taken hold properly. It should have been completely immune. I'll have to fix that before my next battle.
As the elementals strike him, he falls to the ground, trapped beneath their fiery bodies. The smell of burning flesh fills the arena, and Gideon screams in pain. And in fear, as he sees Korone's claw slowly rise. The talon crashes downward with unstoppable force, punching through Gideon's chest, snapping apart his ribcage and pinning him the the dirt. Gideon's blood pours out and mixes with the dust of the arena floor, as he gasps for a breath which will not come. As the light fades from his eyes, he raises his hand in a final salute to his foe, smiles, and brings the fist crashing down on the glass box
The glass shatters, and the emerald, now moving so fast it appears invisible, hits a solid wall of force that springs up where the bottom of the box was. Then the world explodes. A brilliant explosion erupts from the point of impact, so intense that the flames are a blinding blue-white. At the same time, the relativistic mass of the emerald pulls everything except light to a single point. The resulting effect is impossible to describe, as the entire battlefield implodes and explodes simultaneously. The wall of force shatters instantly. Gideon, the elementals, and Korone last only a mere fraction of a second longer, before being consumed completely by a force equivalent to several supernovas. Fire immunity is useless, as the force alone is enough to ignite the air and fuse atoms. Sorcen's barriers on the stands flicker and crack, resulting in the demise of several spectators, but remain intact. The visible battlefield shrinks to a single point, which explodes outward again, pushing everything to the limits of the arena shield. The shield holds this second onslaught just long enough for the battlefield to calm down before shattering into billions of pieces. A charred crater is all that remains of the combat area. Except for one thing. Particles of matter slowly rise up from the wasteland, forming into a short male humanoid, dressed in a trenchcoat. Gideon turns toward the audience and stretchs his arms behind his head.
That hurt. Thank the gods for Contingent Ressurection. Sorry for the damage, your lordship. I hope it can be repaired.
Gideon turns again, his back to the audience, and pulls out a small silver vial, filled with a golden liquid. He searches the battlefield painstakingly for several minutes, before stooping down and pouring the liquid on the ground. The dust rises once again, forming the towering shape of a dragon, black as midnight and covered in vicious spikes.
Welcome back, Korone. You are a worthy opponent, so I grant you back your life. You killed me, and I killed you. Shall we call it even? Korone 2.0 will not bother you again, even if I can put him back together. Good luck on your other battles, and if you ever need assistance in this arena, please consider me.
Gideon turns once more to face the demonic audience.
Did you like that battle? What? I can't hear you! Yes? Good! Great! Have I told you about my discount items? As demonstrated today! I have the coupons right here, 25% off...no need to push...enough for everyone...
His voice is drowned out by the crowds of demons surrounding him, as he walks off the battlefield to deal with his new customers.
OOC: Korone, please edit out the OOC on your previous post. It's not valid until Sorcen tells me his ruling based on the magic forum question. I edited this post so it explains the destruction. I also hope you find this a satisfactory ending to the first PvP match.
Gideon and Korone: Go ahead and edit those posts starting with Gideon's post where he introduced the Korone 2.0. Thanks
If you have questions for me go to the OOC thread. :OOC
EDIT: OK good Gideon edited, dont edit the posts just yet, lets discuss this in the OOC thread first.
EDIT: OOC: Ok this thing was settled so this ignore this now. Oh yeh I did want to add that not all of the beings in the stands are demons, in fact most of them are devils with demons bing the next largest minority and then celestials and other random beings being in the lesser minority. :OOC
BIC: Sorcen stands and holds his hand up, the crowd grows silent. "Great match you two, the way we saw it, it ended in a draw." He returns to his seat and the crowd resumes its roar and rush for Gideon's items.
It looks like I'll be fighting a...Saiyan. Saiyan. Hmmm...where have I heard that before?
She searches her photographic memory, idly paging through her thoughts- then stiffens.
Oh. The anomaly- Multiverse 226941. That cosmology that permitted physical conditioning and martial skill to follow an exponential curve rather than hitting a point of dinimishing returns. And the Saiyans are the worst of them- a race of warrior-sadists with vast natural power and vast capability for growth.
Tactics: avoid exposure to moonlight, including synthetic moonlight: avoid extreme emotional trauma: under no circumstances leave a Saiyan for dead. Reaction times can range into the thousandths of a millisecond...
I may need the Evangelion for this one. Gods damn it.
Calculating the sort of edge she most badly needs almost immediately, she sets about concocting it, and it's just ten minutes to fight time when she finishes the pearlescent, milky serum. Distributing the serum into a number of queer-looking potion vials that she inserts into recessed sockets on her DragonShell harness, she shakes herself to dispel a sudden case of nerves and pads out onto the arena floor.
inc "aaah wyrmling silver no doubt and as I hear your an artificer and it seems you havemade some technological advancements but tell me please take noffense how did you manage to as a wyrmling your species at such a early age doesnt quite seem ablly mentally fit to make such devices? i cast wish to un animate the gods corpse permanetlyand my dragon breathes fire at hestaby
Expecting Hestaby to come in with her most powerful creations right off the bat, the Saiyan nearly wastes a Wish,, but stops just in time.
"Mentally fit? I don't know about that. I just do what the voices tell me to, and everything seems to come out all right."
Hestaby speaks with total calm as the dragon's wall of flame approaches. The harness around her glows with eldritch light, and abruptly, she is no longer there at all. In her place is an impressively large, glowing, crystal-studded construct that emanates psionic power- and the dragon's breath is nowhere to be seen. Its maw opens, and it unleashes a colossal blast of pure force at the dragon!
Gods almighty, he's fast! I was ready for it and he still scratched me. He's not invisibly fast, though, which probably should be the case- I wonder-
She sees an opening when the fool tries casting a spell in the antimagic field projected by the Dragonshell IIp, however, and capitalizes on it with a couple of hard blows from the construct's huge, sharp claws.
That explains it! He's a caster, not a fighter. Of course, for those of his origin and species that's a relative designation, but-
Just then, the indicator lights for the remaining DragonShells flicker off, and Hestaby's eyes widen as she desperately tries to regain contact.
Damn! I've been cut off. The summoning magic's got more muscle behind it than the comm magic, though- so I won't know if I can get a replacement until I try. That's an unpleasent thought.
Completing that line of thought in a fraction of a second, Hestaby regains her focus on Turlus and finishes her opportunistic flurry of swipes with a hard shoulder butt.
The vials attatched to Hestaby's jumpsuit magically extend needles and painlessly empty into her bloodstream. It was quite a chore adapting amphetamine-based combat stimulants to dragon physiology; while the elemental draconis fundamentum gland allows them to metabolize nearly anything they can fit in their mouths, it also makes drug absorption a knotty problem.
The juice amps her reaction time just enough to activate the emergency maneuvering system and get out of the way of the paired blast, and Hestaby buffers her precious construction from the subsequent explosion with an extended force blast set on wide-angle dispersion. Damage reports flood Hestaby's cockpit, most of them minor.
Damnation. Number three backup strut's broken, it'd be a bad idea to get hit in that leg now.
It is only when the DragonShell is safe behind the tremendous cloud of dust kicked up by the blast that Turlus' words truly register.
Forgot? Countering the abilities your bloodline grants you has been my top priority from the beginning, you muscle-headed simian!
Incensed, she overrides the safety interlocks on the propulsion system, and the DragonShell comes flying out of the huge dust cloud, clamping onto Turlus like a thing posessed. Drawing him close with mithral muscles, she unleashes a force blast at point blank.
If that doesn't give him a nosebleed, I'll be a kobold's uncle!
A psionic artificer as well, eh? I'll need to brush up on my psionic lore...
Hestaby rises an inch or two above the ground, and chemically-boosted reflexes instantly activate the harness to summon another DragonShell. The Wish's magic strains to hold it back, and it flickers in and out of existance for a moment or two: but the artifact-level magic of the harness overcomes it, and with a blinding burst of light, a new DragonShell comes into being- the size of a small castle and considerably more lethal.
"erdana">YOU DO NOT BREAK MY THINGS RAAAAAAGH"
With an insane viciousness totally uncharactaristic of a silver dragon, Hestaby interrupts Turlus' casting by shoving a five-foot, monomolecular-edge claw down his throat, with every ounce of her new-minted two hundred tons behind it.
"Is that your doing? An interesting display of raw power, but ultimately too obvious and predictable..."
A massive claw closes around Turlus, and Hestaby uses all the advantage the construct's strength and weight affords her to wrench the Saiyan off the ground-
"And so, ultimately futile."
And directly into the path of the meteor, a fraction of a second before it hits.
Do some reading on my character.)
EDIT: To prevent edit hanky-panky from obfuscating later discussion, I will quote the preceding posts that lead to the problem.
Hestaby's magical sensors alert her to the massive metor about six seconds before it even becomes visible. Giant falling rocks on fire aren't the most subtle things, after all. She has all the time in the world to react.
"Is that your doing? An interesting display of raw power, but ultimately too obvious and predictable..."
A massive claw closes around Turlus, and Hestaby uses all the advantage the construct's strength and weight affords her to wrench the Saiyan off the ground-
"And so, ultimately futile."
And directly into the path of the meteor, a fraction of a second before it hits.
clap clap i gueeesss ill do more subtle first i dont think that you read about my character need to relize im a half titan im gargautuan i weigh 14000lbs or 7 metric tons ok i dont think youre gone lift me upand sadley you tried to sooooyou attrmpt to lift me of the ground and yes the metyeor is still heading twords you because you havent moved yet and it hits you
(OOC: Dude? If you weigh 7 metric tons, that means the DragonShell III outweighs you by a factor of about thirty.
Do some reading on my character.)
my edits not working ok this is what it says im a half titan i weigh 1400 lbs you cant pick me up period 2nd it hitd you cause you havent moved at all noww it works
im going to cast ethrealness
The meteor hits!
(OOC: Creative- but Etherealness has a somatic component, as do most spells, which means you won't be pulling them off in your current situation.)
at a last ditch if tele doesnt work i just had a DURRRRR your a wyrmling power word kill the words uber goober "uber goober"When she feels Turlus' struggling mass suddenly vanish, the juiced reflexes the combat stim gives her gives Hestaby the desperate split second she needs to splay the DragonShell's paws out and blunt the impact of the meteor, limbs distributing the shock throughout the frame. The mithral joints bend, but do not break, and Hestaby rolls her construction onto its feet again, somewhat stiffly.
I could get mad again, but it would be less than productive. He's a spellcaster, and they largely depend on seeing their target...let's see him deal with this.
Dozens of metal canisters eject from various ports on the metal dragon's body, exploding with a loud BANG and releasing billowing clouds of bright teal smoke. Soon, they cover the entire arena, completely shrouding both Hestaby and Turlus.
Now you're blind. I'll tear you to pieces before you can even find the ground.
BIC: Sorcen holds up both of his hands and both combatants freeze in place, unable to move. He allows Hestaby movement and lets her go, then he releases Turlus's unconscious body after a few moments. The saiyan's dragon appears a moment later sleeping soundly in the center of the arena.
"This match has gone on long enough and I have grown wary of certain tactics. Hestaby has won, remove the saiyan and his dragon."
Roland sat in awe of the battle that had unfolded before him - So much so that it took him a while to regain his focus.
"Yes! Yes, I'll have to write it down. One can never express the value of knowledge enough!"
The aging human knight shifted around in his full plate and produced a small notebook and ink quill from one of the packs hanging from his belt. He immediately started writing into it, only stopping every once in a while to gaze into the air above him and ponder over his next sentence.
((OoC: Kaizer_Soatze, I believe Turlus has only been knocked unconscious and his dragon put under a sleeping spell so that they may be removed from the arena. Neither one of them is dead.
You can probably start posting again as a member of the audience in the OoC thread if you wish.))OOC: Neither is dead, just unconscious. As to why, I've not been told myself but from what I read into, basically going over the top, remember you are not trying to win in fighting, you are trying to win based on what you do, for example:
'Kryus casts wish, to kill the tarrasque' will never beat:
'Kryus gestures wildy, his chant rising in tone as he unleashes the mighty energies building up, rending reality asunder to ultimately slay the mighty tarrasque though the force of will,' even though they are exactly the same spell, same effect and same result.
That and the fact the 'freedom of destiny' was basically ignored (not against the rules, but it is considered good manners to let your opponent decide how badly they are affected).
As to Sorcen's curt action, basically we have explained this stuff before, is the only explanation I can give.
"Dont be alarmed dear friend, it is a compliment to be brought here. This is a tournament of the greatest beings in the many multiverses, if you are here then that means you are a powerful being in your own right. Welcome to my arena."
"Unless you wish it to be yourself that is harmed, I would advise you to stop with that rude tone of yours and have more respect for who you are talking to."
Aya's eyes and hair get hints of black in them and she bares her fangs in annoyance.
This is going to be very interesting. Now where are those two i am to play with. Lets see its that weird item creator guy and that one who sings in the name of angels. Speaking of them where is that dragon whos suppose to help me. I will be happy long as he stays out of my way but then again....
Her voice turns from a happy to a more of a whisper as she trails of talking to her self. She walks into the shadows of the arena and seems to meld in to the shadows.
She puts the goggles down, and the air around her takes on a yellow glow: the glow becomes more and more solid until it resolves into a huge, stylized contraption that looks like a dragon in flight. Hestaby reaches its gleaming claw out and tosses the goggles into the shadows where the child dissapeared. There is a note pinned to them.
Put these on or you'll be blinded- as will our opponents, at least at the fight's start. Even with them, you won't be able to see beyond about thirty feet- but they'll have trouble seeing past the bridge of their noses. Use the advantage well.
Hestaby straightens up inside the armor, poising a shining claw above the canister: she watches the arena gates warily, waiting for her opponents.
The teams are interestingly even- an artifacier and a subtle type on each side. How deliberate is that, I wonder? Will it happen again? I need more data.
Another dragon...in a bigger dragon. Why is it always dragons? But an artificer as well...I can't kill a fellow artificer...damn. This is going to be annoying.
Wait a minute...
He looks around again, apparently confused. Suddenly he snaps his fingers in realization and puts on a pair of goggles. He turns toward the shadows.
Don't think I don't see you hiding in there.
So saying, he pulls out his crossbow and slots several wands into it, before readying it to fire. He then (predictibly) pulls out a dog-end, lights it with a fireball, and leans back against the arena wall, waiting.
One more to come.
"Good afternoon."
So I'm with the human artificer against the dragon artificer and the girl.
"Zartha is it? Don't think I'll go easy on you, I know what you are, fiend."
[i]This should be interesting. She's tricky, but she won't escape the Punjab Lasso. But what to do with the dragon? I may need Gideon for him.
"Shall we begin then? I think so."
With a quick side-step, The Ghost disappears into the shadows and immediately an angelic voice begins to reverberate throughout the stadium, seeming to come from several directions at once. It's heavenly tones are painful to the fiend while to the dragon they seem demoralizing.
First let's see how they handle my music. . .
Damn! I'll have to rely exclusively on the sensors once I pop smoke. That's never a picnic.
She ruptures the mithral canister with a swipe of her 'claws', which jets an opaque teal smoke that billows out over the entire arena.
Then, Hestaby activates the flight controls, simultaneously activating dozens of downward-pointing Decanters of Endless Water built into the airframe; propelled by the reaction, the DragonShell slowly rises into the sky.
After making a brief in-flight check of the Decanters, Hestaby locates Gideon on her instruments and does her level best to paste him with a series of force-beam strafing runs. The accuracy suffers considerably, because she can't really deal with her own magical smoke as well as she'd like.
(OOC: A strong Wild Magic area is now in effect over the arena. The smoke utterly blocks vision and darkvision, as well as severely interfering with blindsight, blindsense, and magical divination effects.)
Zartha feels a sharp pain around her neck as the Punjab Lasso closes around it, sapping her strength.
"What now, devil?"
what is this? A dragon? why?
slowly realizing its purpose, he speaks directly to its mind:
I require no aid, nor that a creature such as yourself put yourself in harm's way, now go.
OOC: I like the dragon, he doesn't, that's all.
BIC: Sorcen waves his hand and teleports the prismatic sphere out of harms way to the arena lobby where all the other combatants are comfortably waiting for their turns to fight.
Hestaby's spread of force-beams scours the ground around him. While most miss, several rip through Gideon. The small man stumbles, cursing, and glares up at the swirls of mist created by the flying machine. He aims his wandgun in its gerenal direction, and pulls the trigger. An almost invisible explosion of non-magic erupts from the barrels, sending ripples through the smoke as the pulse races toward the Dragonshell.
Shutdown!
Nine Disjunctions is enough to drop almost any artificer's creations...can the machine survive? I think not...I only hope it doesn't fall on Arik...
Damn! I build well: what could make the entire tail go dead like that? Must've been a disjunction. Must've been more than one disjunction. This is a crafty son of a- OOF!
A wingtip clips the stands, sending a shuddering shock through the airframe and jolting the hell out of Hestaby: she regains control just meters above the ground, inadvertantly showering dozens of spectators with backblast from the decanters.
I know what I'll do.
Going into a shaky power climb and brushing blood out of her eyes from a scalp cut, Hestaby primes the worse-than-useless tail for midflight jettison. Once more pinpointing Gideon with the sensors, she ejects the tail to fall to Gideon's right, deactivates the noisy decanters, glides into a swift dive that will take her up onto Gideon's left, and strikes with razored tooth and gleaming claw!
He'll see the jettisoned tail fall from the mist with an almighty crash, and assume it to be me for the half second I'll need to take his head clean off from the opposite direction.
You will have to do better then that my friend for I am not so easily defeated by that technique. I have all ready seen it you need something newer and better then that. Plus you wouldn't hurt a little girl now, would you?
As she says this a slight grin shows that she is rather injoying her time with that human. She gives a quick glance in the direction of Hestaby hearing a loud noise in that area not being able to see anything that far away she looks back to the prey she is focused.
A decent wound. Not debilitating, but that hurt.
"Aha. So you're fast too. And the little girl line won't work. You see, although I serve an angel, you'll find I'm no gentleman.
In my time in Celestia, however, I learned much. You see, I weave magic into my music. This next tune is called Requiem for a Fiendish Little Girl. It was written for you. Oh, and you'll find that your friends little smoke screen won't help you against my music."
A beautiful mournful tune pierces Zartha like a blade, attacking her very being.
That music again, it pains me to hear! How do you make it stop ahaha! I must deal with it for now.
As she finishes her sentence in a painful and irritated voice she makes a quick sign that washes Zartha with magic but seems to have no effect at the moment on her. She then starts to move her hands in a fluid motion as she starts to chant in a magically language. When she seems to finish she points her finger at Arik and a green bolt springs from her hand that seems to destroy the air around it and flies towards Arik.
Thank God for Countersong. It's just a shame it had to interrupt my melody.
Arik smiles as he is struck by a sudden inspiration.
"So those goggles let you see through the smoke, do they? But how do they fare in the supernatural dark?"
A globe of impenetrable blackness descends upon the combatants, blocking even darkvision.
"Luckily I know how to track my foes by sound."
Gideon dodges to his left to avoid the Dragonshell he thinks is falling towards him. Luckily for him, Arik's darkness has covered the field. Gideon stumbles in the dark, and Hestaby's otherwise fatal blow just misses severing his neck. Instead, the massive mithril claws tear down his side, wrenching off his right arm. Screaming in pain, Gideon writhes on the ground, clutching at the bleeding stump.
GOD'S DAMN LITTLE B----!
Wimpering in pain, he weakly raises his weapon and pulls a second trigger. A ghostly light streaks from the barrels, illuminating the Dragonshell even through the darkness. Gideon tracks the glow and fires again, and the silent explosion of anti-magic streaks unerringly towards its target...the pilot of the Dragonshell.
Maybe...a hit...in the control panel will...short that...contraption out. Try flying...without controls, newt!
Hestaby's drug-besotted mind struggles to command her aching muscles fast enough to direct the DragonShell into a soft landing. Her claws dance over the controls- *just* *another* *five* *degrees*---
The disjunction hits, and the cockpit goes dark. Hestaby is left in a pitch-black, form-fitting cavity within what is, without the magic that animated it, basically a falling statue. She has a little more than a second to reflect on this incredibly unpleasent fact before she feels a world-shattering jolt.
In her last few instants of control, Hestaby had made the attempt to land gently in a mostly-vacant part of the stands, and she came within feet of succeeding. It wasn't enough, though- the hanging 'paws' of the DragonShell smash into the arena wall, disintegrating into darkwood splinters and mithral shrapnel and flipping the inert construction onto its back, where it ploughs through several rows of vacant seats before coming to a torturous stop.
A bruised and bleeding Hestaby crawls out of the wreckage, eyes half-glazed with pain and a hind leg completely pulped by the crash. She expirimentally spreads her aching wings, trying to sense if the fragile membrane has been damaged.
I wonder if- "AAaaARGK-" I wonder if I can just count on the bastard to bleed out before I do? Can't take the chance. Gods, I'm so tired...
She takes a stumbling step, testing the limits of her damaged body as she tries to think of a plan. Something in the audience catches her eye.
That staff...petrified wood?
...
Bingo.
Swooping over to the winged angel that holds the staff, she perches on top of it.
"Excuse me for a moment."
Drawing magical energy from the Staff of Transmutation as she has trained herself to do, Hestaby lets its eldritch power flow into her, through her, and around her...
Her muscles ripple, growing stronger and more toned. Her skin contorts, turning from a glorious mirrored sheen to a dull white. The change purges the fatigue poisons from her body, finally eliminating the aftereffects of the amphetamine. Her bones writhe, extruding spikes, claws and teeth larger and more razor-sharp than on any normal dragon. Her mangled hind leg knits somewhat, though not enough to put her full weight on it. Her body expands to the size of a mountain lion, and her thoughts become considerably more predatory.
I've always envied my fang dragon cousins' ferocity. Now is the time to emulate it.
Hopping down from the flabbergasted celestial's staff, she dives back into the arena. Her photographic memory guides her back to Gideon's position, where she strikes suddenly and without mercy!
Hmm, this is just going to be annoying but you are not the only one who is trained not use their seen of sight when all goes dark. I have a gift for you; they are a rather good dance partner for you and your song. They do not need you see you to hit you and I will even make then more powerful for you.
As you speaks she pulls a rod out of here belt you again begins to chant and make movement. When you begin to chant the air in front of here begins to take shape and turns in to a shape of a sword. As she finishes chanting another blade of force forms in front of her. The blades then fly off into two different directions. One flies towards Arik while the other goes after Gideon.
Well that funny I guess my other opponent is rather close then. That will keep him busy for a bit then.
Unfortunately for Hestaby, Zartha's blade still strikes true. Only now, standing where Gideon stood a moment before, it is the wrymling who suffers the full force behind the magical blade. As she staggers from the blow, movement on the arena floor catches her eye. The tattered remnants of her vanquished foe are gathering themselves together again. Gideon slowly rises from the ground, his bones reknitting themselves as magic takes hold of his vital systems, forcing them to rebuild.
Thank the gods for contingent spells...now, little newt, we will fight--- tooth to tooth and claw to claw.
His body begins to twist and buckle, expanding and losing its humanoid form completely. Where Gideon stood is a gargantuan creature, almost sixty feet tall. Its massive wings unfurl, revealing a body almost to hideous to imagine. Four clawed arms surround a muscular torso covered in spines. Its revolting head resembles that of a feral horse, and boar-like tusks dripping with poison jut from its mouth. But all that is merely detail, for the creatures chest draws the eyes away from the rest of the monstrous horror. A gaping mouth, full of row upon row of vicious, grinding teeth, sits in the center of the powerful torso, howling ferociously. Above this gaping maw rest two wickedly sharp pincers, constantly grasping and slashing at imaginary foes.
The demons in the stands gasp in horror and revulsion, for they know this monster. It is the ultimate demon, second only to the Lords of the Abyss. The abyssal general. The balor's nightmare. The Klurichir.
As the monster throws its considerable bulk onto the little dragon, grabbing it with all four taloned hands, an almost palpable wave of fear radiates outward, causing the spectators to recoil in horror and despair. Gripping Hestaby firmly, the creature begins to pull, attempting to brutally rip the wrymling apart.
The tables have turned...How do you like it?
BIC: So now Gideon is a demon, Damn it. I hate it when my allies become my enemies. I hope it's temporary. At least I'm free of my worries about that dragon. Back to little miss Zartha.
"Neat trick. I've got a better one. While I was travelling the planes, I saw into another world, where I was inspired by a man named Cyrano, who composed a poem in the midst of a duel. In the same manner, so shall I serenade you with death."
Arik draws his rapier to confront the magical blade approaching him. With each striking of the blades his song is amplified, stabbing at Zartha as if she had been struck by the rapier itself.
"Sorcen, judges of this contest- I object. Deathmatches are traditionally to the death- not the second, third, or fourth death, but to the first. I have just killed this man. Some of the entities you have gathered here are so magically powerful, or so strongly immortal, that if their first death is not honored, a match between two of them could rage inconclusively for all eternity- spectacular, but obviously acceptable for a tournament match. Allow Gideon's strategem here, and you set a precedent for such eternal, inconclusive matches...you make the tournament itself a mockery of the fine tradition of bloodsport.
Declare me the victor! Eject Gideon!"
Her draconic blood spatters onto the arena floor, as Hestaby's dodging becomes slower and more akward. It is apparent that, without intervention, the wyrmling's lifespan is measurable in seconds.
My own attempts seem to fail me. You are to fast to be hit by that blade and each block cause me a wound. Wait, that’s it if you’re to tried to keep up with the swings of the sword then victory will surely be mine.
Once more Zartha begins her magical chanting and arcane movements. An invisible cone shape wave flows out from Zartha towards Arik. The wave seems to make the air around it weight more as if giving off a tiring feeling that would make almost anyone tried but those who are not living.
"RrraaAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"
An earshattering bellow erupts about the stadium as Arik lets out a cry of rage. His eyes possess a new look of vengeful malice.
Then they disappear. And a voice come from behind Zartha as the Punjab Lasso descends upon its prey.
"Now you die."
Lords, you have clearly stated that there are NO RULES. I am not one of the nearly immortal beings assembled here. I am a human, protected only my my foresight of my enemies plans and the items I create. What may only inconvience my foes is fatal to me. Am I to be prohibited from using my abilities to their utmost? Is it my fault the newt could not predict my actions? A simple dispelling robs me of my resurrection, and then I die. I am simply not capable of enduring the onslaught that many competitors can. It hardly seems fair to punish me for careful planning.
Gideon's claws rip through the judge's stand in an explosion of stone and wood.
In addition, this is a contest of skill, not a deathmatch. The decision is not in hands of the slayer, but in your's.
His grasping talons finally seize the evasive dragon, and he holds her up to eye level.
I also seem to remember you saving your life by using a spectator. As there are no rules, I won't fault you, but your complaints are very hypocritical.
Well that was….close. Good thing I ….was prepared for that trick again. When you spent your time singing I cast a spell to help protect me from you trapping me in your weapon. You seem to have quite a demonic face there. You complain about me being a demon and yet you hold the slight sign of demonic essence in your face. Your temper seems to be uncontrollable. It’s time to cool your temper down.
Zartha’s begins her chanting for another spell as she flies backwards away from Arik. Again Zartha points her finger at him but this time a blue ray streaks towards Arik. The ray cools the air around it and sometimes creating small ice crystals. Right when the ray is about 5 ft from Arik, Zatha’s rod in her hand begins to glow again as a colored sphere surround Arik with the ray of freezing cooled magic. The sphere is has a primary Violet color to it and all the colors seem to shimmer.
"My . . . face . . . is . . . my . . . curse. My . . . voice . . . is my gift."
You are rather determined to see me to the end aren’t you? You have endured much in the manner of ordeals in this battle. I have stabbed you, slashed you with magically swords, taken away most of your energy and now taken you to freezing temperature and yet to you struggle on to fight me for what reason, just because I am a demon. Hehe.....I envy you in a strange way. You have at least come terms with your defect while I try to hide my past for I would rather have not have a past and your music just reminds me of my past but I yet must fight on for we all fight for one similar reason. That reason is to survive, to live to the next day or in some cases the couple of seconds.
Zartha then draws from her belt a pair of what seems to be dagger but instead the metal is filled with a magical green acidic tint. The blade seems as if it should be dripping with acid but instead nothing falls from the dagger. Zartha then suddenly disappears for a few seconds then she reappears behind Airk striking with the pair of magical daggers that seem to both have a magical acidic spell that would seem to infect the body for many seconds. As she attacks him, she whispers in to Arik’s ear.
I will give you my all for that I maybe rid of your angelic music that hunts me and reminds me of my history.
A whirl of brown curls, the flash of an innocent smile, the face of a young girl appears. She is beautiful, glowing with a kind of inner radiance that feels as if it truly does give off light.
Then she speaks, melodic tones of playful adoration for a certain Angel of Music. Yes, she was beautiful, but her voice more beautiful by far. Even more so than his. Her every word was a song. And she sang of him, to him, for him.
Love. It's magic is beyond all that is known to mortal and god alike. Inspired by the memory of Christine, Arik finds new strength. With a deft movement, his blade flashes upward striking at his foe.
"But it's our past that makes us who we are."
So our past is what makes us then. Is that the reason I feel now pain in this wound or any others that I suffer. My past has only caused me pain and suffering for millenniums. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT CAN DO TO AN ANG-!! [color=SeaGreen]Never mind the past is over and now it seem that my future maybe too but like I said before I must fight for every second of life for I have endured before.[/color]
Zartha then starts in a fast chanting of a spell but this time there are no arm movements to go with the spell. Then she opens here mouth wide with blood oozing out a she lets out a great yell that is strong then what most spells of its type comes from her mouth that she hopes to destroy Arik’s ability to hear if only for some time along with cause much damage. Then her hand then starts to flow with powerful electricity then she suddenly moves her hand to grasp Arik’s face with most of the life left in her body.
BIC: Sorcen stands after communing with the other judges. He looks at the Klurichir and the dragon below him, " Well you both fought very valiantly, but the decisions have been made. Gideon, it has been decided that since that was technically a death that it does count as a loss, sorry but I must ask you to step out of the way of the battle."
He turns to Hestaby, "Hestaby, it has been decided that the celestial will be allowed his revenge for you stealing the magic from his staff. Sorry to be so harsh on you with this inevitable defeat. Be comforted in the thought that the celestial will likely not kill you and if you do somehow die then I promise to revive you."
The archfiend smiles and motions for the angel to begin its onslaught once Gideon moves away and then proceeds to return to his throne.
Arik's love-bolstered reflexes take action to combat the lightning shrouded had approaching him. He grabs Zartha's forearm, forcing her onto her back.
" 'DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT CAN DO TO AN ANG-' what? Finish that sentence!"
Little dragon, eventually we must finish this battle. This is not over. I hope to meet you again, so we can resolve our differences. I hate to have a grudge against another artificer...
Arik...good luck.
Would you really want me to finish that sentence for I really don’t think you could handle the answer? I really don’t know if you could handle such a heavy truth as this for everything has a twist.
Zartha then makes a change in her arcane focus and reconnects to the blade of force just floating out in the battle field. She now commands it to flow towards to re-attack Arik again. She then quickly slips out of Arik’s grasp with again magical grace as her spell is still there. She then moves away from Arik as the force blade closes in on him.
"You have been offered the opportunity to take revenge. However, you have not been compelled to act on it. I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you- I was not thinking clearly at the moment, having been subject to a truly colossal amount of blunt trauma moments before. I will gladly recharge the staff- or even replace it."
She stretches her neck, baring her jugular vein to the celestial.
"Failing that, take whatever measures will satisfy your desire for revenge on my body. I will not resist."
For what angel worth the name would take me up on such an offer?
As much as I dread the response, I know that I cannot turn back now. I must know. And yet I feel that somehow I already know what that response will be.
"Answer me."
Fine then I shall tell what you want to know and what wish you did not hear. I was once an angel way back in time. I was a on the side of good back then but I was capture by a ruler of Hell who I will not utter his name here even if tell just your mind. He tortured my for millenniums. My body was destroyed but me soul did remain or what you can now call a soul. My mind was corrupted now for the side of evil but some good still did remain for a bit. I somehow escaped that prison and went back to my home but little did I take the time to notice my body did reform but at a demon, the very things I killed but at least it was not a devil. The angels rejected me and attack me. That is when my little good did so go away.
Zartha then coughs up more blood from her wound and she seems as only seconds left in her life.
BIC: The angel stops its hurried walk towards the dragon and considers the words of Hestaby. He speaks in a beautiful melodic voice, "Well that saves me some work then. Yes please recharge my staff and I will leave you in peace instead of pieces."
Sorcen appears disappointed at this but allows it. "Recharge the staff and then go about your business. Well go about your business outside of the arena. It was decided that it'd be best not to have you two interfere with the fight between your partners there."
With a hollow-sounding 'sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssPOP' and a burst of violet light, a small vial of deep purple liquid appears in the wyrmling's hand. She flaps over to the angel's staff and rubs the fluid into the staff, which absorbs it like a sponge.
"That'll recharge it. It'll be oily for a few minutes, but I thought you'd like that better than me taking it back to my workshop for the neccesary rituals."
She winces.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get to the arena's healers."
You'll basically end it with some viable form of death or submission or if you have another idea for winning it. BlackendEarth, you can either request to have your character resurrected or start a new one if it happens to be killed. :OOC
BIC: Sorcen raises an eyebrow after communing with the other judges for a moment. He stands and faces the combatants, "It was a good fight and very close but we have decided Arik has won by a hair. Good job, it was very entertaining." He returns to his seat and awaits the conclusion of the match with a hint of eagerness.
Can I strike a former angel? but wait, something is not right. the whole story seems both planned and clumsy at the same time. "That is when my little good did so go away" why would even a fallen angel say this of herself? Wouldn't she feel indignant, that the wrongs were against her? Would she refer to her rejection as a loss of goodness? It just doesn't seem right. In, fact, the more of my past I revealed to her, the more she came to show little details of her "past." I gave her everything she needed to defeat me, and she nearly succeeded. Oh what a fool I have been.
"Lies! I should have known. I should have suspected such treachery from a demon. In the name of the Angel of Music you shall die!"
With the last of his strength, Arik brings his blade down upon his opponent, striking with all available force to smite his enemy.
Just another disbeliever in the world. People just like this made me who i am today. I guess are past is what makes us.
Arik’s blade now cuts through the body of Zartha. The remaining life she had vanishes as the blade cuts her. Blood begins to flow out of the wound. Zartha falls to the ground as just now a body of flesh with no life in anymore.
OOC: Sorcen I will just have my body removed from the arena floor and put some where so that my body can just reform its self so I can fight later.
BIC: Sorcen applaudes for the conclusion to the match. He motions for a pit fiend to carry Zartha's body off to a secure place to reform. "The past does indeed determine much of who you are, but let's not forgot the present and future."
BIC: The sphere watches the match, though he does not applaud with the rest((yes I know he can't if he wanted to, nevermind that)). "What is the meaning of this fighting,demon? Why do you do this? Oh well, I suppose it is my turn to fight? There's one death no one will miss... myself included..."
>>BIC>> In a flash of light, a man appears nearby, he is wearing simple clothing, along with a long blindfold. He simply stands where he appeared for a second, then walks towards the most powerfull presence he feels, which just happens to be Sorcen. Demon! Why have I been brought to this... place?
>>OOC>> I can change the text color if that's too hard to read. <
OOC: please please change the text color, all that's needed is quotation marks really.
These: "
((BIC)) Insyr turns towards the glowing sphere,
"No life is meaningless, no matter how you were placed on this world. You should think of why you think your life is worthless, and instead of sulking on it, you should try to change that. Meditate on it."
Insyr thinks about his situation, "An arena, made by demons... Interesting... So we have been dragged here from whatever life we may have been living before simply to entertain these demons?" He shakes his head, "I am continually dissapointed by the creatures of the abyss."
((gotta go, see you in two hours-ish))
Perhaps you were put onto this world by accident, but that was not for you to decide. All we have to decide is is what to do with the time that is givin us. Think on it, perhaps you may understand, perhaps not. It makes no difference to me, but makes a world of difference to you. You decide."
((OOC))
to whoever knows what sentence was a quote, and where that quote was from."Okay. Now what do I do?"
BIC: Sorcen thinks for a moment and stands and walks over to the edge of the balcony and raises a hand for silence, "To help get things moving again in here I picked your teams for you. Septimus and Insyr on one team versus Steropes and Zur'thash. Have fun, it seems like an interesting match-up we have here."
He sits back down on his throne and waits patiently for the match to begin.
Septimus raises his staff and fires a cone of cold at the sphere. He then creates a sphere made of pure wind and lets it hang in the air next to himself.
The sphere turns scarlet, tongues of flame flicking in and out, surrounds steropes, and dissolves the ice as it closes in around it."so, that's what passes for a wizard these days eh? My my, standards have fallen, haven't they?"
It then molds himself into the shape of a blade((sort of boomerang shaped)) and rushes back and forth through septimus before backing away and regaining its original form.
"So you are no ordinary prismatic sphere then. I see that I shall have to approach this in a new way. Wait... No! Darn it, it's a perfect defense. Or is it?"
Septimus conjures a prismatic sphere of his own and lets his wind sphere blast a hurricane-force wind into Stereopes, exhausting itself.
"I know for a fact that no shield is invincible, how many of these can you block?"
Zur'thash moves back to shield stereopes.
*Gets his rulebooks to see how a monk/scout could actually fight a wizard*
Aha!
(((BIC))) Insyr stop for a second, then vanishes from sight, becoming completely etheral. He moves invisibly towards the wizard.
"OCC:Hey, lets give monk a try, so don't stop him. OK?
"Well, I guess it's time for my default strategy again."
Septimus disappears into the space between seconds to buff himself once more. As he comes back, he looks taller.
A shimmering screen emerges between Septimus and the light. Septimus, meanwhile, puts a forcecube around the annoying Prismatic thing.
When he gets the chance, he strikes; stepping out of the etheral plane, pulling out his two rapiers and hitting the wizard 4 times with each one, then landing two kicks on his back.
OOC:My char is immune spell:Time stop(there are others). He is choosen of deity of spells. If made a note to Sorcen about it.
BIC:"Hold my back, sepher, and you will see true magic!"
Then Sterops casts a spell, but this one is not like most of them. After the spell is done Steropes quikly breath deep and then breaths fire out. Fire rages for few momets, but gets a shape:a huge red dragon. "As I said, lets quit the games and start a real fight"
Zur'thash shifts his essence back to the original sphere and encapsulates insyr and septimus before rushing over to the dragon and depositing them by it. "I hope you two are competent enough to deal with that, it's mostly hot air I reckon."
((err... steropes, who said that we should give CM a chance? I believe it was you... oh, and guys, you do not have to stay rules legal! Half the fun is in making stuff up, and as this is diceless and crunchless, I don't see why we shouldn't.))
PS:How do you know we are not working whit an illusion over here:D
Septimus flies up into the sky and yells a single word. An avalanche appears out of nowhere and lands on the dragon.
"well, that sure was a tad cooling, would there be anything else?"
(((BIC))) Insyr catches himself on the floor, ignoring the pain washing over him. He simply stands there, listening for a while, the suddenly a change seems to go over him; the very fabric of reality begins to twitch violently around him. Space seems to twist and pop, creating a strange effect on the eyes of anyone who watches. Before anyone has any time to react, Insyr appears right next to Steropes, and seems at every side of him at once, and yet only in one place.
A thousand blows seems to strike at him from his left, his right, even above and below him, every attempt to harm him seems to miss, as the monk just is on the other side of him. Before the wizard fully realizes what had happened, Insyr seems to simply take a single step back, and neatly places himself at least a hundred feet from the wizard. He smiles,
"When one understands the very planes themselves, one does not have to abide by their laws."
(((OOC))) Fear the powers of the wise man!
"well said... unfortunately for you, the same applies for me too."
Zur'thash blinks out for a moment before reappearing by septimus, blasting him with energy stolen from the positive energy plane itself. "And before you ask... I've already convinced pelor to let me take as much of the place as I like, so don't expect any help."
Steropes calls fireball down his feet whit sincle word and geasture so that the monk must back of from him. The blody lips grin:"You don't have to be wise to bend the reality. You have heard of time flow? Well, I'm steping one." Quick spell and Steropes movement seems to be blurry.
"What, do I look like a vampire or something?!"
Septimus twirls his staff in the air, and several laughing wind elementals appear.
OOC:Too much Positive Energy CAN kill you.
OOC: True. But Septimus is protected from that. Why do you think his hair is white?
BIC:Steropes conjures four meteores and send them straight to the elements. Then, whit his new speed, he runs even faster than his spell and disturbs Septimus so he can't do anything against closing meteorites.
OOC: That would cause a large amount of damage due to non-Eucledian geometries involved.
Steropes takes the orb from his poket and the injures seems to disapear. Then he casts one of his spells and dark sepher appears next to him.
The sphere wavers and flickers as septimus's spell hits it to great effect. It splits into a hundred shimmering knives, which fly in even numbers through insyr and septimus before reforming behind them.
((by the way guys, don't you think this is getting a tad outta hand? C_M, you're doing fine, don't worry.))
"Should I?... Yes, I care not what happens to this accursed plane anyways."
He then fires off a single arrow, one which seems to be invisible, but also seems to suck all of reality, air, space, time, magic, light, and everything else towards it in a five-foot radius. This arrow speeds towards the enemy wizard unerringly.
OOC: This arrow is not magical, it just happens to be ripping a hole in reality,
BIC:Taking his powers to their limits Steropes boosts his Reverse Arrows spell so it could stand agains draining. Slowly the arrow turns and finaly have been complitely turned.
Steropes leans to his staff looking tired.
))With that, the maze twists and turns around the void, and a dozen hands shoot out of the shimmering walls at septimus.
Septimus swaps his staves back. He then casts a minor directional/lighting spell and walks the maze, taking care not to get beat up by the hands.
BIC: Sorcen sends each of the combatants a mental message telling them that defeat seems imminent for Septimus and Insyr and for them to end it accordingly.
Insyr reaches upwards, and unties the blindfold around his eyes. At once a piercing light shines from his eyes and through the arena, and all look upon the light see every pain, every sadness, every negative emotion ever felt, from the crying of a small girl to the dying pains of a black dragon, this power seems to flow from his eyes and into the world around him, twisting sadly through all of the viewers. He shakes his head sadly, "Perhaps you all see now the weight I have beared for my whole life.", and with those sad words, he falls to the ground, his eyes begin to fade, and his body slumps towards the dirt. As people watch, they suddenly realize how full of life he had seemed before, but now his body seemed empty, devoid of life, soul, light. "I wish..." he murmurs even as his soul departs, "that all could see this world..." he paused, his skin turning pale as life flew from him, "as it could be if we had..." he fell to the ground, gone from our world. His last word echoing across all other's ears,
"Faith."
(((OOC))) Yup, he's dead dead alright. I've decided that's it's too hard to have a non-spellcaster in this arena, and thus Insyr is gone from the arena forever.
The maze dissolves back into a sphere, which moves over to insyr in shock. "what? You... you were the one talking of every life having a meaning! If I must live, why not you? Why..." It hovers there, stunned.
Septimus exits the arena and goes into the bar.
It turns to the judges and upon their signal gives the command:
"Commence!"
"I am Darshg the Reaper, and I promise you one hell of a fight!"
That said, he left the crowd to make their mind about him.
Sorry for my tardiness. Shall we begin?
I'd be dead already if I wasn't ready every time I fight. It's good to have a worthy opponent such as yourself, shapechanger. The time has come, so get ready for the fight of your life!
He then spreads his wings and assumes combat form. He starts to glow as blue electricity runs through his body.
I thought it would be a nice mix if I started out half solar/half pit fiend. But keep this in your mind, daemon: I am no ordinary shapechanger. I can meld my forms in as many possible ways as your brain could imagine, and then that many more. I am unpredictability incarnate. Now...come at me!
I'd think that a demon like you would prefer to fight in the darkness as opposed to the light. But this isn't normal darkness; even you might have a little trouble seeing here...
The cornugon spreads his wings to flight and teleports high above the arena. Using his magic he calls forth a lightning strike against Revlis.
Let's see you dodge this one!
Revlis' skin takes on a bronze sheen as he charges the bolt of lightning head on. They connect, but the lightning is to no avail against him. He continues flying until reaches the demon, and grabs Darshg by the neck, throwing him to the arena floor. He then charges his downed foe, his fists crackling with a surge of holy energy, attempting to slam both his fists into him.
I may be blind, but lightning goes hand-in-hand with thunder. And thunder is loud.
Revlis' eyes begin to once again emerge from their empty sockets.
Darshg bounces off the ground he rolls back to his feet. He stares at his airborne opponent.
I'm sorry burst your bubble, but you just fell into one of the oldest tricks in the book.
The fiend snap his fingers and another horned devil appears at Revlis' backside. It grabs Revlis and locks him to a tight grapple hold.
Darshg once again begins to cast his mysterious magic and blue energies gather around him.
Revlis looks at the judges' box and sends them a message.
I'm sorry dark ones; now you have another body to clean up...
Revlis' face recedes into his body and comes out on the other side, this time with four slimy tentacles where his mouth should be. He wraps them around the face of his captor, and inhales deeply. The horned devil's brain exits through its mouth and into Revlis' maw. As it falls to the ground, Revlis spits out the fiendish organ, as he puts his face back to the front again and reforms a mouth.
Oops. I think you dropped something.
Heh! Good luck surviving that. If you do, I'll buy you a drink.
I'm surprised that all of you, including you, my esteemed opponent, have forgotten one of the most basic rules of combat: ALWAYS watch your opponent's feet.
Darshg and the remainder of the spectators look down in horror as Revlis' head is completely formed and unscathed where his left foot should be. On his face is a smile of unsurpassed confidence.
I'll admit you had me a little scared there, demon. I barely had enough time to force my major organs into the bottom half of my body to take your blast head on. Well, more like torso-on.
Revlis' body now begins to steam and evaporate, reforming a few feet above him as a storm cloud with lightning crackling underneathe him. Some of the clouds form to create what look like arms. Suddenly, a hail of lightning blasts from Revlis directly at Darshg.
Tell me, in all of your years traversing the multiverse, have you ever fought a storm before?
And I'm holding you to that drink.
You sure don't get it, do you? You are smart to attack me with a form of energy that I am not naturally resistant against, but still...
The lightning hits Darshg and rips the ground violently, but the cornugon stand his ground and no serious damage done.
You ARE quite foolish to just hand over a good magic, but since I know your resistance, I will save this for later matches. Now, what do you call this one, or should I just name it myself? Hold that thought.
The cornugon teleports right behind Revlis with his scythe raised. "Scythe Slash!" he shouts, and cuts Revlis by his legs.
Then, Darshg backs down a bit with his guard up.
By the way, don't call me a demon... EVER... AGAIN. I am a devil, not a demon.
The clouds that are Revlis begin to swirl faster and faster until he is nothing more than a raging torrent of spinning wind. He is now a living tornado, picking up debris and dust from the arena floor into its body. It begins to move closer and closer to Darshg, until it is upon the fiend.
And I just thought of a song...
You're a demon, you're a demon, you're a demon, you're a demon...yoooooouuuu'rrrre a deeeeeeemmmoooon.
After the dust settles, the cornugon is still not moving. However, after a few seconds he finally stands up and looks his opponent with absolute terror marking his face. It quickly turns into anger.
Damn... you! I will never surrender to someone like you! I have defeated countless air and storm elementals and defeated a storm giant in a wrestling match! I am not going lose to you!
Darshg takes his scythe to his left hand and raises his right hand. He aims at Revlis and blue energy starts to gather to his hand once again.
"Surge Beam Attack!", yells the horned devil and a mysterious beam of energy comes from his hands, rushing towards the shapechanger. However, after it comes to the range of 40 feet from Revlis, it splits up into smaller beams that come from different directions towards their target.
Revlis instantaneously transforms from his vaporous state into a what appears to an orc with fists made out of stone. THe beams rips through his new body, tearing off one of his arms and causing numerous wounds. The orc smiles as its wounds begin to close and his arm begins to regrow. He rushes across the arena towards the devil. As he does this, two large feathery antennae sprout from his forehead. When he comes in close enough, he rubs the antennae over Darshg's scythe, causing the blade to rust and shatter. Seconds after this, Revlis grabs his opponent's horns, taking the huge amount of pain and burning caused by this, and rams his forehead into that of his opponents.
It's obvious that spells aren't going to make the outcome of this battle. So why not you and me just throw down, right here and now?!
It... now... seems... painfully... clear to me... that I... am no match for you... in my... current... condition. However... I do have one special little trick... that... I have been... saving... for moments like this. I... really hoped that... I would never... have to... actually use this... but... you... leave me no... choice.
The horned devil begins to chant, his words echo throughout the arena. His magic makes him glow green, as he is obviously summoning something out of this plane. When he finishes casting, a large, muscular, bald, and over 13 feet tall giant man appears into his front. The man is obviously confused, not recognizing this place. The man says: "What trickery is this? Where am I? Why am I brought to this place?"
"Behind you, Hortax Doomclaw." Darshg says, and the giant turns around. "Darshgarothos?!! What have you done?!" he says. "I have summoned you to help me in my fight, and due to the geas-curse I wished you to have you must do as I command." says the cornugon. "WHAT?!!!" the giant yells "Are you insane?! Why do you do this to me?!" he continues. "Because I know that I cannot beat this one on my own, not without my scythe." Darshg responds. The giant turns away, now facing Revlis. "Well, if I must do so, the I guess I have no other choice." says Hortax.
"Yes, you cannot resist..." The cornugon starts to change, his skin is turning green, his flesh quickly beginning to melt in jellyish form. When the shapechange is complete, Darshg has turned into an absorber. "Now, Hortax, time to become PART OF ME!" Yells the previous horned devil, now in his absorber jelly form and lunges on Hortax. The giant looks behind now realizing the horror that his archenemy has turned into. "NOOOOOOOOOO!" The giant yells and is quickly all covered in greenish goo, and for a few seconds he tries to struggle, but the jelly finally wins. After lying there in the surface of the arena for a moment, the green slime starts to take form that stands almost 14 feet tall. The goo grows arms, legs, head, abdomen and wings, and finally it emits a blinding flash of green light throughout the arena.
When the light fades away, only one being stands where was two. It is a gruesome sight, a 14 feet tall gigantic horned devil with obviously massive amount of power. It has clothes that have blue, green and orange coloring, and the scythe that Darshg previously carried has appeared once again unharmed.
Well, that was... refreshing. Well... you seem pretty baffled by my new appearance. Cool, isn't it? Not only have I gained all of my archenemy's power, but I also inherited his speed, toughness, his sonic and electricity resistances and magic immunity.
The monster smiles, as if he had already won.
Fusion?! Instant weapon reforging?! Yes...yes...YES! This is what I've been waiting for! God, this is why I love to fight!! Don't give up now! This is most fun I've had since Gideon and I took on the Garrote!
Revlis closes his eyes. His fists turn into claws as his body begins to balloon out. A huge tail begins to grow from the base of his spine as he goes down on all fours. Eleven tiny growths swell on his neck, which all grow longer and longer until they all are fully formed necks. His original neck follows suit, extending out to a length as long as the others. His head, as well as the other heads on the other necks, morph into terrible reptilian visage, each with four tentacles where the mouth should be and razor-sharp tusks emerging from either side of his many mouths. A pair of draconic wings sprout from his back as well. He sits momentarily, pondering his new form. Suddenly, his skin begins to change into a mulit-colored and disgusting collage of what seems to be ever-shifting liquid. Four strange appendages shoot out from just below his wings, which waver and quake as thought Revlis has no control over them. His metamorphosis complete, Revlis can only best be described as a huge multi-headed abomination.
Now devil...enough warm-up...let's get started!
Ah...battle. The excitement, the rush, the anger....My blood burns in anticipation.
Stronger you might be...but have you endured what I have? I think not. My pain is my strength. Until you harness your rage and despair, you cannot hope to defeat me. Pain is power, as you are about to find out. For I am Caben Duur, and mine will be the last name you hear!
So saying, Caben Duur strikes downwards with his daggers, cutting deeply into his arms. Throwing his arms wide, he sends his blood spraying toward his opponents. The drops hiss and crackle with caustic potency, drenching Turlus and his companion in a corrosive spray.
Ah...the pain...the exquisite pain. And now...my blood hungers. Wrym, you have breathed your last!
As the scorching breath tears into his body, charring his flesh and causing his cloak to burst into flames, Caben Duur thrusts his arms foward, and a beam of pure black energy springs from his outstretched fingures and slams into the dragon. The reptile's skin bursts and blood pours from its gaping arteries, and it falls from the sky, tangled in its own veins. It hits the ground seconds later, its lifeblood spilling out and coating the battlefield with crimson icor. Caben kneels down, dips a finger in the viscous substance, and raises it to his lips, tasting the bitter liquid. He smiles, baring his fangs, and looks up at Turlus, blood dripping from his teeth.
One down...two to go. Who's next?
OOC: Sorry to take out your pet, but it seems to be a given on this thread that any additional combatants are expendible. You can always rez it after the battle. Plus, I really liked my kill description. And it was three against one. No hard feelings, I hope.
Also, could you post everyone's speech in a different font (italics, bold) or color? Its a little confusing at times, since Turlus's speech is red but the dragons speech is the same as the actions. Thanks in advance.
he sprouts draconic wings his hair grows long and black his eyes red he has black lightning suronding him a huge crack sound a heaving wind pushes thae areana and levels the area
he rises in the air and throws downa hail of ki blasts and shoutsbig bang atatack launches and prepares some spells
Interesting...yet ineffective.
He raises his head, and as he does, the audience gasps in horror. Nothing the abyssal creatures have ever seen prepares them for the sight of Caben Duur's mangled visage. Half his face has been burnt off, and the charred flesh strikes a dramatic contrast with the bloodstained bone of his exposed skull. Where his eyes were burns a livid green flame, which seems to radiate an aura of disease and sickness. Any resemblance Caben Duur bore to a living creature has vanished with the appearance of this flame---he appears as something out of the worst nightmares of the most hideous demons in the abyss. The spectral visage stares straight at Turlus, who, hardened warrior that he is, still must fight to keep from running in fear. When Caben speaks, his voice reverberates around the arena, and the horrified audience cringes in horror.
[b][color=green]So...now you have exposed my power...do you feel proud? Do you feel fulfilled? THIS is what a lifetime of hate and regret will do to an evil spirit. Do you think I like this? Do you think I want this? To be condemed to pay with my sanity and my soul for the blood of the innocent I spilled in life? I hunger for blood, but every drop I spill binds me further to the dark powers. There is no escape, only eternal torment. But this is what I am, and unluckily for you, I grow hungry. Now...care to try your luck again, or should I finish this now? I can stand to wait a few moments for my own enjoyment...[/b][/color]
Ha! Let the rumble continue!
The monstrous fusion charges at his opponent, moving faster than anyone could have ever imagined, and in couple of seconds he reaches his target. Darstax dodges the attack of opportunity and grabs one of the heads of his opponent. Then he instanly kicks Revlis to the air, teleports above him and launches a two-handed bash on the shapechanger. Revlis falls down and down at terrible speed, getting closer and closer towards the arena floor.
Darstax points his right hand finger at his opponent.
Oh, and by the way; here's a present for you!
"Finger of Death!"
And so a skull-shaped missile with green tail forms and launches towards Revlis.
then flys away and uses his meteor limit break and begins hailng ki blasts at him again ooc I pretty sure thats going to hurt and you can make a cool mental image of all of that oocRevlis slams hard into the arena, throwing up huge amounts of dust from all around him. The missle enters the dust cloud after him, and as it looks as if it's about to hit a part of his chest, that part simply disappears for a moment, causing the ray to impact harmlessly into the earth below Revlis.
Enter the teratomorph, a creature so cosmically unstable that parts of it simply don't exist for moments at a time. Also, it can cause others to become unstable as well...
Revlis takes wing and latches onto his opponent with all of his mouths. Suddenly, Darstax begins to feel the areas being grabbed begin to shudder.
I hope you're as tough as you say, or else this next part is gonna be real bad for you.
Darstax charges up, and blue energy gathers around him.
Now you shall feel the power of the VOID!
Darstax first glows dark blue, then darkness fills the area around him. It is as if the entire space-time continuem collapses around him, leaving a huge black hole where Darstax was just a couple of seconds ago. Revlis begins to get sucked into the VOID, while Darstax materializes just about 60 feet away from him.
Whew, that was a close one. I almost got sucked into that thing myself. It did take all my magic to do that, though, so I think I'd better recharge.
Darstax stands there, spreads his hands and summons the power of blue magic to restore his abilities. He glows bright blue, as sparks of blue magic gather to him.
Wooo...that was a little too close. I honestly didn't think that was going to work. Never thought I'd say this, but thank the gods for Beholders.
Now, my turn.
Revlis' saving eye goes back into his body. Suddenly, the shapeshifter begins to sink into the ground, as if the earth below him was simply water. He makes his way through the earth and sand below the arena, until he is under his opponent. Revlis' appendages rip from underground and grab Darstax by both of his ankles. Revlis' twelve heads emerge almost right in front of Darstax. As the fiend begins to feel the same shuddering again at his ankles, Revlis' mouths open and begin to form spheres of energy in front of them. While doing this, the all go into a position where they are all in a circle. The spheres of energy that were beginning to form combine into a huge mass of glowing light. Suddenly, three other colors, yellow, blue and green, begin to swirl around with the base white color that it was originally.
You say you have resistances against all of the elements except for fire, which you are obviously, immune to. But let's just see HOW resistant you are. If you survive this one, I won't hold you to that drink.
Suddenly, the sphere erupts with a catastrophic explosion of primal element. Lightning, acid and frost surge toward the restrained Dastax, as a piercing shriek makes all in or around the arena cover their ears due to its crass and terrible sound.
Try this on for size after image!all of the sudden iy looks like there are 12 diffrent turlus around the hob goblin he heres one say "ka" anothe say "me" and "ha" also "me" then turlus burts out from right underneath the hobgoblin shoutsHAA colasal jet of blue energy suprises the hob goblin blasting him far into the air then turlus teleports above the hobgblin and clasps his hands together and smashes him down then teleports were he was going to landand knees him were he falls then takes his head and grinds it into the ground until he hits the wall then shooots a hail of energy blasts at him after the smoke clears he grabs him by the ankle throws him on the ground then jumps on him lioke a trampline until hes coughing up blood by the gallon
Such was Turlus's plan. His attack was powerful, and unexpected. But Caben Duur was more than a match for him.
As the saiyans' chant begins, Caben Duur draws both his daggers, holding them in front of him as he spins around, watching his foes. As the blast erupts from the earth, he is suprised for merely a fraction of a second, but even then he can't avoid the blast. Caben Duur is flung skywards by the force of the attack. He slams bodily into the wall of force around the stadium, and spectators hear the unmistakable crack of bone as broken limbs punch through his muscles and skin. A light rain of warm blood falls from Caben Duur's mangled body, staining the shield and dotting the ground with red. Then Turlus appears, fists locked together, and slams Caben Duur back towards the ground. It is then that Caben Duur strikes.
He surges foward, a blur of movement so fast that the eye can hardly follow it. Grabbing hold of Turlus, he swings himself onto the saiyan's back. His right hand rises, and the bones lengthen and burst through his flesh until they resemble serrated claws, stained red with his own blood. He raises his hand high, and brings it striking down with horrible force. Then everything is obscured in a cloud of blood as Caben Duur and Turlus plummet downward, locked together.
Suddenly the red sprays die away, and for a brief second both combatants freeze in a silent tableu. Turlus, limp and unresponsive, falling spread-eagled toward the earth, and Caben Duur, crouching spider-like on his opponents back, one clawed hand deep in the saiyan's chest. Then they are lost to sight again as they hit the ground with a dull thud and a cloud of dust.
A scream of agony and a horrible tearing sound fill the arena, and Caben Duur's voice reverberates through the stadium.
[color=green]Two.[/color]
There is a moment of complete silence, and then a sickeningly organic sound. Seconds later the dust rolls aside. Caben Duur walks from the dust cloud, licking the warm blood from his claws. He is a revolting sight, held together by fractured bones and flayed and bloody muscle. Yet something still pushes him onward...some invisible and indefinable force of malice and harted. The monstrousity that is Caben Duur turns to the remaining saiyan, and his eyes glow a brillant sinister green as he speaks.
[b][color=green]Lucky you split, aren't you? You have no comprension of the power I command. You have no idea what it is you face. Men sought to kill me. Demons sought to bind me. The gods sought to banish me from this world forever. And yet I stand before you. I am greater than all of them. True, the dark powers of the universe sway me, but those powers forged existance itself. And even then they do not have control of me. Yet you struggle against me. Why?...no matter. Soon you will join your comrades.[/b][/color]
The dust cloud finally settles...nothing is left of the saiyan except for a still-beating heart lying in a pool of blood.
The skeletal herald steps forth and proclaims, "No destroying the plane please." before the force sphere drops him, back onto the arean surface.
OOC: See this is what happens when you try to destroy the realm currently being watched over by two gods and one god-like directly.
And if the gods had a protective orb...WHY Did You Therefore Think It Would Work On The Opponent Within That Orb? They would after all want to protect the fighters, the viewers, and probably all of Baator.
Either way, you would be dead from the intense heat and pressure. There is no pressure resistance effect by the way in normal stuff. So in fact the intervention saved Turlus from coming out as a very burnt diamond.
Also three thing come to mind: One: You couldn't strike, because of time stop, Two: You've never been to a planetary core, or seen what one looked like, so its unlikely you even got there, and so probably got thrown out to Avernus, and Three: The lower planes aren't planets, they have no known core. They do have layer upon layer of evil substance, that probably would have stripped a mortal's soul in, oh, a few seconds.
Anyway...Khael...he did say to tell him if he went to far. So he went to far. He's right about the no rules posted yet thing. And a precedent has been set for leaving briefly in my match against Korone. Have him edit his post or post a new action...Don't disqualify him for something he agreed might be to excessive.
But Kaizer...in all fairness...he has a point. I just think you need to think things like that out a bit first.
But since you're okay with it, I suppose Kaiser can have a second chance. But no high collateral hijinks again ya'hear? I'm the one who does take notes on what spells can/can't reasonably do...
As for the rules list, fine I can get started on one. Post in the OOC thread any rules we have covered or any ideas for new ones you have.
This is the last OOC post here, any apologies or rebuttals should be posted in the OOC thread where they belong. If there is a problem then just post saying "lets discuss this matter in the OOC thread for a moment" and then discuss it there. Sorry for my absence today, Aya and myself were gone out somewhere.
When the dust settles, Darstax is nowhere to be found.
What's the matter? I'm over here.
Revlis tries to spot a glipse of his opponent, only to get completely caught off-guard by Darstax's next attack.
"Bigby's Crushing Hand!" yells the fused monster, as he appears only 20 feet behind Revlis. A giant hand appears and succesfully grapples Revlis, squeezing the life out of the shapeshifter.
Ah, so futile. Hey, you don't look like you have very comfortable conditions. It's about to get even worse.
"TIME FOR THE GRAND FINALE!" yells Darstax, as he raises both of his hands, and a blue magical spark appears. Few seconds later the magic spark disappers and it would seem that the souls of the dead are being dragged towards Darstax's hands.
It is now readily apparent that the appendages that were holding onto Dastax's ankles are not longer grappling, but instead have fused to the fiend's legs. Even though he has teleported, they are still attached.
The detail...of course being...that the blast...was a diversion...
The top half of Revlis' body begins to look transparent and clear like water. Suddenly, he simply slips down from the terrible grappling arm. After resolidifying, huge, wickedly-barbed spikes shoot out from Revlis' back. He pulls Darstax onto his now incredibly sharp back. The horrific sound of tearing flesh and snapping bone can be heard as the spikes burrow into the fiend's body. Then, Revlis stands on his hind legs and simply falls on his back, trapping the fiend in its spiky prison.
And I'm really getting tired of the teleporting...
But Caben Duur is not so easily destroyed, nor is he truly dead. The vengeful smoke wraps around Darstax, engulfing him in darkness. It seeps into Revlis through the injuries caused by his breaking spine. And as Revlis impales the devil, the black mist sinks into the devil's gaping wounds. A horrible burning smell fills the arena, and blood gushes from both combatants orifices in torrents. And still the mists constrict, pulling the blood forcefully from the bodies of both devil and shapeshifter. It bubbles to the surface in frothy torrents, and where its progress is blocked, the skin bursts, and the blood erupts outward in crimson gysers. The ground is saturated and slippery beneath their feet, stained a horrible blackish red.
OOC: That's what happens when you call the dead and Caben Duur is in the arena...:D
"YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME WITH TRICKS LIKE THIS!!! LOOK AT ME!!! YOU HAVE ONLY MANAGED TO PUSH ME BEHIND THE LINE THAT KEEPS ME SANE!!! RUAAAAAGH!!! " The monster glows orange, shining so bright that it hurts just to look at him.
"DESTRUCTION!!!" And so, the fused devil explodes with power that shakes the very foundations of the arena. When it stops, Darstax charges at Revlis, moving even faster than before, hitting the shapechanger with all of his power. He grabs Revlis and throws him towards the surface of the arena. Then, he continues his previous attack, and the souls of the dead form into a massive orb of energy. After the bomb is complete, he launches it towards Revlis:
"SOULBOMB ATTACK!!!"
I really hope this doesn't mean you're out of tricks...I was just starting to have fun.
[color=green]HOW DARE YOU TRY TO USE ME FOR YOUR OWN GAIN, DEVIL! YOU MORTALS KNOW NOTHING OF THE POWER YOU FACE, AND STILL YOU INSIST ON MEDDLING WHERE YOU DO NOT BELONG! NOW THE WRATH OF CABEN DUUR WILL DESCEND ON YOU![/color]
A dark form surges out of the sphere, dragging a tail of severed spirits behind it. The being charges toward Revlis and Darstax, livid with malice and loathing. The entity crashes into Revlis, ripping through his body like a knife through butter. Revlis falls stunned to the arena floor, his very life force ripped apart by the force of the attack. The the creature reaches Darstax.
[b][color=green]I am no slave of yours, Devil. Pull your spirits from elsewhere...if you ever can again![/b][/color]
The spirit that is part of Caben Duur rips into Darstax's flesh, burrowing through his body, where it bursts forth in bloody ecstacy. Darstax crumbles beneath the assault, falling to the floor to join Revlis.
Across the arena, Caben Duur throws back his head and laughs, reveling in the power flowing through his spirit.
OOC: You're both down (not dead, but weakened somewhat) and Caben Duur is satisfied. Continue your battle.
So, the power of the dead does not help me in this fight. Don't worry, I am not finished yet, though the level of my power has dropped significantly. I guess now is the time for my ultimate attack. Let me just make sure that none of your tricks will stand in my way, fools.
That said, the devilish fusion regenerates his wounds and starts to charge up, and suddenly all of the chromatic energies flow through and around him.
Then, a dark red force shield appears on Darstax.
There that should do it. I have summoned the ultimate shield of chaos to protect me. Now for my finishing move.
Darstax raises his hands, calling the blue magic to his aid once again, and sparks of blue energy form a colossal sphere of energy above Darstax.
One "ULTIMATE ORB OF DESTRUCTION!!!" later the gigantic orb flies towards Revlis. The shapechanger tries to move away from it, but the orb catches huge velocity and starts to chase him.
I'm so tired of your spells and spell-like abilities! I want to fight! Not reflect!
I'm so tired of your spells and spell-like abilities! I want to fight! Not reflect!
I actually wanted you to do that.
Then suddenly, Darstax stops just 10 feet away from Revlis, and the orb hits the cornugon exploding violently, and the energy surge rips both combatants to pieces. The shockwaves tear HUGE cracks to the surface of the arena. Even Turlus and Caben Duur are both being flown away from the arena.
The audience begins to cheer the victor, when they notice something isn't right. Instead of acknowledging his victory, the saiyan has fallen to his knees, hands clawing at his chest. He throws back his head and screams in heart-rending agony. His eyes, mouth, nostrils, and ears begin to spew forth a bubbling, frothing stream of crimson liquid. Turlus's skin bulges and bones snap as he struggles. Suddenly a clawed and blood-stained hand bursts forth from the saiyan's chest and proceeds to rip his torso apart. Something is trying to get out. The audience gasps in horror. Its impossible. It shouldn't be happening. But it is.
Caben Duur is still alive.
Caben Duur makes a quick pulling gesture, and Turlus's blood bursts from the saiyan's body in a crimson wave, streaking across the arena to be absorbed by the entity that is Caben Duur. Strengthened and invigorated, the blood mage laughs at his weakened opponent.
[color=green]Fool. Your games are starting to bore me. If you want to live, you must amuse me. I will give you one last chance.[/color]
BIC: Sorcen stands and nods his approval of the match between the cornugon and the shapeshifter, "It was a great match and a hard one to decide on but ultimately it would seem that Revlis won."
OOC: I can edit this if you guys want a draw instead. :OOC
Whoa...I've been in retirement too long. Kids never had this kind of firepower back in my day. I need to get in some serious training before I do one of these again. Not to mention that I never thought that my beholder form be be so useful.
Darshg...Darstax...whoever you are...you still there? If you are, here's some advice for you: train more. More than you could even imagine. I want to fight you again. One more time. That was a great fight. But, you have so much room for improvement. If you were at your best, and I was back in my prime...I'm getting shivers just thinking about it.
OOC: It doesn't really matter to me, Sorcen. I think my above passage is suitable for either scenario.
Finally, it lands just outside the bar, and begins to take form once again.
A small, red kobold, clad in chainmail adorned with strange symbols rides over to sorcen on a brown dire weasel. He dismounts and pats sorcen on the shoulder in a friendly, familiar way. "so, you're Sorcen, eh? And this, I take it, is how you kill time, along with a few other things. It's pretty obvious why I'm here, I guess you know a good knight eh?" He flashes a reptilian grin at the fiend "well, not a whole lot I can do about it, besides, I'm bored. So, who needs a fight 'round here?"
He moves over to a nearby seat, and turns back to sorcen "by the way, name's skraal. Skraal weaselheart. More importantly, I'm a guy who saw this coming and brought a wholesome, non-sulfur meal for ya." With that, he tosses a few things deftly at the demon. Among them are grilled chicken wings, glow-fungus salad and a rather large bottle of beer. ((any tragic resemblance to FF8 is coincidental, believe me. Also, this guy is tough, but try not to go all god-like power on him, mm'kay?))
He catches the offerings with his telekinesis and floats them to a table beside me, "Thank you Skraal, you may go to the bar or to the backstage of the arena to await your call to fight."
"You called?"
BIC: Sorcen smiles at Syra, "Actually I was just about to, You get to fight Caben next if You'd like. Just let me end this match and have Caben healed." Sorcen waves his hand and both current combatants freeze in place, Turlus is healed and teleported to the sidelines, while Caben is healed to his former appearance and is unfrozen and informed of his next match.
Turlus hears these words in his head, "You have improved much and we are grateful for it. Perhaps next match you will do even better, for now though, rest up and we will let know when we have another match open for you."
Caben hears this in his head, "You have been declared teh winner of your previous match. This being wishes to fight and we believe this new terrain will help bring more of your powers into play."
Sorcen then waves his hand over the arena again and the terrain shifts, OOC: I'll let Gideon describe the new terrain since he knows exactly what it is. :OOC
Ahh...so sweet! I had forgotten what that tasted like.
OOC:This act done with Sorcen's permission via PM. Turlus was cloned for the dragon quest, so it's okay. To anyone else killed by Caben Duur, you'll be rezzed, so don't worry.
BIC:
Sorcen waves his hand, and the arena floor splits open. Tall, twisting structures of metal rise from the gaping earth, casting menacing shadows over the entire battlefield. Blood drips from the walls of the citadel, pooling on the ground. Corpses litter the arena, and a palpable darkness shrouds the entire scene. Both combatants lose sight of each other in the labirynth of the city.
Caben Duur looks around, taking in his surroundings.
I see...darkness for the shadowmancer, and death for me. I approve. Now...let's begin this.
So saying, he draws two more daggers from somewhere within his cloak and begins to stalk warily about the dark alleys.
Syra leaps lightly into the arena floor, landing gracefully. With an idle wave of her hand, her shadow pulls itself out of the ground.
"Shadowguard, SEEK."
The shadow flattens against the ground, then streaks off, seeking Caben Duur. Syra herself melds into the shadows nearby, and her voice echoes from every dark corner.
"One cannot hide from the hidden."
She laughs, mockingly.
Then he sees movement beside him. Striking out, his blades find Syra's shadowgaurd, tearing into its shadowy substance and rending it in two. The creature melts back into the shadows, and Caben Duur spins around, searching the shadows for any sign of movement.
From out the shadows steps the Shadowguard, newly whole. It gives an unearthly wail, then waves its hand. Grasping shadows reach up to grab Caben, trying to pin him down and chill him to the core.
Syra's voice echoes mockingly from the shadows.
"Come on, Blood Magus. I expected better from an esteemed finger-waggler like yourself. Surely, surely you can do better. But, I suppose you like playing with my pets."
A piece of shadow detaches itself in the form of a towering dragon.
"Brinlinikovan, my shadow-puppet. He used to be a dragon, but he offered his shadow's services to me, should I need it. I think you'll find shadow frost to be a bit too cold for your liking."
The dragon shadow roars, and spews fourth a gout of icy darkness.
As the dragons breath engulfs him (seem familiar, anyone?), Caben Duur breaks free of his shadowy constraints, andstrikes with both daggers, slashing two horizontal wounds in his own chest. His blood coats his daggers and drips on the alley, and then rises up again, engulfing the shadow-dragon and slamming it down against the ground.
Cold does not affect me, mortal. I was imprisoned for most of existance in a world where this would have thawed the entire plane. This is nothing. Now, are you going to show yourself, or do I have to resort to more...violent measures? You'll find I'm far from a finger-waggler...and it will cost you dearly.
Until he realizes the darkness is solidifying. Already, it's getting hard to breathe, and movement is as if you walk through molasses.
"Oh Shadowguard."
The shadowguard pulls the two daggers on its person, and hurls them at Caben. Somewhere during their scything journey through the air, they split into many.
"Shadows aren't just my power. They're my friends. You were a fool to challenge me here."
With that, the shadows NOT attacking Caben at the moment converge, leaving the rest of the arena well lit. Standing there is Syra, looking like a blot of nonexistence, shadows wrapped protectively around her. She smiles menacingly.
"Shall we dance, then?"
And you were foolish to challenge me at all. Let us begin the dance! And you will learn: shadows may be your friends, but blood is my slave!
Caben Duur barely moves, but Syra notices something is wrong. Some inexplicable power is constricting her body, and motion is becoming much more difficult. Bood rushes to her head, clouding her mind, and her pulse drops rapidly downward. Caben Duur looks at her almost pityingly.
You have merely seconds before that spell reaches your heart. Unless you drain all of you own blood, or course. But I doubt you could survive that.
"Who says I need to stay alive to fight? SHADOWGUARD!"
Syra's shadowguard streaks into her body, and they meld together. Now it is impossible to tell Syra apart from the shadows surrounding her.
"I can become shadow, as I thought my earlier demonstration should have told you. Maybe you're just a slow learner."
The shadows surrounding Syra whirl, and the air near Caben, still covered in darkness, is almost completely solid. Moving is difficult, let alone spellcasting or speaking.
"If you want to dance, how about the Tango?"
The shadows streak out to cover the arena once again, but are no longer in their natural positions, maintaining their presence near Syra and Caben. The woman herself is nowhere to be seen.
"If you like your blood so much, allow me to have some fun with it. It's only fair, given that you've played with my Shadowguard."
Indistinguishable from the other shadows, Syra streaks THROUGH Caben, bringing chill beyond that of even the coldest plane in the multiverse ((I'm sorry, but you just had living darkness streak through your body, mind, and soul, it's gonna be cold)), bringing a huge stream of blood with it. Wasting no time, the blood converts to shadow, and forms into a barely-visible, towering form.
"Not as good as the real thing, I'll admit, but still fun."
The shadow-Tarrasque charges.
Then in his normal happy go-lucky voice "Lets get this party started!"
Socks then enters a slopy, hunched over kind of stance, he even seems to be a little off balence. "Any time your ready Sir Kronos"
OOC: If there are objections to that terrain then just describe the terrain you want in the OOC thread and I will change this description. :OOC
That was foolish...did you think something formed of my own blood had any chance against me? But you are a challenging opponent. I haven't enjoyed a battle this much in centuries.
Caben Duur raises his hands, and the ground beneath the arena splits open. A infernal glow rushes up, a brilliant orange pillar of magma, which catches the shadows, tearing through them. Targetting the shadows that recently rent his body apart, the blood mage directs the molten stone straight into his opponent. Heat roils out in waves, cracking the ground and melting through the metal of the surrounding buildings, and the glowing light overpowers the surrounding shadows for an instant, stripping them down to nothing. In that fraction of a second, Caben Duur spins around, trying to catch a glimpse of his elusive foe.
The earth bleeds too, little shadowmancer.
OOC: This is an enjoyable battle. But I've found a problem...I can't actually hurt shadows that badly with Caben Duur. So his other power may begin to show themselves. And about the chilling the body/soul thing...that actually wouldn't affect him to much. Remind me to send you his backstory after this battle...you'll see why.
And I apologize, but this weekend I won't be posting much, if at all. Band and AP classes/tests are eating away my free time this week.
From right behind Caben
The shadowmancer steps out of the blood magus's shadow, and waves her hand again (Yay for no verbal components EVER). Caben's own shadow expands immensely, covering the arena floor in darkness once again. As it reaches the magma, the molten rock simply ceases to exist. With the natural shadows returning, Caben's snaps into place. But, even as he turns to face her, Syra is once again gone, melded into shadow.
"Magma. How quaint. It would seem I've underestimated you slightly, Caben Duur. Allow me to rectify my mistake."
Syra manifests, a black streak against the night-black dark. She raises her hands high, and EVERY shadow in the arena, whether from audience, judge, or structure, flies from its owner to her, covering her in a cloak of darkness. Even the arena's shadows recede, pulled into the shadowmancer. She looms, impossibly tall, an imposing figure of shadow. Her voice booms across the floor.
"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt."
Icy tendrils whip out towards Caben, impossibly thin and deadly sharp
"Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt."
Streaks of darkness, blots of nonexistence, streak to confine the bloodmage in a ten by ten by ten square
"It lurks behind stars and under hills."
The walls tighten as shadow ribbons slash through it, seeking the target within
"And empty holes it fills."
The imposing figure is shrinking as its darkness siphons away, absorbed into Caben's ever-shrinking prison.
"It comes first and follows after."
The walls gain a blackness so dark, so absolute that looking at them is like staring into an infinite void
"Ends life, kills laughter."
Caben can feel it, can feel the air of his prison being drawn into the wall. The darkness is an all-consuming void.
"It's darkness, Caben. The multiverse began in it. It's only fitting that it be your end."
"Shadow Void!"
The walls crush inward, then vanish, leaving exactly nothing where Caben Duur once stood.
"Checkmate."
((Feel free to escape somehow, but don't be popping out of Syra's chest. She has no blood at the moment. If you want me to edit it, please, just ask.))
BIC:
Silence fills the arena; the audience watches in horror as the void closes on Caben Duur. It engulfs the blood mage, constricting tighter and tighter, squeezing him from existence itself. And then he is gone...but something remains. Some indefinable spiritual presence lurks in the darkness of the void; a nameless, eyeless menace. Yet every member of the audience can sense a deep, penetrating gaze stripping them down to their very soul. The entity does not seem to move, or speak, but Syra is vaguely aware of some intangible presence…her thoughts seem deep, calming, resonant, yet forceful and unyielding; and they are not her own…
Caben Duur speaks through the void itself, echoing through every mind of every creature on every plane…
NO!
…you will not destroy me so easily, mortal…my soul did not reside in that shell…
…but I had planned to use that body…
…meddlesome fool…you try my patience. But we have time yet before the end.
…Let me tell you a story…
What you say is true. The void came before the world, but you do not possess the whole story. I do. I was there.
There are two darks...the Dark, and the Void. One the protector, the other the destroyer. The darkness began existence, and was the twilight barrier between the world and the void. Guarded by Orthos, the Sovereign of the Howling Dark, it kept the nothingness from consuming reality. As long as it held, the universe would remain.
But at the creation, the dark powers struck out at existence. And they almost succeeded. Had not Orthos stayed their hand, they certainly would have succeeded. As it was, the destruction was enormous, and Orthos knew that it could repel them forever. Its powers waned every day, had days existed then. It was failing.
But not all was lost. The dead cried for vengeance, and the netherworld was not yet formed. The dead had nowhere to go, and the void slowly twisted and warped their spirits into things of madness and rage. But the spirit is strong. It does not give up. From the broken and bloody bodies of the slain sprang an entity of malice and vengeance, driven by the rage of the dead. This entity threw itself against the void, gaining power with each life snuffed out by the dark forces. After eons of devastation, it drove them back, trapping them within the void itself.
And there it should have ended. Orthos guarded existence once more, the dark powers were bound, and the spirit entity was fading and weakening as the component spirits forgot their boundless rage. The holes in reality were healing, and all seemed perfect once more.
But the universe had been shattered, and evil had leaked through from the void. The first act of violence in the universe, a child dying at her own father’s hands, burned white hot sparks into the fading being. A new spirit, fueled by revenge, joined the being, and a wave of emotion flooded through it. The spirits, reminded of their own torment, magnified the feeling ten-fold. The entity awoke…and hungered. The fight against the void had corrupted the composite being. The carnage was terrible. The spirits demanded more pain, more suffering. And the entity provided. The dead numbered in the thousands.
Orthos was outraged. It exiled the spirit from reality, binding it within the void. This immense expenditure of power left Orthos drained, a mere shell of its former self, and Orthos became what he is today: a vestige, with only a fragment of its original power. But it was successful. The spirit was gone. No suffering could reach it there. For centuries upon centuries, millennia upon millennia, the being brooded, fading and weakening with every passing second.
Until now. A hobgoblin binder and blood mage by the name of Udvar Hett had discovered the existence of the entity in his talks with Orthos’s essence. Its powers entranced him, and he attempted to summon it to him. He succeeded. But he realized that it was almost powerless, weakened beyond belief from its exile. He offered a blood sacrifice: his pain would awaken the spirit, which in turn would grant him power. The spirit agreed.
Hett summoned the entity, and slashed deeply into his palms. His pain did nothing to awaken the spirit. A stronger bond was needed. But Hett went to far. He saw a chance to control an entity of untold power, and in trying, he sealed his fate. Hett created the strongest bond he knew: using a variation of a binder spell for harming vestiges, he managed to cut into the entities spirit-flesh, and exchanged his blood with its essence.
But the spirit’s will was too much for the mortal to control. The entity seized Udvar Hett’s soul, and crushed it mercilessly. It chose a name for itself, one of the old language, suiting its beginnings and foretelling the carnage its reappearance would bring…
Vengeful Blood...Caben Duur...
The darkness that is Caben Duur splinters apart, arching about the city, flowing through the streets, and sinking viscously though the mouths of the corpses scattering the city. The dead rise to their feet, pulling themselves grotesquely forward, and fill the city streets with their mangled bodies. A thousand ruined and discordant voices cry out with a sound like a dying wail…
[i]Come, mortal! Your last dance is beginning![/i]
"Weres that Kronos dude? Is he a no show?
Aw man what a drag! Sir Sorcen! What now? I can fight anyone you whant I just what to fight some one :DPlease Sir Sorcen!"Socks jumps up and down in trying to get Sorcen's attention
"I missed the free Beer
please don't let the free beer got to waste! 
Wait is he invisable er something? Has the fight already started?"Socks starts to puch and kick thin air
"Were are you KRONOS!!!! you can't hide for ever!"
"Great. Now I need to kill ALL of him. Let's make this convienient, shall we?"
The individual shadows rise up to consume the various Cabens, and they re-appear inside the Arena proper.
"You, sir, are entirely too inconvienient to kill. Let's have YOU do it."
The Caben shadows pull themselves from the ground and flock to Syra. They form into ranks.
"Face yourself!"
The shadow-Caben's charge.
((They're JUST like Caben. The only catch is that each one is half of it's owner. So, each one is half of one Caben zombie thing. But, they know his thoughts, his tactics, his memories, everything. They KNOW Caben, and therefore will be much harder to kill))
In the meantime, Syra's shadowguard rises, huge and terrible, like the dark giant Syra was moments before.
"Shadowguard, DESTROY!"
The shadow giant moves in to do battle.
But the battle is distinctly one sided. The shadows are powerful and feral, but the animate dead work with a dreadful efficiency, each operating as part of a much larger whole. Together, they form a brutally effective force, and the darkness falls before them. The decimated shadows flow and melt, and are absorbed by their destroyers. And the dead grow stronger. Soon it becomes obvious...while numerous sundered corpses litter the arena, the shadows are quickly fading.
OOC: It aren't actually multiple Cabens...each is a seperate spirit, so they don't know his thoughts and plans. Together, they are Caben Duur, but a simple shadow conjuration cannot duplicate the powers that make up his conciousness.
The shadowguard wades into the unholy horde, scattering the dead with swipes of its hands and sending shards of shadow at any who flee. The monstrous shadow seems indomitable.
"Come and plaaaaaaaay Caben. The dead make poor soldiers."
Syra once again gathers all non-shadowguard shadows to her, and becomes a speck of nonexistence against the arena floor.
"Allow me to enliven this little party with my Zoo."
The shadows streak from Syra, forming innumerable monsters, great and small, which howl as one, an unearthly cry, and charge into the fray.
((Yeah. This is every monster in every monster manual ever published, plus a few from Libris Mortis and the Book of Exalted deeds, each one using its powers at half strength. Still, half of the Tarrasque is a lot, not to mention all the others.))
Wave after wave of crimson fluid crashes to the ground, flooding the entire arena. A great tidal wave of frothing blood sweeps over the city, ripping up buildings and shattering cobblestones with its raw power. Those of Syra's legions that could survive breathing in only blood are slain almost instantly by the force of the impact. The shadowguard lasts only seconds longer before being rent asunder and sucked into the swirling red maelstrom.
Then a form rises from the ocean of blood. Towering above the audience, even above the stands, its takes the vague, shifting, fluid shape of a twisted and demonic humanoid. Green and black light glows where its eyeless sockets should be, and dark and malevolent energy courses through the entity.
A massive hand slowly emerges from the amorphous chaos. Great claws of steel, fragments of the ruined city, jut from the imposing fist. And in its grasp is a tiny figure...Syra.
I grow tired of this charade. You have thrown legions against me many times, and they have all failed. Do you possess only one trick? Can you do nothing for your own?
No matter. It will soon be over. You were a worthy foe.
...for the first time in millennia, I almost mourn your passing...
The massive hand begins to constrict, crushing Syra's life and spirit within its grasp.
"One...trick? You dissapoint...me, Caben. I...thought you...were...smarter than that."
Syra smiles weakly, then MELDS with the physical form of Caben. He can hear her laughter in his head, though she makes no attempt to impose her will on his mind.
"The wonderful thing about shadows is everyone has one, and everyone can be one. Well, Caben, we seem to be stalemated. I can't kill you, and you can't finish me. I propose a draw."
The laughter resounds in the arena, mocking everyone and no one.
"Unless you care to fight for the rest of forever?"
Caben Duur's voice booms from her mouth.
[i]Well spoken...I must agree. I can destroy all you summon, but I cannot destroy you. I will no longer strive to slay you...you have proved yourself my equal...for now.
But just imagine...I am a being of the darkness, you command the shadows...you are flesh and bone, and I am their master. Together, none could oppose us!
What do you say?[/i]
"I'll consider it. Well fought, Caben Duur."
To you as well. Well fought.
And you owe me a body...
And then he is gone.
If he was ever here at all..." Socks sraches his head in deap thought seeming to forget the fight has started.Socks them takes a good look at the man "Wait...I'm sorry to say this but your old." he states in a matter of fact kind of tone. "Are you sure your in a good enuf shape to fight I mean I don't want to hert you even if i want to fight realy bad. No disrespect intended but I'm not one for one sided battles Sir Trytion"
OOC: Socks doesn't mean any disrespect he honestly is consened for your health and will fight if you think your up to it. (sorry for the OOC but i needed to clearify) Oh and Socks is a monk not a Swordsmen he has no Idems on him at all
shall we do this.
As he says this he pulls off his cloak tossing it asside reveling dark scaley chizeled abs and honed biscept(spelling) mucels, a head with horns curling down to his chin. wearing nothing but black leather breaches with a bone hilt atached to his waist.
this is going to be fun! poping his neck and rollong his sholders and waiting for a response from the other two.
Sorcen said to go ahead and jump in if I felt like it via PM
Socks spin kicks sliding on the ground, It apeared as only a blur due to the superhuman speed. Eventhough he is a good 50ft away the resulting shock wave creates a wind force with such intensity that it blows back both Kronos and Tyrion. Socks smiles confidently looking at his handywork.
Simultaneous to said action, Sorcen also sends a messege on his paper to Cycine in the bar.
OOC: Forgive my bad description, I'm not in the mindset to do a good desciption.
EDIT: \/ Thanks Khael.
The cityscape breaks apart and reforms shaping itself to a new design as thick walls rise up from the ground, the surafes remoulding themselves as greyed hard stone from which burning torches emerge, as the walls arc up to form arched ceilings and high towers with great stairs...
As the grinding sound of recarved stone settles the ominous clicks and snaps of masterworked traps and pitfalls of great artifice, can be heard setting themselves, ready for those who are not wary...
as thel sudden burst of wind blowing his hair back krono smiles and chuckels to him self
Not bad
Krono extends his hand and a wave of energy pours forth swalowing sock in a storm of electricity.
There try that on for size.
"Oi, I'm ready an' waitin'! Le's SCRAP!"
With that said, he whips out his knives and waits for Sorcen to give him the go-ahead.
"Wow...Sorcen did a great job on his place. Now, if I can only find..."
He looks around for a moment until he spots Kyle.
"Yo! You're here! You ready?"
Nobunaga walks over to his opponent and gives him a grin. The last thing it looks like he's ready for is combat of any kind.
"Man, you look pretty strong. But I think I can beat you. I did once manage to rank 9th in an arm wrestling competition. And they had some pretty strong guys there."
"Sheesh, sorry I asked. Guess there's no respect for one's opponents these days."
Nobunaga quickly release something: He is completely lost with the maze of stone. He takes his katana out of his bag, but shows no signs of worries. He continues walking along, keeping his pace fast and his footwork light as to avoid any traps. He does take note of the architecture of the building and the lack of decorations.
"Come ou' an' plaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, Swordsman! I 'aven't 'ad the chance ta scrap fer a year now!"
"Aw, shoot...which way? Left or right?"
Focusing inward, he closes his eyes and notes the subtle movements in the air around him. He then puts his long, unkempt hair back in a tie.
"Okay...right."
He boldly takes the right path, but not before slashing a mark in the stone on his path.
"Like leaving breadcrumbs...'cept, not..."
"Where is tha' bugger?"
Kyle turns down another hallway, only to find himself in a large ballroom, set out as though for a feast.
"Hey now, wha's all this then?"
"Well I'll be...I've been goin' around in circles...guess I go left..."
He takes the left path. After a little bit of walking, he comes to a ball room with sumptuous amounts of food. Along with his opponent.
"Hey, it's about time I saw a friendly face! I mean...well, you know."
Nobunaga lazily goes into a stance, holding his sword to his side and watching his opponent with a keen eye.
BIC: Surprisingly the two combatants do not set off any traps on their wanderings through the corridors. However, upon entering the opposite sides of this ballroom, they both hear slight ticking noises and an eerie creaking.
Moving impossibly fast for an ordinary human ((Yay feat selection)), Kyle leaps onto the table, rushing his opponent. Just before the table would end, he jumps up, grabbing hold of a chandelier and swinging until he's about five feet behind Nobunga. Wasting absolutely no time, he rushes in, daggers moving in a blurred flurry of attacks.
((One big advantage of dagger vs. Any Sword: If the dagger gets in close, it's WAY too close for the sword))
"Hmmm...fast."
He parries as many of the attacks with his sheath as he can, but some of the knife cuts go through to and slice his skin. After a few moments, Nobunaga slams his sheath into Kyle's side, stopping him cold. Nobunaga jumps backwards end watches his opponent, his guard seeming to be much more formidable than before.
"Okay...I've gauged you a little bit. Those daggers make good cuts, but not as bad as I did to you.
Kyle looks down and notices his left pant leg is seeped in blood. His thigh has a deep gash; not enough to impede movement, but still more than skin deep.
"If you're gonna rush me, boy, you're gonna wanna better guard..."
The creaking, on the other hand, doesnt seem to stop with the springing of the spikes, and a slight pop is heard amidst the creaking.
"I think ye've underestimated the power o' me faith. An' now, o' course, the battlefiel' is now more ta me likin'. Narrow confines bree' narrow fightin'"
Kyle jumps up, landing lightfooted on top of one of the spikes embedded in the floor ((I'm assuming they're big ass spikes)). Grinning, he flashes out his knives.
And vanishes from view.
"Hiding's not going to help you. Unless you can turn into a ghost, then I'll find ya."
Nobunaga closes his eyes and enters a state of deeper conciousness. Suddenly, he can see everything in his mind's eye. The food. The poison. The spikes. Everything that the air comes in contact with around Nobunaga makes an impression into his mental image of the now spike-studded arena. Even his opponent.
Nobunaga makes a single cut and resheathes his sword. Some of the spikes in the ground split for seemingly no reason moments after the sword is back in place. Nobunaga notices that there is more blood on his blade, although not much.
"You think you're fast kid? You've never met a master of the Diamond Mind. And that's gonna be what kills you today."
"Tha' ol' trick? We'll see how yer hearin' stacks up to me footpaddin'."
In that split-second of talking, Nobunga realizes that Kyle was, in fact, behind him. ((I'm sorry if Move Silently doesn't work on Diamond Mind, I'm not familiar with it)). With a wild whoop, he plants his knee into the swordsman's back, hard, and rakes his daggers across Nobunga's biceps. With a cocky grin, he leaps over the spikes again, and vanishes from view.
"Come o' an' play, swordsman. It'll be borin', jus' comin' a' ya from nowhere."
((Dagger sneak attack FTW! Thank you, Invisible Blade))
Kyle laughs.
"Tha' ol' trick? We'll see how yer hearin' stacks up to me footpaddin'."
In that split-second of talking, Nobunga realizes that Kyle was, in fact, behind him. ((I'm sorry if Move Silently doesn't work on Diamond Mind, I'm not familiar with it)). With a wild whoop, he plants his knee into the swordsman's back, hard, and rakes his daggers across Nobunga's biceps. With a cocky grin, he leaps over the spikes again, and vanishes from view.
"Come o' an' play, swordsman. It'll be borin', jus' comin' a' ya from nowhere."
((Dagger sneak attack FTW! Thank you, Invisible Blade))
Such was Kyle's plan. And against any opponent, it would've been a great one. But not even Kyle's subtle movements could decieve Nobunaga's now heightened senses. Moments before Kyle's knee hits Nobunaga, he slams his sheath into Kyle's chest without looking at him.
"Well, I'll be. I think I found the rat..."
Nobunaga turns and attacks with one fluid motion. The air arround the combatants feels as if a flock of birds is flying by. Chips come off of the spikes and floor around them as the strike turns the very air into a blade.
OOC: Oh, so you've never read Book of Nine Swords? Hearing the Air gives me blindsense...aka Move Silently doesn't work...
"Well the', we'll jus' 'ave ta do this ta ol'-fashio' way. En Guarde!"
Kyle blitzes into the attack, whipping his daggers through the air in silver-streaked blurs. He taunts his foe the entire time, sending well-placed jabs into his psychology. The furious assault leaves no time to think of counter-attack; Nobunga has to worry about his own hide first.
((To give you an idea, this guy attacks with weapon finesse and a 48 dex. And last I checked, Blindsense and Blindsight were negated by Move Silently, AND Blindsense doesn't give you full sight, only a vague perception. Additionally, you need line of effect, making the spikes block your blindsense))
"I remember you said at the bar that I couldn't destroy your daggers. But they don't do you much good if you can't get to them. Now, I'd suggest dodging. Lots and lots of dodging."
Nobunaga releases a furious volley of attacks. It seems as if time stands still simply so that all of the attacks can be present. The barrage is nothing but flashes of silver and the cutting of air.
The creaking lets out more small pops then eight large swinging axe-like blades fall from the sides of the ceiling and swing the width of the room. They are set in pairs at 5 foot intervals throughout the room and the two in pairs are alternating on their swinging and mere inches apart to make dodging through them quite difficult.
OOC: Reminder: Rules dont matter here.
It seems impossible. It SHOULDN'T be possible. But the crowd, the judges, and Nobunga all see it.
Kyle has caught Nobunga's sword between his palms.
"Now tha' was downrigh' rude, takin' me blades like tha'."
With a surge of strength, Kyle rips the blade sideways, not trying to break it, for the surge of released magic would kill both of them, but to send the blade flying away.
And even as they watch, Kyle's wounds ((about 2 so far, the chest and the leg)) heal completely.
((Didn't see Sorcen's trap up there, but the action is unchanged, for now))
"Hmm, funny."
"Come o' the', le's settle this han'-ta-han'."
He beckons tauntingly, only to leap back from another axe blade.
"These are damned annoyin' they are. Nobody eve' mentione' traps as par' o' ta deal."
"Nah, I'm not so good with the old fists."
He dashes over to Dusk and Kyle's other dagger. He turns his sheath down and the first of Kyle's daggers falls out. Nobunaga throws the two blades to their rightful owner and says:
"But I do want a fair fight. So, enjoy!"
"Finally, an oppone' wit' a scrap o' decency. Ye'd be amazed how many necks I've 'ad to snap because they wouldn' gimme my knives back."
Kyle leaps up, grabbing a swinging pendulum by the haft. He swings from axe to axe, always above the deadly blades. Finally, he lands next to Nobunga, knives in hand. He bows low.
"Honor and Glory, Swordsman."
He raises his guard.
that could have been different.looking in the crak in the ground
Socks then jumps far up in the air smiling, almost as if gravity has no meaning doing different flips a spins in midair some that don't seem posible under normal conditions.
“Neat trick! Though half the energy you spend ripping the ground in half is wasted on the ground itself, not to mention the strain it must put on your body Old man.” With a look of real concern “Oh you didn’t hurt your self did you?” Socks then seems to sit cross legged in mid air and starches his head in deep thought “
Man I don’t know if it is fair to make nice old men fight I battle arenas… well he did warn me it was hell before I came here but still… ” Socks continues to float in the air like a sitting duck wile thinkingMeanwhile, the crevice that Kronos leaped into erupts in a blaze of earth and molten stone. Smoke and dust cloud the arena, leaving the audience wondering what happened to Kronos and the other two fighters.
Amazingly quick he is next to the other two combatents.
Socks yells as he spins out of control plumiting toward the ground.
"Wow Old men turning into Dragons, and mages into bears! Hell sure is spiffy:P "
Socks then curls into a ball in mid air then landing handstand style on the horns of Kronos.
":P Got the bull buy the horns"
Socks then does a flip still holding onto Kronos's horns, and taking him with him in the flip,then throwing the totaly off gard Kronos toward the stadium wall, In a totaly gravity defing feat let alone, breaking about all the laws of physics.
What to do with this little nucince??
"Who me? A nucince?"
you look as in disbelief, Socks who was standing roughly 80ft away ½ a second ago is now behind you smiling widely pointing at himself. You saw no spell or any other form of trickery. He simply appeared behind you.
“Too slow :whatsthis ”
You never blinked but nonetheless you find yourself being kicked by one of Sock’s spin kicks right in the stomach. You never even seen him move from his former position, not to mention have time to react to his attack, and wile the kick was effective, you felt worse pain. The problem is not the damage dealt, but the force of the hit seams to some how have the momentum similar to that of a tail slap from a colossal red dragon. The force of witch sends you flying like a bullet in the direction of Tyrion. But before it reaches him Socks is already there to intercept you as he goes for another spin kick this time at a speed that is quite visible.
"HURRICANE OF CRANES!"
The sword flies at Kyle like steel lighting, and the sound of air being cleaved can be heard echoing throughout the halls of the castle. The stone behind the trail of the sword begins to fissure and split as the air turns into a wind of blades. All of this is coming at Kyle.
OOC: Sorry to delay. I've been really busy.
A look of surprise crosses Socks face as you connect with your own kick in his stomach witch sends him sliding into the ground. A trail of blood is left as he is used as a human/cat skateboard. But as you unleash the breath weapon Socks inhales, sucking in the deadly inferno, his cheeks bulge like a chipmunk. He twitches as the unpleasant feeling of having to sallow something too large for his throat. He gasps as it finally goes down, a cloud of smoke is released with the breath.“Well that was unpleasant
”Socks grabs your arm with both hands as you go for his neck stopping it about an inch from his neck.
“:D Hey now there is no need to get ruff”
Socks then curls up putting his feet on Kronos’s chest and donkey kicks him. The force of witch breaks the grapple and launches Kronos a safe distance away. Socks then flips up onto his hands as walks out of the smoke and over to Tyrion.
“Sorry I’ve been busy, and now you’ve been neglected. Both of you feel free to come at me at the same time:D !"
Kyle dodges as much of the air as possible, intercepting the physical blade with his knives. He ignores the axe blades, getting slashed on the shoulder and legs, but you can see the wounds healing before your eyes. After this barrage of defense, Kyle is bruised, battered, and breathing heavily. Right up until he stops breathing entirely. Swaying, he seems to go down, and Nobunga ((Sorry, taking this to logical conclusion)) comes in for the kill.
And the knife-fighter explodes into a flurry of motion, slashing and stabbing furiously, trying to drive his foe to the acid pit.
"Hmmm...I'm being stuck between a rock and a hard place...C'mon Dusk, it's time to blow some doors down!"
Kyle seems to notice that fewer and fewer of his attacks are parried, but even fewer are acutally hitting. Eventually, Nobunaga is swaying in a perfect rythm of defense. Every attack comes a hair's width to hitting, but the attacks just aren't long enough. At a moments notice, the sound of ripping flesh can be heard, twice. Kyle's attacks cease as his two daggers are completely embeded in Nobunaga's palms. The blood does not seem to be running nearly as fast as it should be, and no sign of discomfort is on Nobunaga's face.
"I think that's enough of that."
Nobunaga jumps up and drop kicks Kyle in the chest, wretching his hands free and sending Kyle across the room. As Nobunaga stands and enters a stance, he simply smiles, knowlingly...
Tyrion, I havent given you any attention yet!sticking out his hand and launching a electrical bariage in the direction of Tyrion.
"Ugh, me knives. Secon' time 'n one scrap. Thi' i' 'ome kinda recor', swordsman. Ah well, nothin' I ken do."
Kyle picks himself up, dusts himself off, and drops into a defensive stance.
"Come o' ye gnoll spawned son of a remidial ogre prostitute. Le's see if ye go' wha' i 'akes ta finish me off, ye misbegotten experiment of a mad kobold wizard."
“:D Thank’ye kindly Kronos! I was getting a little hungry”
Socks’s Image blurs as Socks twitches almost like a child who just ate too much candy.
“:embarrass Oh and lightning too, that’s like giving me Coffee!”
Socks gets out from underneath Kronos and starts to spin on his head like a break dancer, his legs in a splits trying to claw anything near by. Kronos dodges it at first but Socks’s speed starts increasing at an exponential rate, the hasting effect of electric energy taking hold. A sound similar to that of a helicopter’s spinning blades fills the arena. Wind starts to pull around him sucking everything in, to make things worse the sheer force of some of the gusts is as strong as a blade and with just as deadly. Socks lifts off the ground as a tornado forms around him.
You hear Socks’s voice from the mighty gale “
I think I’m gunna hurl!”"Hey, there's no need for name calling. I'm just trying to have some fun."
Nobunaga looks at his opponent and begins to think. After a moment, his outline begins to shift and waver again. He begins to walk towards Kyle, although his walking is comparible to most people's running at this point. He comes within several feet of Kyle until he stops. Nobunaga then releases a quick slash at Kyle.
Socks wide eyed looks at the green ray witch in an almost slow-motion fashion he nearly dodges, but it hits his left arm, dissolving the bandages already there before the battle started and reopening a previous battle wound. Recoiling in pain he plummets to the ground, Kronos using the opening grabs onto Socks's ankle and slams into his midsection, putting him into a freshly made crater in the ground. Socks crawls out of the crater watching Kronos wail on Tryron. Socks grabs his bloody shrivled left arm, grinding his teeth in pain. "Dam it, got careless.:raincloud "
"OW!!"
Socks then looks up at the falling Tyrion
With an enoyed and resentfull tone "Heres a little gift from the Elemental plain of Earth!" Socks punches the ground putting a small crack in it, and little dust flies off the ground, but other wise nothing seems to have happened.
Suddenly a large chunk of the ground with an explosive force fies upward to meet Tryion. The combined force of his fall and the flying rock looks painfull
and if it looks painfull imagen how painfull it would be when it acualy hits you.Kyle dances aside, moving faster than he has before, a mere blur against the background. Slashes and stabs rain down at a speed that shouldn't be possible without magic, yet they come, a torrent of metallic hate trying to cut through Nobunga's body and go straight to the soul. You can't see Kyle directly, only a faint, blurred shadow on the floor as his god-like speed continues to hammer down upon Nobunga.
"IRON HEART SURGE!"
Nobunaga's ki flows like a newly freed river as it pours over his body to grant him a new reserve of energy. Kyle's attacks cease due to the sheer willpower being created by Nobunaga's spirit. His wounds begin to heal slowly as the deep cuts become more and more superficial.
"Iron Heart...Endurance..."
Nobunaga regains his standing and wrings out some of the excess blood on his white outfit. He stills is breathing heavily, however his body is nowhere near the wretched condition it was previously.
"You're right, though. It is time to end this...Now, take this...the sword of the dark moon....Silver Eclipse!"
The ki channeling around Nobunaga begins to culminate around his blade. As he resheathes his weapon, the castle, the arena, even Baator itself...begins to fade into darkness.
"Now...die."
A flash of the most pure, crystaline light erupts from Nobunaga's sheath. It is Dusk, the ki surrounding the blade creating the only light. The blade looks as if like the very crescent moon itself. As the light travels towards Kyle, it shatters, breaking into a thousand pieces of what looks like flying half-disks of platinum. Suddenly, they are charge Kyle head on, each one thirsting to make the kill...
"Looks like I got your attention" Socks gets out of the crater and stands tall, holding his arm at his elbo just above the bleeding wound. All of the rest of the wounds seem to mend themselfs slowly overtime, but his arm dosen't for some odd reson."I gess my sensie was right learning that technique just before I came here wasn't the best Idea. Now I have to fight with a lame arm." Socks looks at the palm of his wounded hand, some strange peice of metal seems to be fused to it. "Well thats what I get for being to cocky and over confident again:D " Socks sez to him self in a reasuring kind of way with a week smile.
Finaly taking notice of Tryion again he cetches both of Tyryion's fists with his. The bloody arm strugles to keep up with the other. Socks winsing with pain "Now that I got you this close..." You feel a warm sensation in your right hand you look to see a glow from Socks wounded left arm's palm.
"Checkmate:P "
"That, sir, is a lot of knives."
His blades whirl as he dances through the torrent of light, eyes wincing. He shouldn't move this fast, yet he is, and his hands move faster, a whirring shield of razor steel. He flows through the torrent, seeking his foe, taking cuts even through his keen-bladed defense. But, even as you watch, the wounds begin to heal.
"I'll need ta learn them tricks sometime, swordsman."
((In case you, understandably, get offended or angry, please note: Kyle doesn't SHOW fear. He may be afraid, he may even sh*t his pants, but fear will never register on him. Additionally, this man is moving a few notches below the speed of sound. A few notches meaning a few nanoseconds))
((OOC: Was that too harsh? I can edit t if you want.:OOC))
walking back into the arena wearing his cloak once again stoping to talk to Tyrion. Your lucky I keep an extra body on hand in the astral Plane. and I just planted that seed. Do you realize how long it will take me to make a new body for back up again?
(OOC) Insead of wasting the time to take ten days to make a new body he has one on hand next to his astral seed some were in the astral plane.(/OOC)
Kyle starts running. Really, really fast. You can tell that he's pulling out all the stops in the hopes of outrunning this beam until Nobunga runs out of energy, his path zig-zagging, twisting and turning in wild abandon as he flees the massive attack.
Kyle screams in pain as the blades rip through him, unable to avoid the assault. His blood spills out, coating the ground in a crimson sheet. He drops to his knees, blades still sticking out of his body. Yet, slowly, he rises, swaying and moving slowly, haltingly.
"I'm...not...dead...yet...swordsman."
All that remains is Dusk, its blade dull and matted, sundered into pieces.
"Swordsman, this isn't the end of it. Come out, and finish this with honor. I want to die with a clean conciense, and if you wait too long, I'll finish healing."
Even now, swords and blades are falling out of Kyle's body.
"Come, swordsman, and take your last waltz!"
Finished with his magic smashing spree Socks looks up at the now dragon Tyrion
. “Wow that’s a cool trick. Good thing my friend Sky DragonSlayer told me a dragon’s one weakness! Their totally useless without their heads:P !”
Socks jumps for Tyrion’s neck and grabs on. With a sudden surge of strength he hugs his neck with his hole body choking off his air. "Can't spit fire at me here, nore can you reach me with your puney claws! Gess it's one of those the biger they are the harder they fall kind of things, Aeh?" Socks constrics his hold on Tyrion's neck. "Well at least no one has to die this way right?"
"Sorcen, I believe my opponent has destroyed himself. As a favor, I'd like to ask you to reforge his sword, and mount it in a place of honor. It is no less than he deserves."
A panda calmly walks over to the remains of Dusk and gives it a look over.
So, it is Dusk...It's about time I found you...so that could be two down, eight to go...
The panda scoops up the swords remnants and exits, with no other words.
((OOC: Paralysis breath, it can't be stopped by an anti-magic field. :D:OOC))
"Well arn't we limber. Question Tyrion, how can you fight something you can't get to?" Tryions fangs come bearing down on Socks he jumps off his neck and straight down his throat. Fighting his way down to his stomic he crawls and drags himself on fighting the dragon's natural gag reflex and being exalted to a celestial form he is undainted by the dragons deadly Paralysis breath. Finaly reaching the stomic of the great beast Socks risks a smile wile looking around.
"Well now what happens when a dragon drinks coke and eats pop rocks?"
Socks punches his fists together and using his mastery over wind to force a hi presser system in the dragons stomic. Tryion gasps for air as Socks forces more and more air down his throte and verios other orificeses. Expaning his buble of hi pressure air in Tyrion's stomic he expodes like a bird feed ecacelser tablits (sp?).
Socks stumbls out form amongst the scatered dragon guts. Wiping the gut matter form him eyes he looks at his slime covered body
."This will take weeks to get out of my fur...man what a drag...I hate baths...
"This has indeed been an extroadinary battle. Both of you have proved extremely resilient against my most powerful spells and attacks, and I was overconfident after my last victory. I should have known better. Ah, well. Socks, I congratulate you on that last move. It was...unexpected, to say the least. And Kronos, after taking a barrage of spells a threw at you, has proved his strength as well. But, while my corporeal form may be defeated for now, my mind is not at rest. How well can the agile Socks stand against a psychic assault? How well can mighty Kronos stave away the powers of a mind far older than he?
As the last words fade from the two remaining combatants minds, the entire arena goes dark. Both fighters feel their minds being invaded, their mental defenses shoved aside like flotsam on a raging sea. And suddenly, the darkness clears. Both fighters lay facedown on the the floor of the arena, their minds trying to fight back control of their bodies as Tyrion takes hold.
Sudenly strange forms and deadly devices of Tryions mental asult surround him, Tyrion leading them.
"Oh hi Tryion! See you brought some freinds. No hard feelings about then whole stumic exploding thing right? :D ...Right?
...er
... Socks backs up a little bupming into some weird creature. "But wasn't he the guy that died?" Socks looks next to him, Tyrion his body retured to a state of not in sherds by Sorcen. "Wow Tyrion your not blown up!"
"When that happen?" Socks pats Tyrion on the back ,mabie a bit to hard,"Well hope theres no hard feelings, since your not even blow up and all! Hey i need a drink
! I say the winner buys us around!" Socks runs off toward the bar.
"Beer!!!" Socks yells as he jumps up into the air and clicks his heals together.A shimmering speck appears in the air, widening and turning, shredding a rift in the planar fabric. An elf, tall for his kind, with shouder-length silver hair, piercing blue eyes, and a gleaming blue-silver shirt of chainmail steps through. He hefts what appears to be a pair of manacles sporting vicious-looking ethereal spikes and stares warily at his surroundings. His gaze comes to rest on his opponent, lying prone on the arena floor.
Welcome to Hell or as we prefer to say Baator, I am Sorcen Anenooata the ruler of this plane, but please do call me Sorcen. I have gathered you all here today to take place in a tournament, at the end of which the winner will get a great prize. I will choose who fights when all of our participants arrive, I hope you enjoy your stay and we will be calling upon our first combatants shortly." He pauses and looks around, "Feel free to ask questions and relax or train or whatever you wish until our tournament commences. That is all, carry on." he bows to the competitors gathered and then takes his seat on his throne queitly talking with his apparent queen, a beatiful woman appearing slightly vampiric but with the beauty of an angel.
A devilish man stands up from his throne and announces, in a booming voice:
Welcome to Hell or as we prefer to say Baator, I am Sorcen Anenooata the ruler of this plane, but please do call me Sorcen. I have gathered you all here today to take place in a tournament, at the end of which the winner will get a great prize. I will choose who fights when all of our participants arrive, I hope you enjoy your stay and we will be calling upon our first combatants shortly." He pauses and looks around, "Feel free to ask questions and relax or train or whatever you wish until our tournament commences. That is all, carry on." he bows to the competitors gathered and then takes his seat on his throne queitly talking with his apparent queen, a beatiful woman appearing slightly vampiric but with the beauty of an angel.
OOC: I dont understand the point of reposting this so elaborate your intentions over in the OOC thread please.
Secondly, the beginning of your other match in the OOC thread transfers to this one and you and Fenn will continue that fight if you like. Sorry for teh confusion.
Aw man hes not here yet? And I thought I was late!" Socks crosses his arms and pouts, after about a second of waiting like that he stits cross legged on the ground."Hurry Milieardo waiting is so hard!!! tail twitching out of antisapation
I have already been taking my time becouse I know how much you can never wait plus I some matters I had to talk to the elementals about but now are you ready to start this match. He motions for the air elementals around him to move to the side and not take place in the battle.
This is between just you and me.
He then reaches on his belt for a small metal rod that then extanded to the sizes of spear and then he waits for Socks to start.
"Thought I'de come down to yer level, seeing as how yer so short:P "
Socks in a olimpic sprinter style kind of stance, explodes forward with a suddeen burst of speed unequal to all he has exbited so far. Even the air around him is pulled forward with him, creating an air force powerfull enuf to hamer a hole clear through a Iron Golem.
Those of you who can some how mange to keep up with his speed see him spin around with his round house kicks putting the force of the wind behind him in his kick. :D Socks's face beaming with joy the entire time:D
Lets see if your magic field and stop this.
Milerodo begins to cast and a large glow ball begins to for in his hand. The ball whirls with ever changing magic never picking a element. The ball launchs from his hand with Milerodo's last words of the spell being Hellball. The ball flies straight at Sock's and then finally picks the element of sonic.
"
Oh 
" Socks is barley able to change his momentum enough to flip then spin over it. But his bit of cleaver acrobatics costs him as he loses his control and lands on his face, the explosive force of the attack flinging him forward.
Socks stands up looking mildly annoyed. Looking over to his shoulder he notices a bit of his fur caught on fire, witch he pinches out. (Socks thought he trained in the plain of fire hard enough to make his fur fire proof)
"I guess no more kids games then, fine with me but you asked for it!" Socks holds his hands in front of him like he was holding a ball, steams of wind rapidly pours into so kind of rapidly moving orb of some kind of O-zone smelling substance(most likely is o-zone) rapidly moving after images of socks can be seen all around the ball shaping it, molding it into it’s shape. All the images grab the ball at once, jumping forward toward Milerodo, waves of air whirl around the orb as they race forward strait into Milieardo's face
(all images) “
Take this! Killer Cacophony!" The air seams to be ripped apart, a sound loud enough, to shatter well just about anything, spills through the arena with its defining noise. Anything solid cracks then is reduced to dust witch is promptly blown away by the force of the attack witch has put a good sized crater in the arena.
Socks stands proudly in front of the disarray smiling his big toothy grin, his fingers in his ears. He says something but no one really hears him as the rigging in their ears drowns out everything.
I thought Caben Dur's thred affected us sorry
Nimbrixion, scales glistening even in the dark hallway, manages a very human whistle of surprise. "Well, time to make our first appearance wouldn't you say?"
"Indeed, make things easy on us and stay away from that overly large tentacle"
"Oh come now, wheres your sense of fun? I'm looking forward to tearing that abomination limb from limb" She replied with just a hint of a toothy grin. "Besides, we have nothing to fear."
"Exept, perhaps, that hellish presense from back at the tavern" Doran put in. His friend's expression darkened and a low snarl emenated forth. "Now that's the spirit", he quipped, and as Doran allowed his wings to emerge fully from his cloak he threw off his disguise. Noting the beasts roar of fury he added " Well then, its about time we introduce ourselves properly." He ran his hand through his silver-streaked hair before they both entered, side by side, into the arena. "
Then it glares at the both of you, its large compound eyes glowing and pulsing with a strange light that only you can see, a light that seems to twist your vision and attempt to fog your minds....
(ooc: fog cloud spell respetively)
The experiments anteenae twitch, and though it has lost sight of its adversaries in the roiling fog it turns trying to sense them both. Hearing the low chanting in one direction and the soft click of claws against the earth in the other it lashes out. The tentacle arm whips towards the wyrmling, razor sharp bone hooks trying to catch and ensnare it, and the beast starts to run, moving towards where the noises came from...
Doran is startled as the clouds around him give way to the gigantic beast, spotting him, it lashes out with a tantacle. Beating his wings desperately, he manages to jump to his right so that the apendage narowly misses him; on its way back, however, it knocks Doran off his feet from behind; A second tantacle rockets towards his fallen body. Proping himself up on on knee he manages to spit out a word of draconic power. A fraction of a second later, translucent green wings unfurl behind him, like those of a dragon, and deflect the tendril. Breathing deep, he channels his inner magic and exhales; a great gout of flame billowing from his mouth. Singing the great beast, the flame also carries Doran with it to the other side of the beast, where he stands erect. As the misty clouds reform, Nimbrixion appears just overhead, waiting for the right moment to strike...
(ooc: spells include wings of cover and firestride exhalation; unless told otherwise I will keep giving the spells I draw on, or their rough equivalent, to attempt to help you understand what is going on in the arena.)
The experiment roars in pain as the fire scorches its hide. Its clawed arm slashes out as you pass by within the flame but it fails to hit you. It turns looking for you, and spots Nimbrixion standing on a cloud above. It roars again and jumps, powering its legs to give it as much height as possible. Then suddenly as its tentacle arm whips out for the wyrmlings throat, it lengthens extending towards it, the bone hooks reaching out razor sharp to tear out the dragons throat...
His face elongates, his wings grow to massive poroptions, and a tail sprouts from his backside. Falling to all fours, the transformation completes itelf, adding size, scales, and strength to his limbs. As 6%9 stands up, seemingly unhurt, it finds itself facing a very angry dragon with platinum scales...
(dragon tail, aspect of the platinum dragon.)
Finding himself unable to leave his defensive vigil over Nimbrixion, Doran can only brace for impact; he spreads his wings widem aking himself an open target, and bellows so loudly it echos about the stadium. A multitude of spiny tendrils shoot forth for 6%9 as it closes with the massive dragon. The two collide with a heart-stopping crash and the tendrils bury themselves deep within Dorans flesh. As the beast flexes, unimaginable pain shoots up Doran and his body spasms. Blood trickles down his scales, coating him in warm blood...his own. Barely able to stand, he is about to collapse when he hears a pitiful cry of despair behind him. Against all pain, Doran manages to turn his scales head...and meets those of his friend, as the light slowly begins to fade from her eyes.
During that split-second, Doran becomes master of his own mind once more. The world seems to slow iteself down for this one occasion, and the pain ceases to bother him. Whipping his head back around, he folds his wing membrane in tightly, cutting of all chance of retraction for the tentacles, and concentrates. The beast falters a moment as Doran begins to extract the life energies from it through the several tentacle connections; giving himself just enough to remain alive, he channels the rest of it the wyrmling behind him...
(vampiric touch)
It sags to one knee, its life force being drawn away, though even as you feel the warmth of its life entering you through the puncture wounds, you feel something else, a strange chill seems to be spreading outwards across you. A chill that causes your muscles to become weak as your life force now comes under attack. The beast grows no stronger though, and its head begins to sag, now it cannot break free of you, even as your own strength fades.
Trying once more, one final effort the experiment pushes itself up by its clawed arm, its tentacle tries to pull your head down, the bone hooks making slight grazes in your scales. Eye to eye it stares at you, there is a brief flicker in those great compound eyes as it puts its remaining strength into shredding your mind with its gaze, but then it is gone.
You can feel the noose go limp and it slides away from your throat as the beast collapses lifeless onto the baked red earth.
There is a moments respite, barely time to regain your breath before there is a terrible cracking sound and a large crack appears in the beasts carapace. Through the crack you can see foul nodules of diseased flesh pressing up against the exoskeleton. The smell is terrible and for a fraction of a second more cracking noises are heard. Then the beasts body explodes, tumerous flesh, chitin and chilling-negative energy blasting outwards.
You can feel the negative energy wash over you both, but it is different, the chill is only slight and your vital spark does not come under attack, but something does occur, deep in your bodys the negative energy tries to take hold....
And there deep in the centre of the shattered carcass, something stirs, a small tangle of flesh and organs begins to move, sliding out of the remains of the experiment it comes towards you....
OOC
Maybe a brief explanation is in order for some of that. The golden needles implanted in the thoraic tentacles each carry a use activated enervation effect which occured when they pierced you.
As for the final explosion, its a spell from the Libris Mortis that was cast via a contingency to come into affect when the experiment perished, its Necrotic eruption (or explosion or something, can't remember and don't have the book to hand) effectively what happens is you take damage from the explosive expansion of necrotic tumours within the beast and also you have to save or have a small necrotic cyst form in you, its a magical effect, not a disease, I think.
So yes, either counter it or allow it, up to you (there is an effect of the tumour, which sorcen knows about, but it doesn't occur yet, i'll tell you if and when it does), and that thing thats about to attack you is an active necrotic cyst, the one from inside the experiment. Also I hope I didn't infringe on your FOD too much, let me know if you want me to change anything.
Well on that note, merry christmas!!!!
As for the final explosion, its a spell from the Libris Mortis that was cast via a contingency to come into affect when the experiment perished, its Necrotic eruption (or explosion or something, can't remember and don't have the book to hand) effectively what happens is you take damage from the explosive expansion of necrotic tumours within the beast and also you have to save or have a small necrotic cyst form in you, its a magical effect, not a disease, I think.
So yes, either counter it or allow it, up to you (there is an effect of the tumour, which sorcen knows about, but it doesn't occur yet, i'll tell you if and when it does), and that thing thats about to attack you is an active necrotic cyst, the one from inside the experiment. Also I hope I didn't infringe on your FOD too much, let me know if you want me to change anything.
Well on that note, merry christmas!!!!
As the beast's pitiful attempt to escape its doom slowly ceases, Doran unfurls his bloodied wings and, believing the battle over, returns to his usual form; this, however, is by no means any better off that he was as a dragon, he still bleeds from several areas, but these are slowly clotting and he becomes stable.
but soon, a stange...cold soon develops inside of him. He tries in vain to expell the chill in his heart, but with no success. In his struggle, he almost misses the negative cyst as it crawls its way out of the beast's caraprace. At this time, Nimbrixion, with newfound strength, manages to stand and walks to Dorans side. Realizing that both of them need time to recover, Doran tries to stall the now self-sufficient cyst. Extending his arm, five ball-sized spheres of energy erupt from his fingertips. As they approach their intended target, they begin to spin in the shape of a pentagon. Slamming into the cyst, the five points where the missles hit begin to glow, and soon the holy symbol of Bahamut is formed, which glows dully like embers. A chill wind blows in, and the star grows in its illumination, as three small air elementals surround the cyst; at which point the star fades from view...
(magic missile, summon monster VI)
The energy burns a deep hole in the cyst, the holy symbol scarred deep into the twisted necrotic flesh. The cyst shudders and twists towards the newly formed elementals a tendril striking out at the closest one. As the tendril connects a wave of negative energy flashes briefly over the cyst's flesh before passing to the elemental. The cyst somehow manages to leap at the next elemental and what looks like part of an organ wraps itself around its head, as more tendrils strike out and attempt to bind its limbs...
My entrance again
BIC: A shimmering speck appears in the air, widening and turning, shredding a rift in the planar fabric. An elf, tall for his kind, with shouder-length silver hair, piercing blue eyes, and a gleaming blue-silver shirt of chainmail steps through. He hefts what appears to be a pair of manacles sporting vicious-looking ethereal spikes and stares warily at his surroundings. His eyes narrow, looking down at the shimmering glass rapier resting on his chest.
BIC: Siveleth steps back and begins whirling his chain menacingly, moving at unearthly speeds. Over the hum of his weapon, he speaks in a calm, smooth, almost musical voice, "I will weep for your death as you do. I am eager to leave this hellish arena, no disrespect intended to its most noble caretaker." Slowly, he begins his inexorable progress towards Merithale, who strides off across the arena floor.
"Lord Gareth, I am ready when you are."
Tendrils of moonlight forms around Lafali as he draws forth Moon Whisper, pulseing with anticipation.
"I'm afraid I'm at somewhat of a disadvantage," he says in a cold, indifferent voice, "As most know me by reputation, and I know you not at all. Still, excuses are for weaklings, so let's get on with this. I need a good scrap to warm the blood, as it were."
He lazily flicks his hand in the general direction of his foe, and for a few moments, there is an unexplained whistling sound. The explanation comes in the form of a storm of metallic ice shards raining down upon the poor creature.
"Forgive me, I though you knew who I am." Lafali bows deeply before Gareth. "I am Lafali Lathi, heir to the Rilynnathem House and School of Combat. I am the Keepper of the Twelth Gate, Lord of the Moon. My specialtys are swordmanship and elemental magic, which includes mist magic. I have been called Nightlord for my Endless Night Banki abilitys."
He pulls out a small black orb from the folds of his kimono and hurls it at Gareth. "Binding of Shadow". The orb slowly turns into a shadowy net, as it trys to bind the Paladin of Tyr.
Knowing fully that his attack wouldn't bother Gareth he smiles softly, "And you are wrong, all I know of you is that you was once evil and now you serve Tyr. And that your friends of Shiro."
Gareth sinks into his own ice, stepping out of it just outside the shadow orb.
"Honestly, why did you even do that? Oh well, no harm done."
With a mild yell, the ice on the ground surges forward, covering the entire Arena surface. The audience is getting cold seats now. Gareth raises his hand again, this time in a fist. Opening it, a mist pours forth, forming into a large hand that hardens into metallic ice.
"Icegrip!"
The hand flies at Lafali, trying to pin him.
"Dragon Arc", as he quickly thrusts moon whisper toward gareth, an arc of golden energy leaps out of the blade, seeking to stike at Try Champion.
A fractured crystal of clear ice rips out of the frozen ground, catching the light and refracting it in a dozen new directions, leaving the Death Knight unscathed. The slams his fist into the ice, and a jagged spear of metallic frost thrusts itself into the space that Lafali is occupying. The paladin smiles and sinks into his own ice, dissapearing from sight.
((For future reference, metallic ice is a substance called Blue Ice from Frostburn, and has the nonmagical Frost property, just like the enchantment. It's hard as steel))
Straightening, Doran allows himself a deep breath and calms his frayed nerves. "That," Nimbrixion said "did not do quite as I'd planned." Doran replied "no, but this is no time for talking." At this time a golden circle flew up from the ground about them both, healing Doran's surface wounds. Withdrawing a silver dagger from his belt, he intones a few words of power. Moments later, several identical knives appear behind him, suspended in midair. Watching the fight twixt the elementals, Doran takes careful aim, and bides his time.
(undying vigor of the dragonlords, cloud of knives)
With a loud pop and a flash of light lafali is no longer in the path of the ice spear, but the wooded doll of lafali is. As the ice spear hits the doll it starts to laugh.
Lafali appears behind gareth, about the same distance they were when the match started. He then charges toward gareth to strike at the ice with blinding speed, "I wounder how long your ice can last good sir." He looks like a golden blur with two flashing light trailing after him.
OOC: It's yours. You pointed it at me, and I assumed that it was touching me. Sorry If it's not; I'll edit accordingly. :OOC
BIC: Siveleth steps back and begins whirling his chain menacingly, moving at unearthly speeds. Over the hum of his weapon, he speaks in a calm, smooth, almost musical voice, "I will weep for your death as you do. I am eager to leave this hellish arena, no disrespect intended to its most noble caretaker." Slowly, he begins his inexorable progress towards Merithale, who strides off across the arena floor.
((one problem, please don't decide what I do, such as where I move to, thanks
))Playing a sad tune on his violin as he backs away, Merithale sighs and speaks to his opponent. "Weep if you wish, my friend. I know that I shall not." He draws his rapier, wreathing it in an aura of frost. Stepping slightly back,he makes several intricate slashes at Siveleth, each one bringing sorrow to his soul, binding him to the ground with frost and tears.
((ugh, merithale was just referred to in a PM as "sucky emo dude"...))
"As long as I'm here, the ice will come back, regardless of how often or how well you melt it."
Gareth's touch is extraordinarily painful; it's like Lafali's blood is freezing inside his veins. Just being this close to him is forming crystals on Lafali's skin as the air plummets to two hundred below. The Death Knight smiles and crouches down, drawing a small pattern in the ice and placing his hand on it.
"Epicenter."
The ice around Gareth explodes with spears of metal ice, ripping out in a progressive explosion.
"I guess you have never been to the Enternal Palace then, this cold is quite suitably to me." Lafali then utters, "Sha'oro". After of few moments the ice and frost crystals on lafali melts as his body heat greatly incresses. "As a creature of eternal cold, can you withstand the heat of a sun?"
The ice around lafali slowly starts to melt, as a piller of steam is created around the diayoukai.
OOC:Mildly?
I'm just mildly........
OOC
You doing anything about the flying shards of icy death? Blue Ice doesn't melt easily; they'll still be deadly unless you use something as hot or hotter than a Fireball.
Sha'oro
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Sha'oro is Sun Flower in elven. Its a 9th level arcane spell that dose 25d8 fire damage in a 20 ft area for 1 round per CL. Its a wee bit stronger then fireball. Also damage the user but bening a gold dragon.......
Sha'oro is Sun Flower in elven. Its a 9th level arcane spell that dose 25d8 fire damage in a 20 ft area for 1 round per CL. Its a wee bit stronger then fireball. Also damage the user but bening a gold dragon.......
"I'd rather avoid it, if at all possible, just like I'd rather avoid splitting you in twain with Soulreaver. Now, I rather think an old friend of mine would like to have a frolic with you."
Gareth puts two fingers into his mouth and whistles sharply. A shimmering gate opens, and from it bursts a massive, snow-white form.
Gareth has summoned the largest White Dragon just about anyone has ever seen.
"Kovaliastraz, ATTACK!"
The dragon swoops down, massive claws raking.
OOC
Check my sig for Kovaliastraz's exact stats.
Upon seening Kovaliastraz Lafali starts to shimmer, where he was standing there is now a goldem dragon, though he is only 30 feet from head to tail.
OOC:In dragonic
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"Do you dare to challange the heir of Rilynnthem? You know of the punishment for such treachery.
"Do you dare to challange the heir of Rilynnthem? You know of the punishment for such treachery.
OOC
Alright, can you explain what you meant? I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with the name you gave out. Oh, and Gareth speaks Draconic :P
Still, it may not matter. Kovaliastraz is loyal to Gareth and Gareth alone. He's the Death Knight's friend, protector, steed, benefactor, spy, and anything else he needs to be, and his devotion is absolute
Still, it may not matter. Kovaliastraz is loyal to Gareth and Gareth alone. He's the Death Knight's friend, protector, steed, benefactor, spy, and anything else he needs to be, and his devotion is absolute
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Lafali is heir to the ancent dragon empire, Rilynnathem. So I was trying to intimidate him. And from what I have seen most people speak dragonic :D
Lafali is heir to the ancent dragon empire, Rilynnathem. So I was trying to intimidate him. And from what I have seen most people speak dragonic :D
There are now several gashes in Merithale's leg, and some parts of the knee are very definitely missing. "This is it for one of us, my friend. The beginning of the end." he speaks with a sigh. In a moment, Merithale disappears with a gust of wind. A sharp pain in his back informs him of the blade wound, as shards of glass begin to rain down from the heavens.
OOC
Oh yeah, Kovaliastraz does NOT give a crap. So, gigantic white dragon raking his claws straight at Lafali.
Merithale merely parries the attack, making none of his own. But a terrible, tragic music fills the air. Every sorrow that Siveleth has ever suffered, every betrayal, every tear, every time he despaired, is suddenly brought back to his mind, it is a feeling that would certainly bring a lesser man to his knees. ((that's not to say he won't be affected by it, ofcourse))
OOC: Unless Merithale's glass rapier is a LOT harder than adamantine, it's lying on the ground in pieces right now. If it is harder than I thought, I'll edit. :OOC
The rapier lies in many shards upon the soil of the arena, but not for long. With a hissing sound, it begins to piece itself together, flying into the air and back to Merithale's hand, though he seemed happy to see it break, for some reason that is beyond your comprehension. As he raises the blade to the baatorian air, ice creeps up from the ground around him. It breaks itself into three orbs and floats around him. A strange glass plate floats out from his backpack, an intricately carved disk with three dents in it. Time itself seems to freeze as a sharp, harsh voice begins to speak, whatever this is, it is not Merithale.
"One to bind" it speaks as it places the first orb, and siveleth finds himself rooted to the ground he stands on. "one to deny hope", siveleth now feels sure, there is no doubt, that he will lose. He may not even escape this match alive... "and one," a cruel smile spreads across Merithale's glass face, "to end."
((the end bit is some general death effect))
Siveleth collapses to the floor, his defenses gone, bleeding from his back wound and from his throat, nearly torn open by the power of the words he spoke. He coughs blood once, twice, then lies still.
OOC: Good game? :OOC
The shards of glass melt into a pool with a faint scream, Merithale's last breath, perhaps. As they sink into the ground, the soil itself seems to frost over, and the baatorian air changes, until Siveleth is no longer in the arena. He is walking a beaten dirt path in the middle of a snowfield. Dead, leafless trees stand around him in all directions, and he can barely hear the howling of wolves through the numbing cold. Strangely, his wounds seem no better, but the pain has lessened drastically, until it is nothing more than a mild sting, perhaps the cold is to blame... even in this bleak scenary, however, there is hope. Warm-looking lights and smoke come from a small village ahead. Light which, you soon realize, comes from fires.
In the tongue of his race, he speaks, "Gareth is my friend. I have sworn to face his enemies at his behest, and I shall uphold my oath like a true friend would. It is an honor and a pleasure to work with him. Now face my wrath!"
In a dive-bombing motion, Kovaliastraz swoops down, expelling a massive cone of ice and snow.
OOC
First, Kovaliastraz is male, not female. Second, he is no less powerful, but this is his 'natural' size. He never grew any bigger than this without magic. Lastly, that's gonna be REALLY COLD, and Gold Dragons don't like cold :P
"Corvik Kala'kun", as the darkness that has covered the arena intensify, those caught within it fells there limbs growing heavier.
Lafali then leaps into the air, bringing endless night down upon Kovaliastraz. As blossoms of golden flames flickers into existence, giving of an eerie light.
"Ice teleportation! Nobody, but nobody, hurts my dragon!"
In Gareth's hands is a massive greatsword made of metallic ice, and as the two fall, the brings it down in a huge chop at his foe.
Meanwhile, Kovaliastraz circles, bringing his breath to bear upon the two combatants. He sucks in the air again and expells the cone, knowing that while Gareth will be unaffected, his opponent may be singing a different tune.
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Did you forget about the chill shield and fire blossoms?
(OOC: I just realised that I forgot to use one of the grafts on the main creation!!!! The really silly thing is that it was the origional idea and purpose to the creation before I added the cyst!!!! Ah well :OOC)
OOC
What was that? Did you 1) Teleport me, 2) alter the arena, or 3) use some weird mind-affecting thingummy on me? (Or, 4, something else I forgot to mention/didn't think of?) I really can't act 'til I know.
Jumping backwards, Doran dodges beyond that range of the tentacle mass. For the first time this match, however, Nimbrixion's reflexes were slower than his. Trying too late sidestep the thing, one of its tentacles grasps onto her left foreleg. The cyst estabishes its hold, and begins to extinguish her life-force as she tries to pull away from it, her efforts weakening. Fortunately, the untouched air elemental gets Doran's message, and lunges for the cyst. Like a breaze, it wraps around her and carries off the cyst, which proptly crushes the poor creature, returning it to its native plane. Turning, it leaps towards Doran, whose deep voice intoned the last word of his spell. A silver knife, glinting in the light, zooms to the cyst and embeds itself in the cyst. As it collides, apparently doing nothing, a bolt of white lightning emerges from overhead, crashing into the knife. Just a heartbeat later, the spectators hear the thunder, loud and ominous.
(Call lightning storm)
OOCWhat was that? Did you 1) Teleport me, 2) alter the arena, or 3) use some weird mind-affecting thingummy on me? (Or, 4, something else I forgot to mention/didn't think of?) I really can't act 'til I know.
The lightening strikes the knife, the flash burns in the eyes of the spectators as the thunder rends the 'heavens' asunder. Then through the thunder you hear it a strange gurgling inhuman scream as the repulsive odour of diseased flesh burning and blackening in that terrible heat wafts towards the pair of you. As your eyes return to normal and the afterglow of the lightening fades you see the remains of the cyst, now just a cinder, smoking gently on the ruddy earth.
"Shall I take care of that?" he asks. She replies "No, I think I'll let it heal naturally so that the scar will remind me of our first real battle. Besides,I can always get rid of it when I become truly powerful in a few hundred years." "I wish I could be around to see that" he thinks to himself." "When we get back, im ordering you whatever you want." as an afterthought he adds with a hint of a smile "Hmmm, perhaps not, I wouldn't want to create a three-year old drunkard" Nimbrixion stretches, bending low like a dog, but as she stretches out her wings, she takes good care to make sure that the leftmost one smacks Doran in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. Together, the look to the judges box to await their final descision and permission to leave.
OOC
Alright, I'm getting pretty damned sick of this, so allow me to set this absolutely straight: Blue Ice, the metallic ice that Gareth keeps using, DOES NOT MELT EASILY. I'm sick of people in RP forums the world over assuming they can just melt anything he throws at them. IT MELTS AT THE SAME TEMPERATURE AS STEEL! That clear it up for everyone, until the end of all time? Good.
With the cosmic energy he had been gathering in his left hand finaly fully gathered, "Dril'sork Vala'mirl". Small strands rapidly encircles Kovaliastraz, forming a light mesh net around the white dragon.
"Binding of the Lesser Ones was created when the Valdurian enslaved the lesser dragons to serve there as mounts. So that when we fought them we could spare our cousins from certent death. Feel free to try and break it but be warned, it is formed out of the very essence of the multiverse."
With the white dragon traped for the time beening, lafali waits to see if gareth will try and get pass his blossoms.
important OOC message to anyone fighting me, at fallenvampiris's request
Okay, anyone who has a question about what I'm doing/have done/ will do or anything else, ask me in the OOC thread. If you want to keep it a surprise for everyone else (which I would completely understand), send me a PM and I will respond in kind, thank you.
Throughout this, none take any notice of you, save for a young boy carrying a violin, cowering in a corner hidden behind a barrel, staring at you fearfully. Two voices arrive in your mind, one pleading, one soothing. "please... help me... they're all dying..." "come, wield me, o worthy one, and all your troubles shall be gone, siveleth."
Out of the corner of your eye, something catches your attention.
A Rapier of perfect, blood red glass, in a patch of white snow.
It calls to you, tells you to wield it, and it will save you in this dangerous hour, spare you from all woes...
OOC
The following ass-whooping is done with Gaelro's permission. This fight should not count for or against either of our records. That said, let the ass-whooping commence
An aged dwarf in a brown robe walks though the portal, bowing before the judges, "Master Lafali is still recovering from his match with Lord Shiro and wielding Endless Night. I am sorry for my master disrupting of this arena. The other Keepers and myself will keep him from returing untill he is fully recovered. Again I am sorry for my masters actions." Once again the dwarf bows before the judges before backing though the portal as it closes shut.
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Thanks gareth, lets have a reamtch when i stop getting all these stubid split shifts
He strides toward the boy, sympathy warring with brutality on his anguished face. What has happened here? he asks.
So as not to alarm the boy, Siveleth sheathes the rapier at his belt gently, already succumbing to its telepathic influences.
"Th...they're all gone! My family, my friends...everyone's gone... they.. those people, they came and killed them all, and there's nothing I can do.... they're all dying, and...and I might be next! They've been fighting for so long now...the snow's all red.. but it's okay, the pretty sword's been talking to me, it sounds like everyone I know, it says it'll keep me safe..." He begins to cry midway through his speech, but quickly seems to relax as the glass sword whispers to him again in a language only he seems to understand.
Again, the sword whispers to you from its newfound sheath. "Kill them... kill the intruders.. they must die for what they've done, for us...for Merithale..." As it finishes its sentence, the boy lights up again, his trust in the sword rekindled. "see? It even knows my name, it must be good!"
The second vial is wide, made of a thin spiralling tube filled with a deep blue elixir. Siveleth sips a bit, and sighs with contentment.
The third, a tiny, square crystal vial, is empty. Siveleth moves closer to the boy and holds this one out, uncapped. He touches it to Merithale's cheek and lets the remaining tears drip into it, stoppering the container with a blood-red glass cork. He says, Merithale, I can and will avenge your people, I swear it upon this sword. Please, have a taste of this. It's good. So saying, he offers the boy a sip from the twisting blue bottle. Now, let us have our revenge.
Suddenly, Merithale, the older one, the one that Siveleth has fought, appears in the path of the chain. Lashing out with his rapier, he allows the chain to wrap around it, before taking the sword back from the tangled mess as if it were a sheathe.
no.
Merithale rushes straight to siveleth's new sword, heedless of his own safety. As he rushes to strike the sheath, blow after frenzied blow hit Merithale. Again the chain strikes him, and again, cracks appear in him, pieces of glass falling off all the while.
"Don't let it do to you what it's done to me. Please, no....."
The twin blade shimmer, and merge to become one, reunited and stronger than ever. He places it on the ground, and casts a spell of shattering. No more than a single crack appears in the rapier, and Merithale screams in agony, crumpling to the floor. Parts of the glass begin to flake off as he rises again, but only just. He walks over to Siveleth, the blade flying back to his hands against his will. With a single movement, the barbarians fly away, many breaking their necks upon landing.
"Please.. hear me out, before it's too late, lest this blade take you too."
"long ago, almost centuries ago, I was a simple bard in the northern lands. I learned the tales of my people, their music, and some magic, that was all."
Then, they came- a neighboring tribe came to my village, slaughtering them in their sleep, I hid, helpless. To this day, I regret that I did not die then, but what could I do? Their blood, their innocent blood, pooled on the snow, staining it red, while I hid, helpless."
"Soon I could bear it no longer, and I strode out to confront them, but it was too late, they were all dead. Besides, I was unarmed, there was nothing I could do. But what's this?"
There was a blade, a thin and long, well fashioned rapier of red glass sticking out of the snow. It seemed to drain the blood from the snow around it, but I did not dwell on this. I had no doubts over it. It spoke to me, comforted me in my darkest hour."
Immediately, it took control, guiding my arms, cleaving my enemies, it left no survivors, save myself, its wielder. After the battle, it began to whisper into my ears, guiding my actions. It can always take control, and sometimes does."
"Sometimes, I do not even remember what it has done. It twisted my music too, into this tragic melody, fit only to bring sorrow to innocent souls.."
"It has transformed me into this creature of glass that stands before you, and prolonged my life unnaturally. It is the spilt blood of my village, and it begs for vengeance, for more blood to add to itself..."
"I brought you back in time, to this place, five hundred and twenty eight years ago, in the hope that we may be able to set right what had gone wrong, and destroy this twisted blade. But I have failed before, and I shall do so again. It is of no use, the blade lives, and threatens to bring even you to its side."
"if only I knew then what I knew now... if only. But now..."
Merithale's perfect glass skin begins to turn blood red, as does his blade. "NOW, YOU SHALL DIE!". His face contorts into a feral, predatory snarl as he flies toward you, sword raised. With a roar, he slashes furiously, freezing blood, body and flame as he moves towards you. He swings his blade in a perfect arc, aimed to split Siveleth's skull in half.
Siveleth reacts with preternatural speed, slipping sideways slightly to avoid the blow and kicking his foot out at Merithale's knee. He turns into a spin, tucking his chain close to his torso as he whirls. He becomes a blur of shimmering silver. With uncharacteristic sarcams, he parries, Correction: you shall die. Again.
From the indistinct shape Siveleth has become, a needlelike sliver of silver extends. The fragment pirces Merithale in the stomach, sending a web of cracks through his body. The blur twirls on last time and vanishes, seeming to fold space. Echoing throughout the area comes the sound of laughter, genuinely happy paining Merithale by recalling once more the memories of life.
As the cracks spread across Merithale's body, he seems to be battling something within himself, lucid looks momentarily returning to his eyes, only to be replaced by the feral glint of red glass.
no. I will be your slave no more, you have twisted me beyond recognition, used my hands to slay innocents, enough is enough, this ends now! No, you cannot leave us. You won't leave us here, will you? Your own people? How could you do this to us? Don't you see who the true monster is here Merithale? It is you, and your own black, self-centered heart.
Voices reach out of the sword, and the forms of people, eerily similar to some that now lie dead around Siveleth, stand around the bard. How could you abandon us, my child? We've cared for you all your life, kept you alive for so long, and you can't even repay us? He wavers, but his face remains hard. No! You are not the people I knew... you are... something else entirely, these people have nothing to do with what was done to you... those responsible for the attack are long dead, and it is time that you left this world too. The time for words is past, it's over.
With that, he raises his sword, bringing it down to shatter it against the ground. Very well than, we no longer have any use for you... there will always be another. Goodbye, merithale, you shall die now, and none will mourn your passing.
Whirlwind's blood flies through the air, siveleth's arm guided by some invisible force. It smashes into Merithale, and cracks creep across his skin, connecting full circle.
Merithale shatters, and his sword with him.
Siveleth finds himself in the hellish arena again, a chill wind carrying away the last shards of glass with a faint, musical tinkling sound. As the last shards of the glass vanish, a whispering comes to siveleth's ears, carried by the wind.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. This is my end, siveleth, and I thank you for it. I have waited for this for hundreds of years, yet this sword would not allow me to die. Now, at last, it is gone. Now, at last, I may die in peace, for on this day, the slave is freed from his bonds at last. But the damage has been done, it is too little, too late. If only I knew then what I knew now, but it is too late... goodbye, siveleth, and thank you. "
Nothing remains of the bard that once was. Only one thing stands by siveleth..
A rapier of red glass, standing in a patch of snow under the baatorian sky.
Come to us, Siveleth...
Feorâjo'klungriénz-achatüslenz!
The earth begins to rumble, just vibrating at first but rising to a roar, then a deafening clamor. The bloodsoaked earth cracks, and a fissure spreads across the arena floor. Spiderweb cracks fan out from the line of split earth, and an acrid tang replaces the scent of brimstone in the hellish air. A void, deeper than a sphere of annihilation, shows through the floor of Sorcen's demiplane. The floor, or what is left of it, crumbles into the void, leaving only a small crcle around Siveleth, and a pile of snow. The wind, now only a slight zephyr, swirls about the sword's pommel, dissipating the snowdrift. With a crash like a smashed window, the rapier (now bereft of an anchor point) falls slowly, inch by inch, into the pit. When it finally vanishes from sight, Siveleth speaks again.
Znelsütahca-znéirgnulk'ojâroef![i]
The floor, in chunks and segments, floats [/i]back up from where it had fallen, levitating in place as the whole ground links itself together once more. There is only one sign of the damage: a small mark in the center of the arena; a dent in the floor filled with blood and ringed with broken glass.
In memory of Merithale.
"Nothing like a bit of Disturbed for a fight," he drawls sarcastically, "Now let's get on with this."
Hefting his pistols once more, the Daemon Magus awaits his foe.
“Hasidilaki!”
Strong and confident, his voice cuts through the chatter of the audience; all eyes watch him as his wings begin to melt away, and, touching the ground gently with his toes, he alights gracefully on the battlefield and strides across to face Tyler. Again he performs his unusual salute: first hand outstretched at Tyler, then, head bowed, his hand on his heart. Once more Mzumu’s spear strikes the ground three times, and then he looks up, his bright eyes fixed intently on his foe.
“Ka siye ushindani!”
At those words, the eagle mask reforms, rising up from the fallen feathers. The whirlwind of plumage engulfs Mzumu’s face, and the great beak opens wide as the mask’s eyes burst into golden light. As the plumage stretches down, covering his back and shoulders with brown feathers, Mzumu spreads his wings once more, and rises to hover before his foe.
Tyler raises his pistols and squeezes off a pair of shots from each, turning to sprint sideways. He skids in a circle and fires again, whipping his left hand glock back into its holster. With a nimbleness that belies his "nerd living with mother" frame, his fingers fly in arcane gestures.
You have great magic, young one. But you lack the speed of the eagle...and the talons.
Mzumu dives downward, his hands becoming feathered as he speeds toward Tyler. Soon great claws form around his fingers, and he reaches fowards, talons outstreched, to tear his foe to pieces.
Tyler freezes his left hand in a final gesture and thrusts it forward confidently. Charging him was never a good idea, and this eagle thing, whatever it was, would find out the hard way.
"Ignis Demonia!"
A roiling cone of demonic flame rips forth from the teenager's hand, devouring the air as it seeks to consume his foe. Snapping his fingers confidently, Tyler barks out another word.
"Arcanabula!"
Magic missles scream from his hand, seeking his foe as Tyler retreats farther.
"...ITH THE SICKNESS!"
The words are a sonic blast, strong as a gale-force wind and twice as painful. Tyler feels the cuts on his face and his expression softens. They probably wouldn't leave a scar, but he'd need to get them checked for infection when he got home. Putting his glock in the holster, he crouches and holds his knife, waiting.
But then the winds begin to swirl around the shaman, solidifying into sky blue glass, which flows like water around his wrists and face. As it flows, it spirals around him, until he wears a twisted, windswept mask and gloves of blown glass that flex and bend around his fingers as if made of form-fitting leather. The mask's eyes soon glow with blue light, which trails from the eye slits and blows about Mzumu.
The winds surrounding him die, and the whirlwind of feathers falls harmlessly to the ground. But Mzumu still floats above the ground, borne aloft on updrafts that pour from his body.
I had forgotten what it feels like to be the air...
Mzumu raises his hands, and winds whip up around Tyler, carrying the struggling Daemon Magus high into the air. And then, as Mzumu crosses his hands abruptly in front of him, the winds fade away to nothingness. And gravity takes over.
"Alright bird-man, I don't know what magic you're using, but it ain't any I've seen. Who the hell are you?"
Some call me shaman, some call me heretic, some call me binder...they are all wrong. Those who call me totemist are closest to the truth. The world spirits have great power, and lend it freely to those who they think worthy. And I am such a one.
Spirits of the land, the beasts, the air...the gods themselves...I draw their power to do their work on Ardhi. I ask, and they bestow their power.
Nenaunir would like a word, child.
Mzumu's mask and gloves glow with the complete spectrum of colors, and the sky overhead darkens. Thunder rumbles, booming across all of Baator, and a great crackling bolt of lightning splits the sky apart as the brilliant lance of fire comes crashing down on Tyler.
OOC
It was just a Slow spell man...
"Shango kwa miye!"
Magical energy surges around the weakened shaman, and raw arcane force flashes from his fingertips. Halfway to Tyler, it forms into perfect lines of energy, which weave about of their own accord, catching the magus in a burning web of magical power.
You have strong magic, but my gods strength makes your spells look pathetic.
Time doesn't blink this time, and Tyler grimaces as a shining blue clock face forms in front of him. The minute hand slides forward three places, and then Tyler vanishes.
*Three Minutes Later*
Tyler reappears on the ground, glocks out. He searches for his foe in a panic, guns up and ready.
OOC
Tyler's Tempus Fugit Watch has some issues :D
On his wrists rest leather bracers, spines jutting out of them like small porcupines, and his cloak has flattened out and hardened onto a scaled shell-like substance. As Tyler appears, guns at the ready, the shaman takes a step back in suprise.
"Gani?"
"Hellfire and damnation! This ain't good."
Holstering the guns, he reaches down for his belt knife sheath, and realizes it isn't there.
"Real good Tyler. If the Templar could see you now. Well, option C."
And the Daemon Magus begins chanting once again.
Stepping through the hail of bullets, the shaman's mask bursts into life, and the woven reeds ignite in hellish flame. Smoke pours from the mask's eyes and mouth, and its eyes gleam wickedly in the dim light of Baator.
Come, little mage...sacrifices are sometimes required. Death by fire cleanses the spirit, and heats the soul. The brighter the spirit, the stronger the gift. And your spirit is very strong.
The gods will be very pleased with this. Give them my greetings.
The heat pouring off Mzumu is unbearable, and the smoke surrounds him, obscuring all his features except for two glowing red eyes...burning coals of hellish fire. The hideous mouth opens wide, and the fires inside burst forth. An inferno of smoke, ash, and flame leaps from the demonic mask and roars out across the empty space, cracking the stone itself with dry heat. Tongues of flame engulf Tyler completely, and all is obscured by black, greasy smoke.
And then a black-shrouded fist slams into the shaman from the smoke. Following up with a crescent kick at head height, Tyler emerges untouched by the heat, the arcane designs on his outfit surging with blood-red light.
"I've been in worse than your fires, Shaman. Hell has a way of doing that to you."
Unlike before, the black energy doesn't dissapate, instead arcing from his hands to his boots.
"Hand-to-hand then. Lucky for me, I know kung fu."
He closes in, jabbing with fists shaped like knives in short, precise strikes.
OOC
Again, the curse is one to sap strength. Tyler's applied one of his feats to make the spell keep going until five minutes pass. His fighting style is basic karate (Combat Martial Arts feat)
"Kung-fu? What sort of magic is that, child?
Whatever it is, however hard it hits, the living earth is stronger."
The shaman catches Tyler's blades on his spiny bracers, twisting his arms sideways in an attempt to disarm the youth. Then he strikes out with a stony fist, and, although weakened considerable, the force of the blow knocks Tyler heavily to the ground. When the second blow comes, the sound of bone grinding on bone is audible to the entire arena.
"You bastard! You flipping bastard! MY ARM! FRIGIS!"
A cone of pure cold rips from the mage's good hand, engulfing the shaman. Snarling in rage, Tyler spits out another arcane phrase and a stroke of lightning follows. Cradling his arm, he retreats a good twenty feet backward, moving as swiftly as he can.
OOC
A Cone of Cold followed by a Lightning Bolt. Also, no blades were ever mentioned; his hands and feet are simply enshrouded in Bestow Curse.
He tries to speak, but his frozen lips will simply not respond. Those who understand his gestures are confused, for his frostbitten fingers will not bend completely to his will.
For one dragon young, running ocean under have many dark mountains. Fire oasis I will require moon gardens.
With that, Mzumu sinks slowly into the ground, until he disappears completely.
Tyler rakes his nails across his arm, drawing blood. Moving fast, he slathers it over the metal plates in his outfit, the designs filling with his hemoglobin. As the last drops fill in, the design flashes.
Streaks of flame shoot forth from the Daemon Magus, branching and forming into a pattern. Within the space of three seconds, a design has formed, recognizable from the audience's view as the largest, most multifaceted polygon ever created, with a design in the middle created from filling in the diagonals.
Tyler speaks, a black tongue that is all too familiar; the language of the Baatezu, Infernal.
"Kovolitrax, Hav, Sonctu, Gravaga, INVOCARI!"
The flames flash and deepen to bloody red. And, all at once, a gigantic crack is heard, deafening to the audience and judges alike. Hundreds of miles around Tyler shatter, falling into layers below as he obliterates the ground around him. Only the small part he is standing on remains.
"IGNIS INVOCARI!"
And where there was once earth, there is now flame.
OOC
You move, Gareth. I'm gonna be away from my computer for a bit, but I look forward to seeing how this continues. I have a feeling its far from over. :D
OOC
Incidentally, he can cast that spell once a year, and only by releasing a demon from his own Hell. What he doesn't know is all he did was release one from this Hell, likely into Greyhawk. It isn't UBAH DAMAGE O' DOOM. It does 10d6 in game. But the radius is 1000 miles. Plus, the whole "Shatter the earth" bit. The name of the spell (designed by Tyler himself): Apocalypse Now
OOC
Nice name. If Caben Duur ever comes back, remind me to have him fight Tyler. I'll counter with Heart of Darkness :P
"HA!"
OOC
Tyler named it himself, and on purpose :P
"Asa, msaada...miye bi yangu...defa...mwa hitaji."
Seconds pass, and Mzumu's blood congeals on the arena floor, a viscous, reddish brown stain, spreading outward as the shaman dies. And then a golden light suffuses his body, and he is lifted, barely breathing, into the air. The light plays about his body, dancing across his wounds, and where it touches the flesh reweaves itself, bones realign, and the skin is whole once more.
"Guruhi, miye amaraombokeza!"
A new mask appears, formed of Mzumu's own blood, rising up off the ground. It shines darkly, a lurid black, and its eyes burn with a deep crimson flame. Obsidian teeth jut jaggedly from a demonic smile, and the mask leers mockingly at Tyler. Shadows play across the mask, and the mouth seems to move forward until it hovers over the young magus, caressing him lovingly, licking him with a tongue of utter darkness, savoring his energy.
And the magus feels his life drain away as the spirits of death slowly consume him.
OOC
Gideon, as you may be unaware, allow me to state that Devastator slugs are explosive rounds. Bones turn to jelly when these hit you.
OOC
Allow me to change that, then.
Allow me to change that, then.OOC
Yeah, Devastators are real life, impact rounds that explode once they hit a hard target. They're designed to hit you, stop, and go 'Boom' with much pain and shrapnel. The average U.S. citizen can buy them on the cheap.
The wings of the eagle form from the feathered cloth, but grow and darken to a midnight blue. Mzumu seems to grow larger, and larger still, until, as his eagle mask forms once more, he towers far above Tyler. And still his form changes, twisting, bulging, buckling...and, as the shaman spreads his mightly wings, thunder and lightning tear the sky apart, and the Thunderbird seizes Mzumu: mind, body and spirit.
The great beak opens, and thunder peals across the sky. Lightning pours from the bird's eyes, and its claws open wide as it flies at the dragon like a hawk...moving in for the kill.
"Shaman!"
Tyler calls over the noise of the battle, clinging to the dragon with his good arm.
"Shaman, I would negotiate! This has gone far enough!"
Speak, child.
He looks below.
"Yep, Dys. We've fought each other to a standstill, and any continuation will result in the death of both of us. I propose a draw."
The spirits are satisfied with this outcome, child. They are impressed with your skill and determination. They consent to wait for your spirit, for in time, you will be one of the greatest ever to reach them.
"Moyo wangu Sultani, cha mtu sikitamani."
I am satisfied.
He smiles sarcastically and Kovaliastraz takes him to the tavern. The wyrm brings his head down to Tyler's level.
Blood of my master, so long ago fallen, I will await you here. In time, you will come to understand the full implications of what you have done here. Simply call, and I will come.
As the dragon flies away, Tyler steps into the bar, his bloody arcane clothing still glowing with power.
"This isn't that much different from the Grand Arena in Sharn... unfortunately, I never did well in the Arena...crap...
I wonder who this 'Bob' guy is... sounds like a...unimpressive name."
I AM BOB. I HAVE COME TO TEST MY SKILLS AGAINST YOU CREATURE WHO DOMINATE MY WORLD. SOON, I WILL LAUNCH AN ATTACK ON ALL OF EBERRON, AND IN DOING SO LIBERATE MY FELLOW ANIMALS FROM THE TYRANNY OF HUMANS AND OTHER TWO-LEGS.
The rabbit shifts and then a tall, gaunt man stands where the rabbit once was. He wears dark gray tunic and breeches, and has sandals made of some strange grey skin. He also has a spear with a half-moon blade sticking up from his back.
His voice booms out without him opening his mouth.
UNFORTUNATELY, MY FIRST MATCH HAS ME TEAMED UP WITH AN ELF. HMPH. I GUESS YOU WILL HAVE TO DO UNTIL I KILL YOU LATER.
He draws his half-moon bladed spear, and blood-red sparks jump around on the dull gray blade as soon as he touches it.
LET'S GET ON WITH THIS... HARMON, CORRECT?
Well, I suppose if we fought those celery monsters that the one Gatekeeper I fought created, we'll be okay."
Harmond shakes his head several times to get himself back on track.
"Anyway...yeah, I'm Harmond. And I don't know who we're fightin', but from the looks of what our talents are...I'd say that you keep 'em distracted with your jolly ol' scythe there, and I'll keep 'em pinned down with fire...and acid...and whatever else I can come up with."
"I don't suppose you two would consider peaceful surrender? I'd hate to have to clean up the guts when Inaya finishes with you, see."
He slides on a pair of gloves, metal plated like the rest of his clothing and with small spikes coming out of the knuckles.
My hand closes on my blade as I walk into the sunlit arena and take my place in front of Tyler. An elf and a man...the elf looks fast...fast, but weak. Provided I reach him, he should pose no great threat, unless he has some outside power assisting him. The man now...I don't know what to make of him. Perhaps he has some demonic heritage...
Scythes are clumsy though, and I can play havoc with clumsy fighters. Once inside his reach, I should tear him apart.
Though Tyler could be a problem...he's the real wild card here...I have no idea how he fights. So far he's been carefree, which is a good sign. No nervesness of reckless haste, but I have yet to see how he handles himself...hopefully he does well. He's such an interesting person...
No time, no time. Focus. You're as bad as your sisters.
My hand tightens on the hilt of my blade. I am eager to draw it...eager to begin...and...well...to see what Tyler is capable of.
"So...who's willing to expose themselves first? Should I, or is someone else going to move?"
Tyler begins playing, the song moving fast from the beginning and moving faster even now.
"Let's begin with some accelerando, and maybe just a bit of dance. And a-one, and a-two, and a -"
He steps out from behind Inaya and rips his hand across the guitar, sending a solid wave of sound blasting towards Bob and Harmond. Swiftly, he returns to his song, and Inaya and he begin to blur as they speed up.
OOC
The blast was more or less a Shout. Inaya and Tyler are now Hasted. Let the battle begin!
Inaya rushes forward, her blade whipping out so fast that it seems only a silver blur. Moving like something out of a dream, she strikes out towards Harmond, her blade nothing more than a whisper of steel as it moves faster than the eye can follow.
Harmond looks surprised for only a moment at the wave of sound and the ferocious speed of Inaya's charge. He lifts up his hand and snaps his fingers. The sound continues to rush forward, but suddenly impacts something that doesn't seem to be there. The sound of shattering glass can be heard all throughout the arena as the wave is stopped by a quick veil of force.
"Oh my...so, THAT'S how we're gonna play this...no tricks, eh? I always like to warm up a little bit."
As Inaya is only moments away, Harmond flips his hands in a quick pattern and says a couple of words of what seems like gibberish. Suddenly...Harmond is gone...
My blade slashes down, and I turn the movement into a scything motion, spinning around with the edge at stomach height. Hopefully he's still within range...although his reactions are so fast, that I highly doubt it. Still...maybe I'll get lucky.
"Careful there, sweetums. I hear those things are sharp."
A streak of yellow energy blazes from directly above Tyler. It's a pure conflagration...but, somehow, condensed into a single point.
"And that's for your little sound wave trick!"
"You'd think people would learn not to use fire against Daemon Magi. Ah well, better for me."
The tune shifts, and Tyler begins singing.
"Drowning deep in my sea of loathing
Broken, your servant I kneel
(Will you give in to me?)
It seems what's left of my human side
Is slowly changing ... in me
(Will you give in to me?)
Looking at my own reflection
When suddenly it changes
Violently, it changes
Oh, no, there's no turning back now
You've woken up the demon ... in me."
His guitar's arcane design slowly starts glowing with light as he continues singing, and his outfit likewise charges. As he sounds the final words, the designs appear in fire on the ground, one inside the other. The ground cracks, and a massive, demonic form rips forth. Standing to its full height, the Balor roars, it's dog head a cruel mockery of true canines.
"Sic 'em, boy!"
The demon sniffs the air, and then cracks a whip of fire at Harmon.
Oh wait...that's fire, isn't it?"
The flame whip cracks through the air and strikes Harmond directly in the chest. The searing pian is unbearable, but Harmond gains his composure and turns to face his demon opponent. He lefts up his hand and begins to snap his fingers in an extremely rapid succession. Sparks begin to fly from them as Harmond begins to taunt the demon.
"Heeeeey lookielookielookielookielookielookielookielookie!"
The demon's attention is momentarily distracted as Harmond brings a blade of force into the demon's flank. The demon cries out as Harmond twists the blade in the demon. Harmond takes a deep, deep breath and exhales a hail of frost at the demon. Its crystalized body falls to the earth and cracks into a thousand tiny pieces. Harmond falls to the ground, looks at Tyler, and makes a large scowl.
"That was NOT, I repeat, NOT cool!"
Harmond calmly walks up to Tyler, and snaps his fingers. Nothing seems to happen. Then, Harmond juts out his hand simply pushes Tyler...down a flight of stairs that wasn't there when the battle began.
"Awwww, did the heavy metal rocker take a fall?"
"Great, sarcastic elves. You know, I knew a drow once. Nice guy, but had the same problem you do. Tell you what, I'll have him meet you sometime. 'Till then, Tempus Fugit!"
Tyler slams the button on his pocket watch, and time blinks. Several things are immediately apparant. The first is that Harmon is no longer wearing pants. Tyler has appeared next to Inaya, his guitar on his back, and his glocks out. The third is that Tyler is chanting something. He snaps his fingers, and the ground buckles and then shreds, shooting shrapnel out from where he and Inaya stand.
"Hey elfie, how'd ya like a taste of some Devastators? Inaya, cover your ears."
He points his guns at Harmon and starts unloading the clips at the unfortunate elf.
"Oh, that's how you wanna play this?! Bring it on, human!"
Harmond doesn't move, flinch, or show any sign of fear. He simply lifts up his hands, points both of his index and middle fingers at his opponents. He closes his eyes and whispers
"Traveler, watch over me..."
The tips of Harmond's fingers begin to glow with a crackling of lightning, the chill of frost, the terrible acridity of acid, and a cruel, twisted sound. This is all released in a barrage of rays and beams that don't seem to have any kind of end. The bullets and the rays pass by each other and fly towards their respective targets.
Tyler slides in front of his partner, making sure she's covered. The magic is streaking towards him, and he incants hastily. It doesn't look like he's going to finish the spell in time, and when he realizes it, he rushes forward to take the blasts straight on. The acid rips into his shoulder as the sound makes his jaw rattle, but luckily he remembered to slacken it, so he manages to keep his teeth.
He isn't so lucky with lightning and ice. They blast him full on in the chest, and while all the metal he wears disperses the blasts, they are still potent. He staggers, then drops to his knees.
"Ow. That...hurt. A lot. Oh, elf, beneath you."
In between Harmon's legs is a small, green object, small enough to be held in the hand.
"Instant..summoning...works across time...b*tch."
And the grenade explodes.
".hct*b...emit ssorca skrow...gninommus..tnatsnI"
.dnah eht ni dleh eb ot hgoune llams ,tcejbo neerg ,llams a si sgel s'nomraH neewteb nIn between Harmon's legs is a small, green object, small enough to be--
"OH NO, NOT AGAIN!"
Harmond quicly kicks the grenade at Tyler and his companion, now that he knows that's there.
"And Wish can reverse time...moron."
"Ring of telekinisis. Boom, baby."
The grenade explodes again, and Tyler moves, right on the edge of the shrapnel. No magic, no tricks, just a crescent kick at head level with a heel that's weighted with lead.
Rising slowly, I look up to see Tyler spinning around, aiming a kick toward the elf's head. An attack, to be sure...but also, just maybe, a distraction.
Reaching down to my leg, I ease out my knife, and let the pommel settle into my palm. Then, with a swift flick of my wrist, a streak of cold steel flies from my open fingers toward the elf's back.
With any luck, he won't see that coming.
MY APOLOGIES, HARMOND. I WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT ABOUT HOW TO DESTROY THE CITY OF SHARN IN THE MOST EXPEDITIOUS WAY.
Dashing past Harmond, Bob leads his scythe in a blurring routine of spinning metal and burning elctricty. It slices Tyler's arm before he can leap away, and he is catapulted across the arena. Whirling back to Inaya, he casts another spell and traps her and the dagger inside a pale blue bubble.
TRY GETTING OUT OF THAT.
"Wrong idea, demon."
He begins playing, a wild, electric tune that sends both chills and a strange, almost disturbing thrill through the competitors.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
Blood to blood, rust to rust.
I speak the words of unmaking,
Though long ago
Their works were done"
His voice, though a song, is also inexplicably dark, as though some as-yet unseen malice is being channeled through the Daemon Magus.
"Your darkness is mine
Through fog and time
Our damnation is made
Willingly."
He hits a final chord and glares straight at Harmond and Bob.
"Chords of Dissonance!"
The song picks up again, more wild than before. Everyone, even the audience, can feel the effect as the fabrics of magic streatch thin. Harmon and Bob are seized by an overwhelming urge to slay each other, and still the Daemon Magus plays, his blood leaking from his arm and being absorbed into the spell. The eldritch might he gathers becomes greater with each passing second as reality thins and wanes.
How could I have gotten myself immobilized so quickly. The blade was easy to dodge, but this stupid bubble is quite annoying.
Unless...yes, that just might work.
I run against the wall of the sphere with all my force, and, slowly, it moves forward under me. And begins to roll. The bubble thunders onward, gaining terrible momentum from its weight and my speed. Throwing all my weight against the side, I manage to shift the course, and my unwanted shield and I tumble towards the scythe-wielding man...and with the force behind it now, I may even hit the elf.
Only a few feet now...I brace myself against the inside walls, and prepare for impact.
"Hello boys!"
I AM NOT THE LORD OF A DEMONIC PLANE FOR NOTHING, FOOL.
As Inaya rolls toward him with increasing momentum, Bob lets her roll onto one hand and then hurls it like a giant baseball towards Tyler. Manipulating the spell ever so slightly, he causes spikes of force to spring out from the ball. Now the ball is more like a large super-spiked flail head of doom. Bob turns back to Harmond and speaks to him.
YOU KNOW, I NEVER REALLY LIKED HUMANS ANYWAY. BUT THAT IS FOR LATER.
Pointing a finger at Tyler, magical silence springs up around him. Concentrating on his spell, Bob throws all his strenght into stamping out Tyler's song. The song is cut off abruptly as the two magical energies fight each other, but little bits of it still filter through Bob's magic as the two spells war against each other.
OOC
Explosive rounds + Holy weapon = Ouch
OOC: Theres your terrain.
Harmond begins to again discorporate into nothingness. He is gone within the trees, not making a sound or leaving any kind of visual trail. It's as if anyone trying to find him became unable to use any of their senses.
Suddenly, rays, dozens of them. Every conceivable color, size, and shape (shapes like line, line, and the occaisional line) come out in a tour de force that could be mistaken for fireworks.
Only much deadlier. They zig and zag in and out of the trees, flying with ungodly speed and superb accuracy towards their targets.
In Bob's mind, Harmond's voice chimes in:
So, about that cover. You should probably go about finding some...
"Now...you've...p*ssed..me..off..elf..brat. Ignis Daemonia!"
The fireball erupts outward, originating in a ring from Tyler and Inaya. The trees catch flame as the ball devours the woods within forty feet of the Daemon Magus. But his plan isn't to catch Harmon in the flames; it's the trees he's after.
"Oderint dum metuant."
More of Tyler's blood drains away into the ether as it fuels the spell, adding more strength than the Daemon Magus would normally be able to call. Harmon and Bob are gripped with a suffocating fear of the mage and Inaya, and they have only one, overpowering urge; flee, surrender, do anything to get away from the beings before them.
Rushing to Tyler's side, I pull out my healing elixir and slide it into his pocet.
"Here. Don't die on me now...I swear I'll kill you myself if you do."
Now...those clowns are going to pay. My body fades away into the ether, leaving only a figmented shell, as I begin to stalk my prey. This is to easy. I look to my left, and can just make out my visible image darting towards the human, or whatever he is. Its an especially realistic one, if I do say so myself. But, even as it strikes down, its blade a reality despite its illusion, I am ready, and unseen. There is silence...but the last rays came from this direction. He's here somewhere. I just need to find him...
OOC
Yeah, Inaya has some odd tactics. She'd probably, if made, be a Ninja/Swashbuckler/Swordsage/Dervish/Gemini Dancer (for those who visit the class boards). So if she does some...wierd stuff, don't yell at me. :D
"Pain over fear...pain over fear...pain over fear..."
As the blood seeps down leg, warming his feet as the crimson fluid runs. He sees the forest around in erupting in flames, and decides that it's pretty much time to book. He takes off to the sky of the arena.
"Oh my...now that is quite a fire...hmmmm...I know what I can do!"
Harmond reaches into a pouch and pulls out a number of small wooden cubes, which could easily be mistaken for gaming dice if there were numbers on the faces. Harmond begins to make a bombing run; as he drops them on Tyler, since he can't seem to see Inaya in all of the smoke. The cubes begin to expand from half an inch to five feet. They now easily weigh over 1000 lbs.
"Well, bombs away!"
Tyler then notices the cubes dropping at him.
"Sh*t."
He begins playing wildly, sending waves of sound at the cubes as they fall, turning them from very heavy falling objects into very light, fast-moving shrapnel that shreds trees and combatants alike. He recieves many more cuts, but a few cuts are better than being flattened. He considers taking the potion Inaya gave him, but not yet. He still needed his blood flowing.
He changes his tune, something slow and mournful, and somehow even darker than his previous song. Listening to it sends shudders of revulsion down the audience's spines; the tune Tyler now plays is one of pure evil, whose origins are found only in the songbooks of the foulest bards.
"Hateful Sorrows."
The words are sang out, more like liquid than sound. Harmon and Bob are seized by a feeling foreign to the demon prince, but familiar to the elf; a crushing despair, a sadness more deep and profound than mortals can comprehend. As the tune plays, ice expands from the boy's feet, freezing trees and extinguishing flame.
Inaya also feels the effects of the song, though it is not an attack; she feels the darkness of Tyler's soul pouring forth, all the evil that lives within him set free in the form of sound. Horrid and alluring at once, the sound floats through her mind like a ghost through the ether.
Looking toward the sound, I see a trickle of blood falling from an unseen source, moving higher and higher with each passing second. And then it stops, blood falling from far above the arena.
Got him.
And then a haunting melody washes over me, stripping my defenses and boring into my very soul. Filled with evil and despair...yet I cannot get enough of it. It consumes my spirit, and I feel nothing but the music. The music is the embodiment of my companion's soul, and it is unexpectedly dark...dark, exciting, and addictive. It opens the hidden passages of the mind, revealing secrets I thought long forgotten...and that i did not want to remember. The family around the table, the father raving mad, screaming insanely at his wife and children, propped up in their chairs, their corpses slowly rotting...the unburied dead, thousands killed to save others from the plague, while the doctors stood by their noble clients...the screams of those dying from hunger, without the funds to support themselves or their family...all the horrors I have ever seen...even...I shudder...those I saw, uncaring...before I decided I would not tolerate the atrocities...my soul rebels, but the music bares all. Hatred wells up inside of me...not hatred of Tyler, although he revealed all to me, but of the world itself for allowing such things to occur. Things I allowed to occur. My moment of darkest despair descends then, and my blade turns toward myself. My companion and I...both darker than we could ever imagine...how do we deserve to live?
Then the last chords die away, and the magic is lifted. My soul exhales, and the evil flows out. The elation is impossible to describe. I know my true self now...and I accept it. I have seen and done terrible things...but I am not a monster. Nor is Tyler, for all the evil that his soul might contain...there is good inside. And that is enough. If we can overcome that, we can overcome anything.
Filled with new resolve, I look upward. The elf is high, but I have sunk lower than imaginable, and risen to new heights...and nothing seems impossible now. This is merely another test...and tests of the body are much simpler than tests of the mind.
Coiling my legs beneath me, I spring upward. My rising spirit grants me strength, and I rise like the morning sun. The wind whips in my face, and my blade splits the air. Ribbons trail behind me, the silver razorwire embedded in them slashing the sky apart. Sunlight glints off the metal...visible only to me, but there none the less. The light is soothing...the darkness is gone.
And then I strike out, my seeking blade slashing through the air above the invisible wound. A slight whisper of steel, and my hands meld with the steel as I cycle through strike after strike, perfectly executed. The mind is greater than the body...
The scimitar spins in a hurricane of steel, and each motion lashes my opponent's flesh with ribbons of steel. I have survived the darkness. I have defeated my own despair...I have overcome myself. And I am unstoppable.
OOC
((You know the only person left on the ground is Tyler, right? And he's, you know, pouring out pure evil in the form of song. Come on, I even spent the time and made a little aside for Inaya and everything...))
OOC
Well, I didn't honestly know what to do with it. Also, Harmond is on the ground, simply invisible. What did you have in mind? I was actually in the middle of writing that when you posted, so I'm a little stuck. I'm willing to edit :D
EDIT: Wow...my second idea actually worked. I thought I'd be stuck there forever. :D
EDIT: Wow...my second idea actually worked. I thought I'd be stuck there forever. :D
OOC
I rest my case
Harmond, while completely terrified, pulls a small dagger from a wrist sheath, and stabs himself lightly in the thigh muscle.
"Pain over fear...pain over fear...pain over fear..."
As the blood seeps down leg, warming his feet as the crimson fluid runs. He sees the forest around in erupting in flames, and decides that it's pretty much time to book. He takes off to the sky of the arena.
"Oh my...now that is quite a fire...hmmmm...I know what I can do!"
Harmond reaches into a pouch and pulls out a number of small wooden cubes, which could easily be mistaken for gaming dice if there were numbers on the faces. Harmond begins to make a bombing run; as he drops them on Tyler, since he can't seem to see Inaya in all of the smoke. The cubes begin to expand from half an inch to five feet. They now easily weigh over 1000 lbs.
"Well, bombs away!"
I rest my case
Then the Daemon Magus looks up, and sees Inaya in her graceful dance of death. He is mezmerized by her movements, even as she fights in midair, an environment that cannot be familiar to her. A single, whispered phrase, something he is unaware that he speaks.
"I love you."
Something breaks free in Tyler's mind, in his soul, with that unconcious admission. He weeps openly, tears of joy and sorrow as he gazes on Inaya. He only wanted to be with her, and this fight was not only stopping that, it was putting her at risk.
For the third time in the match, Tyler slashes open his arm, drawing blood as eldritch fuel. He begins playing, and Inaya feels a surge of strength, of speed and fortitude. Tyler's song is shielding her, and strengthening her, giving her what she needs to fight harder and faster than any mortal has right to.
OOC
Darn...wrong account. Well...you know who it is.
Then the ash begins to burn. at first, it is only a light flame, but it eventually [color=DarkRed]becomes a bonfire in the middle of Sorcen's arena. The pillar of smoke rises towards the ceiling as the flames begin to burn hotter and hotter until the tounges are about the size of a human...or, more aptly, a short elf.
"SO...BET YOU TWO THOUGHT THAT WAS MIGHTY FUNNY, DIDN'T YA?! WELL, YOU WON'T FIND THIS NEXT PART ALL THAT HUMOROUS, I'LL TELL YOU THAT RIGHT NOW!"
From the flames...steps out Harmond. But, he is different: his skin is[/color] jet black and his eyes and hair have become a flaming crimson. His breaths exhale a smoggy fume that smells like that of rotting flesh.
"Well now...we had always hoped you two kids would get together. Just one question: Which layer of Hell would you like your honeymoon in? I hear Dis is nice this time of millenia. Because, you two are going to die. Right now."
Harmond grins a smile of unsurpassable malevolence as he leans his head back and begins to chant:
"Hein ron hirai sabeios
Herim radisha redieah adonai
Asmodeous yar tetoragramaton saday
Mersias agios ishuros emanuel agra alpha omega!"
Once the chant is completed, a huge, burning pentagram erupts at the feet of Harmond. A puff of black putrid smoke sprgins from the middle of it. Once it clears, the figure of...a lowly dretch stands in the middle of the pentagram, which is beginning to fade. Harmond simply points a finger at the demon, sends out a pale, green ray, and the beast turns to dust.
"What...you didn't think my ultimate attack was summoning, did you? Geez, cant you people tell I'm an evoker?
I just needed one component..."
Harmond lifts up a handfull of the dust. He tosses it up in to the air...and the grains of dust begin to expand. Expand into what appear to be spheres of pure blackness and emptiness. They remain motionless for just moment until Harmond points each of his hands at either Tyler or Inaya, and flicks his wrists. The spheres fly out, like a shotgun of pure nothingness, and fly towards his two opponents.
"RAIN OF ANNIHILATION!"
VERY IMPRESSIVE. ALLOW ME TO HELP.
Bob swirls into a foggy mist deep gray in color. The mist coils aroudn Harmond, and forms a burnished gray sphere around him. Harmond immediatley notices that the music fades away as Bob blocks the eldritch energy. While some of Inaya's blows get through to Harmond, the vast majority of them bounce off of Bob's shield and send blue sparks sizzling through the air where she strikes the shield. Bob's voice thunders in Harmond's ears.
I CAN BLOCK THEIR ATTACKS FOR A TIME, HUMAN. BUT EVEN I AM NOT INVINCIBLE. THE WOMAN'S ATTACKS ARE POWERFUL, AND THE MAGE WEARS AT ME. FINISH THEM BEFORE I TIRE.
The shield grows slowly thinner as Inaya and Tyler hammer away at it.
Important OOC
Lord Bahamut...you need to check your PMs. I sent you one about the problems in the last post...you missed quite a lot, and, as a result, you have a few things that need to be fixed. Sorry for the trouble. But, if you could fix that, it would be great.
Thanks.
-Gideon
Thanks.
-Gideon
OOC
Done, Gideon. Once again, my apologies for being behind. I just thought that since that attack never really resolved I might as well put it in now.
Tyler begins a new tune, an 80's kind of rock that jumps and spikes in places. And then he begins to sing once more.
"You remind me of the babe
What babe?
The babe with the power
What power?
The power of voodoo
Voodoo?
You do
Do what?
Remind me of the babe.
I saw my babe
Cryin' hard as babe could cry
What could I do?
My baby's love had gone
And left my baby blue
Nobody knew
What kind of magic spell to use
Sticks and snails?
Or puppy dog tails?
Thunder or lightning?
And baby said:
The sound of a baby giggling appears, as if from nothing, and despite the silliness of the tune, Tyler is gathering eldritch power. As he reaches the chorus, the magic releases.
"Dance magic dance
Dance magic dance
Put that magic spell on me
Ooh, ooh, let it free
Jump magic jump
Jump magic jump
Put that magic spell on me
Ooh, ooh, let it free."
Tyler grins cockily and plays a final chord, and the spells in the Arena shatter, leaving chaos as they devolve into wild magic, uncontrolled and uncontrollable.
"It's beyond any of us now. Nothing to do but wait it out, elfling."
Harmond again points his pointer and middle fingers at Tyler. He is slowly beginning to turn back to his normal self after stepping out of the flames. He closes his eyes momentarily, but quickly opens them expecting another barrage of beams to fly from his fingers.
Only, the rays don't come. Only puffs of smoke begin to rise from them, puffs that have no apparent function or purpose.
"You've GOT to be kidding me...now?! This is kind of important! No, that can't be right!"
Harmond begins to count on his fingers for some unkown purpose. He looks up after finishing, looking very upset. He begins kicking the dirt and gravel of the arena, swearing afwully loudly.
"Stupid @%^((*%#$%@$#@& spells ^$#%$*&%$#@(*& running out in the middle of a ^$@$&(*(*& battle!! Could you have picked a worse time?! Honestly!!"
Harmond stops and begins to regain his composure. He scratches his chin in a ponderous manner, and looks at his opponents. He once again pulls the knife he used to stab himself, and goes into a stance to face his opponents.
"This battle just got a teensy bit more complicated..."
Tyler shifts his grip on the guitar, holding it by the neck as a fencer would hold his raipier.
"Agreed?"
"Okay, human. One on one, weapon to weapon."
The elf then proceeds charge Tyler head on, his dagger at his side waiting to get in close enough for a fatal thrust.
"Just need one good hit..."
"Guess what? I lied. Inaya, NOW!"
Tyler leaps into the air, way over the head of his opponent, slinging his guitar hastily over his shoulder and drawing a glock with his left hand.
Harmond quickly throws the knife at Tyler which begins to split into what appear to be orbs of acid that begin to expand and fly towards Tyler. He then points one hand at Tyler and the other at Inaya and begins basting the two competitors with pale, green rays, flying at them.
While the two are trying to avoid the blasts, Harmond pounds his fist into the ground, forming another staircase to form. The sound of heavy boots and the knocking of bows can be heard as a team of archers runs up the stairs and begins to fire volleys at Tyler and Inaya. While in flight, the arrows shatter and become bolts of lightning, now surging towards Harmond's opponents.
OOC
Gareth, make your move. :D
Also...damn it! THIS IS THE LAST TIME I USE THE WRONG ACCOUNT!!!
Also...damn it! THIS IS THE LAST TIME I USE THE WRONG ACCOUNT!!!
He rips his hand across it, sending the loudest, most intense sound wave he's ever cast. His blood is still pouring from his arm, but he doesn't care. Tyler's running on adrenalin now. The sound wave blasts the Daemon Magus back, and he grabs Inaya's hand again. He twirls them around, and then lets go and they fly apart.
"Dance of Blades!"
The sound coming from Tyler's guitar now is the antithesis of his earlier song; purity and good radiates from the music. Shimmering, golden chains of magic link Tyler and Inaya as the song's tempo increases, and Inaya's ribbons dance about and lengthen. Finally, as the song reaches a crescendo, they shatter, flying about the battlefield in a deadly dance. Tyler and Inaya meet back up and descend on Harmon, the Daemon Magus smiling with victory.
OOC
Team attack, B*tches. That felt good. The ribbons are now very, very deadly animated objects. Needless to say, the archers are very dead.
"Summon golem platoon...that was a useful spell to make..."
Harmond begins to move as fast as he can backpedaling around the arena to stay ahead of his foes. They are quickly gaining on him, and Harmond needs to think of a plan...fast...
"Well, if anything can be said about you two lovebirds, it's that you keep things interesting, that's for sure. I really don't have too many options right now...looks like I'll need to make some u-wait a second..."
Harmond smiles a mischievious grin and notices all of the blood that Tyler has lost...not to mention all of the damage that the mage has taken...
It's a gamble...but hell if I'm not a gambler...
Harmond simply looks at Tyler and shouts one word:
""MORTUUM!!"
A cold, chilling force overwhelms Tyler. A phantasmal hand begins to take his life force away, dragging his soul away from its body prematurely.
"Don't worry, mage. You can die knowing that your love suffered considerably before joining you."
Harmond then shifts his attention to Inaya. He raises on of his hands, and horrid, spiked tentacles erupt from the earth and grabs Inaya's wirsts and ankles, forcing her to drop her blades. The spikes cut deep, deep into her skin as another tentacle wraps around her chest and begins to constrict her lungs...
OOC
Thank god for that potion of heal he drank earlier from Inaya. Otherwise, that would have ended him
Harmond brushes the air out of his face, pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and begins to take a few puffs. Tyler is charging and Inaya is falling, however Harmond seems completely serene. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out single, sliver needle, almost invisible to the naked eye. He throws it to the ground like a child would an old toy, and smiles.
"I'll see you in Hell."
Stone spikes begin to jut thorw the floor of Sorcen's arena. They are not like caltrop spikes, no, these are spears of earthen might that come from the ground and begin to impale Tyler's ever weakening body. The first enters his left thigh, then his adbomenum (spelling?), then his back. After these three, hundreds more erupt into the poor mage, his body now fulls of stone spikes. But what Harmond thinks will affect Tyler more is what comes next.
More spikes appear to come, however nowhere near Tyler. They are closer to the falling body of his love, Inaya, as her person falls from the sky, falling closer and closer to the ever-rising bed of rock lances that Harmond has summoned. Harmond then pulls out a single woolen bandage, inked with what appear to be runes. He wraps it around his forearm. In ding so, the runes fade, however Harmond's wounds are beginning to shut themselves, and the elf seems to be removed of any fatigue he was experiencing from the battle.
OOC
Wow...Harmond is becoming more and more of a bastard by the minute...I originally had him at Chaotic Neutral, but after this battle, I think that needs to change...
OOC
You ignore razor blades (from the team assault, there was more than enough to blanket the battlefield), but auto-hit with spikes? Now that's just rude. Also, it's "Abdomen". You SO screwed that up.
OOC
Sh*t...I need to learn to multitask...now I have to go change stuff. Sorry about that; that was rude. My fault entirely.
The scream rips from the bottom of my being as I fall, my cry cut off only when the impact forces the air from my lungs. The pain is intense, but the pain in my mind is far greater, and I push myself up, forcing my battered limbs into submission.
Tears blind my eyes as I crawl over to the...I can't say it. I can't acknowledge it. I reach down and take his head in my arms, cradling him as the blood drains from his body, pooling about us and staining my dress a dull crimson. I do not care.
How long I sit there I do not know, but, finally, I raise my head. Concious thought has deserted me. Tyler is dead...slain by that elf!
I rise, and draw a second scimitar from beneath my robes. My hands tighten about the hilts, and the blades whisper to me, reflections of my own madness. My mind begins to slip. Sudden despair...robs...me of my...thought. One goal. One goal.
Elf and accomplice must die.
Rush. Rush forward. I rush forward towards the elf's prone body. Sleeping elf. Good. My blades flash crosswise. Pieces of elf. In the air. Like leaves in autumn. Ground red. Elf dead. I laugh. I made a rhyme. Red, elf Dead. Elf dead. Ha!
Her dress stained with the blood of Tyler and Harmond, Inaya crouches over the ruined body of the elf, scimitars held before her like claws. Their stained blades drip crimson ichor, and the red of the steel reflects in her eyes...no longer the calm eyes of a human. Her eyes glow with the red light of a raver with everything to fight for...and nothing to lose.
Like a predatory beast she sniffs the air, and then her head whips around, and her mad eyes stare at Bob.
Man left. Man help elf. Man HELP ELF! Man KILL TYLER!
Man must die.
Stalk, stalk, stalk. Circle prey...like cat. Cat, like lion. Lion, claws...REND, TEAR! Rend man. Tear man.
Killl man.
Inaya explodes towards Bob with a ferocity unmatched by any mortal. Her blades simply appear as a whirling wall of steel at the front of her assault, but she soon throws them aside in favor of her daggers, hands, nails, teeth, and steel ribbons. What hits Bob is akin to an apocalypse of humanity...the blades rip into his flesh like a cyclone, and then Inaya arrives.
No longer does she resemble in any way the calm, lady-like person she once was. He hair trails wildly behind her, her eyes stare wide in madness, her face reads of insanity and despair...and violence. Caked in blood, she throws herself on her foe, ripping into him with anything she can lay her hands on. And it becomes readily apparent...
...she will not stop attacking until one of the two is dead.
OOC
Inaya's gone a little stir-crazy...:D
SO, IT'S JUST YOU AND ME NOW. READY TO DIE, PATHETIC HUMAN?
Bob backs away and flings a web of translucent energy at Inaya, trapping her to the ground for a few seconds. And those few seconds are long enough for Bob to make his next move. Pulling a cow bell out of his shirt, he rings it once with his spear staff. Almost immediatley there are several flashes of light as a dozen tall figures materialize next to Bob.
"Waddya want, boss?" says a very bovine-like voice. The figure who spoke turns and reveals himslef to be a cow standing on two legs. Dressed in a pinstripe suit and wearing a grey and red bowler hat cocked at an angle, he swishes his tail as he looks at Bob.
YOU MEN ARE TO DESTROY THAT WOMAN. I TIRE OF THIS GAME, AND SINCE THE OTHER TWO CONTESTANTS ARE DEAD, IT IS ONLY FITTING THAT SHE JOINS THEM.
"Sure thing, boss." The cow snaps his hooves and the other cow mobsters turn around and pull out submachine guns from under their coats. Cocking and loading them, they unleash a hellish barrage of lead at the helpless Inaya.
Wait...cow?
Inaya barely glances at the cows, parrying each bullet with unsurpassable speed. The clanging noise of metal bouncing off metal rings out accross the arena as lead shot rains back at the cow gangsters, who fall like grass before a hailstorm; shot by their own bullets.
But her brief moment of glory has taken its toll, and her scarred and pitted blades fall from her hands, their edges torn apart by the onslaught.
Wildly she searches for a weapon, a stick, a rock...anything that her madness can turn into a deadly object. And her eyes fall upon Tyler's guitar, lying in a pool of its owner's blood.
I touched the guitar, and my mind came rushing back to me. Within the strings was the music of Tyler's soul...I had heard it earlier that day. It just needed to be released...
Grasping it the way I had seen Tyler hold it, I ran my hand along the strings. A jarring, horribe scraping sound filled my ears, and I almost dropped the instrument. But then my eyes fell upon Tyler. Broken, bleeding...dying to help me...dying despite anything I could do...and I remembered what I had discovered today. The spirit is stronger than the flesh. If I want to do it badly enough, nothing can bar my way.
And I want this badly.
Tyler's spirit was in the music he played, as well as in himself. He placed himself in his music...
And that is when I saw what I had to do.
Inaya stands, feet apart, head bowed, with the guitar held loosly in her hands. Tyler's blood, still warm, coats the instrument, and drops of it begin to fall to the dusty floor. One drop. Two. Three. Four...
And Inaya brings her hand down on the strings. A random series of notes, played by a beginner...that is what it should sound like. But, against every law in the universe, what eminates from the instrument is not a screaming discord. Instead, the soft tones waft beautifully over the arena, and the devilish audience feels their very souls stripped clean, and refreshed. Echoing harmonics fill the stadium as Inaya plays in harmony with herself, and, as she does so, Tyler's hand begins to twitch.
My mind is held captive, and I know not what I do. All I know is that I must keep playing.
Blue light streams from the instrument into the prone Daemon Magus, and his body rises above the ground, held fast by strands of raw magic.
Then the melody changes. A slow, calm wave of music radiates out of the strings, overlayed with chimes and bells. The blue light whitens to a soft white glow, laced with strands of sky blue, as Inaya pours her soul itself into the music. And, as the magic channels itself into the boy, the beat quickens, until the calm melody has become a darker, pulsing beat, embodying everything that Tyler is, was, and will be.
The song rises to a crescendo, and Tyler is jerked about like a puppet as Inaya plays his soul back into his body. His wounds close and seal over, and the light in his eyes returns, however faint. The music grows steadily louder and more lively, until Inaya finally spins gracefully around and slams the guitar into Bob with all her might. The final chord that rings out with the impact is life itself, and, as the strings snap under the tension of the magic, Tyler falls slowly to the ground, breathing lightly.
It is over.
Tyler reaches towards the light, putting one ethereal foot in front of the other. A kind of desperation takes hold of his mind, and he sprints towards the light. Former misgivings gone, he rushes into the glorious dawn like it's his only hope.
It seems like an eternity, an endless parade of images and feelings flitting through his perception. Some bring shame, others laughter, or anger, or sorrow. Tyler watches his life, playing out before his eyes and in his mind, every last second of it. Though he should be reeling, Tyler finds in himself a quiet acceptance. He has made mistakes. He has wasted parts of his life and lived others admirably. His judgement, whatever it may be, would be fair.
And then, as though from a great distance, the Daemon Magus hears a song. He tries to shut it out at first, the memory of something so dear to him painful. He would never have the music back; he was certain that would be his special Hell. But the song slides through his mental barriers, resonating through his ghostly mind. He snaps his head up, staring in the percieved direction of the song.
That was his guitar playing.
The Daemon Magus runs, runs even faster than when he sought out the light. Despair was calling him to it, calling with his song, his soul. Maybe, just maybe, there would be no special Hell for Tyler Vici. And if that chance even remotely existed, he would sieze it.
A shimmering haze halts the Daemon Magus. He stops, studying it. It could be anything, everything, or nothing. He'd had enough experience with magic in life, not to mention that fight, to know that shimmering hazes were generally bad. But the song calls from across it. Tyler stands, torn by indecision, staring into the strange barrier.
A part in the haze. Tyler looks, excited, and at first there is only black fog. It clears slightly, then dissapates, and Inaya is there, face struck with grief, playing his guitar. No longer caring what this barrier is or could be, Tyler leaps through. She needed him.
A breath. Then another. Slowly, Tyler opens his eyes once more. The crackle of flames reaches his ears, and he can see the forest burning around him. It couldn't be possible, not without the Savior...but it was. Tyler was alive, whole and back in his body.
His voice, still ragged from the stone lance that had pierced him, is a scratchy whisper as the magic continues to repair his body.
"Inaya...I'm here."
"My oh my oh my oh my...seems there was quite a ruckus here. Hmmm...I thought two died, but it appears that only this poor elf is downed. Wonderful."
Teiresias bends over, and with all of the strength the old man can muster, drags the pieces of Harmond out of the arena.
"Oh, what I wouldn't give to be a thousand again," the sage says with a smile. His lifeless eyes peer straight into Inaya's soul, and Teiresias makes one caution:
"You should not desecrate the dead, dear. The gods do not look kindly on such acts."
WIth that, Teiresias returns to his hovel with Harmond's body, where the resurrection ceremony will take place.
"I'll get you back for that, brat!"
But Bob waves a hand and dismisses him.
DO NOT BOTHER YOURSELF. IF YOU CAN'T KILL HER THE FIRST TIME, DON'T BOTHER TRYING AGAIN.
The cow and the bodies of his companions fade away.
Bob focuses back on the battle with a disbelieveing stare as Inaya reanimates Tyler. Mesmerized by the music she is playing, Bob doesn't realize his folly until Inaya smashes him with the guitar. Eldritch energy crackles around him as he is hurled backward like a rag doll. Sliding to a stop in the dust, Bob slowly gets up to face his two remaining opponents. He gets up but is obviously injured as dark spots appear on his clothes and he favors one leg. His shirt is burned away and the skin is blackened where Tyler's guitar hit him.
AT LEAST I CAN KILL TWO HUMANS NOW.
Weaving his hands in intricate patterns, he wrenches Tyler's guitar from Inaya's hand and lets it hover in between them.
YOU HAVE A POWERFUL WEAPON, MAGE. I WONDER HOW MUCH OF YOU BOTH WILL BE LEFT WHEN I DESTROY IT.
With that, he snaps the neck of the guitar in half with magic of his own, not eldritch energy but a darker, older kind only a very few can use without killing themselves. Bob shifts back to his rabbit form and peels back his lips in an almost human smile, revelaing small sharp teeth. The guitar explodes in a cascade of energies and magic, swallowing both Inaya and Tyler in their weakened states. Arcane energy burns and rages, and when it clears Inaya and Tyler are both gone. A large crater now sits in the arena.
"Tempus Fugit!"
Time slows, then halts for the pair. Tyler shakily incants something, and the magic that was released slowly, but surely, seeps back into Despair. For good measure, the Daemon Magus walks up to his foe, sqeezing off a few shots point-blank. When time fluxes back, they would obliterate his chest tissue.
Swallowing his fear, Tyler approaches Inaya, concious that his watch stops time for only so long.
"I learned..a lot, when I died," he begins slowly, unsurely, "But of all the things, I realized that there were things that I left unsaid that I should have said, things that I needed to tell you. Who knows when I could die, for keeps?"
He takes a few breaths to steady himself, and, unnoticed, the magic is fading fast.
I can't do it. I just..no, I have to. Now or never, Vici, now or never.
Tyler reaches for Inaya, and before he can call up another protest or excuse, he takes her lips in the first kiss of his life.
And the clocks begin again as the two fade into normal time once more.
I look into Tyler's eyes, and what I see there is comforting. He is not like all the rest...he truly loves me. This is new and unknown...but I am ready to learn more. I have spent to long walking the multiverse alone. It is a lonely life that I lead, and I will not miss it.
After what seems both an eternity and a fraction of a second, I break away from Tyler and stare coldly at him.
"We just need to get one thing straight. If you die on me again, I will carry through with my threat."
Smiling warmly and laughing, I embrace him once more. This was worth the wait.
Together, Inaya and Tyler turn their backs on the audience, and together they walk slowly from the stadium.
As he await Svent's coming he places his hands together, palm-to-palm, apparently metal hand to grey flesh, a faint smile to what remains of his lips...
"I admit, I'm pretty damn excited about this fight. It's the first time in a long time I haven't had to fight for the Council. Good luck."
With that Ascember raises his fists to guard his head, taking a single step futher onto the bridge.
Svent heedlessly charges across the rope bridge, his feet nimbly balanced so that he doesn't slip into the bog. Several feet before the place where Ascember stands, Svent leaps up into the air and makes a tremendous flying kick at his opponent.
The tip of the lance goes right through the flesh of Svent's leg, forcing him to stop the kick in the air. He slowly and painfully slides down to earth, leaving a red trail of blood as he falls. Once Svent hits ground, he snaps it in half, heaves it at Ascember, and gets up.
"Okay....that was...clever. I can see there isn't time for a warm-up. And that suits me just fine."
Svent leaps fowarding and begins to tumble towards Ascember. He moves in a twisted path, and it is extremely difficult for spectators to not only see where he his, but where his next move will be. When he reaches Ascember, he leaps up with both his feet extending at his foe's chest.
But Svent's feet find their mark, hurling Ascember backwards, sliding across the earthen ground of the newly formed bridge.
"Chew on this!"
OOC: I apologize for my absense. Busy couple of days. But it's all taken care of now.
OOC: Good to hear...
OOC
I think you've missed exactly what he did: Ascember's riding down ON the flame, snowboard style, not running up it
"Okay, this battle is starting to get a little boring...mind if I kick it up a few age categories?"
He clenches his fists together and closes his eyes, and begins to shake. Suddenly, he opens his eyes, which now have become a pure silver.
[FONT="Franklin Gothic Medium"]"I CALL UPON MY GREAT ANCESTOR CAESINDREXUS, THE REAVER!!"[/FONT]
Upon saying this, a ghostly red dragon form seems to come from nowhere, screaming in some ancient draconic langauge, however anyone can hear that it is something horrible, like draconic swearing. It enters Svents body, only moments before the lances of earth collide with Svent, causing them both to shatter on impact and leaving a thick cloud of dust.
Without warning, a great roar can be heard from inside the cloud. The dust settles, and it can now be seen that the pillars have been stopped...with Svent's bare hands. The earth groans, as it wishes to continue on it's path, but it is stopped by Svent's wall of flesh. He kicks off the pillars and begins charging Ascember, his appearence now even more draconic than before.
Svent, his skin now red and scaly and his canine teeth now formed into fangs, charges through the ice storm. Each shard cuts him, however the wounds don't seem severe enough for him to notice, only superficial. He only dodges those that would cause a fatal injury; the other are simply not of concern. A precious few manage to make deeper wounds, however they seem to begin to heal themselves slightly to at least stop the bleeding.
Upon closing up to the ice wall, Svent simply rears back his left fist, which begins to glow a bright, intense red. He hammers into the wall, each impact steaming where the fist made contact. His knuckles begin to bleed, however the wall seems to give way before Svent does. Eventually, a loudCRACK is heard, and the wall shatters. Svent only stands, smiling.
"So, it would seem you are a master of the elements. But know this: Dragons are the paragons of the elements, and I can call their power as I see fit.
Your move..."
"Okay...that's more along the lines of what we were thinking...come on, friend...let's keep up the pace."
With that, Svent charges across the air--he isn't flying, but literally running on what seems to be thin air--and drop kicks his opponent directly in the chest, following the blow up with another stream of pure fire.
Meanwhile about the two the water level of the bog seems to be lowering...
A large crocodile nears the legs of the Svent, already beginning to open its jaws in an attempt to bite him, just as a large constroctor begisn wrapping around Ascember's leg.
Meanwhile the earthern being tromps about on the ground, ediventally unwilling to go near the water, only for a bubbling mass to pass close by Svent, before rearing up, a huge wyrm of black mud and soiled water and smashing back into it's sinking domain, causing an eruption of water.
"YOU...WOULD MAKE A MOCKERY OF US?! HOW DARE YOU CREATE SUCH AN AFFRONT TO WYRMKIND!!!"
He leaps up and attacks the horrid creature, using his stone limbs to hammer into his foe as best as he can. However, the stone simply passes through the creature, as if it has no substance.
"Thank you Caesindrexus. But I feel that you can no longer help...I need Vuthasjack now..."
Svent's red skin color fades, and a dragonic form leaves Svent, still screaming it's profane yet inunderstandable curses. A black, slithering shade comes from behind him and joins itself with it's host.
"Yesssss....much better....we shall dessstroy you now..."
Svent's skin is now much, much darker, like a living shadow. The rocks that encased his hands begin to steam, and then simply fall off, the area where his hands and feet were are now coated in a thin film of green acid.
Meanwhile beyond the fight, Ascember roars out as static flashes and the earth unravels, whipping up to form long networks of stone whch lash up, plunging down to strike at Svent from afar...
As he looks, Svent sees flashes of light to his east...
"Nothing can overcame fate, not even death, so whats yours?"
OOC
He just hit a dragon spirit, if you're wondering. Technically I'd be expecting destruction of whichever it was, but... I can't.
Then, without warning, Svent erupts into a whirlwind of violence. His speed is terrifying as he launches attack after attack at his foe. Even when one is blocked, it seems that seven more are coming in to strike.
"That....was a mistake."
As Svent's barrage falls Ascember's hands move like lightning weavnig as they block his strikes, before he drives his right hand at Svent's arm, seeking to grab it, as lightning flashes and static arcs...
"Standing here, yes. However, I believe you'd be better off standing over there."
With that, Svent musters all the strength that he can, and heaves Ascember as far as he'll throw.
...While Ascember starts to run up one of the pillar-stairs, looking down at Svent.
"I'll admit, this fight has been fun. But, it's kind of boring now. I'd like to end this, although I've never tried summoning this one, I'd like you to be my test. I summon...
Revlis, the Silver! Founder of the Council!"
A pale, silver shade flies from some unseen location and glides towards Svent. However, it appears that there is something inherently flawed about it...it looks more like an abomination than dragon. Svent looks puzzled, but eagerly awaits his joining.
The shade stops. And begins to shrink. Begins to change. Begins to materialize. The wings return to into its back, as does his tail and long neck. The silver tarnishes to become a deep, pitiless black. Hair grows from its head, which is becoming more like a humanoid. Although, it isn't hair, but dead vines and snakes. Finally, the figure finishes its metamorphosis.
It is Revlis Nogard.
"What is this?! Who are you?!"
Svent's only answer is a quick sword jab to his abdomen, made a blade made of what appears to be blackened salt. The wounds release terrible, acrid fumes that cause a horrific stench. As Svent falls to the ground, holding his wound, his eyes begin to shut, and his breathing stops.
Revlis turns towards Ascember, with a look of both pity and malice, and charges with his blade.
So muttering and seeing the winged Revlis charge, leaps from the stair, to pummet to the ground...
Revlis bows to his opponent and gracefully fades from view as he does so.
OOC: I hope Revlis is ok with me running his characters for him in his absence and I can only hope that I have played them properly enough for his liking.
EDIT: Oops. I forgot about that. Thanks Gideon.
Show
Actually, Svent's dead. Revlis is lose now. :D
OOC: Okay, I've left this arena (for now)... And before anyone asks, no Svent's sprit isn't destroyed, its just the FoD says nothing about the dead remains of character not being fair game...
"Yes teddy? Here?"
She looks up
"But I don't see nobody."
She sees that Sorcen is finally settling down after that interuption, along with Aya, and waves vigorously to both of them and flashes a smile of slightly crooked baby teeth.
"What teddy?"
She holds the bear to her ear again
"The man is behind the fog? Oh! He wantsta play hid'n go seek! He's pretty good isn't he teddy, I woulda never found him."
She walks forward into the center of the arena, a little ways away from the cloud. She holds the bear in from of her face, and takes hold of both of it's arms. She covers the bear's eyes with its arms, and uses a combination of the bear's head and her own arms to cover her own eyes. Then she opens her arms wide.
"PEEKABOO! I SEE YOU!!!"
Ladiess, Gentlemen, Fiendss and anyone elsse not counted under the previouss, We pressent to you for your entertainment, Dia Duit versus Elisse.
COMMENCE!"
As Elise peers through the fog she does indeed see her opponent. Several of him. Even while she extends her senses, and her teddy bear's, she perceives another one of him. And another. The more she looks, the more of Dia she sees. The mystical nature of the fog keeps it swirling in the otherwise still air of the room. A smooth tenor voice echoes from behind Elise, "Indeed, it does look like you can see me...Too bad you can't do anything about the revelation!"
ooc
(Sorry, had company today) I was just going for a general 'i know where you are,' but since you've so kindly allowed me to view past the smoke, I'll take advantage of it. Still, you may want to be prepared for a True Seeing a little later. If you want to interupt her go ahead want to, or hide yourself deeper (recomended). But hey, since when has that little game actually worked
ooc
If anyone needs a clarification on that: The arena you're fighting on is now a set of large landmass/floorings intersected with lava streams, rock spars sticking up in those streams at random intervals.
And cute little fire sprites. Never forget the cute little fire sprites (In defense of the statement remember I said the sprites were cute, not the fact they're surrounded with flame. Never forget that fact either).
And cute little fire sprites. Never forget the cute little fire sprites (In defense of the statement remember I said the sprites were cute, not the fact they're surrounded with flame. Never forget that fact either).
"OWWEEEE!"
She performs a startling jump over to the next rocky mound and uses Teddy to beat out the flames smoldering on her dress.
"Look what you did. You ruined my bestest dress."
It is, indeed, ruined. The heat of the flames burned a small hole in the dress and turned the surrounding fabric black as coal.
"My mommy made this dress for me..."
Teddy comes unexpectedly up to her ear again.
"No way teddy, that fairy ruined my dress, mommy won't be happy when we get home. I'm not too happy either."
She squeels as another fire sprite comes flying after her and jumps for the next pillar. She is flying through the air, but it looks like she isn't going to make it this time. She hits the rocky craig dead on, and has the wind completely knocked out of her. Still, the struggling little girl loops her arm around a rocky extension and pulls herself up.
Another sprite begins to torment her.
"Ok Teddy, I'll do it."
She fishes around in her charred blue and gets out her last cake and holds it out to the fire sprite.
"You want a cake? My mommy makes good food, I'm sure you'd like one. All I need you to do for me is to find the meenie I'm fighting. He looks just like that guy..."
She turns around
"Wait a minute, where did he go? Well, he's somewhere in here..."
Just as the fire sprite is close to eating the cupcake, Elise feels a pair of eyes upon her. Flitting from shadow to shadow, a blur of darkness moves faster than is humanly possible. A sprite flies into Dia's path. Just when a collision seems imminent the fires around the sprite block Dia from sight. Mere nanoseconds later the sprite slams into the earthen wall the man of smoke and mirrors had been moving along. Nearly immediately, Elise feel hot breath upon her neck...
Elise uses a string of words that no eight-year old should ever even hear, let alone use. She falls to the ground and flails her arms and legs around, tantrum style, in all directions. She doesn't even seem to care what scared the fire sprite, she's just as downright mad as a spoiled child could be.
"AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
She stops thrashing and pushes herself upright with her left hand. She notices that, among othe things, her right hand is bleeding. She sticks her, fingers with thin trails of blood running down them, into her mouth and sucks on them. Eventually, she stands up and looks around...
She listens for a minute
"You think that's Mr. bully? It doesn't look like anybody though."
She listens a moment longer.
"You always know bestest Teddy."
She begins to leap from pillar to pillar as she makes her way over towards the metal mirror...thing.
She takes a moment to look at her relection in the the surface of the castle.
"And look what this is doing to me! I'm going to need a vacation after I pound this guys face in. Come on Teddy, I owe that guy a good ol' knuckle sandwhich."
She runs into the mist blindly and nearly slips on the smooth floor.
"Come out, come out wherever you are!"
She strides toward the sound of his voice, heedless of the warning.
"I'm not afraid of you, no sir I'm not."
Though she maintains a good front, you get the feeling that the shifting images in the swirling mass of billowy fog are setting her to unease.
ooc
You should like that picture Sorcen had to here and label it "for strong stomachs only." Sorry it's taking me longer to respond, I like to think on reponses at least a little, but RL has been catching up to me quite quickly. I'll try to keep posting at least once, more likely twice if I can help it, a night.
As the mirrors shatter a man walks out of the mist. "I'm sorry you had to see that my poor dear. Unfortunately, relying upon your teddy like that would have eventually proved to hurt more than it helped. All children have toys, and this is proper. However, a battle is not the proper place for any toy, no matter how soundly built." As the man speaks, he picks up the teddy bear and hands it to the tear streaked child.
ooc
Well, you were asking for it :D Thats what happens when you agree to fight a little firl I guess? Anyways, you going to make a move here? I can give you another 20 seconds or so of emotional grief before Elise starts the, as Gideon put it, "stuffing beatdown."
OOC: and you thought I was being nice didn't you?:OOC
ooc
Dodge. Always wanted someone to post a reply in here that consisted of just that one word 
Anyways, sorry its been taking so long to reply. RL is dragging my back in and as much of my brainpower as can be manifested on a single subject is being used for catching up on some things I've got to do. Long story short: sorry it took so long.
Anyways, sorry its been taking so long to reply. RL is dragging my back in and as much of my brainpower as can be manifested on a single subject is being used for catching up on some things I've got to do. Long story short: sorry it took so long.Realizing Dia has left, she sinks into a state of weakness after the initial rage and sinks into a depressed state. After a brief moment of doing nothing but staring off, perhaps in disbelief, perhaps in dissapointment, perhaps in both, she remembers the thing that tripped her and turned to glare angrily at the band of mirror that reflects portions of her face, as if it were slashed cleanly apart. Lifting her fist, she pounds down on the mirror a couple of times before it snaps and releases her from its oppressive grip. A few more bashes and more shattered mirror fragments lie discarded upon the floor.
"Teddy, Teddy...? I can't hear you Teddy! Where are you!?"
Meanwhile, across the arena of scattered mirrors, and single needle and thread begin to move with predetermined grace. A small piece of fabric begins to take shape obscurely...
Meanwhile, and needle diligently threads itself into and out of rows of fabric. Two bear feet are becoming visable, although there is no stuffing inside of them and as such they are near impossible to distinguish from the floor.
As Dia's carefully constructed mirrors shatter and rebuild themselves, he is momentarily stunned. However, as the mirrors elongate and build on top of themselves, his subtle smirk stretches into a full smile. Soon Elise sees a blur darting from mirror to mirror, and reappearing out of another mirror at a random location.
The needle continues to weave through fabric, and soon, a patchwork-patterned body begins to appear, and the stuffing that was scattered throughout the arena begins to fill the ratty thing up, making it stand out as it's fuller form becomes relfected by several of the lower mirrors. Fortunately, Elise isn't looking, because this headless, slowly inflating bear looks like a monstrosity
ooc
Sorry, tried to make it apparent that a good pair of eyes could have found it, but that it wasn't obvious. I gues hiding in the shadows doesn't mean you have to have eyes to pierce them. Anyways, that should help you out if you were in any doubt.
"Let us fight."
"Teddy? Sorcen? ..."
She draws in closer to herself
"Creepy guy??"
------------------------------------------------------------
Stuffing that was scattered across the floor of the arena begins to roll on over to where the bear the lying on the ground. Of its own accord, the filing begins to fly back into the limp bear's body and give volume to the arms , legs, and eventually, body. As it finishes stuffing itself, the needle and thread re-attach the bear's head from te several scattered pieces.
Last to come are the eyes: little black buttons that roll onto their proper places are are fixed promptly in place. They are both attached firmly against the face, but as a last touch the needle pokes into the thread and tears almost all of it away, causing the eye to hang rather limp, as if it had seen the wear of years. Similair changes are made to the body, as dirt just seems to attract to it, the material takes on an aged look, and overall the bear begins to look like the creepy relic it was not long ago. The last improvement is to add a stitched mouth line. The needle clicks in and out of fabric muzzle, and seconds later the bear sports a cruel, cunning, creepy smile that sends chills down the spine. This doesn't last long though, for as the needle makes a final movement the entire row of thread tightens and settles, giving the old mouth back as good as old. The needle stabs into the bear's chest and buries itseld there, near the chest, and even upon close inspection you would not have been able to tell any difference between the bear before and after...
"Aww, you can't be any fun. You're all gloomy and serious and stuff. This is gonna be sooooo depressing."
With those simple words, she unstraps several flasks from her person, juggling them as she looks over at her foe.
"C'mon, smile! It's only life and death."
One after another the flasks are whipped though the air. One of them shatters mid-flight into a full grown rhino, barreling straight towards Edvard. Another explodes in a gout of flame, accompanied by the next one that rips into an impossibly large flood of acid for such a small container. A burst of bats and a very large weasel finish up the barrage as the elf smiles broadly, caught in the thrill of her magical inventions.
The creatures and spell-effects rush toward Edvard. They roar through him, and Endeca can hear the crunching and splintering of bones. The fire and acid wash over the whole thing, and the arena sand lies blackened and scorched for a moment before it rebuilds itself.
"I can have quite a sense of humor."
Without warning, a skeletal rhino, weasel, and swarm of bats charge at Endeca, followed by black flame and sticky black acid.
Edvard s****s as he steps out from the wall, his form misty and insubstantial.
Endeca takes in a deep breath, chest puffing up impressively-
And runs.
The haste spell blinks into effect as the elf sprints away from her the darker images of her own spell effects, moving in a quick circle. This hasty and shameless retreat is followed by the mage coming to a screeching halt some three feet in front of her opponent, pouting prettily.
"That wasn't nice. Those poor animals didn't do anything to you. They never even had the chance you - you - meanie."
Aparrantly a pretty, girlish stomp can be converted into the somatic component for a spell, because a ray lashes out from her foot, streaking through planar barriers to streak at Edvard in a lance of fire.
Edvard leaps back into the wall as Endeca's fiery spell scorches his own foot.
"I'm a meanie? I didn't do anything to those animals! I merely summoned my own. Meanie... Hmph."
Edvard steps out of the wall behind Endeca, a rod of wonder in one hand and the Staff of Gloom in the other.
"I can be a meanie though... Hee hee..."
He points the rod at Endeca's back and speaks the command word. Arcane energy arcs up the length of the item, then blasts forth from the tip. But instead of a burning ray of arcane fire, a stream of butterflies whooshes out. Edvard curses under his breath as he waves the beautifully colored butterflies out of his face.
"They're so pretty! Do it again, do it again, do it again!"
A psychic sigh let itself be known through Edvard's mind.
Please forgive my mistress. She'll return to the battle soon enough. In the meantime -
The psychic lashing is hard, but not insurmountable - it is only an intellect devourer, after all. But it is insistant, a repeated ego whip to Edvard's mind.
Hearing no answer, and hoping for the best, Elise begins to plod on down the corridor to the voices.
"Who's there? Mommy? Is that you Mommy??"
She begins to move faster and eventually breaks into an all-out run.
"Help, I'm lost an' I don't know where I am. I wanna go home to my mommie!!"
Indeed she is. Ah, but this battle was between me and your mistress, if I remember correctly. So forgive me, but...
Edvard launches a psychic super-attack on the intellect devourer, the air warping as a crushing wave of psychic energy slams down on the creature. Edvard turns back to Endeca, and he would have smiled had he still had lips.
"Miss, shall we continue?"
The butterflies fade with a flick of Edvard's hand, and with a flourish he pulls forth a wand shaped like a lightning bolt.
"Let's... electrify this battle, eh?"
He speaks the command word, and half a dozen arcs of white lightning leap from the wand to the capering Endeca.
OOC
The wand is one I made, specifically greater chain lightning. Hits the target with several bolts and then rebounds to other creatures, with no limit on how many bolts hit a certain creature. Quite nasty when used on lots of foes, but it's a flashy spell, and Edvard is overdramatic.
Elise cranes her neck to try and peer around the wall, and then stands on tiptoes and tries to see on top.
"Where'd you go? Help me, I'm lost!"
She puts her head on the door and pounds his fist into the wall in frustration. She steps backwards a couple of feet, and then runs full on and slams into the wall with all of her pent up frustration.
ooc
I'll let you detail those mirrors then before I make my last ditch effort then shall I?
As she continues to look into the mirror, however, the image for her dims somewhat. The golden sunlight steaming through the trees becomes darker, as if the woods were thicker than they really are. The entire sceen looks like a dim screem. Into this portrait, another scene unveils itself.
A single teddy bear lies forsaken on the cold, dark floor in a solitary room. The details of this room are scarse, and this little teddy could, in fact, be anywhere.
Elise recognises it in a second. In such a state of emotional turmoil, she can hardly think, but somehow the rough equivalent of this enters her brain:
"That's Teddy. Teddy's not here with me. Teddy's dead. This picture isn't real, maybe daddy isn't real either. This is all one big trick. *sniff* he's tryin' to make me quit with his fancy-pants mirrors..."
Still, when she snaps out of her solemn reflection, she finds that her hand has inadvertenly drifted to the mirror. It lies flat on the smooth surface of the mirror, right on the spot where Teddy is. Her eyes moisten, ever so slightly. The water of her eyes is not enough to form even a single tear, but it runs down the glistening trail left by its forbearers.
The mirror begins to ripple unexpectely, as though it were made of quicksilver, and Elises hand glides earily though. To her own facination, she watches her hand enter the mirror, move closer...closer...and finally, grasp something soft and comforting. Pulling her hand out, she looks down at a familiar pair of eyes, and she is still.
You can almost...almost hear it as her brain snaps.
"I...Mommie...Teddy...Daddy...kill? No...dead...I...
She turns to face Memnath, fixing him with a cold state of bewilderment. In her eyes, he can see the effects of lunacy haunting her face. Giggles nervously, the dementia apparent in her high-pitched girlish tone.
"Hehe..hehehahahehehaha! Myyyyy Teeeeeeeddddyyyyyyyyyyy dddoooooooooeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssnnn'ttt llllllllliiiiiiiiiiikkkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeee yyyooooouuuuuuuuu. Hehehehehe."
She begins to rock back and forth on the balls of her feet, apparently lost in her own little world, a single phrase reverberating in her head:
"All It takes is two words..."
Then the lightning starts.
"Whoa! That was totally unca-why am I wasting time? Faetas, medalli, invocario graxor NORI!"
The lightning races to the elf as her incantation finishes, and everything freezes, including Endeca. Numbers in flashing prismatic colors appear above her and Edvard's heads, flashing large and small in a huge range before stopping -
21.
4309324.
Without the tiniest hint of what that meant, there is a flash, and Edvard finds himself standing in the arena, the wand flying away from him and into the sky on butterfly wings and the lightning gone.
And from behind him, Endeca is hugging him, face buried into his cloak in a gesture of genuine affection.
"Oh, bugger off young miss!"
Edvard tries to squirm free of Endeca's grip, his bony hands prying at her arms. After a few moments of struggle, he gives up.
"Oh, fine."
And he pats Endeca on the head in a fatherly manner.
The elf perks up as she seems to hear something, and you hear a whine reminiscent of a small child as she says, "Aww, do I have to? Okay.."
Reluctantly, she disengages from her foe and steps back, pouting prettily.
"Snuggles says I have to fight you or I won't get to leave, and he usually knows this stuff. He pays attention when other people are talking. I'm really sorry."
All at once, her hand is glowing with prismatic energy, and the ground begins to shake and heave violently as the earthquake takes hold.
"But if I gotta fight, I'm gonna win. But I still like you!"
"You will have to do better than that to defeat me, Endeca. Indeed, Snuggles... who the hell would name a friend Snuggles?!... is a wise creature."
Edvard waves a hand at his necromental, and a shimmering veil of law drapes over his beast, giving it a measure of protection from Endeca's chaos spells and abilities. With a grinding word in Terran, Edvard orders the earth necromental to attack. It lurches forward, and swings a spiky, bone-and-rock covered fist at Endeca.
The elf recites an incantation and a whirlwind coalesces and then calms into a flying humanoid form of air - an Air elemental of similar size to the necromental facing her.
"Elementals are fun. Every one has a weakness and a strength. Air can take hits from water for ages, but fire eats it right up. It shreds earth to pieces and earth absorbs all that water. Fire can take hits from earth 'till kingdom come but it fizzles with water. So there's always a counter no matter what you do! I know a lot about the elements. My friend Iejir tells me I'm connected with them 'cause of something I did awhile back. Ooh, ooh, like this!"
With the eager expression of a child showing their parent a favorite toy, Endeca incants wildly and gestures offhandedly, disturbingly close to spoiling the spell with mere carelessness. The ground beneath her feet cracks slightly, and then thin, graceful lines of flame dance around her, maniuplated with the care and easy grace of a master pyromancer. And Endeca still looks like a little girl, hardly even displaying effort. The lines of flame encircle her limbs and torso, weaving in and out of each other and wrapping gracefully just below her slim breasts, lacing elegantly near her shoes and dancing around her hands in tiny stars and ribbons.
"Ah, good for you Endeca. But look closer. This is no ordinary earth elemental. Watch."
The earth necromental lumbers forward and lands a crushing blow on the cloudy air elemental. The air elemental shrieks as the earth elemental's fist glows with black energy. Soon the two elemtentals are blasting each other with attacks, until they eventually destroy each other.
"So you see? My elementals are powered by unlife. They are much stronger than normal. I'm sure we both agree that your air elemental would have cut a normal earth elemental into Cyran cheese."
Edvard casts another spell, and two rays of sparkling blue energy lance from his index and middle fingers. The air freezes around them as the rip towards Endeca.
"Don't take it personally, miss, if I put out your flame."
Endeca's expression finally turns serious as she puts effort into it, and Edvard comes to a disturbing conclusion - Endeca has been playing with him. This was no simple delight in her abilities - her tricks have been minor parlor tricks. The childlike elf, for all her irresponsibility and immaturity, is an archmage of power that, coupled with her personality, is frightening to imagine in her hands.
There is a surge of flame, in the same gentle, dancing ribbons, only pouring from the earth at a prodigious rate. They wrap around the beams and eventually cancel, but the fire is still coming, forming intricate patterns through the air as Endeca starts to sway and move her feet, the slim elf dancing as her hands move gently. Slowly, in patterns more art than spellwork, the fire is reaching for Edvard, and he can feel the contained power. For Endeca to be summoning this much power is a feat of magery that knows little rivals, and she's doing it as a matter of course.
Just who is this elf?
OOC
I don't know what you think, but, not to be arrogant or anything, I think Edvard has Endeca beat hands down on arcane abilities. I mean, he's 12,000 frickin years old. Endeca is what, max 400? Don't take me wrong; Endeca could have been augmented in some way. But that was a maximized polar ray, a 12th level spell. Endeca not only canceled it out but her magic was strong enough to dispel it and keep going after Edvard? That seems a little ridiculous to me.
OOC
Okay, Bahamut, I have one line to explain myself - Maximized Polar Ray vs. Epic Spell. Guess who wins that particular fight?
OOC
Epic, eh? I don't have the epic handbook (I think it's a piece of sh*t), and I don't have characters who cast any epic spells listed in the epic handbook. Any epic spells my characters cast are either super-powerful custom spells (like Siventarr's lightning-fire storm spell in the Tourney) or simply metamagically altered spells from the 1st-9th level list. So a 12th level spell is nasty in my sense of mind.
OOC
All of 'Deca's epic spells were built with DM help and approval using the rules given in the Dungeon Master's Guide. In this case, she just had WAAAAY more Fire than Edvard was packing Cold.
"Currsse yoouuu, Edvaaard!!"
She turns to Edvard, who blithely looks away.
"Do not be angry at me, Medusa. It was your own arrogance that imprisoned you. Now, fight."
Powerful magic forces Medusa around, and she leaps fifty feet into the air, and comes down like a ton of stone on top of Endeca.
"Oh, don't be mad! I'm only trying to kill you, lighten up a bit! Edvard took it with good humor. Leeeets try.....Wish!"
Syllables roll of Endeca's tongue and you can hear her voice like a starry-eyed girl before Santa Claus.
"I wish...........that Medusa was stuck on the Positive Energy Plane!"
There is a flash, and the magic takes hold...
On his perch, Edvard claps a few times.
"Oh, well done, Endeca. Quite clever, I must say."
Edvard stands up and straightens his robes.
"Ah, let me introduce you to another of my friends. Her name is Acedne."
The demilich waves his hand, and from thin air pops another Endeca. She completely mirrors her original, down to her skin color, the length of her hair, the color of her eyes, her clothing.
She smiles at Endeca.
"Hi! I'm Acedne. What's your name?"
High above, Edvard cackles with glee.
"That's too far, Ed! There's only ONE me, and that's all there's allowed to be! I'm one of a kind, just me, myself, and I making our merry way through the multiverse, and damn you for ruining that! EARTH!"
The Chaos Magus slams her fists into the earth, and the ground shimmers and ripples in a rather wide radius before heaving up in huge spikes of stone. Edvard's magical senses can feel it - Endeca is drawing in enourmous amounts of power, power no god or mortal could ever hope to contain, and it's flowing in a prodigious rate - there's not end to it.
"AIR!"
Another mystic gate opens through which more power flows out, wrapping around the other energy and then the mage herself. Endeca is beyond glowing with the energy of it as the snowstorm, already a frozen hurricane, picks up to speeds that no god ever intended.
"My my, what a temper. It wasn't another you, Endeca. Just a copy, sculpted from ectoplasm. I did quite a good job sculpting you, eh?"
He gazes at Endeca's wild magic energies as the rage and crash around him.
"You know what you lack, Endeca? Control. If you only had control, you would be as strong as me. Watch. I have control, and watch what I can do..."
Edvard brings his arms together in a V-shape. Suddenly Endeca's and Edvard's magic that is whirling about both of them begins to twist itself into a rope. The rope of epic magic grows longer, and begins to coil in on itself. Spiral upon spiral of magic forms as Edvard's spell gathers the arcane energy. The hurricane fades, the temerature rises, and the hailstones crash to earth and begin to melt. Slowly a miniature whirlpool of magic forms, sucking in eldritch energy eagerly, until the arena has no magic left running amok in it. Edvard holds the glowing spiral up to Endeca.
"See? Control. Now watch what I can do with it."
Edvard teleports away from Endeca, and reappears high in the air. He grasps one end of the coil of magic, and snaps it down. It uncoils like a long, prismatic whip, pulsing and shifting constantly. Edvard snaps it once or twice, and burst of ice crack out from the whip. He uncoils more of it, until the whip is nearly twenty feet long, then raises it over his head.
"Here it comes!"
He snaps the whip down, and the whip rips out towards Endeca, unraveling into hundreds of beams of exploding arcane fire. Edvard continues to thrash the whip, finally hurling it at Endeca. Arcane energy erupts in a monumental explosion, and Edvard throws a hand up to cover his face. A pale blue shield hums to life around the lich, protecting him from the brunt of the blast. The explosion keeps going, as if it was fueled by something. Waves of magic rip apart the arena faster than it can rebuild itself, turning everything in their path into vaporized ash.
Endeca was none of these.
The elf prodigy instead does the dumbest, most suicidal thing that most mages could consider in a situation like this - she continues casting, gambling with fate, chance, and anything that will throw dice with the arctic elf.
"FIRE!"
Molten steel rains down in a column on the elf, rising up from impact into a wave that sweeps towards Edvard and his magic. And, impossibly, Endeca's voice issues from inside the liquid metal as the endless stream continues to pour down on her.
"WATER!"
As the liquid metal makes first contact with Edvard's raging spell, hailstones the size of minivans rain down from the sky.
The stream of molten steel ends, and Endeca is standing there, face serious and livid with anger. The mage is glowing prismatically as Edvard's spell comes rushing at her.
"Take your control and SHOVE IT, LICH!"
The elf does something that most thinking beings in the audience think is stupid and the rest think is comical - she runs straight for the destruction. As she nears it, the elf reaches out one hand, middle finger barely brushing the spell -
That contact is all the elf needs.
The tip of the finger disintegrates, and then the magic that Edvard worked so hard to control unravels.
"CHAOS DIMENSION, YOU UNDEAD SON OF AN ORC!"
OOC
Will finish this post later, maybe. Spell-jacking, if you think it's possible, should happen now.
Until Endeca releases the power of her spell, as power whips up to the sky as clouds boil with magic, drawing more and more until the heavens above themselves split, like the lips of some immeasurable beast, to reveal what can only be called a hole in the world, so dark 'black' cannot describe it, and so empty, so so empty, but for one object that drops from the midst of that hole, falling like celestial body descending, as if for an eon only to *Smack* pathetically into the ground of the arena, a cloud of dust flying up, as the deep 'maw' closes, the clouds washing back as their power drains, still drawing on more as the skies heal, and all this on high silent but for one thing, spoken as unheard in immortal history, spoken in triumph, exaltation and furious rage, as an near unseen form flies, its mighty shadow washing over the grounds in its flight, as power continues to drain after the fleeting mass:
" I, всегда, вы живете! "
OOC
And for the record, the pyrotechnics that are and will be from this, are on your head Gareth: Showing off that KH stuff is to blame...
And at a guess theres still way more enough than enough power left to... oh blow a small hole into another planes or similar, but not to blow a hole the size of the arena. I somehow guess you say different.
And at a guess theres still way more enough than enough power left to... oh blow a small hole into another planes or similar, but not to blow a hole the size of the arena. I somehow guess you say different.
OOC
Alright, for the record, this is the result of ten different random table rolls, as per the original Chaos Dimension epic spell made by myself with the help of Andrew Lesli
"Now now, Endeca. No need to get angry."
His jawbone drops slack in amazement as Endeca breaks his controlled blast of magic. It then falls off his face and hits the floor with a thump as Endeca shatters reality. Edvard hurredly picks it up and reattaches it to his face.
"Impressive. Heh."
Endeca's attack routine stops in mid strike, her sword poised above Edvard's chest.
"Not so fast, Endeca. Heh, that was a good pun, eh?."
Edvard takes his hat off, and dusts it off a bit before reaching lazily in. He keeps one eye locked on Endeca, though. He pulls out a glittering crystalline sword, light seeming to shine from within it. Colors swirl inside the blade, reflecting inside the sword a thousand times in a hypnotizing pattern.
"Ready? One, two, three.... GO!"
Edvard and Endeca smash together with a screech of crystal on metal. Where Endeca's blade touches Edvard's sword, a jolt of magic flares between them, zapping at Endeca like an annoying insect.
"I do love chaos, don't you?"
Edvard ducks low to avoid a slice from Endeca, and his sword is already swinging out at her chest even before he straightens. A sudden rainbow of twisting light and colors coils around Edvard and Endeca like a big, fuzzy snake, before flying off into the whirlpool.
As sword meets sword again, there is a flash, and Edvard and Endeca find themselves surrounded by a menagerie of small, furry mammals. The little beasts are swept up into the whirlpool and freeze to death with pathetic squeaks.
Edvard ingnores the animals as they are swept to their deaths. His sword takes on a purple-black hue, and for a moment he and Endeca lock swords. Endeca feels Edvard's mind brush hers in a breif, psychic touch. Pure, raw madness roars into Endeca's mind just from that touch, laced with, of all things, law. The touch of Edvard's mind threatens to drown her in it's undiluted insanity.
The whirlpool glows again, and where there was water now there is raging, burning lava. THe symbiote-snake bursts into flames and is vaporized instantly. Strangely, the lava burns hotter the colder it gets, getting more and more liquefied as the rock chunks in it melt.
"Wait a second, wait a second, just hold it. Look at this. This is getting utterly rediculous even for me. Quickie deal for you. We let my spell run its course, since neither you nor I can stop it at this point, and then we both stop the Chaos magic for awhile. I can feel existence straining right now, and as I like living in it, I'd rather not break it. Deal?"
"Hmmm."
He scoops a bit of pudding onto a finger. He blows on it, and it suddenly ignites and transforms into a flaming tarantula. He flicks it casually off into the rest of the pudding. Where the fiery tarantula lands, a wave of fire burns through the pudding, transforming it all into a writhing, flaming mass of tarantulas.
"Define 'existence'."
With a throaty chuckle, Edvard points a finger at Endeca and speaks a word of sorcery. A three-foot wide ball of black energy flies forth, cutting through the tarantulas on its path towards Endeca. Anything that touches it, is utterly destroyed. Blasted from existence.
OOC
This is where Edvard goes against the grain. No rest for Endeca.
"And that was my only Sphere of Annihilation! You're a punk, you know that?"
The air - such as it is - ripples and surges, and the combatants find themselves in the middle of a field of flowers, the kind you would see in a love fantasy. Endeca's jaw drops as she looks around, then looks right back at Edvard.
"We speak of this moment to no one, 'kay?"
With that, she snaps her fingers, and the meteor swarm bursts into being around the lich.
OOC
I'm assuming that the field of flowers are in the arena?
Endeca blearily incants something, and there's no surge of power or evidence of offensive magic. And then the pile of junk rises and seperates into its pieces. The girl smiles weakly.
"That's a lotta stuff."
Flasks, bottles, animated bits of food, exotic weapons and enourmous items from within her bags of holding, a menagerie of things from across several multiverses come streaking at Edvard, some benign, others deadly, and a few plain comical, with lethal intent and demon-fast speed.
The pile of stuff suddenly bursts off of Edvard, flying in all directions like shrapnel from a bomb.
"I have enough belongings, thank you."
Edvard raises his remaining arm to the sky, his head craned back. Black lightning thunders around him, kicking up dirt and melted rock. A stormcloud gathers above Edvard, and begins to expand. The rain of lightning bolts increases in number and rapidity, and soon the lich is concealed behind a wall of lightning.
"The mechanics of death are endlessly fascinating. To disect cadavers, learn how they died, and turn their dying energy into fuel for a spell, is one of my best professions."
The stormcloud casts a growing shadow across the field of flowers, which wither and die as the shadow touches them.
"Take a sword wound, for example. The victim died a violent death. Trauma to the internal organs. Rupturing of blood vessels. Victims of this sort provide energy for destructive spells, like fireballs."
The lightning begins to lance down so fast that it turns into one continuous stream of light. Edvard's voice booms out over the deafaning thunder. The cloud continues to expand, and when the shadow it casts touches Endeca she feels a chill.
"But victims of diseases, especially magic diseases - like mummy rot - create much more potent energy. The slow dying of the victims cells, the atrophy of his muscles, the desintegration of his nerves, all provide ten times as much energy as the sword wound example."
The stormcloud covers the entire arena now. Lightning flickers and leaps in the clouds, which are a sickly gray color. The barrage of lightning around Edvard has carved a deep chasm into the ground.
"But the energy an undead creature uses to slay the living, like the energy draining powers of vampire, creates the most potent energy."
Suddenly the lightning stops, and in place of the roar of thunder, the silence seems a hundred times louder. For those that watched the lightning, a purple bar of light stains itself on their vision.
Edvard stands, leaning on the Staff of Gloom. That staff glows with a dark light that obscures the lich's form.
"The life force of the living is powerful, incredibly so. But the force of death is stronger. This I know."
Edvard looks up to the stormclouds, which ominously rumble. He smiles, a smile of joy and true happiness.
Seven lightning bolts strike the arena in a circle around Edvard and Endeca. Instead of striking down and then dissipating, they continue to drill into the ground, seven snakes of writhing, purple-black lightning lancing down from the clouds. Seven forms grow from the lightning. Creatures twenty feet tall made of black-purple lightning unfold and stand tall, glowing bue eyes locked on Endeca. They vaguely resemble nightwalkers.
"Feel the wrath of true death."
With a roar that shatters stone and shatters Edvard's bones to dust, the stormclouds discharge their magical energy in the form of a barrage of lightning bolts so thick that every space in the arena is filled with raging lightning. The instant before the discharge, Endeca glimpses Edvard's dust and gear being encased in a black ball. The lightning-shadow creatures wade through the lightning with impunity, and like lightning, are at Endeca and slashing her with burning claws at the same time the lightning strikes.
OOC
Try not to mess up the post too much. That was the spell Death's Calling. Basically, the most uber undeath spell ever invented.
The first thing to do is try something that isn't alive. Negative energy can't harm objects. Rigthy, junk, attack!
At her mental command, her possessions regather themselves and attack the towering death beings savagely. Endeca, praying that the pent-up magic within will allow them to harm whatever Edvard has summoned, begins incanting hastily.
OOC
...Endeca wouldn't have any room to move anywhere. Anywhere she sprang to would have been filled with deadly lightning.
And I think the power of the spell was lost on you. If the crack of thunder was loud enough to destroy Edvard's corporeal form, think of what it would do to Endeca. This is the second most powerful spell in Edvards repertoire. It can't really be dodged.
barrage of lightning bolts so thick that every space in the arena is filled with raging lightning.
...Endeca wouldn't have any room to move anywhere. Anywhere she sprang to would have been filled with deadly lightning.
And I think the power of the spell was lost on you. If the crack of thunder was loud enough to destroy Edvard's corporeal form, think of what it would do to Endeca. This is the second most powerful spell in Edvards repertoire. It can't really be dodged.
OOC
But since you just posted, I can't really edit anymore, so I'll just finish her action
OOC
Well, I can edit, you know. I just figured it wasn't worth argueing over.
Actually, your reply just prolonged the match. You can edit it if you want now, since Sorcen and the judges have given their ruling. I'll wait until you reply before responding.
Actually, your reply just prolonged the match. You can edit it if you want now, since Sorcen and the judges have given their ruling. I'll wait until you reply before responding.
"Good fight, I'm done for now. But since I'm still in more or less one piece, I think I win. I'll talk to you later."
She smiles like a good sportsman and shakes one of Edvard's fingerbones before whistling sharply. Snuggles crawls out of one of the bags of holding, staggering about, and the rest of her junk piles into the bags which begin orbiting around her head. The nude elf turns her head to cough out a great gout of blood before wiping it from her face and breasts and walking into the Taverne.
OOC
Yes. Endeca just walked NAKED into the Taverne.
"Jaden blackblade, righ'? Come on, don't keep me waitin'."
It turns out, it's not too inaccurate.
With a resounding crash, Jaden Vlarion, recently called Jaden Blackblade, slams into the dust of the Arena floor, sending up a huge cloud of dirt and debris. The paladin stands up straight with much metallic creaking and cracks her neck cockily before grasping her shortsword hilts.
"Well," she drawls, "At least you aren't a goblin. That's some bad memories right there."
A literal halo manifests above her head, and Jaden Vlarion waits.
Skraal is not there.
Moments after this becomes apparent, a heavy kick is hurled at her back, and a shimmering, notched blade is at her throat. The kobold that should be holding it, however, is still behind her, though, evident from the vicious growling of his weasel mount, though she cannot as yet see either.
OOC
SHORTSWORD hilts, friend, shortsword :P
OOC
Woops, sorry!
Jaden's hands release her shortsword hilts and the palms press together. Head bowed, the paladin begins to pray. As the audience boos her for such a cowardly act, the prayer comes more and more angrily, until it seems as if she's spitting the celestial words out like a curse. The halo around her head intensifies until it is painful for the devils to look at, shimmering down to cover her body in a white radiance. The first lightning-construct touches her - and does nothing.
With a bored sigh, Jaden casually draws her greatsword and begins advancing slowly towards Skraal, blithely ignoring the lightning beasts.
"Yeah, just a party trick this time, but you've got to admit it was a damn good one."
Swinging his sword around in a wide arc, Skraal lets the momentum of the sword take him away, stepping to the side of Jaden as he completes the swing. As he moves, he seems to shed fire, until it becomes practically an aura around his entire body. Leaping over Jaden, he lands perfectly to her left, before thrusting at her side.
"One more thing: The lizard joke's been done one time too many, kid, quit it."
"I'll keep that in mind," she half-growls, "When I'm engraving the tombstone."
staggering only slightly from the fierce parry, the kobold raises a hand, and a streak of red-brown flies forth from it, striking and corroding her armour, and rapidly creeping to her weaponry. After her display of power, the kobold is still grinning.
"I'm too much of a nice guy to kill you over a dumb joke."
It would be said, millenia later, that if one were quiet enough, you could still hear the echo of Jaden Blackblade's scream of fury and rage. A wave of red energy blasted out in a sphere from the furious knight - pure wrath, expelled from her body into an attack that ripped apart earth and turned stone to dust.
With speed fueled by hate and loss, Jaden threw herself at Skraal, fists swinging brutally. All thought has left the woman's eyes - she is only anger now.
"Calm it, kid, calm it! You can have a new beatstick just as soon as the fight's over, I could even make you a new one, alright? Look, there's no way you can punch me to death, so just get back to the real world, and calm down. I know, it ain't a good place, but it's what there is... now, are you gonna be reasonable, or not?"
OOC
Oh, good luck with that. Skraal broke her SWORD, man! The first sword she was ever given, the blade that saw her through more fights than I care to count, the one thing more precious to Jaden than anything else on any plane of existence. No, she's officially P*SSED.
OOC
Yup, I realize that, but he doesn't know. And yes, "new beatstick" was a bad move:D . Oh, and as for the rest of the post, Skraal is chaotic good, emphasis on GOOD.
Jaden goes to strike her foe again, but stops mid-swing, not comprehending. The furious red aura surrounding her flickers in confusion as she picks the reptilian up by the scruff of his neck.
"Why aren't you fighting back?" she growls, the intelligence entering her eyes, if only by a fraction.
"YOU CAN'T FIX IT, YOU IDIOT! THAT SWORD IS OVER SIX THOUSAND YEARS OLD, ONLY THE MAGIC WAS KEEPING IT TOGETHER! ONLY THE SPELLS! THERE'S NOTHING LEFT TO FIX!"
Jaden tosses the kobold aside and goes as if to make a blow, and stops. Something wars in her eyes, and the crackling aura seethes.
"I won't fight a helpless foe. Fight back."
The mindblade appears once more in the kobold's hand as he swings it around in an arc toward Jaden, only to have it bounce off some invisible force. It is not black, not exactly, but it seems as though, somehow, it will be before long. It is not a sword, but the shadow of a sword, called back from the past, not yet fully formed. Soon, its bonds with existence strengthen as an enormous black greatsword materializes in the paladin's hands, flares of magic playing around it. Lights hover around it, gradually turning a deep crimson, flying at the side of the blade to form one word:Despair.
"And now," the kobold smiles, though he seems exhausted by the effort of the magic "it's time for me to introduce you to natural selection, but this time 'round, I can do it with a clear conscience."
Leaping, he brings the sword bearing down on a collision course with the paladin's head.
But he is not alone.
All of a sudden, Jaden finds herself surrounded by images of the kobold, all swinging her sword at her head from every imaginible direction. Amidst the chaos, she hears a voice.
"Never trust a kobold, that's the first thing you learn, and you know what? Just this once, they're right."
Skraal stands on the opposite side of the arena, watching as the illusory blades pass through the paladin. Snapping his fingers lazily, he looks on as the earth beneath Jaden Vlarion cracks and shatters, shooting out geysers of molten lava. The cracks soon spread along the ground, connecting, forming a circle around her. Soon, all pretenses of earth vanishes entirely, replaced by a single, great pillar of flame and lava, engulfing Jaden and reaching to the heavens.
Jadens words are swallowed by the pillar of flame and heat, a glorious eruption of heat and flame that completely engulfs the paladin and sends its waves of searing warmth out into the air.
But as it claws its way into the sky, something seems off. It is impossible to detect at first, but as the motion gains speed, Skraal and the audience finally notice it - the column is rotating. The lava swirls faster and faster as the column begins to return to the earth from whence it came, and once it does, it reveals Jaden, locked in a spin of astounding speeds with her shortsword held low, sweeping the ground at ankle level.
Skraal feels a contact, nonhostile, to his mind, and immediately registers what it is - the Primal Wrath.
I thank you, little kobold. You've Awakened her to the full potential of her Aspect, moulded to fit her. You've done what I was unable to do, and for that I am very grateful. Should you live, you will have my blessing evermore.
Jaden, however, is not intent on giving Skraal time to ponder Wrath's words. With a resounding crack, her greatsword buries itself in the earth of the Arena, sending a gaping crevice streaking outward - not towards Skraal specifically, but in all directions. The ground fractures and breaks, rumbles ominously, and the audience, as one, realizes what has happened -
Fueled by her wrath, Jaden has broken the barrier between this layer of Hell, and the one below it. Skraal can make out the hint of a smile behind the bright red aura - before the earth crumbles and falls into the sky.
Riding a large chunk of Earth that also contains Skraal, Jaden smiles and pants wearily as the raging redness dies down.
"Let's do this."
OOC
...This is bad, right? Okay, forget I asked, I know Skraal should run like hell (no pun intended), but this is enough to make me wonder if I should:P . Anyway, I will type up a reply as soon as I think of something worth reading.
Though nowhere near as strong as before, the red aura trickles over her skin as the Champion of Wrath rips her greatsword into the wall, crumbling brick and obliterating mortar. As she rears back for another blow, the paladin mutters, "And I already knew about the Wrath thing, known for awhile, duh."
With that last statement, the paladin begins to hack and slam her way into the wall.
Jaden's greatsword tears through the mortar, revealing the familiar landscape of the battlefield, but from yet another chunk of earth. This one seems slightly different, and there is a distinct lack of Skraal on it.
It seems Jaden has emerged onto the wrong chunk of soil.
Just then, her vision clears, and she sees through the spells of masking, realizing that this is the same platform as before...all too late.
"Boo." And the kobold shoves her roughly below from behind, sending her flying down into the pit she herself had created.
"Come on, I can fix something up to break your fall, but you better surrender quick."
Jaden's legs coil and tense as she crouches, and the paladin leaps, not at Skraal's platform, but towards the side "wall" of a nearby one. She turns in mid-air to hit it feet-first, and the impact scrunches her up, allowing her to re-launch into a flying spin. The blade of her greatsword cuts out huge gouges into Skraal's platform as the whirling paladin flies towards him, set to have her blade cut him to ribbons and her body make impact with a different falling chunk's side "wall".
Digging the claws of his feet into the ground, Skraal attempts to parry the greatsword with his mindblade, only to have it knocked out of his hand. Left with no weapons, the kobold blocks the blow with the only weapon he has.
holding one hand before him, Skraal not only blocks, but grabs the blade, stopping its advance. Thick trails of crimson blood flow freely from the hand and down the greatsword as he swings it around, hurling Jaden into what is left of the arena wall.
"Ofcourse, how could I forget? Bloody paladins, you lot ain't allowed to have th' brain to surrender. Poor sod, I guess it's my job to sort you out."
Still bleeding profusely from his hand, Skraal wills the mindblade to rematerialize. When it returns, it is drenched in blood--his own. As he hurls it at Jaden, another appears in his hand. And another, and another, until she finds herself hovering in the air, surrounded by floating mindblades. Each sword begins to slowly pulsate with a blue light, tracing lines of energy between themselves. Suddenly, the energy solidifies, encasing Jaden Vlarion in a frigid prison of ice and steel.
All she can hear as the ice closes around her is the kobold's voice, shouting. "Someone get this idiot a cleric, this ain't going to be pretty!"
She sees Skraal chanting, immersed in some psionic incantation, concern and reluctance evident in his face.
And suddenly, her icy prison, the ice that she had almost succumbed to, shatters. She finds herself flying immediately toward the same chunk of rock that she had been shoved off moments ago, landing next to the kobold. As Jaden lands, the kobold whispers to her.
"Forget it, kid. if i went through with that, you might not come back. Now, I know your bloody stupid oath won't let you do the decent thing and step down, so I have an idea..."
facing the crowd, Skraal plants his sword in what is left of the ground and, hands still on the pommel, kneels to the ground.
"Alright, alright, I surrender. The winner 'ere's Jaden Vlarion. All of you who bet on me--and I bet there's a fair lot of you-- can quite complaining right now, understand?"
Taking to the air, he begins to hover away from the ruined battlefield.
"And now," he mutters to himself "it's about time I had a drink or two."
"lord and lady Anenooata i thank you for your hospitality i will eviscerate my opponent in tribute to your greatness"
lunoc is purposely not looking at kael. he then sits and meditates.
"hey there, anything to say? i will have to kill you but that doesn't mean we cant be civil" lunoc whispers.
lunoc turns to shake hands with his opponent
lunoc is smiling from 10 feet away
"hows this?"
lunoc assumes a fighting stance
There is a strong, driving wind, and rain begins to pour from the reddish sky of the Baator, although Ender remains dry. However, between Ender and Lunoc, a host of large, translucent, silvery angels float, rain dripping down their robes and swords...
"angels! murderers! killers of my brethren! you serve these creatures!
lunoc dissapears, reappears amongst the angels, then large crescent blades appear in his hands crescent blades appear in his hands. the sky blackens. lunocs green eyes shine like the energy blades in his hands.
"i see youuu"
ooc: lunoc can see normally even in prefect magic darkness
"we cant have that" he mimics
lunoc grabs enders chest and scratches him with his claws
OOC
Now, just out of curiosity, but, how did he get there? Did the ink have any effect? I was presuming it would get into his eyes.
lunoc pounds the ground with his fist, leaving a sizable crater. after feeling the vibrations he closes the distance in seconds wile trying to burn off the ink with energy
OOC
Well, he wasn't shouting, but I can understand being traced by scent.
ooc: this is the most powerful attack lunoc is capable of.
"dam, (pant) i didnt hit him head (pant) on. if he gets ... up of the...godsdamed...groud..."
lunoc runs over to were the magician is, barely manages a palm sized blade and stabs his opponent, crawls a few feet away and lays down
lunoc says, slowly getting up
OOC
And with that, I'm off - time for lunch :D
lunoc disappears and ender is struck many times in quick succession then lunoc reappears several yards away. he spits on the ground.
two holes in the air appear next to lunoc. one pitch black and the other exploding with light. lunoc places his hands in both. a surge of power lasting only a second flows through lunoc. the holes close. then he disappears.
"now you die, you should have given up, you might have survived"
OOC
Nice, Lunoc. What language was that spell in? I don't recognize it.
with these words the clouds, rain and all water in the arena cease to exist (this probably includes the water creature itself)
"hōng!... shǔn!... jī bì!!!"
lunocs voice erupts as with each word echoes through the arena. at the sound of the first word the area in witch the magician is standing is engulfed in a green explosion. at the second, a five pointed blast of force smashes itself into ender, and at the third a razor sharp yet immaterial force threatens to cut through enders mind, body, and even his very soul.
these 3 attacks are keyed to ender (witch means they only hit him) . they only come into being hitting ender. the second and third are not visible.
As the the sparks and fires dissipate, Ender stands, leaning heavily on the servant of water he conjured. Cut, burned and coughing, the magician gives the damwolf a cold glare of utter defiance. He traces a sign in the air with his fingers, and the arm of the water creature stretches towards Lunoc, swinging at him in a wide, swift arc, saber glinting and rippling in the starlight.
"My magic is not easily undone, wolf."
lunoc directs the incantation fully at the creature
then, thinking for a moment he utters
"zhà sǐ shuǐ, lù bà!"
the second incantation creates a large explosion starting inside the water creature, and collosal pressure to enders organs.
"lù!!"
and another wave of smashing internal force is set opon ender
"yī jǔ liǎng de"
and lunoc grins
"ill kill to birds with one stone"
The explosion inside the creature can be seen visibly traveling down it's arm, a knot of boiling water and trapped steam, until it reaches Lunoc, at the very tip of it's liquid weapon, where it explodes violently in a blast of searing steam and water.
lunoc doges the blade and parry it with two long crescents.
"lù!!...lù!!
OOC
I'm sorry, Lunoc, but since you hadn't clarified, I made assumptions. Either way, the idea was that Ender's servant redirected the blast. As for Ender, same reasoning: I went for general organs, but I would hazard that his brain is still safely inside his skull, un-ruptured. By the way, do you speak Chinese?
"ill try something stronger jiān miè, jiān miè hún
or what about this!! dǐ dǎng "
the first attacks objective is to obliterate the very essence
the second is to hold the target in place. lunoc fires another beam/orb blast at ender afterwards
"im much stronger now"
Seeing that his enchantment has no effect on the damwolf, he dismisses it with a curt flick of his hand, and reworks the magic to something more useful. He pulls off the glove on his left hand, and removes from his finger a silver ring. Throwing it high into the air, he whispers several phrases, and the ring expands, and falls, marking a wide circle around Lunoc. Soon, the silver ring of light grows and curves, creating a complicated pattern on the arena floor, an interlocking maze of circles and arcs. "Escape that, wolf. Either walk on the silver, or fall between the worlds."
OOC
I see, Lunoc. Sorry, it wasn't clear (that last one was, though) Oh, and if it isn't clear what Ender is doing, please let me know so that I can fix it!
two portals open next to ender, as lunoc balances on the rings, one black as midnight the other bright as the sun energy pours from both into ender, to much way too much the energy's meeting in such quantitys could rival the power of the sun in raw energy, but this energy does not empower now, it consumes.
OOC
Would you like to ask Sorcen and co. to judge the match now, Lunoc?
lunoc looks horifyed
"you idiot! ill live but it will take forever to replace this body"
the arena fills with the energy the walls strain the hole arena is now just raw destructive energy destroying everything inside. lunoc still living in ethereal spirit form asks
"so do i win or should i reserect him and beat him senceless
Ender turns to Sorcen "Sir, I offer the wolf a draw; I leave the decision of the victor to you and your associates. Please contact me about that spell, Lord Anenooata, your messages will be certain to find me." Ender turns to Lunoc, bows curtly, and walks to the taverne.
"Sheesh, the guy sure takes his time..."
He almost walks past Skraal, his eyes sweeping over his diminutive figure, but stops short, turns, and bows to the kobold. "Ready? At ten paces, if you please."
OOC
4 feet tall, actually. Pretty tall, for a kobold.
OOC
Sorry about that, I made another assumption. Shall I edit that, or anything? I'm not sure how important that sort of thing is, but it's easy to fix if it is.
At the completion of the spell, one gets the distinct impression that a door has opened somewhere unseen, letting in an unearthly magic...between Ender and Skraal, a tall, human-shaped creature of pale, gray-purple flames rises. Although it is translucent, the odd chill emanating from it is felt all too easily as it rushes towards the kobold.
Twelve blades rise. Twelve blades glint in the hellish Baatorian sun, and twelve blades fall, trailing light and energy. The points of the sword meet slightly above the creature's head, and wild psionic energy runs between them. Within moments, the energy fuses the swords into a shining twelve-pointed star.
The star pulses once, and the images disappear. Shining with a brilliant, harsh light, it illuminates the entire arena ring like a minituare sun as the Kobold reappears--alone. "Now, I'm not exactly the patient sort, so I'll say this once: get out of here, and do it fast. I can patch you up later, but... well, it won't be pretty, alrigh'?"
The star folds, points moving downward, the space between the blades joined by pure energy. The star coalesces into a bright pyramid of light, surrounding, enclosing and trapping the flame creature. The pyramid pulses twice, thrice...
And explodes.
Shining light fills the entire arena ring in a cacophony of noise and force, tearing chunks out of the ground, slamming them and the combatants against the damaged walls. Where the pyramid once stood is a large pit, still glowing faintly with residual energy, covered over almost entirely in the smoky aftermath of the blast.
And the smoke begins to clear...
Against all reason, their immaterial boots leave prints in the sand of the arena. Not phantom flames this time, but solid smoke.
"Now there's a fancy trick...pity it won't work." Skraal grins, trying to ignore the wound. The mindblade vanishes, and his left forearm becomes a swirling vortex of wind, which he swings at the smoke-elves with incredible speed. Wind gusts forth from the arm, ripping apart the form of the apparitions.
Ignoring those that are left, Skraal rushes toward the magician, his arm back to its normal form, holding the mindblade. As he draws near Ender, a hemisphere of force encloses the two, hedging out the smoke-figures. The two remain within the cage, Skraal holding his sword against Ender.
"Checkmate, pal."
OOC
I wasn't sure how to proceed with this one, cog n taz, please see the PM I sent you.
The orb rapidly unravels, coalescing into one small white bead above the two. Once the bead is complete, it flies into Skraal's hand, where he tosses it into the air, deftly catching it moments before it begins its descent. Vague shapes and whirls of purple energy swirl within the bead, finally melding into a pinpoint of energy at the centre. Skraal tosses it into the air once more, and grabs it, but his hand, instead of stopping, continues to rush toward the ground.
"Too bad, kid, I ain't messing around any more."
The kobold's hand slams into the ground, and the bead with it. For a split second, nothing happes. Then, the bead begins to expand with a low roar, and Skraal rolls back from it. Within moments, it bursts into a spectacular pillar of white flame and force, engulfing both of the combatants, covering the entire arena ring in a spiralling tornado of fire that reaches to the heavens. Ender and Skraal are lifted into the air by a rough updraft from the conflagration.
The kobold floats above Ender, unharmed in spite of the inferno, sword in hand. Immediately, he dives toward the magician. "Well, congratulations, I haven't got th' patience to keep the gloves on. Now..." he brings the sword around in a wide arc, spinning toward the magician, fiery death still raging around both of them, though Skraal is unharmed by it. "Let's finish this."
The flames rush towards him, and as soon as they reach him, they burst in a cloud of white and purple doves, harmlessly fluttering away into the grandstands. As Ender is lifted by the heated air, he looks at Skraal, and begins another spell.
"Damn it, I sure am getting soft."
And already, Ender has cast another spell, tracing a magical symbol in the air...
Or so it should have been.
Something appears to be holding the spell in place. The conflagration seems to grow in intensity if anything, and roars maliciously. Streaks of wild energy crackle across the flames, meeting near the centre, forming into two multi-coloured flaring orbs that glare at the combatants with burning hatred.
A thousand hands reaches out of the fiery storm, composed of blue flames, and grasp at the two, seeking to annihilate them. Throughout the inferno, one roared out word, filled with pure, burning hatred, fills their ears.
BURN
The kobold leaps away from the hands, slashing at one of them, but still more stretch out to attack him and the magician. Chasing after them with relentless fury.
"Damn."
With his last word, the kobold clicks his fingers, and literal sheets of rain fall from the sky, ripping through the inferno, banishing its strength, and leaving the two soaking wet. A minute or two of frantic concentration and flight is all it takes, and the pyroclasm dies down to a few smoldering embers. Where the towering conflagration once stood, Skraal stands face to face with Ender chant, sword drawn.
"So... where were we? Ah yes, I was winning, wasn't I?"
And with that, he swings his sword down, from right to left, and finally stabs with it, the mindblade trailing wisps of energy in its wake.
"Go ahead, tell them to get out. I ain't stopping em, after all, and it sure would make my day."
holding his sword before him, he raises it to strike, and brings it rushing down toward him. At the last moment, he stops the strike, instead holding the flat of the blade against the magician's shoulder.
"...look, just do yourself a favour and give up, alright? I can't do this."
Ender says a few short words in some unknown language, and there is a rush of air from withing the hemisphere, blowing it into shreds of smoke...with the faeries gone.
Slowly but certainly, the cage walls edge toward the magician, the field of energy crackling around him. Before long, the first of the blades flies across his arm, creating a deep, bleeding gash. Almost immediately, thousands more close in around the mage, whirring and humming, only inches away from him. Twenty, perhaps more shards cut away at him, yet the last brings no pain. Indeed, it is more a numbness, spreading across him as raw healing energy courses through him, closing wounds wherever it goes.
As the last of his wounds closes, the cage wavers, and swiftly fades from existence, leaving Skraal and Ender standing before eachother once more.
"..forget it, I'll be damned if I can do something like that, you win, kid, I can't do this. Go ahead, get it over with, an' I can get out of here."
But he can't help but feel a little uneasy - although he'd never admit that healing magic so impressive wasn't his own...it wasn't him working the spell.
"I believe I am scheduled for a match with a "Graal," he says simply, "I was told he is of a reptillian species, and small of size so I assume that is not you?"
"The name, kid, is Skraal. Skraal weaselheart, and let me tell ya, I sure as hell ain't pleased to meet ya. Now, let me get this straight: you better get it right the second time," a notched shortsword materializes in his right hand, the signs of age and heavy use evident upon it, "or there won't be a third time, alrigh'?"
Dropping into a loose combat stance and smoothly drawing his blade with his left hand, David continues,
"Truth, it will be interesting to fight someone other than Shai or the Guardian's family, it has been a long time since any others represented a real challenge. Shall we begin?"
Skraal holds his mindblade in one hand, gripping it tightly, ready for the blow that must come. Sword at the ready, his green eyes look David in the face as he speaks.
"Well, what are you waiting for? You better go first, no sense in embarassing you."
He soaks the lightning, making no attempt to evade, and snaps a kick at Skraal's left ankle, shifting his sword into a low guard as he does so.
"If one blow cannot penetrate my defenses, why should a hundred?"
Skraal tosses his sword away, where it breaks into a thousand shards of energy. Each arranges itself into a seamless, wide cage around David, each shard honed to a cutting edge, slowly moving back and forth in different directions from eachother. The cage begins to steadily narrow, closing in on David, the movement of the blades accelerating all the while...
"I'm going to need more."
Then, with no warning, a bolt of lightning leaps through the cage of blades, almost instantly traversing the distance to Skraal's chest.
I am here Sorcen. Now I wait for my opponent.
"Iasheur Arkinkson has arrived!"
The bear screams happily.He moves his hands hands swiftly and Shadewings spell dies out as Iasheur returns to a normal condition, "However, I see this will be more fun than I thought" He says bringing his hands together and preparing a spell of his own...
He speaks and his voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere you're not the only one with flames bear, I've got just as much. Suddenly 12 balls of flame shoot straight for Iasheur from all different directions...along with a dark ball behind them. And the army charges.
"Thats more than I thought a kitten could do albeit I will not yield to a frickin bat-winged housecat! i've got plenty of tricks up my sleeve to prevent me from turning into a statue, now can you please show yourself, kitty? or will i have to spend the rest of my time hunting in the shadows for a coward!?" The bear-king laughs as ropes of divine, everlasting flame slowly bind his body back together.
"you'll need to do better pussycat!"
Don't forget the rod.anyways...this is your end. Shadewing flys up and takes one of Iashuer's fingernails off of his stone body.please dont try to get that back....it's the only way i'll be able to ressurrect you. rakrame Suddenly a huge explosion of pure energy utterly ahnillates all of Iashuer, blasting a giant crater in the ground and throwing shadewing all the way back to the other side of the field. He only lived because he used a spell to slow his movement. Only the fingernail shadewing is holding, which is still stone, survivestranslation: destruction. End this match already. Oh yeah.... rameshthe fingernail is surrounded in a yellow orb. I had to stop him using it somehow he smiles wickedly.
BIC: Just before the explosion Iasheur's muscular form begins to fade and quiver sending of sparks of light in all directions, then disappears completely, leaving in it's place a cloud of orange dust
"this match is far from over" Iasheur yells as he appears in a whirl of smoke; almost out of range of the explosion...almost. a chunk of debris nails Iasheur directly in the stomach, he grimaces as The blood and gore fountains from the gaping rift in his crimson, inard-soaked, chest "that's good for a warm-up, now let's really get started!" Iasheur laughs, swinging his axe in a downward arc right at Shadewings head.
The axe slices into Shadewing's head and he dissapears, reappearing far away from Iashuer. Ouch he said rubbing a giant gash in his head I'm gonna have a headache for a few months, even with the healinghis head has already begun sewing back together, leaving a bleeding arc from his ear to his mouth.Aw what the...you ruined my best hat! 4 balls of ice and snow, 4 balls of acid, 4 balls of sound, and 4 balls of electricity spring from shadewing's bleeding paw and streak at IashuerOk let me try this again...and hope it works
Iasheur makes no attempt to dodge mostof the spells but seems to be especially scared of the lightning and focuses on dodging them more then anything else. He narrrowly avoids three of the orbs crackling with electricity as veins pulse visibly on his neck and wrists; but despite his efforts, one of the electric spheres collides into his side sending arcs of electricity through his body.
"That's it! play times over!" Iasheur yells as he sends a jet of white flame soaring at shadewing through the Baatorian sky at the winged cat. the flame misses by a mile but as soon as the white glowing bolt passes shadewing it begins to slow to a grinding halt, tearing strips of planar fabric as it breaks
"welcome to my realm" Shadewing sees drifts of snow through the rips, as dry winds buffet a frozen wasteland.
Man...I hate wind. Messes up my flying so much... almost as a side note a ray of flames melts away alot of the snow around Iashuer, than 4 more do the same thing, until Iashuer is covered in water. Now than...narmes A ray of crackling electricity streaks at Iashuer, dodging anything he puts up to block it. OOC: seeking ray PHB2 electricity damage, bonus to ray attacks afterwards
"see if you can catch me in here!" suddenly he dives into the water/snow and begins to tunnel around underneath the surface. Muffled clawing can be heard from below.
jets of flame start sprouting from the ground, sizzling with raw energy as they lick the sky. "Just try and take this!" The dancing columns arc towards Shadewing, leaving behind them pure nothingness...
"GAAAAHHHH!!!!!! burn, pusssycat, burn!!!"
"I am Faashtha, a bounty hunter of sorts, on behalf of the powers of the 'verse. I have been commisioned to shut down this arena, you are all under arrest please lay down your arms and line up in an orderly fashion so that I may commence my arrest procedure."
Sorcen smiles and holds back a laugh as he lowers his hand and allows the laughter of all his audience to flow into the arena and let the bount hunter hear his folly. Sorcen replies, "I am sorry but I must resist arrest and I'm quite sure that there are many more here that sympathize with my decision."
The faashtha smiles and spreads his arms and clenches his fist, in which a large greatsword appears in each hand with a flash of flame. "I knew you'd say that. Prepare for dea..."
Sorcen cuts him off with his voice echoing a command throughout the arena, "Someone destroy him."
At this command from the Lord of Baator, waves of devils appear and step forward, ready to take on this foe. One devil steps forth though and waves the others back. This devil is an unique one, he is of medium size with almost black skin and a two large horns rising from his forehead. He wears a police uniform and is decorated with many medals. He waves his hands for the other hordes of devils to stop their assault and form uniform lines to be ready for an organized attack. He then charges the faashtha with a grin on his face and draws a rapier and a dagger as he charges.
The faashtha steps aside and parries a dagger thrust with his left greatsword. He then turns too quickly for his bulky body and cleaves the devil captain in twain wth his right blade. The devil falls forward spewing blood from both halves of his mouth. Both halves of the devil twitch and bleed upon the arena floor. Sorcen smiles as the faashtha turns back to face the devils surrounding him. The devils wait for the signal of one of their other captains that step forward. An elderly devil steps forth and raises his longsword, he slowly lowers it to point at the bounty hunter and then flicks the tip of his blade slightly, signalling a sqaudron of devils to attack.
The following events are pure massacre as the small squadron of devils are utterly destroyed by this lone faashtha. More devils amass and ready themselves for another wave of attack but Sorcen's sudden utterance stops them as a word of the infernal language reverberates throughout the arena. The new devils stop in their tracks at their lord's command.
Sorcen waits a moment before speaking. "Very good Faashtha. Now who else would like to try their hand at defeating this bounty hunter trying to unjustly shut down my fine establishment here?"
Sorcen directs this next question to the bounty hunter, "Faashtha, who hired you so that I may know who has broken our treaty and forced my hand against the celestial planes? Whose head shall I pin all the following death upon?"
The Faashtha only grins and readies his swords to taste yet more blood.
"I do not know who you are or what you think you're doing, but I'm pretty sure that it's impossible for you to arrest us on anyone's authority. If a plane has an absolute ruler-as this one does-that ruler has the final say on what is and isn't legal there. So you cannot actually try to do anything to Lord Sorcen under any principle except for 'Might Makes Right.' And I think you'll find that we have plenty of that to go around here."
Finished with his speech, Septimus Magistos points his staff at Faashtha, demonstrating preparedness to resort to violence.
He meanwhile readies his other sword and points it threatenly at Septimus. As he does this he breaks his gaze with the master wizard and points his other blade at Alexander and Tenebrous. He glances at the playing cards circling him warily.
His harmoniously deep voice rings out once more, "I am bound only by my contract, which says that I am to shut this arena down, I will succeed or die in my attempt. You have two options..."
Mirrors expand into existence, interlocking and melding, building with each other, thousands, then millions, coming together with smooth grace. And as the mirror-city builds itself, a familiar face to the crowd and some of the fighters appears within them, looming larger than life - Diedre Shadowsoul.
"I invoke the Law of Mirrored Souls and the Declaration of Dark Domain. This Arena is in joint alliance with the Mirror-Realm of Levulia and by proxy with the Demiplane of Dread and under the protection of the Dark Powers."
She smiles lightly, directing her gray eyes at Sorcen.
"The Mists of Ravenloft are at your disposal, Lord Sorcen Anenooata. Do not expect to get back those whom you banish."
There is a ripple of tainted energy that sends fear clutching through the hearts of the crowd, and the normal-sized Diedre steps through her own mirror, longsword in hand with the mirrored city towering around the fight.
"Come and claim me, Bounty Hunter. See if you can claim the head of a Queen."
The Faashtha tenses his muscles and keeps his swords steady. As his muscles tense, his celestial bloodline presents itself in the form of a holy aura. All of the beings around him sense the aura as a searing energy source akin to a bright light emanating from the celestial.
The Faashtha grins as the evil beings shrink back from his aura, "Now a more serious problem is presented to you, any of you evil beings that come within striking distance of me will have their very souls burned by my holiness."
Previously Posted in Thread 2
From: http://forums.gleemax.com/showthread.php?p=14293591
From: http://forums.gleemax.com/showthread.php?p=14293591
"Right, well Sorcen, I'll see to that."
Alexander vaults off of the judge's stand, landing on the side opposite Septimus, flanking Faashtha.
"Go ahead and arrest me. I dare you."
With a flick of his wrist, a long wooden rod tipped with a piece of indigo chalk appears in Alexander's left hand, and a silver dagger in his right.
"Well said, mage," a rasping voice issues from another region of the stands. As soon as the words are spoken, a horde of tiny black bats erupts from the seat where a man was sitting moments before. Nearby people and demons cower from the swarm, but it ignores them.
The swarm chitters and shrieks its way through the stands until it finds a way to the combatant's entrance, where it condenses into a shape very much like a man - as so far as outward appearances go.
He is tall, thin and pale-skinned, with neatly combed black hair that matches precisely his tunic and black dragonskin tabard. Draped around his shoulders is a cloak that seems to have been a skinned gibbering mouther, since it is studded with a multitude of eyes and teeth. He wears a pair of white gloves inscribed with arcane symbols, and, casting his arms wide, a galaxy of playing cards begins to fall from the sleeves, taking up orbits around the newcomer.
"Before I have the pleasure of ridding you from the arena, know this: I am Tenebrous Jack, and I am not unfamiliar with your kind."
He also issues a telepathic missive to Alexander: You lead, I've got your back.
The Faashtha smiles and takes a giant step forward, simultaneously parrying the bear-man's axe. He does not follow up for a kill shot though and simply lets the axe wielding creature stumble past.
He meanwhile readies his other sword and points it threatenly at Septimus. As he does this he breaks his gaze with the master wizard and points his other blade at Alexander and Tenebrous. He glances at the playing cards circling him warily.
His harmoniously deep voice rings out once more, "I am bound only by my contract, which says that I am to shut this arena down, I will succeed or die in my attempt. You have two options..."
"Surrender, or die? The same old line I've been hearing from would-be heroes my whole existence? Not likely," Jack hisses, his teeth lengthening into deadly fangs. The appearance of Queen Shadowsoul seems to puzzle him for a moment, but it passes quickly. With a grace that is not normally seen in humans, he strides around, a little away from Alexander, so as to present more targets. The orbiting cards follow him, and those with arcane senses discern abjurations around him.
Sorcen smiles and bows, "Thank you Queen Shadowsoul, the mists will come in handy if what I foresee comes to bear, but hold back on their use for now, no need to strain the Darklands unnecessarily."
The Faashtha tenses his muscles and keeps his swords steady. As his muscles tense, his celestial bloodline presents itself in the form of a holy aura. All of the beings around him sense the aura as a searing energy source akin to a bright light emanating from the celestial.
The Faashtha grins as the evil beings shrink back from his aura, "Now a more serious problem is presented to you, any of you evil beings that come within striking distance of me will have their very souls burned by my holiness."
"You know nothing, celestial," she says calmly, "Nothing at all."
With an enourmous crash and the tinkling fall of glass, the now-enourmous city shatters into infintesimal shards - shards that become a ripping storm of mirrored glass, unable to touch Diedre, but not quite so merciful on her 'allies' or her enemy.
He takes a few steps back, and begins to draw a circle on the ground with the indigo chalk, inscribing minute words and delicate stars and arcs on the inside of the circle. When it is done, he speaks three words. "Ban dirai, Humbaba." Spreading from the bounds of the circle, three fissures, no thicker than hairline cracks, race towards the Faashtha. With a rending of earth and stone, a great beast forces it's way through the earth beneath the celestial. It has the claws of a lion; its body covered in brassy scales, and horns to rival the Faashtha's protrude from its head. It wastes no time in ramming the celestial.
As the beast erupts from the ground, Alexander holds both hands over the circle, and it flares with a distant light, as if from deep within it's lines. The circle expands, widening outwards from Alexander, who utters a single word.
"Zoharial."
The name (for it is one) echoes and echoes, as if the glowing circle were a deep well, it's bottom shrouded in mystery. For a moment, nothing happens - and then, quite suddenly, a pillar of blue-white light shines forth from the circle, piercing the inky black sky of hell. Tiny flecks of light, like tiny stars, flow and swirl around Alexander, and soon, they are the only things that remain of the blazing light. Standing in the center of the circle is a tall, slender knight, wearing dark blue chain mail under a fitted breastplate of the same mysterious metal. A cape swirls about him, studded with tiny white flecks of silver, as though with dozens of stars. He looks to Alexander, and for a few seconds, a silent exchange seems to be taking place. But shortly after, the knight bows low, eyes glinting behind his visor. In a low, rich voice, he speaks "I am at your service again, m'lord."
Finally, with a rush of flames, a single bird, rivaling the Roc in size, with red and gold plumage, flies up from the circle, the chalk lines turning from blue to gold. The Phoenix swoops underneath Alexander, who jumps onto its back and climbs up high above the arena.
All in all, he's seen this kind of stuff before.
"Cute."
he yawns, and leaps down, landing behind the Faashtha with a smile on his face.
"You've all made a good effort," here he waves a hand dismissively at all those assaulting the celestial, "but that's all it was, a good effort. You just keep safe and go home, the lot of ya - I'll handle this idiot. With any luck," now he addresses the celestial, "you'll get sent back without too many bruises."
As he finishes, the ground rumbles, and streaks of fire and lightning erupt from the earth, dancing around the kobold in a cloud of sorts. he raises his mindblade, and the cloud concentrates around the sword, turning into a large serpent, formed purely from flame, within which sparks of lightning jump back and forth.
Skraal lowers the sword and points it toward his opponent, letting the serpent loose. It flies, shrieking, toward its mark, scorching the air as it passes.
ooc
once the serpent impacts, it'll bite him, and proceed to explode.
BIC: The Faashtha suddenly loses his balance and his stance as the ground erupts from under his feet. The earthen beast's horned head slams forcefully into the celestial, sending him reeling backwards, only to be caught and slashed by the talons of the phoenix. The talons dont actually puncture through his armor but the force of the slash's are enough to change his momentum back towards the ground with an audible thump. The celestials greatswords have disappeared in a small flash of bright flame as he strikes the ground.
The Faashtha begins to pull himself to his feet just as the energy snake strikes the back of his leg, the long sharp teeth actually puncturing his metallic skin, the torture does not end here though as the snake erupts in an explosion of energy that throws the horned celestial rolling across the now-mirrored floor of the arena. The Faashtha pulverizes the mirrors with each bounce across the floor and finally comes to a stop on his back. He rolls onto his chest and slolwy pulls himself up, coughing blood. He manages to pull himself to crouch on one knee and pulls the still-attached fangs from his legs. He wipes blood from his mouth and stands shakily.
"Well its *cough* obvious that I cannot defeat you all by my lonesome. Fortunately I planned for this." The Faashtha quickly touches the ring on his left hand and twists a knob on the side. A blue-white pulse seems to emanate from the golden ring and the Faashtha clenches his fists once more bringing his swords to life again in their familiar burst of flame.
"Watch who you're calling evil. I dare say that I'm quite as good as you are. In case you didn't do your homework, very little in this arena was ever actually evil. It's just powerful individuals fighting each other for amusement out of their own free will. No one is ever forced to do anything. Regardless of what may be going on in the other areas, the Arena itself is neutral at worst."
With those words, Septimus Magistos summoned a map with pins stuck into it. Then, with that map floating between him and the celestial, he unleashed a few hundred magic missiles aiming straight for Faashtha.
Sorcen watches with pride as the combatants, his friends, revel in their victory. He knows though that this is not the end and regrets that he must tell them so. He calls from his throne to interrupt any cheers that may occur, "Keep your wits about you, there are more on the way, his patrons were not so dumb as we think and I believe his ring was a beacon of some so..." He suddenly points his finger towards Septimus, a small burst of lightning springs forth from his outstretched finger with a thunderous crackle and flies toward the great mage.
The bolt whips past the master mage's right ear and makes his hair stand on end as it passes. The bolt strikes a hound archon attempting to attack the mage from behind square in its chest, sending the beast hurtling backwards with a clap of thunder in its wake as it smashes against the arena wall.
Suddenly the arena is full of various celestials; archons, eladrins, guardinals, and aasimon of all flavors appear from nowhere or jump from hidden areas in the audience. More Faashtha come as well as a rare few Solars and even what seems to be random good-aligned adventurers. The creatures immediately begin to assault anyone that seeks to defend themselves, clapping what seem to be magical restraints on anyone that does not flee.
A Faashtha charges at Alexander and Jack with his head lowered and his horns aimed to strike them. A monadic deva dives from the skies to strike Queen Shadowsoul. A solar wearing white leather armor flies towards Sorcen and Aya, along with what seems to be a human male inside of a large firey phoenix form.
OOC: Muahaha, all
Meanwhile...
Zoharial chuckles dryly, the Sorcerer-Knight fading in and out of view around the combat, scything through celestials who take aim at Skraal or Alexander.
Suddenly, however, an idea strikes the knight. "By your leave, Alexander... might I scout out the problem?" Without waiting for an answer, Zoharial vanishes again, using the chalked circle to follow the original Faashtha's pat through the cosmos...
Seeing the new Faashtha charge at he and Alexander, and the ensuing melee, Jack knows that a more subtle approach is not going to work. The clothes he wears melts into his skin, and his metamorphic flesh shivers and ripples. A pair of huge batlike wings erupt from his back, and claws emerge from his fingertips as he charges straight at the nearest group of Adventurers, aiming to grab and tear them apart. He screams his battle-cry aloud in Dark Speech: "To the death! For blood! For the Blood is the Life!"
"Yeah, maybe this is the time for the verdict of Soulforge?"
"No verdicts please, I would prefer if Dragor and Ziel didn't became involved in this."
"Oh you killer-of-the-fun!"
"And I think you would prefer Dramuk to stay out of this."
Artak's tone and facial expression, however much a draconic skull can have of that, changed from a slightly amused visage to a hateful cold anger.
"Don't even mention Dramuk, that self righteous asshat."
"No one gets killed while I'm here, alrigh'? No one at all, unless you want to be the first."
With that, he waves an outstretched palm, shooting bolts of force from his fingertips. Three streak out seperately toward the solar, the deva and the strange pheonix-man, and another splits into a thousand shards, each flying toward a different member of the army. When they find their mark, each explodes in a shower of blinding sparks and concussive force - enough to knock someone out, but harmless.
The last also splits into small golden fragments, and flies toward the dead and the injure on the battlefield, restoring their life, healing wounds, soothing pain, and leaving a mental message.
"Alright, you've already been beaten once, here's your second chance. Just because I'm a nice guy doesn't mean I'll let you make a nuisance of yourself, so you'd better watch your step."
his message given, Skraal grips his sword once more and leaps over to Zoharial, smashing a few nearby celestials with the flat of his sword.
"Trying to keep me alive, eh? That's pretty rich, coming from an amateur like you. Now, step aside and let me do the real work, will ya?"
OOC
Actually, Zoharial's left the plane via summoning circle to chase the original Faashtha - he's gone for the moment. That being said...
"Can you do your fun with undead vermin?"
"Most certainly."
Then they start speaking the magic words of a powerful incantation together.
"Celestial blood... it is by far the most wonderful substance in existance. Wouldn't you agree?" Not waiting for an answer, Siventarr plunges his fangs into the hapless celestial's neck and drains him dry. Casting the husks of life away, the vampire demon circles over the battlefield. Climbing up into the sky, his demonic form blocks out the hellish sun and casts a deep shadow over the arena. Pointing a taloned finger, rays of darkness pour forth and utterly destroy any celestial they touch. Cackling with laughter, Siventarr draws Merikel and dives back into the melee.
OOC
Hope that wasn't too abrupt. It seems it started without me realizing it. Needless to say, Siventarr ain't gonna be using nonlethal damage to knock the celestials out.
Another messege is sent to Skraal, Please Sir Skraal do not heal our enemies, especially the ones that take that long to kill.
Alexander's banishment technique seems to work quite well, the celestials seem to be limited in numbers.
Another mental messegs goes out from Sorcen to Diedre, Queen Shadowsoul, I believe now would be the time for your mists. Try to avoid banishing our allies, I will of course play a protector role and save allies that fall too neat to the mists but my magic can only do so much.
Meanwhile the knight, Zoharial, and (whoever else is searching for the source of the Faashtha) appear in a large wooden lodge located on Arcadia. This only seems to be the source of where the Faashtha came from and which lodge he belonged to though. No clue as to who sent him is immediately present in the lodge.
OOC:
I can warp his perceptions if you like Cog, so that he will see what he wants to see instead of what is actually going on... If you like?
I just dont want to have him ruin everyone else's fun like that.
Whoa, beautiful post Bahamut. Dont worry the orb was just a precaution and does not hinder sight for very long, just long enough to shield from the light. Even with immunity to light, the force of that sun burst would have harmed the vampires, its a honed skill to specifically target the vamps. Thats why he aimed for Aya first thing, Queen of the Vamps that she is.
I just dont want to have him ruin everyone else's fun like that.
Whoa, beautiful post Bahamut. Dont worry the orb was just a precaution and does not hinder sight for very long, just long enough to shield from the light. Even with immunity to light, the force of that sun burst would have harmed the vampires, its a honed skill to specifically target the vamps. Thats why he aimed for Aya first thing, Queen of the Vamps that she is.
Meanwhile, in Hell...
Alexander pulls up just in time to avoid the searing light, and begins to fly among the celestials, quickly using his chalk rod to draw small Sending Circles on the back of unsuspecting celestials as another Zoharial-armor holds them in place.
The Bralani and Ghaeles change tactics as they note the effectiveness of Alexander's circle, instead grappling with their foes and forcing them through the gate.
Then the wave of light strikes, vaporizing some of the vermin but leaving thousands alive still.
Loex and Artak also stagger from it, but only briefly. Then Artak hurls a powerful bolt of negative energy at the solar. It is dead when the bolt reaches its destination though, and instead it hits Siventarr, which is not at all a bad thing, for the powerful energies bolster his body and mind, kicking up his power with another few feet.
"No need to thank me!"
Artak yells at him with a smile.
It's quite alright, Sorcen. A little light like that won't even give me sunburn.
Inside the black sphere he reverts to his more human form, dismayed at being prevented at tearing into the adventurers. Instead, he creates an array of cards in the air infront of him, and tears through the dimensional space, suddenly appearing outside of the encapsulating sphere, and sees the falling remains of the solar.
"Bah, it wasn't even real sunlight." With a flap of the huge bat-wings, he propels himself into the air, making for the Asura, the phoenix-man, his claws turning as black and cold as the essence of frostbite.
"Since when d' I work for ya, Sorcen?"
Dropping back down, he sprays equal parts healing and concussion rays about the battlefield, though he takes care to make sure that any celestials he heals or, indeed, returns to life remain unconcious.
Suddenly, he vanishes, reappearing by Iasheur, punching and smashing at him, still trying not to do any permanent damage.
"here's a tip, kid. When the crazy kobold with a sword tells ya t' do somethin', y' don't ask questions, you do it, and quickly."
@Sorcen
Nah, don't bother - he's not about to listen to Sorcen, but that doesn't mean you have to adjust for him.
As he says the last word his pheonix-flame-armor-projection-thing opens its beaked mouth and breathes a jet of flame at Tenebrous Jack.
Sorcen watches the battles below and points his finger to send a concentrated beam of sonic energy rolling across the arena from his throne. The sonic energy creates a woobwoobwoob sound as it streaks towards a equinal rushing towards an inexperienced cornugon soldier locked in battle with an adventuring aasimon. The sonic beam strikes the horse-angel on top of his neck and crumples his massive body as it sends his body flying with a thunderous boom.
The attacks of the celestials do no damage to Septimus Magistos. Their physical blows bounce harmlessly off the many layers of shields around his body, while those who use magic against him find themselves in a strange predicament. Their magic and their minds are drawn forward onto the map to hit one of the pinheads...which consist of a million mirrors. They find their minds broken up into pieces and sent along an invisible line on the map. And soon they found themselves walking as ghostly images among a thousand more aimless wanderers, unable to remember who they were or why they were there on a land that was an idea come to life.
Meanwhile, Septimus Magistos targeted large groups of the weaker celestials to send them back to wherever they came from and unable to return for one hundred years.
Some retreat altogether, albeit taking the stunned and confused ones with them. Only the bravest of them stay behind. Their numbers are few though, only about 20. To be specific; 2 astral devas, 3 solars, 2 hound archons, 2 sword archons, 1 planatar, 1 ursinal, 3 leonals, 2 firre eladrins, 1 hammer archon, 1 half celestial drow, and 1 Kevic Jepoli, half-phoenix/human.
These brave celestials cover the retreat of their kin and soon form a small circle in the far right of the arena. The defenders of the arena clearly have the celestial threat under control now but the threat of a magic stealing ape-thing looms in the distance.
Sorcen shouts an order across the arena, "Keep your magic use at a minimum."
"Yeah and that ass probably hurt pretty bad now"
Then the threat of the magic stealer becomes iminent
"Seems we have to go eating ourselves then."
Artak says to Loex.
"Time to do the things in person"
Loex and Artak speaks each their word in Dark Speech, both being variations of change.
And change they do, but without a burst of magic, it seems they are just... as if the change was not supernatural in nature at all.
Artak grows long claws, and his body seems to warp, taking on a scaly predator-like shape, with strong muscles and vicious claws. His head remains skull, but now it seems to fit the body. His teeth seems to grow bigger and sharper.
Loex changes a lot more, he grows many times bigger, and his carapace extends backwards into a spiderlike body with all eight legs. His upper body still remains, but looks even more mantis-like not. His upper pair of arms turns into true, razor sharp mantis claws while his lower remains hands. His mouth and manbibles extends and grow another pair, now dripping with potent poison. Below his lover set of arms another grows with crab-like claws.
From his back grows a pair of wings like those of a fly. His back body extends into a vicious scorpion stinger.
Both advance upon the remaining celestials.
OOC
Many thanks, Sorcen. I personally don't think it was that good, but hey! If the lord of Hell thinks it's good, it must be.
It almost didn't work, with that creature sucking at my magic.
Concealed in gaseous form within the smoke, Jack lingers for now, frustrated but content to watch and wait as the magic-stealing monstrosity enters the fray.
OOC
I'm not sure, I thought Demogorgon had just two tentacles. It could easily be an avatar, servant, something else or the Big D just decided to grow some more.
OOC:
To my knowledge, no thats not Demogorgon. Oh and Dex, I just wanted to say Tenebrous Jack is just a cool character, his concept is cool then the name of Tenebrous just sort of puts the icing on the cake so to speak, and the icing is the best part.
Artak stop as the celestials charge him, ready to hit back when they reach him. He ducks under the sword archon's blades, but the attack of the hound hits home and strike his left leg. It fails to dig deep though, stopped quickly by Artak's unholy toughness and resilient flesh. He then strikes back, claws flying with blinding speed at the hound, one aiming to slash open its gut and the other to take a grip around its throat. The sword archon first see no threat, but then suddenly Artak's tail comes in low, sweeping to knock its feet away under it.
The sword archon's legs are kicked off balance by the tail sweep. The sword archon does not go down though as a beat of his great white wings saves him from the hard impact of the mirrored ground. The hound archon ignores the lower claws, confident that his celestial chainmail with deflect the blow. The one aimed to grab his throat only catches the skin and fur, giving Artak only a handful of bloody brown fur.
"No one ever hears the little man. And you know, some times, it's a blessing."
With that, he slams the lance into Iasheur's face. As the tip impacts, he feels no pain from it, but then the kobold's hand moves ever forward, and the lance begins to collapse, until it is little more than a pellet being driven into his head at incredible speed, exploding in his face in a blast of concussive energy, enough to send anyone flying, and with any luck, unconcious for a while.
With that done, he spins around and lifts a hand, sending out a blast of telekinetic force, attempting to shove Loex into Artak, claws first. Not waiting to see if he succeeds, he sends a few more bolts of healing out, though he is too late to save the rogue. Angrily, he leaps toward Silventarr, a brightly glowing golden sphere in his hand.
Artak sees the danger of the blast from Skraal long before it hits, and he jumps into the air to evade it and let it hit Loex' titanic body without having much effect. At the same time he licks the blood off of his hand.
"tasty!"
Artak then turns at the sword archon and lashes out at it with a clawed hand, aiming to slash through armor, and flesh alike. At the same time his tail clubs downwards, aimed for the head of the hound.
Loex quickly draws back his mantis claws, ready to strike once more. Instead, his crab claw advances, and soon the bear finds himself between two massive walls of spiky carapace, quickly closing in on him.
Loex meanwhile speaks with a powerful thundering voice, as befits such a gigantic creature.
"Oh, the lizard seems like he want to do business when I'm done here."
"
BIC: The ursinal finds himself trapped and begins to slash at the claws closing in on him. His claws clang against the carapace of the crab claws but seem to have little or no effect. The bear finally holds his arms out to try and hold the strength of the claws at bay but seems not to be able to budge the claws from closing in more and more. Just before the claws strike his soft mammalian flesh and squeeze the life from him, the ursinal is gone from his claustrophobic decapodian (crab) crushing terminal prison.
The sword archon hardly has time to react as his quick opponent tears a clawed hand through his breastplate armor and subsequently through the celestial's stomach. Artak's claws tear through fairly easily and exit with the same swift motion, tearing more flesh and armor as they do so. The sword archon cries out in pain as he thrusts a sword-arm forward at the creature attacking him.
The descending tail only leaves the hound with time enough to raise an arm to protect himself. The tail smacks him with a loud thwak and a grunt from the archon, afterwards the protecting arm is revealed to be broken and possibly shattered. The hound archon holds his broken arm near to his body and swings his longsword at Artak's back, hoping to get a surprise strike in.
OOC
No, its not Demogorgon. Unless... No, its not. As always in such beings, its either much better, or much much worse. If it helps though, this thing has appeared before, during one of Edvard's fights in fact...
Artak brings back his blood soaked claw to his mouth and suck the celestial blood off it. His other claw works in his defence, as it speeds up to grab the arm of the sword archon, just below the blade.
Meanwhile the blood works it's power on Artak's body, and suddenly he extends bat-like wings from his back, wings that he immediately put to use, for he flaps them to hit the side of the hound's sword and strike it aside.
A solar steps forward in response to Loex's challenge. The two firre eladrins charge forward at Loex just as the solar raises his bow to launch two arrows at the titanic vermin beast. The firres charge with their flaming scimitars held high and ready to strike Loex.
One of the leonals meanwhile battles against a dwarf wielding a pistol in one hand and a life-draining axe in the other. The dwarf exhibits fangs and other vampiric traits and is now recognized as Butcher. He fires a green glowing bullet from his pistol and charges in to attack with his axe using his enhanced vampiric speed. The nimble leonal dodges the bullet and uses this sideways dodge to swing his ornate carved lion-head warhammer at the charging dwarf.
He flap his wings to avoid the strike from the archon, closing with it too much to hit with the blades, but is a bit too slow, and thus his wing is hit by the blade and a flick of dead skin cut loose.
He attempt to sink his large diamond teeth into the throat of the sword archon while the blood he has drained from it by now cause even more change, this time a blade-like appendage grows from the tip of his tail... and appendage that he does not hesitate to bring to bear on the unlucky hound below and behind him in a horizontal slash that threatens to decapitate the celestial.
The arrows from the solar connects with Loex carapace easily, after all he's a bit too big to be dodging arrows. The arrows get stuck too, but they doesn't seem to annoy Loex much, and actually one can wonder if they pierced his carapace at all. One of the Deva's get his to do avoiding Loex' tail, speeding at it, dripping with poison. The other one finds that a closed crab claw is speeding down on it, threatening to mash it against the ground.
When he resolves from the smoke into his dapper and human form, he draws a single magically-inscribed card from his pocket, and flicks it into the air with a flourish. Within seconds, a pair of female vampires appear at his side, clad in black gowns and silver jewelry but not visibly armed. With a single telepathic command, the three of them array themselves back-to-back in a triangle, facing outwards, and Tenebrous Jack leads the Dark Chant, bolstering and strengthening his fellow undead.
"Erben der Nacht!"
"Wir hören Sie!"
"Nehmen Sie alles, geben nichts!"
"Wir werden!"
"Hasse das Licht!"
"Die Nacht ist das ewige!"
Together: "Für das Blut ist das Leben!"
Any and all undead within earshot feel a surge of Dark energy within themselves, binding their necrotic energies even more firmly to their fleshy (or ether-y) bodies.
OOC
I have to apologize in advance to any Germans (or non-Germans) who might be offended by my using German to equate the Dark Chant. I speak English, and this was just the most suitable language I could think of, based on common sounds. If anyone has any problems I'll just re-post gibberish.
The hound archon behind Lotak is not ready for the sudden change of the tail and can barely manage to jump back as the bladed tail whips at his head. The hound archon's windpipe is cut open and bleeding but the amount of blood is an indication that the attack missed his arteries. The hound drops his sword and instinctively clasps his hand to his throat and holds his head down, he glances at his celestial kin all around and closes his eyes in defeat. With this sullen look he fades from view.
The Solar continues his launching arrows at Loex, only about 5 before he takes aim for the giant vermin's eye and fires, his golden arrow streaking through the air. The one firre eladrin dodges and ducks the tails many stabs. Finally the tail catches his arm with a glancing cut. The other firre wreathes his entire body in flames and swings his flaming scimitar at the closing crab claw.
Butcher and the other vampires bask in the strenghtening spell granted by Tenebrous Jack. Butcher himself sinks his axe into the leonal's leg and shouts out the creed, "Blood is Life!". He then licks the blood from his axe and, empowered by bloodlust, charges the planetar celestial.
OOC@Dex: Dark is not necessarily a synonym for Evil. ;)
Meaning Dark Chant doesnt mean Evil Chant so your technically calling Germans evil or anything similar.
Loex strike true with the crab claw, knowing that the fire and the schimitar will make only a minor difference... almost none when his extraordianry healing capacity in this form is taken into account. The other firre is ignored, seeing as the poison now coursing through its veins tear it apart a celestial as easily as it would any mortal, making everything inside the body, all flesh and bone, all but skin melt into an organic goo.
Loex is almost too slow at noticing that the solar has changed target area, but he manages to move his head slightly, making the arrows hit between eye clusters. This doesn't hamper his sight but does seem to hurt, for he bring his tail to bear upon the angel with a vermin-like screech, tail target about the same time as Artak.
Septimus Magistos then draws out a bag of holding and pulls a string. It shoots out its contents explosively, showering the monster in a wave of alchemist's fire, explosive powder, napalm, and other easily combustible things. Among them is a bit of a highly reactive metal enclosed in a glass sphere which shatters on impact, allowing the metal to burst into flames.
OOC
Is it Medusa on steroids?
The poisoned firre doubles over in pain as the poison liquidates his insides. The second of them is almost crushed the by the giant claw but manages to teleport out quickly and reappears again in the air poised to attack Loex with a downward chop of his flaming scimitar.
As soon as the golden arrow leaves from the bow towards Artak, Loex's poisoned tail strikes the solar directly in his chest, piercing through his ribcage and protruding from the back on the right side of the angel's spine. The solar does nothin more than stare in shock at this lethal wound and spits a golden gore from his lips, the same golden blood that now runs down the deadly tail of Loex. The arrow is knocked off course by Loex's attack and made much easier to dodge by Artak.
"There was an ass that was to hurt badly up there"
he mutters to himself as he flies closer, but ready to defend rather than attack, estimating the half-phoenix to be the most powerful of the remaining celestials.
Loex is far unable to dodge the blow of the living firre, but as the scimitar digs in the angel feels the strong durability of the carapace, and it doesn't dig nearly as deep as the celestial had hoped. It does though dig deep enough to hit a vein, and soon the Celestial finds itself covered from head to toe in highly corrosive blood spraying from the wound.
Loex bends his head down to the liquefied Firre, completely oblivious to the fact that he is wounded. He extends a long tube-like mouth and sticks it into the celestial, sucking out its liquid internals. All the while Loex lets the solar hang, waiting for it to turn liquid, ready to consume.
In the meanwhile a hidden archer fires an arrow more than a mile away. The arrow is made from silver and a dark sort of wood and with black feathers. It flies with perfect accuracy despite the tremendous range, threatening to hit directly in Sorcen's right eye.
OoC
Alright, just a preface to this post, I'm here by Sorcen's permission as a guest, so I'm not just randomly jumping aboard - I know that bugs you guys, thought I'd clear that up.
"A pause in the boredom lad."
The solar screams with the aching of the poison liquifying his insides. He speaks in an otherworldy and strong voice, "You may have killed... me, but *cough* You will not feed off of me." At this he drops his bow and raises his arms high and explodes in a burst of light. The light does less damage to vampires but still will harm them and the undead and the heat damage is enough to burn the still impaled tail some.
The last firre celestial's scimitar roughly cuts into Loex, nearly bouncing off the carapace if it wasnt for the downward momentum. This momentum proved to be his downfall in more than one way though. The firre smiles as he sees that his blade has struck the soft meat under the tough carapace. The smile is soon gone from his face as the acidic blood sprays onto his body and begins to corrode his unarmored skin. The firre screams in pain and drops his blade, he falls to the ground with a thud and thrashes around as his skin sizzles and bubbles and falls from his bones in thick sheets. The fallen pieces continue to corrode away and produce a sickening smell as they do. The celestial finally stands and runs at the nearest leg of Loex and attacks it with a dying rage of sorts. His fingernails tear gashes into the carapace as he screams and slashes at the verminlord's leg. The mad firre even tries biting the thick armor of Loex, to no avail, as the last bits of his skin dissolve and the acid begins tearing into his tissues and muscles.
OOC: Sorry got a bit carried away. And yes FolkHero is approved for his part in this fight, should be fun.
The instant the light vanishes, his attendants resume the Chant in their siren voices, while Jack's skin begins to writhe again, starting to restore the damage. Without Jack leading the Chant, its bolstering force drops a little, but not by much.
"You, Fire thing!" Jack calls to the half-phoenix that Artak is approaching. Jack's crimson and gold eyes roil with terrible energy, and the very essence of pain and terror can be seen in the now-sunken pits. Black words twist in his mouth, and the most vile creatures here know he has spoken a Word of Dread:
"Worm...Look at me. I command it."
Kevic's phoenix form has sized itself down so as not to harm the other celestials around him. his body is suspended inside the firey phoenix form and his eyes glow with red flames as he looks at his Jack and Artak. He steps forward and spreads his wings threateningly and shields his kin behind him, "Well my my aint I tha' popalar one, eh." Both of his heads glance from the vampire to Artak, "Bring' 'it on 'en, if'n ya thin' ya can take ma'."
OOC
I haven't overstepped myself here? And thanks for the earlier comment Sorcen_Anenooata. I strive to give my characters a bit of their own style.
Artak gets mildly scorched by the light from the celestial, but he uses some of the stored blood to heal it.
Artak flies forth at Kevic, claws ready to strike and fangs gleaming in the flames of the phoenix form. He passes into the flames untouched, the unholy power of his body shielding him from flame. His claws reap forth, one slashing at the chest and the other gripping the wing.
Although the arrowhead itself fails to harm Sorcen, he is not left unmarked, for a powerful devilbane energy is surrounding the arrow, a powerful energy that needs not a wound to do harm. Sorcen also finds that the place to which he teleported is empty, apparently the archer is using supernatural decoys.
Another arrow shoots out, once again coming from afar, once again aimed perfectly, this time for his back, to plunge into his longues between his ribs.
The firre finally ceases his clawing and thrashing as the acidic blood eats the last of his muscles away. All that remains of the eladrin is his bones and even they seem to be slowly digesting away due to the acid.
Sorcen turns and catches this second arrow with just as much ease as the first, becoming annoyed with the devilbane more then harmed by it. His eyes glow an emerald color and he concentrates his mind to attune with the power of the plane. He scans the area until he finds the archer and suddenly points at the position and makes a pulling motion. The archer is gripped by a force that overrides both time and space and pulls him forcefully to bring him to Sorcen's feet. Sorcen holds this grip on the being even now to prevent him from attacking.
"The fire of the Phoenix has two sides - that which restores the chick, and that which destroys the adult. Two sides in balance, destruction making room for creation. And right about now, I feel like destroying something."
Alexander's mount spreads its wings wide, and a burst of white and gold flames rushes from Kevic, swallowing up the fire surrounding him in its brilliant light, true fire.
The messenger, lithely avoiding the spells firing all around him, withdraws a beaten-up sheet of paper from within his bag, looking it over once. Those behind him can see the silver ink marking out a musical staff and notes.
He carefully replaces the sheet of music, and begins to play his flute. The notes are pure and clean, like rolling water - a quick, bouncing melody. Soon, other instruments join in - as if the young man were surrounded by an invisible orchestra. The music is filled with dischordant phrases and changes in rythym, and as the music swirls about the arena, those supporting Sorcen feel the changing chords and beats within themselves.
Many weaker demons suddenly find themselves turned into mice, as the more powerful combatants struggle against a similar fate.
Septimus Magistos, still unable to resist making a speech at the slightest provocation, wanders the battlefield analyzing the situation further.
He shrugs off the attempted transmutation with ease, although a hand full of Bralani become mice with a small crack of displaced air.
OOC
NorthWind... Red Hand of Doom is calling for you...
And Siventarr is waiting on either Cog or Khael's reply.
And Siventarr is waiting on either Cog or Khael's reply.
The sound of his flute, however, moves around the arena, the explosive zombies numbly following the tune as the melody moves about the arena. By the time the fireball reaches them, the zombies are standing in a cluster around Sorcen.
The messenger's voice comes from behind the lich "Well, I'm not inclined to introduce myself to you, humblest apologies and all that. And, master Magistos - if you're just sending off the celestials, why don't you stop the fighting instead?"
As this happens the being tilts its head to one side, an air of smug arrogance about it, "They found it, now I am once more invincible...", before it turns back to the field, shrugging off the messengers song, as the filaments spurt out, before plunging four of its tentacles into the ground...
OOC
Remember, its not got a semi-AMF, its literally draining off a portion of magic in proportion to how close the spell comes (though point-blank isn't actually total-null range, it might as well be against low-grade single shots), and is growing...
Also take random guesses whose going to get targeted by those tentacles. Maybe the first four ground based guys/minions to post. It's not picky.
Also take random guesses whose going to get targeted by those tentacles. Maybe the first four ground based guys/minions to post. It's not picky.
Septimus Magistos gets out a small disk and talks into it for a minute. Then, a faint whistling noise is heard as heavy projectiles fly out from the direction of the school and head straight for the magic-eating monstrosity.
OOC
Sorry if I wasn't clear, but Edvard's fireball would've impacted the zombies before they got to Sorcen. So they all would've gone up in an explosion before they got to him.
As Siventaar dives from the ground below erupts a burst of fire and heat, as the explosives charges follow down the tentacles trails to punch out the earth...
The second missile flies straight out the back of the cloud, as something dives for Edvard, iridescent, ethereal and rippling, it screams in rage as its charges...
ooc
Despite being ethereal for now, it is still eating, and if you haven't guessed from previous appearances, its trying to possess Edvard. Word of warning though, don't expect to be capable of inflicting any kind of mental damage to the thing.
Loex seems to be fine with watching the action for now.
The archer somehow manages to resist Sorcen's planar power, but his voice is heard just next to Sorcen's ear, despite the lack of any presence there.
"Yeah, the lord of the first thought he could use his planar lord stuffing against me back when I killed him a hundred year ago as well, but he also had to realize that against me, planar lordship will save no day."
The voice is a familiar one, the voice of Dragor.
"Oh damn."
Edvard does the only reasonable thing to do. He turns around, and runs.
The second rocket whips past Siventarr with a whoosh, and the demon is confused for a moment. The dust and smoke blind his eyes, and his magic sight has been deadened. With powerful beats of his wings he rises above the dust and smoke, and surveys the terrain at a high altitude.
" 'Ello poppet, and see ya around." he says casually, sending a few lances of sunlight at the vampire from his palm, before bringing the hilt of his sword down toward the vampire's head with incredible force.
Kevic's phoenix form pulls its beak back as the flames are nearly extinguished by the unnatural cold. He flaps his wings and fans the death-cold away. As his wings beat forth, flaming feathers fly from his phoenix form and aim to strike against Artak.
OOC: Sorcen was likely too far away for those zombies to reach him in time anyway.
Another arrow strikes out from the darkness, this time coming from the east.
Artak blows aside the feathers with a mighty buff of his wings. The cold streams forth from the wound in his chest, spreading a deadly chill in the air, and as if that was not enough, he spews large razors of frozen blood at the phoenix... razors that doesn't look like they will melt on contact with the flames.
As Edvard runs, the shadowy form breaks off its chase, shrieking in rage at it glares about, rising above the arena before erupting into form as a veritable swarm of black blobs release from it, whiel from the centre of the eruption shoots a glowing ball back the way the beast came, followed by an echoing deadrattle of rage and pain, as red eyes open in the tiny shapes, claws extending as they give call to their birthscreams of hunger...
And they don't have to look far to sate that...
OOC
Gentlemen (and ladies) the magic drain is removed from play, but don';t expect critical daamge via magic to be an easy thing wtih the kiddies.
RAMAIRUK A manycolored sphere begins to form around him.
"Friend Dragor, if you are indeed not your shadow then you are weakened severely, I advise you to take my offer to wait until this fight is over..." Sorcen raises a hand abruptly and shatters the arrow about to strike him, the shards of the broken arrow suddenly reverse their path and fly back at the archer at twice the speed of their journey. "I do not have time for this, something looms on our horizon that demands my attention."
Upon saying this he waves a hand around his head in a complete circle, creating multiple shards of a glass-like substance all around him. Sorcen smiles and fades from view once more, leaving only his grin behind as it soon too fades. The glass shards seem to collaborate and look around before finally taking off through the air at incredible speeds.
OOC: The shards are seeking out all off the diversion archers and likely Dragor himself, I'm not sure of exactly what you have set up here but Sorcen is a bit more intelligent then I and he likely knows.
The arrow fails to shatter as it shows to pass right through Sorcen's hand without causing damage... a phasing arrow of sorts.
Dragor fades into the shadows as the glass is launched, letting the decoys he had used fade into nothingness... they were made from shadow after all.
Suddenly the Phoenix finds something above him blocking his path... something gigantic. And the next thing he finds is a scythe-like limp slashing at his, threatening to cut him into halves.
"Oh there you are, it took you long enough"
"Quit complaning"
Septimus Magistos snaps his fingers and sharp shards of crystal float up around his position, glistening threateningly. They spin in a sphere of cutting destruction. While protected by this, he takes a moment to shoot a fireball at the nearest cluster of the shapes, just to see what happens.
"Kobold, you'll have to do better than that."
Siventarr tears his head free, and immediatley his head begins to heal. Soon he is his disgusting self again, hovering before Skraal. He rears up to his full eleven-foot height, towering over his foe.
"And it looks like your luck just ran out."
With an evil grin, Siventarr launches a hailstorm of sword, claw, and tail attacks at Skraal, interspersed with bites from his fangs and bashes from his metal-encased knees. Burning red flame roars into life, and sparks of negative energy crackle and hum as Siventarr's deific might begins to regenerate from the antimagic field.
"Oh, you're going down, *****!!"
Edvard skids to a halt, and his hands whip up into a magical pose. He claps them together, and funnels the stormclouds above into a massive, swirling tornado. The tornado's tip slices through the rock of the arena ground, sucking up the black blobs and tearing at them with howling winds and debris. Edvard slams the ground with an open hand, and with a rumble geysers of molten lava explode from the ground and shower the arena with molten fire. The gobbets of molten rock bounce and slide off of Edvard's ever-present pale-blue shield, as the lich casts another spell.
"It's over, bucko. No one takes away MY magic!!"
Green energy whorls around the lich like a dust devil, small motes collecting into larger orbs. The coalesce into a sword of bright green energy, and the lich brandishes the blade with all his might. Everything in the arena, including Sorcen, feels their souls get tugged towards the blade, but the effect is far worse for the black blobs. Slowly, like filings to an iron magnet, they are drawn into the blade... and destroyed forever.
OOC
If anyone really wanted to hurt Siventarr, now would be the time... He ain't a god anymore, but that's soon to change as his power regenerates. Not to say he's still badass.
BIC: Sorcen stops his teleport short when his soul is tugged, lest he be pulled into the blade as well. (Outsiders being a fusion of soul and body so the tug would effectively pull his entire body in.) His trip is stopped on the outer edge of the arena on the wall from the stands. Sorcen leaps over the wall and flys across the arena now.
Kevic nearly misses the scythe coming down at him as he accidentally dodges it in his twisting ascent. Suddenly he shifts his flight path and begins to dive, building his speed and momentum. His flames blink out to make him smaller as he ducks past Artak. The flames blink back into existence with a burst just before he slams into the ground, throwing up vast amounts of dust as he crashes through the arena floor in a firey tunneling tornado. (Continued in the Miscellaneous Areas Thread)
Jumping betwixt Siventarr and Skraal, the sorcerer-knight easily blocks all of the vampire's blows with the haft of his spear. Just as suddenly as he had come, he fades away.
"Only once, master kobold."
"Sorcen! That's just about all of the celestials - I think you owe me."
Not so Edvard's blade, for the tiny forms are indeed drawn into the blade. Curious however how for every one that enters its power, another stream of flowing power draws off of it to outside the arena...
ooc
I said there was no more magic drain aura. Didn't say they wouldn't act as power conduits to the big daddy.
Septimus searches the pockets of his robe and after a while comes up with a pea shooter and a bag full of glass beads. He then puts one of the beads into the pea shooter and fires it off. As it flies, it increases and becomes incorporear until it's about fifteen feet in diameter. Then its walls turn to solid crystal with adamantine-like hardness and the sphere crashes to the ground. Septimus Magistos lines up another shot.
forgive my late arrival lord sorcen...what is that!? xalax stares confused at the giant abomination, wile his troops charge at it and the remaining celestials
don't run into him you idiots! division 3 move to flank him! load the balistas you rats!
the army of devils fire ranged weapons and spells at the beast, trying to drive it back until the siege weapons are loaded
ooc
Out of interest is everyone shooting Loex down now? Since my own monster left about the time Edvard shot it, and it made babies.
Edvard draws his sword back, and plunges it into the crystal-creature's body. The sword flares with blinding white light, a light seen before in the arena...
OOC
So Edvard just channeled a buttload of balefire into his sword. Not enough to kill himself (again), but certainly more than enough to kill this thing and everything else within a hundred feet. Can this thing even withstand balefire? I mean, it erases stuff from history.
ooc
Nope, it can't withstand it. What it can do however is give Dadda one of the biggest power trips the arena has ever seen. The effect of balefire directly to the big daddy now... I'm not totally sure what that will do... Too many variables, even with the history clause (Such as if you remove it from time, it can theoretically return from the timeless Void it was trapped, because, due to being deleted it never released itself so is still there, being immune to wiping from history because there is no time-line to remove it from.... Sounds nearly as bad as the terminator paradox...).
BIC: Sorcen's eyes flash with a sudden emerald light, "I've found it." He smiles at Aya and closes his eyes and shimmers from view.
A cloaked werewolf-like humanoid is about to enter the Observatory, he notices the commotion on the arena floor and senses the evil. Moments later a werewolf-like creature flips deftly into the arena from who knows where. His face seems kind and wise beneath the cloak's hood. He draws a short rod from his belt and holds it threateningly at the little black beings. A green burst of energy leaps from the small rod and leaves behind a thin glowing green blade coming from the rod. He takes a stance and readies himself for combat. "I am Core, bothan jedi."
several soldier devils and a glugeon break off from the group and engage the jedi, the solders swinging hook-poles and charging
Edvard stomps his foot in mock anger, and then slaps down an antimagic field across the entire arena, with one exception. His spells and Sorcen's are unaffected. He then proceeds to chain lightning the **** out the nearest baddies.
Siventarr hurls himself out of a slingshot dive and into the dark clouds above the arena. He taps his chin with a mailed, clawed finger as he ponders the weakness of this beast. He snaps his fingers and sends half a dozen shadowy wraiths across the arena to investigate, and reaches out with his own magical senses as well.
BIC: (Continued from the Sewers.) A shriveled and nearly undead looking planatar bursts from the hole in the arena floor. The water explodes from beneath surrounds the angel as he flies high into the air. It immediately begins to rain in the arena as the angel rises so high that he disappears from view.
BIC: Core's green lightsaber flits about cutting the other blades to shreds. The bothan jedi backflips to dodge a hooked pole that got past his defense. He lands easily and leaps forward in a spiral, his energy blade whirling and darting every which way. "I am on your side." He shouts as he stops his blade at one of the devil's throat. He holds another hand out and a telekinetic force pushs another devil backwards with enough force to send him tumbling.
Alexander flicks his wrist casually, and the summoning circle once again fills with light - dim, gold light suffuses the pattern, and with a flash, a slim, elegant gentleman in a black coat appears in the center of the circle. He seems to instinctively look towards Alexander.
"What's the meaning of this? You thrice - damned summoner! I was in the middle of something!"
"Yeah, and so was I. Point is, like many people, you owe me Ender Chant." Alexander casts a meaningful glance at Sorcen. "So you can just help me out now and we're square."
OOC
Okay, so I've been a little out of it these past few pages - would any Kind Poster be willing to post a short summary of what's going on? There don't seem to be many more celestials left so...
ooc
Sure NW, The clestials are mostly dead (a planetar is fleeing, and the half-pheonix is being suckered. Literally.
Meanwhile Edvard 'destroyed' the magic draining beast, which spawned a host of little babies, which were destroyed, before fleeing. Sort of. Since several hundred more babies have just marched into the arena, the clouds are getting thicker and darker, and a jedi has appeared.
Meanwhile Edvard 'destroyed' the magic draining beast, which spawned a host of little babies, which were destroyed, before fleeing. Sort of. Since several hundred more babies have just marched into the arena, the clouds are getting thicker and darker, and a jedi has appeared.
Khael: Where should I be posting him appearing to talk to them actually, this is of course assuming the sorce is on Baator, if not then he goes to the strongest being tied to the magic-draining thing.
BIC: Sorcen sends a telepathic messege to Alexander, Of course as per our deal I will repay you. I am busy at the moment so will a lackey of mine be sufficient in my stead?
The rain turns brown and then to red tinged with a flourescent green. The planatar can be seen still but only by those with the keenest of vision. He weaves a spell high in the air but emenates celestial energies no more. He seems undead now and his spell is definitely not benign.
ooc
Yes, its on the arena grounds (I think). Specifically on the highest point it can stand on, whatever that may be, magical academy, archives, library, hence the 'I think', since I'm not even sure if the academy is on the arena...
OOC-wise, its definately in misc. area, not the arena. Even if the arena is the highest place (Because its never clever to stand in front of the guy who already blew you up, irrespecive of how effective it really was.).
That does raise a good question though... How do you magically pinpoint or communicate with a creature that drains magic the closer it gets, effectively nulling any normal attempt to directly scry or communicate it...
Okay actually it didn't raise the question, but it would make for a pretty vicious urban D&D villain if they had that power.
Dangit, I also have nothing new to respond to ICs...
OOC-wise, its definately in misc. area, not the arena. Even if the arena is the highest place (Because its never clever to stand in front of the guy who already blew you up, irrespecive of how effective it really was.).
That does raise a good question though... How do you magically pinpoint or communicate with a creature that drains magic the closer it gets, effectively nulling any normal attempt to directly scry or communicate it...
Okay actually it didn't raise the question, but it would make for a pretty vicious urban D&D villain if they had that power.
Dangit, I also have nothing new to respond to ICs...
She begins to hum a melody and then starts forcing the sound out from herself in waves making it louder. The song seems to protect and revitalize the arenas protectors at first and then towards the middle of her song the humming startes to protect the allies ears as they fight. Suddenly, Aya's eyes turn a bright red as her song turns into a piercing scream that sounds as if its from the deepest pit of pain in all layers of hell. The screaming hits the intruders like a sonic wave that weakens their defenses and stuns the weaker of them. As her scream finishes Aya steps back off the railing and her eyes return to their normal electric green. She has to steady herself on the railing as she regains her breath and goes back to watching the fight.
And a voice rings out across the entire construction, obviously magically amphified: "Anyone left over, listen up, as of the now, the entire site is under martial law, mine to be precise. Everyone retreat to the closest building, until a member of our 'special' forces comes to check on you. That is all!"
As he says this the being that spoke these words feels themself being pulled irrevocably into the arena just below the thrones and into view with no hope of fighting against this new Sorcen's much greater power.
OOC:
This is another avatar of Sorcen. Hes more powerful and more evil then the Sorcen ya'll are used to. That (Name) part is where he spoke the being that spoke in orange's name. Thats part of how powerful he is and of how he can just command the being to show itself. Fill in the blank with whatever name you have for the being, unless you wanted to go another way with this, then just explain it and we'll figure something out.
"Right on schedule," he nods to Sorcen, "Though I'm afraid that on first part you are greatly mistaken."
"Aw, hell no!"
Edvard crouches down and casts a simple spell. He jumps up, and explodes off of the ground, hurtling into the air. The lich lands gracefully on his customary invisible platform and draws a summoning circle on the ground.
"Time to tap on some favors."
The ring glows a brilliant blue, and it's magic quests through the multiverse, searching for the being Edvard wants...
BIC: The planatar in the sky falls holding its head as Aya's sonic attack reverberates throughout the area. His spell had just finished and he manages to regain flight as the sonic attack ends. His spell turned the rain coming down on the arena an electric blue color as it comes down in torrents now. Lightning streaking from droplet to droplet of the rain. Anyone struck with the rain is immediately electrified, although the airborne beings are affected significantly less then anyone touching the ground.
The bothan jedi meanwhile dodges and ducks as he attacks with lightning fast agile manuevers against the black spawn beings. The blue rain strikes him, sending small electric shocks throughout his body, making him miss a sure strike on one of the spawn. Core flips away from the mass of the fray in an attempt to be in a less crowded spot so that he can compose himself and get used to the shocking rain.
OOC: I'd say the rain is about a 60,000 volt taser if you've ever been shocked by one, enough to let you know its there and to tense your muscles enough to stop you from attacking effectively but not enough to really hurt or kill you.
"You know, you're quite rare right?"
OOC
I'm not aware of how much Sorcen knows of it yet, but the orange-speaky guy is running the reaper show. Being well... Reapers though, this doesn't mean too much, so whether Sorcen's identified that yet, or simply taken him for a spokesperson, I dunno.
Don't mistake him for being 'no more, no less' than that though, not that a being like Sorcen would, I guess.
Don't mistake him for being 'no more, no less' than that though, not that a being like Sorcen would, I guess.
Sorcen stays laid back on the arm of the throne and watches the black-clad being with a smirk. "Now what makes you think that you can declare martial law in Baator. Does your military might truly ... ha" Sorcen laughs here, "Quite sorry, I couldnt say it with a straight face."
The silver robed Sorcen appears beside the throne and stares at the other Sorcen for a moment before the red/black armored Sorcen salutes his other self nonchalantly and fades with a word of exit, "Ta"
~
Core closes his eyes and concentrates, creating an armor of invisible force around his body, the electric rain strikes the armor and lights it up an eerie blue color. The bothan jumps back into the fray as the small army surges forth. His green blade whips about in tune with his chants, "Ha, ne, ka,..." He slays many of them but still they come...
i doubt you have any such force outlander! this is but one leigion, my entire army is physically marching here, i just hope lord sorcen allows you to live to see its glory!
a pit feind and two enryeis join core in his fight, the pit feind hurling a boulder down at the creatures before landing and hurling lightning, and the enryeis fireing their flaming bows.
Artak says nonchalatly. He then starts extending another branch of his necrotic powers, those that seize control.
~
The planatar fights against the necromantic powers of Artak. His sword glows even more brilliantly with its white light. The dark lances near impact with him and he bats one of them away with his glowing sword as he propels himself backwards. He swings his sword again and bats another one from him, but he is struck with a third of the lances in his right side. He brings his sword to bear once more and smashes another lance out of the air, even as another lance sticks out of his side. He suddenly realizes just how many lances there are heading towards him.
He finally holds his arms outstretched and closes his eyes as the multitude of black lances strike him in various parts of his body. "Justice will be mine necromancer." The undead planatar says as he is consumed in the dark mass of lances protruding from his body. His body blocked from view, the mass of dark lances hangs in the air for many moments before beginning to plummet.
"As we are both lords of planes, I was simply wondering what you are going to do about this... infestation. I know what I would do, but my... methods would most likely not be acceptable to you."
My forces on the other hand have secured this facility, have successfully engaged the attackers in skirmishes and have not been ripped apart to a man!"
ooc
That last bit is definitively true, the fact his forces are undead bloodsuckers not-withstanding. The survivoring reaper of that particular fight was female. Anyone following the other thread, wondering how magic and bullets aren't so effective: Magic and bullets don't normally eat all the remains of their enemies.
~
The black mass that impaled and consumed the planatar begins to fall from the sky. Suddenly the thing explodes, presumedly from the undead planatar held inside. Black shards of the lances fly everywhere as the planatar reconstitutes himself, pulling his bluish skin back to the main body and healing the wounds as he does so. He laughs insanely at the necromancer as he fights off the pull of his powers once more.
~
Core flipss and dodges the black beams fired at him. He deflects some of them with his sabre as he dodges and manages to get himself behind cover to escape the continuous blasts of black beams.
I suppose it would be unsporting of me however not to finally respond in kind would it not?, as duel streaks of lightning descend with deadly aim for Sorcen's throne...
BIC: Sorcen waves his hand lazily and deflects the lightning about to strike him. "Who says that was me that destroyed the tower and ate him, er you." He turns to Siventarr, "That was rude dont you agree, him trying to strike us down like that."
~
The planatar grits his teeth under the pressure of Artak's control. He loses consciousness and plummets to the ground now. His soul still fighting being pulled from his body. He strikes the arena floor with a thud, smashing a few of the black beings in his fall. His soul is pulled from his body forcibly finally. The angelic soul is pulled slowly to about twenty feet above the arena before a smile stretches across his face. The souls implodes upon itself and creates a massive shockwave. The resulting shockwave is followed by an explosion of fire and force and general good energy that bursts forth from the soul.
"What would I do? Kill everything across the plane but a few individuals, then reshape the plane from it's core. Planar gates are bound to appear, but I would close all that are not beneficial to me in some way. I would have a clean slate with which to populate my realm once more. Or perhaps it should stay bare."
Siventarr flicks a finger in the direction the lightning came, and a looping bolt of blue energy streaks in that direction.
"Go home will you? you are to rare, and right now too frail, to be mixed up in this."
~
Sorcen winks and shields his throne area from the planatar's soul explosion. "Well Siventarr, I'd have to say that your method would work wonderfully but it is not my way."
Not so for those ground based, who get burnt, crushed ad blasted against the earth, as the arena wall begins to rumble, the sky over head start to pulse...
"Allow me to strike the first blow."
He brings Merikel up, and with a slight buzzing noise like static from a radio, completely vanishes from reality.
Edvard's spell resolves itself with a dull boom. The blue circle sends a pillar of cerulean light beaming into the sky like a vibrant lance. The light fades, and in the center of the circle stands a large, bronze gong hanging in thin air. Edvard stalks up to it furiously.
"Ugh! The bastard did it again!"
In a fury, he smashes the gong with his bony fist, and the instrument rumbles out a subsonic note noticable only as a deep vibration. The air around Edvard shimmers, and then a great serpentine shape bursts from the gong and into the air. Swimming through the air like water, the massive chinese dragon coils its way into the sky to float before Edvard.
"You called?"
Core was protected from the explosion behind his cover. He glances to the sky and does a doubletake as he sees the sky pulse. "Now thats certainly interesting. I cant say I signed up for all of this really but I do have a contract..."
And with that he winks out...
As a horrendous scream breaks the air from inside the arena 'town'...
ooc
Yeah, there is a reason how he just did that. He's no god himself though.
The thought storms through the Arena, overwhelming minds in a crashing wave of psychic torment. Some of the Baatorians can't stand it, and blood bursts from their faces in torrents as their minds literally disintegrate inside their skulls. Others curl into pathetic fetal positions, moaning and gibbering. Even the most stalwart can do nothing more than weep and pray to whatever they hold dear under the awesome might of the force that seizes them. And on top of this, more thoughts enter the chorus, a torrent of words and images and emotions that slaughters even more of the crowd where they sit, turning their bodies into dessicated husks and painting the stands with their blood.
helpwontyouhelpicanfeelititshereicantstopicantstopiwannastopwontyouhelpicantstopyoulldieicantstopicantstopican'tstopICANTSTOP!
HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!
The last psychic scream kills more by the thousands, devastating the buildings, and a small portal opens in front of the judge stands. Through it, the limp body of a small girl tumbles out, with slender, pointed ears and scorched feathered wings. Her clothing is tattered and gray with age and mistreatment, and her body is covered with lacerations, bruises, and wounds of all stripes. At least her left arm is broken.
Help me...
ooc
Just so you know, theres aren't any thousands to kill. For one there no crowd, for another the only things of numbers present are Xalax's army, who are only now reaching the arena, so you amy want to use those as the targets
.
The only other things who aren't arena warriors, present are also probably going to enjoy those feelings, assuming they're even capable of feeling them.
.
The only other things who aren't arena warriors, present are also probably going to enjoy those feelings, assuming they're even capable of feeling them.
OOC
It's not a targeted effect - that's a psychic scream of pain that simply surges over anything and everything it comes across. Anyone who A. Lives and B. Has psionic talent can recognize that it's a scream of pain, likely extracted by tortures best left nameless.
BIC: Sorcen winks and sends out a sort of mental block that spreads across all of his allies, shielding them from the psychic scream that terrorized them momentarily. This sudden block saves the countless lives that could have been lost, although a few do fall to the horrific death caused by the psychic torment raging throughout their minds. Even many of the ones shielded from the scream are rendered mentally scarred from their ordeal.
~
Core leaps from behind his cover, flipping and twirling through the air and descending upon the army with his green lightsabre blade slicing its way through the enemies. The jedi lands after a slash of his sabre. He waves his hand and sends a wave of force at the enemy, toppling many of them and sending them rolling across the arena floor.
Retconning
Sorry, just thought I'd stick this in a spoiler so as not to get in the way - this should have happened a few posts ago, but meh.
Alexander takes a moment to think over Sorcen's offer - Hmm...do I insist on a deity to answer any of my summons...or settle for something less? Decisions decisions.
Very well, a servent of yours will due. I'll speak with him later.
Ender Chant uses the momentary distraction to vanish - "Just count me as owing double, boy."
Alexander takes a moment to think over Sorcen's offer - Hmm...do I insist on a deity to answer any of my summons...or settle for something less? Decisions decisions.
Very well, a servent of yours will due. I'll speak with him later.
Ender Chant uses the momentary distraction to vanish - "Just count me as owing double, boy."
in the arena a colossal devil worm bursts from the ground, it appears to have the scales of a red dragon, and wings are folded flat on its back. it has a spiked collar made of black dragon leather, with the word "lucy" written on it in glowing letters.
"The Lord of Pollution sends his respects. And me. I don't know or care why."
He then proceeds to draw two awful-looking swords and slams full-tilt into anyone who doesn't look like they belong in the arena with a whirlwind attack.
BY order of THE NINE i am placing you, xalax under arest
The little girl, still obviously unconscious with her head slumped onto her chest, staggers jerkily onto the field of combat, as though controlled by puppet strings. There's something wrong with the air around her, a distortion not seen with the eyes but felt with the mind, and a thought rings out to the enemies of Baator.
No man is an Island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.
True to her word, the mornful tone of funeral bells fills the air, each phantom ring sending rippling cracks into the air, black gashes in reality that form an intricate fractal web in the air over Baator, and a the bells reach a crescendo.
The bells are tolling.
The cracks shatter, and pure thought blasts down, sweeping all into chaos.
And into this storm of thought, feeling. Cold misery chokes the field as a persistant mist shrouds it, refusing to be swept away by the psychic barrage - in its midst, the Harbinger.
"You weak-minded fools cost me a soul," he intones with chilling anger, stabbing a wounded foe with his longsword, the blade greedily devouring the essence of its victim, "And a powerful one at that. I am not pleased."
The Murk that surrounds him expands, devouring the open air as fast as it can, choking the air with misery and woe.
A vivid, electric-blue clock face manifests with a crack-thoom near Sorcen, the dials spinning with incredible speed until the huge energy clock becomes a gate. Through it, a hail of golden bullets slams into the melee with precision. Prayers to a god unknown in this universe on their lips, men in golden plate mail that whirrs with technology charge through, unsheathing longswords that glow with holy energy and tearing into the celestials. More bullets follow through the gate with the distinctice snap sound of pistols, and a slightly older, more mature Tyler follows, anger etched onto his face as he uses both Glocks with precision and method.
"The Inquisition has arrived, mother-f***ers!" he yells out, voice furious, "Lord Sorcen, Jahova Almighty sends his warriors in appreciation for the favors you've done him and I in the past."
The gate shuts, leaving a few who are not confused to wonder where Inaya is - only to see her already in the thick of battle, dancing through enemies in a spray of blood, heading towards the limp girl whose thoughts even now devastate the field.
Inaya Elrissa Vici has eyes for nothing but her child as she cuts her way forward. Foes fall around her without conscious thought, each and every motion carried out instinctively, not a single step taken that does not bring the dervish closer to her goal. Her clothes have long since been coated in the blood of her enemies, and her beautiful face has aged several years, but these things serve only to make her more terrible. Foes back away in awe, only to be torn apart by the scything blade. Inaya has no time for games.
A celestial pauses on the battlefield, glancing at the unconscious child before it. Its eyes light up with delight, and it raises its hands, a flaming sword burning within them.
"SERAPHINA!"
Distracted, the being turns...and collapses to the ground, blood pouring from its mouth in torrents.
Inaya pulls her scimitar from the outsider's chest and steps forward, leaving the lifeless body to topple to the ground behind her. Sheathing her scimitar, she bends down and lifts the child up, cradling the small form against her breast.
[color=blue]"GERARD! TO ME!"[/color]
A tall, sturdily built man in golden plate armor comes jogging over, sword at the ready.
"Milady?"
"At my side, Gerard. We have to get her out of here."
With that, Inaya surges forward, dancing past every sweeping blade as she and Gerard forge their way back into the ranks of the Inquisition.
Seraphina looks up, past her mother's shoulder, and the tolling of the bells turns to a brazen alarum, shredding several celestials with the intense change.
Father and Kivi are in trouble!
"Heretic!" the angel spits as Tyler narrowly sidesteps the flaming blade, "How dare you misuse holy power in such a fashion!"
Tyler's hands snap down to holster his guns as the daemon magus ducks another vicious blow, red eyes calm and collected. He steps back away from another blow, drawing a sacrificial blade from his sleeve to parry the next blow with a ringing scrape of steel on steel.
"You know," Tyler says idly, "I'm not so sure on the whole holy/unholy thing over here, since none of you happen to belong to my god, who happens to be the only god where I come from. Since he gave me full and enthusiastic permission to kill you, I'm going to say that you've got nothing to complain about."
The angel responds with a snarl, ripping into a series of attacks that forces Tyler on the defensive, without even time to bark out a spell.
"Sweetheart," he calls out calmly over the field, "Whenever you're done saving the flesh of our flesh, I could use my guitar."
The laughter of an insane beast triumphant, and it is a laughter that tells a story...
She beats the boy down over the cliff, and stands aghast over her "bump"actions, as others leer over her, unseen and newly formed into the world, their existances valued by this first act of protection and wrath, as another rises about the girl, as the rest of the village comes to see, the girl with her bloodied mask in hand.
As she runs anoba-dmther speaks in her head, born of need and blood, it talks of protection and care...
As they comes with crys of 'murderer', and 'killer' on their lips so does she with the mask of her protector as it feeds on their flesh, their blood was so warm...
As they walks"Ba-dum though the husk of another vilage, it inhabitats devoured, the winter setting in, he steps out, rising forth an orb of gold as he casts them to the world of evil...
It lies in pain as its is rended apart in death, as many tiny blots rise among it and her, the blooded mask in hand as the need gives birth once more, and it is reforged in the world...
They offer service, to it,"ba-dump" their elder, as though to a god, offering blood sacrifice to state its thirst as it grows ever bloated on its throne of their whelpling bones,"Badumpa" charging over head on their wings to throw down mortals and one another...
As it grows it"Badumpa-bump" becomes ever hungrier, reaching out claws of endless darkness as it grasps and devours the sun, casting its evil world into darkness...
It's orders were "Badumpabumpadump"simple, to lay claim to all worlds, to feed it, to grow it, and twice they were only jutBadumpadumpdumpa" beaten back, until on the third did it walk amongst them, and did the world die thar day, but for its fellows, born of all, who cast it out. For"Badumpa" Hunger could not feed on it, Hate could not destroy its brother, even the four"Badumpa" could not destroy it, anchored by old magic that bound them "Badumpa"as did it, and so they cast it, the mighty lord of the pit they had crafted, elder and greater than any evil ever conceived, lord of all, which they called Oblivion of Sin, out into the darkness where there is no"Badumpa" darkness, "Badumpa"where it lay, sacrificing itself for her, until someone showed it the door, another gave it the key, "Badumpa"and now I "Badumpa"WILL "Badumpadumpa"OPEN"badumpadumpa" THE DOOR!!
and on the last word, the sky did shatter to reveal nothing.
Nothing obscured only by Hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands of black blots tiny in view as though seen from miles away, but coming ever closer as the arena shakes and the laughter continues.
occ
So now you know (*looks about to see if a GI Joe pops in, but is disappointed*. Anyone wondering about some of its claims there... No, its not a Primal. It just thinks it is, or at least a very close relation, and no-one ever 1) tells an egomaniacal killing machine that eaten a sun they're wrong, or 2) gives a non-Primal the Primal handbook of stuff that helps you tell if you are or aren't a Primal. Go figure.
It is however old. As old as most Primals, or at the least only slightly younger than the forms they use. Important note in that lot there, you've(or rather you're characters) have got the building blocks of its only permanent weakness layed out.
And no, casting it into the void isn't a weakness. Thats likes declaring a nuke is the weakness of Joe Average.
And if anyone does every try to actually a make a Primal of Sin, not only have I beaten you to it, but it won't work.
It is however old. As old as most Primals, or at the least only slightly younger than the forms they use. Important note in that lot there, you've(or rather you're characters) have got the building blocks of its only permanent weakness layed out.
And no, casting it into the void isn't a weakness. Thats likes declaring a nuke is the weakness of Joe Average.
And if anyone does every try to actually a make a Primal of Sin, not only have I beaten you to it, but it won't work.
"Seraphina Ignatia Vici, you are a four-year-old girl! A battlefield is no place for you, regardless of who needs help. Now, your father and I have things to attend to. STAY HERE. And if anything threatens you, destroy it!"
With that she reaches back, checking that Despair is still strapped to her back. Assured that it is she bends down and gently kisses the child's forehead.
"Mother will be back soon."
A second later she is gone, visible only by the trail of broken angels she leaves behind.
As his foe presses forward, a quiet melody drifts over the wind, and Tyler grins into his enemies face. A second later the angel's eyes go wide with shock and it fall back, a silver dagger 'twixt its eyes.
Before the body hits the ground Inaya arrives at her husband's side.
"Sorry about stealing that one from you, Ty. I just never feel comfortable seeing something about to maul you."
She grins at him.
"Seraphina's safe...or, rather, as safe as she can be here. We really need to keep a better eye on her. That girl..."
"Anyway, enough chatter. Here!"
Despair sails through the air and into the waiting grasp of the Daemon Magus.
"A little something for you. Hey...Remember that battle here? Back...oh...four years ago, wasn't it? How 'bout we give them a little encore?"
He turns to the being assaulting Xalax and his troops. "What has happened Xalax, I thought you were in good standing?"
While still listening for the answer, Sorcen waves to Tyler and Inaya and sends his mental greeting to them. Hello old friends, how have you fared since I've last seen you. Thank you for your help as well.
At this Sorcen glances to the sky and grins before turning his attention back to Xalax.
consorting with those who threaten the power of the nine
the man-thing leaps as xalax reaches for his hammer. he lands near xalax nonchalantly swiping at xalax's knee, breaking it instantly. the man grabs xalax as he is falling and teleports away
what is going on? lord sorcen, with respect, what in the hells are you doing? (he continues to babble until int interupted)
It's not fair, Gerard. I can help as much as anyone.
From within her ring of Inquisitors, Seraphina is doing quite more than destroying anything that threatens her, disintegrating anything hostile that remotely catches her eye with one withering glare. Another sound is beginning to appear, weaving into her father's music, bolstering it and spreading it to Sorcen's allies until even the lowliest devil attacks with more fury and strength than the hordes of the Abyss.
And with that, Inaya closes her eyes...
[center]*****[/center]
[color=blue]The music rises around me--[/color]Let the bodies hit the floor--pulls me forward, entwining me in its raw and terrible power--Let the bodies hit the floor--and holds me there, engulfed in an ocean of violence and feral rage. Here we go...Here we go...Here we go[i]--They have no idea what they are about to face.[/i]
[center]*****[/center]
The dancer's eyes spring open as her blade clears its scabbard in one fluid motion, and she crouches low, her eyes burning with battle lust.
"One - Nothing wrong with me...
Two - Nothing wrong with me...
Three - Nothing wrong with me...
Four - Nothing wrong with me...
One - Something's got to give...
Two - Something's got to give...
Three - Something's got to give..."
"NOW!"
A golden flash cuts through the air, and Inaya lands catlike amongst the celestials, her blade moving like lightning as the music seizes every atom of her being.
"Let the bodies hit the floor..."
Inaya grins wickedly, her eyes burning with a frenzy beyond imagining...
"Let the bodies hit the floor..."
Angels press in, wave after wave, until the dancer is lost to sight within the heavenly legions...
"Let the bodies hit the floor..."
The blade flickers and dances, blood trailing from its lethal tip...
"LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR!"
"The floor...The floor...The floor...The floor..."
The last Deva falls slowly backwards, its head rolling away into the dust. Inaya stands alone in a circle of fallen angels, blood falling from her silver blade to pool on the ground beneath her.
For every death you bring, it shall be repayed ten fold,
For every ounce of power you bring to bear, my power shall too grow,
I cannot be defeated again, nor will I so mark this day, for it is your last..."
As the beast speaks the floor of the arena begins to crumble from the centre in, as black forms claw their way thought he ever expanding hole, as the first of their brethren reach the arena, beams of spearing darkness blasting from above, as below a reedy echo start to play...
As the reapers fall despite their powers of healing and strength, their general raises his hands to the sky, in supplication, as great spars of bone fall in responce, impaling reaper and foes alike, the reapers tearing themselves free to attack the wounded, as those devils bitten previously start to fall over...
Inaya stands electrified, her skin coursing with crackling yellow energy. And then she is gone, as if she had never been.
A second later she appears again, high in the air, her blade seeking out the blots of darkness that encroach the battlefield. It is as if the intervening space meant nothing, as if she had somehow re-written the universal laws coded into the universe itself...
Another Inaya appears, and then another, each slightly blurry, slightly pixelated, strobing in and out in stop-motion. No strikes are seen...the dancers simply appear to flash through their opponents, who split behind them. Soon thousands of Inayas cover the arena, each flickering from place to place in their deadly dance.
As the music slowly fades away they begin to vanish, until all to soon only one is left, standing next to Tyler, her face radiant.
"That one was very unique, Ty. Now I know what your laptop feels like..."
Coin's voice dies away, leaving the entire plane of Baator ringing.
Sorcen begins to send orders out all over the arena. Entire armies of his troops gather in strange formations before Sorcen waves his hand and makes them disappear.
~
Core hears the alarm and stares confused for a moment. "To the tavern I suppose." The jedi ducks away from the battle and makes his way to the Taverne Cycine, which strangely enough seems to be shutting down.
----
a small airship appears out of a gate and lands down by a exit from the sewers. a team of mercenary's of various races create a perimeter around the ship and spell turrets activate on the hull
The kender speaks to him in a child-like voice, "Oo what happened, I bet it hurts, does it hurt, want some water? My names Spitrazin Straightfoot, whats yours?" The pit fiend opens its eyes and stares at the small kender. "Ugghh."
"Hmm that sounds close to a yes." The kender dives into his pockets and pack on his back and somehow produces a flask. He unscrews the top and pours some into the open mouth of the pit fiend, who promptly coughs as the water chokes him at first. The pit fiend seems revitalized as he drinks the liquid. The kender pulls the flask away as the fiend begins to sit up, "You know thats whiskey not water dont you?" The kender shrugs and sniffs it, "Gets the job done, the pointy hat lady did the spelly stuff to it."
The pit fiend pulls himself to his feet and nods a thanks to the kender before rejoining the battle. The kender smiles happily and walks back across the battlefield, this time he bypasses a fallen devil to instead pick up a shiny ring that was apparently dropped to the ground. "Hmm shiny, I'll have to find whoever dropped this, wont they be so happy to be reunited with it."
As from the maw of the nothing come great winged things, far more awesome in size than the black specks, as they call out in the keening call of raptors, though no such bird should ever have existed like this...
well...sorcen's pit, i think ill have a snack before i meet him
The fools that stay behind are comprised of a pit fiend carrying a warhammer, a planatar member of the audience, a bone devil officer, and a marilith wielding no visible weapons but possessed of considerable attitude (think Jerry Springer angry strong black woman 'oh no you didnt just interrupt me' type of attitude).
OOC: Sorry I got a bit carried away with that. Feel free to kill them as you wish. You may either handle the fights for them or I can, whatever you decide Lunoc. And posting this here is fine for now.
ooc: sorcen, you can controll the others.
The bone devil whispers a word and begins to float in the air. As he sees the marilith charge in anger, he shouts to nobody in particular with a throaty cackle.
"Must be that time of the month." (Sorry I had to for comedic value, if its offensive to anyone I'll remove it.)
With that said he flies after the clouds, aiming for the green-white one first. "This'll fetch me a few bucks."
The bone devil glances down and is stunned in fear as well. He shakes his head and focuses on getting the soul in front of him.
legion roars in outrage as he hurls his sword through the air at the bone devil
your master, where is he?
"My master? For one, thats none of your business. And what would be considered my master is in the abyss thinking I'm on vacation." As she says this she rises and waves puts her hands on her hips, waving a finger at the massive man in strange zigzag patterns and moving her head around. (Again similar to the Jerry Springer type of women.)
legion turns, looks into the sky and roars
anenooata! i summon you
At Legion's call, a voice sounds in his head. The voice seems preoccupied and nonchalant. Who summons the lord Sorcen and what is it you need sir?
legion seems to be forcing the last words, and is obviosly lying
"Thank you for this warning Sir. What do you seek in return for your information and your services to me?" Sorcen smirks as he says this, hinting that he detected the lie.
sorcen can probably detect a being trying to sneak up behind him, even if it didnt give off a nauseating aura. legion feels the creatures presence, his eyes sudenly turn crimson and his face becomes a snarl. a man-sized creature of unnatural strength tries to takle sorcen wile he isnt looking
"This wouldnt be one of those you are responsible for would it?"
legion looks down at the creature with disgust.
mob
the creature raises its head and smiles with long sharp teeth. it speaks in a mocking tone
legion, what an honor.
legion strikes the man with the back of his hand
how many more mobs are there? where were they created?
legion picks the mob up by the neck
your time is over legion, once asemodus is victorious, all will fall under him, and the mobs shall consume the mortal wor-
legion releases the mob and cleaves him in half with his sword before he can finish.
i once destroyed them, their deaths brought into being this era. the fledgling gods promised to lock the secrets of creating them away as payment i was to kill all of them, every last one. it appears, i must do this again.
legion's sword evaporates and he turns away from the mob.
i will assist you, but i will require accomidations.
OOC: If you wanted to end this now we could have Sorcen and Legion walk off and fade away, presumably talking about Asmodeus's pending invasion and showing Legion where his quarters will be.
are you sure he is coming lunoc?
an old oreintal man with a long beard and a shaved head meditates near the wall
lunoc grinns
of all people, master, you should know the virtue of patience. he will come
the old man takes out a clay jug from his pack and drinks from it
true, but i prefer being patient in the tavern
He bows as they turn and notice he is there. "So a training match it is, friend Lunoc?"
lunoc crouches down. he holds the shaft of the spear acros his shoulders, holding his other hand in front of him, claws showing.
A grin spreads across his face and he nods to Lunoc. "Of course." The chain suddenly whips out, attempting to strike at Lunoc's spear.
"So how do I change this weapon to its higher forms?" The rat-man calls out to Lunoc as he readies his stance for another attack.
the second form is more personal, focus on somthing that gives your soul power. I use the hunt.
as he says this, two translucent cresent blades appear in lunoc's hands. he leaps through the air and lands a few yards away from smoke, facing his side.
BIC: Smoke nows and closes his eyes. He snaps his wrist, making his chain blade whip in the air. His ears twitch and he has them trained on Lunoc in case of an attack. On the third crack of the chain blade, the weapon glows blue once more and its shape changes as it descends through the air, cutting the air itself as it moves faster then sound.
At the lowest depth of the weapon's descent it materializes itself as an urumi, a long thin and flexible razor sharp blade. The rat man opens his eyes and looks over his new blade while his ears still keep track of Lunoc. "The feast."
OOC: Feast is definitely important to a rat's life.
lunoc asumes his attack stance. he lowers his head, raises his shoulders and starts to slowly circle smoke, turning his body but not his head.
(i got lunoc's style after watching vidios of wolves fighting and hunting stationary opponents)
Smoke glances at his leg but keeps an ear on Lunoc. "Nice shot, what about the 3rd stage of the weapon?"
i have not perfected the tecnique yet, to create the masters weapon, you need to know what is truly in the heart of your soul. i havent tracked it yet.
mian gou stands
i can show you
the old spirit seems tired, his beard scruffy, his clothes dirty. in a flash he has assumed a fighting stance. an elogant, faintly humming jian sword of jade, in his hands. his appearance has altered as well, he wears blue and white robes and is clean again.
he slashes the air in a complex pattern. when he does, it creates a breeze. the slight breeze grows quickly, soon becoming equal to gale force winds covering the whole arena. the spirit simply stands and waits.
He turns his gaze to Mian Gou in his new glory now. "Wow, please do share Master Mian Gou."
"I'm not sure I still qualify as mortal since my rise in power, perhaps I have a chance at mastering this blade. So focus on the heart of my soul and its aspect right?" Smoke closes his eyes in concentration. Several moments pass as he concentrates.
"Hmm, here goes then." He says finally. Smoke's fur seems to stand on end and a slight darkness gathers around him in the form of a tiny localized storm complete with lightning, thunder, fog and rain. The urumi flashes a glowing blue for a moment but it seems to strain Smoke too much and he falls to his knees, sweating a bit. The storm immediately dissipates and the sword reverts back to the chain blade first form.
lunoc canges directions rapidly. and seems to run past smoke, but if it connected smoke's side recives a powerfull, precise blow below his ribs
Physically, Smoke flicks his wrist upward, sending the urumi in the same direction to intercept Lunoc's path of attack.
BIC: Smoke backlashes his urumi's flexible blade and flips sideways to avoid the damwulf's attacks. The rat man swings his tail as spins, hoping to slap Lunoc with it.
good, i think thats enough for now
mian approches smoke
i will soon be departing to the plane of mortals, lunoc as well, you are welcome to come with us. there are odd and violent beings appearing. i belive that "legion" creature you encountered is involved somehow.
"There is far more where that came from, but I must say you're doing well for a human, most humans would've gone totally nuts some time ago... not that it'll help you much."
Then he takes up combat stance and redies for an eventual assault.
Suddenly he was gone from his original position, and instead he had appeared just behind Jason, and the razor sharp claws that he had grown in the blink of an eye were soon speeding at Jason's spine.
just a few inches to the left, and i wouldent be standing here. its amazing, a creature such as yourself is a danger to everything it is near, i underestimated what you are. but you made a mistake.
"That was varely nothing, but of course you were closely off'd. after all you are merely a human."
"Mistake? bah! It was no mistake to let him have that liquid. Even if it gives him some sway over my flesh and organs I can do easily without that too, as long as my skeleton remains intact I work, and he can't take out the crossform, that thing can survive a trip into a black hole."
Jack's thought are carefully concealed, making even metasphere sensitive people have a hard time reading them or seeing the memory.
Then he steps calmly closer to his opponent, seemingly relaxed, but on his guard.
jasons bleeding has already stopped, his wound has healed.
i will find a way to kill you monster, and you have given me the means.
jason raises his hands at jack
dozens of invisible blows impact on jack from all sides with incredible force.
(corpumancer special ability, if he posseses a peice of a creatures body, all of his spells are magnified incredibly high. that evens the playing field. also, i think these characters make an interesting machup, with jasons specialty and jacks strange biology)
And wether it kills him or not depends... if that attack almost killed him then Jack doesn't need to pull out much more firepower to turn him to cinders... unless Jason can regenerate from death.))
Jack simply activate his defensive field and stands tall, toughing out the rain of blows.
Then he teleports once again, this time to a position just between Jason's arms. Jack drive his own upwards with inhuman speed, and at the same the energy field around them shapes into razor sharp blades, drivinf forth with more than necessary force to cut off both of Jason's arms.
(jason would have been killed by that attack if it had hit him then but not now)
jason reacts before jack reapears, so his claws fall several inches short of jasons arms. jason, ducking out of the way, stabs a needle into jack
Netiher was he surprised at Jason's sudden increase in capability against Jack, for Jack did know how corpudude abilities works.
The field prevented the enterance of the needle quite effectively, that was what it was for after all, and the sharpening technology here was pathetic.
He toughed out the blows and kicked a knee-kick at Jason's face, at the same time as his right arm with the razor edge on the inside came swinging in from above.
((the crossform is his ressurection machine basically. A fitting of organic nanomachinery that forms a cluster the size of a fist and shaped like a cross. It serves a number of purposes, but the main one is the ressurect it's bearer. None of the purposes are relevant inside of combat.))
(it has the strenght to do so, destroying itsel if nessisary)
Then he redecided and upened his forcefield for just long enough to release the energy in the shape of radiation... and a lot of it.
In the brief flash Jason could see a black creature, shaped and sized like a human skeleton, but with razor sharp edges on all bones on the in and outsides, long vicious claws, and rows and rows of sharp teeth. Then the force field returns, but fitted for the skeleton now, meaning that it just appears as if the skeleton turned silver.
jason downs several poitions and when he finishes he falls on the ground, looking at jack.
neither of us
jason falls into a fit of coughing
are going to leave this arena alive
Out of thin air Jack grabs a rifle about the size of his own torso and aims it at Jason. Then he pulls the trigger 3 times in rapid succession. The result is a hellish spray of needles hitting hard enough to pass through a 2 foot wall of adamantine and be deathly when it had gotten thought. and pulverize the wall in the process.
the needles tear into jason, he simply stands unmoving. they fly through him almost instantly. his flesh is torn, but he seems to be unaware of his wounds, he did not even flinch as the needles hit him.
his eyes are glazed over, filled with a look of dull hate more than jason's inteligent, calculating gaze
This time it was a square net with a metal orb in each corner. The wires in the net were monowire, capable of cutting apart even a star destroyer. Normally a favored application for a trap. In this case a direct hit from the net would carve just about anything up into ½ inch * ½ inch cubes.
"Your move, milady," he says in a friendly manner.
Shethila bows to Tyler, wings spread, in a sign of deepest respect. after she rises from the bow she strips off all of her beaded clothing, until she stands completely naked before Tyler. “Whatever weapons you wish to use are yours to use, but as is custom the battle will be fought without armor of any kind. My clothing was armored as well as decorational, a pack leader can never be too cautious.”
Shethila stands still for a moment, looking across the twenty feet or so between herself and the human. without warning of any kind she leaps forward with a primal roar, running. at the last moment she dodges to the side and snaps her wings open, and this is all Tyler is able to see as blackness darker then the darkest night envelopes the Arena. he can hear a deep chuckle from somewhere above him, as if Shethila is thoroughly enjoying herself.
"IGNIS DAEMONIA!"
A wave of hellfire erupts from Tyler, a fireball of darkness and heat that tears through the shadows around it. The Daemon Magus begins moving, slinging his guitar back over his spine as he does and pulling his pistols.
Shethila hears his slight movement as he turns to listen, the rustle of his clothing, the creak of the leather of his belt as he shifts position, the slight clinking of the tiny metal pieces on his clothing. With a smile that can’t be seen Shethila silently glides down behind him and slams into his back, biting deeply into his shoulder and sucking the blood from the wound to give herself strength. at the same time she flaps her wings to off-balance him and wraps her tail around his legs to try and trip him up.
The Daemon Magus falls over and, with surprising agility, rolls on top of Shethila. He slams his elbow into her ribcage to free his arm and places his Glock against her leg before firing.
"GET OFF!"
Shethila limps on all fours and leaps into the air again, trusting to her wings. in the dim light she sees better than any human ever could, and she finds Tyler quickly, her eyes focus on the strange thing in his hand, knowing that that thing was the source of her wounded leg, and wanting to be sure that it will not hurt her again.
Tyler Vici is bleeding.
"Let's shed a little light on the situation, shall we?" he says into the dark. "Invocari illuminatus."
The darkness is stripped away by a bright explosion of light. In the momentary revelation, Tyler turns and sees his opponent. His free hand pulls his second pistol and he squeezes off two rounds, aiming for Shethila's shoulders, before rolling away to try and dodge her inevitable counterattack.
As it hits the floor of the Arena the ground starts to buck and heave. Sharp spires of rock start to thrust out of the ground and rise higher. Shethila throws herself at one and sinks her claws into the stone, riding the crag as it rises towards the sky. within moments there is a rocky, ragged hill rolling up out of the Arena, with more hiding places than any natural mountainous area would have. Shethila finds her way along the side of the spire she is hanging to and finds a cave entrance, without waiting she scrambles into it and runs deeper into the cave, into blessed blackness. traversing a maze of tunnels that she designed, knowing exactly where she is and where she is going.
"Ignis invocari daemonia," the mage mutters very, very quietly.
The wall explodes very, very loudly, sending rock into the passage on the other side and shaking the entire hill.
"Come out, come out," Tyler says in a friendly tone. "The faster we finish this, the faster we can get drinks and healing at Cycine's!"
she stops at a fork in the path, listening, left, right, and then left again brought her to a corner, around which she would find Tyler Vici. she throws the first of her charms around the corner, and then the second. Ice begins to form in the tunnels and wind begins to blow, whipping snow and ice through the air in the tunnels and out into the Arena. the caves, and soon the Arena, are as cold as a mountaintop in late winter and a snowstorm is forming, blowing through the caves. she then jumps around the corner and throws both of her stones at Tyler. the first one explodes in a shower of ice shards that move in every direction, tearing into the stone and ice, and the second temporarily melts all the ice around it for four feet in any direction before re-freezing it around anything that happened to sink into the water.
"Clever," he laughs before raising one of his hands. Shethila can make out a draconic head seem to lift itself off of it, white like the wings and tiny. It opens its mouth and a huge gust of freezing wind and shards of ice rip out, the breath of a true White Wyrm.
"Meet Kivi," Tyler says while his free hand grabs a pistol, intending to shoot himself free.
Shethila pulls her claws back to rake again, and the wings slam outward, slapping her with a sudden wing buffet before retreating back into Tyler's spine. This sudden strike is followed by fist and feet as the Daemon Magus strikes out with knuckle-spikes and steel-toed boots rimmed in the black energy of a curse.
OOC
The boots and gloves are rimmed in a curse that saps physical strength if they touch someone.
As the shaking stops Shethila spreads her arms and wings and drops into the chasm, letting herself fall gracefully into the opening as it beings to drift closed. The rock and dirt close over her body and all is silent for a few moments as everything slides back to the way it was before the charm was activated.
Ignis invocari daemonia kratha vei menthara LOK!"
The wall doesn't explode.
The whole cave does.
A much-bruised, bleeding, Tyler stands up from a pile of rubble. His ankle is broken and he has a splitting migrane headache, but he's alive - mostly because his own spells have a hard time hurting him.
"You there?" he asks groggily. "I think I overdid that one..."
Without warning a shower of rock and dirt explodes overhead Tyler, Shethila sweeps up behind him and clamps her claws around his legs and arms, flapping heavily, lifting both of them into the air above them, flying fast and high.
“Do you want to just pretend I dropped you and you died?” She asks in a light-hearted tone as they soar nearly two hundred feet above the ground.
Tyler bursts into demonic fire, the heat instant and unbearable. As he drops, the ragged wings burst from his back again, slowing his fall and letting him hit the ground with only excruciating pain in his ankle.
"Ira invocari terra!"
The stones raise themselves from the earth and streak through the air, flying at Shethila.
“This is embarrassing, I am no kit learning flight to keep falling.” The cold and icy wind helps to sooth her skin as she backwings and lands gingerly, she stands on all fours, keeping weight of her gunshot leg. silvery-blue blood oozes from her leg and freezes around the wound, slowing her blood loss. her left side is battered and large black bruises can barely be seen against her navy-blue skin.
“You are a worthy Fighter Tyler, your unique set of skills is perfectly set for fighting the Nolisian peoples.” Shethila complements him, her vision has cleared enough to make out his outline, enough to see movement, if not details.
Darkness falls over them again, not as complete as before, but enough to be near-blind for a human. “Now we are on equal footing.” she comments as she beings to move again, allowing the wind to slide under her wings and help her move more quickly with her injured leg.
Tyler lifts his good foot, wincing the whole time, and groans out, "Terra firma!"
He stomps his foot back down and a wave of solid rock comes at the Nolisian, bearing down like the fist of an angry god. In the meantime, Tyler is scrabbling in the rubble, trying to find his guns.
OOC
Double post, nothing to see here
She slams into Tyler’s back ,forcing him facedown onto the rock and rubble as she bites into his shoulder again, this time thirsting for more than his blood. she lifts her head as she bites and begins to tear chunks of his flesh out of his shoulders and arms. If he can’t use the hands, he cannot use the weapons of thunder.
"Daemon invocari metamophae!"
The blood slithers unaturally for a moment, then hardens into razor-sharp spines that pierce upward, ripping into Shethila's arms and legs and shoulders, leaving her torso alone so that it does not kill her. The Daemon Magus throws himself back, using her precarious balance to roll backwards (causing the spines to pierce deeper) and get unsteadily to his feet. His eyes are glazed with pain and he is swaying dangerously, but his entire body is covered in the deadly spikes, and his knife is in hand.
"Ready," he coughs out, spitting blood onto the ground, "to give up?"
Shethila is not accustomed to loosing, and she is not about to give up.
Shethila feels a tail wrap itself around her neck and rip her from Tyler's back. She gets a glimpse of a large, muscular tail with white scales before she's slammed against the ground and thrown. Tyler gets up, his shoulder muscles peeled back down to the bone. The bloody spines are rimmed with fire.
"That," he says painfully, "was rude. But not as rude as this."
He concentrates, and the spines burst off of his body in a deadly barrage.
Unseen (for the moment) behind his attack, Tyler falls down on his ass.
Nolisian skin might be hard to tear or puncture, but once ripped, the rip would continue unchecked. more than once a Nolisian had died because a wound was not tended immediately.
"Get her..get her in the Taverne..."
And he goes limping off as the imps carry her.
"Gotta get ready."
He then sits down with his legs crossed and pulls out a short sword. He begins muttering. Though most of his speech is apparently hidden, a few snatches escape into the crowd's ears.
"...For my father and his father and his father and so on, drunken, murdering bastards all of them..."
"...And to make the goblin race achieve its full potential, whether or not it wants to. I'll drag the lot of them to victory kicking and screaming if I have to. And they can kick and scream too, I suppose..."
"...In the name of every goblin, deserving or undeserving, just as long as they're goblins..."
Something is clearly happening. Or it's going to, anyway. Everyone can feel that.
"...I do so accept my self-imposed duty and as the Champion of Goblinkind request that goblins learn of my battle."
With that he tears off his cape and lets it float into the breeze. This reveals that he is wearing armor-but a very strange one. It seems partly chain, partly studded, partly plate. Partly metal, partly bone, partly wood, partly leather. It's difficult to see how the pieces fit together, but it seems to suit Ron. On his arm is a small metal shield, almost a buckler. The sword blazes red in his hand as he raises it up to the sky.
More impressive, however, is what's going on behind him. The arena walls are forced open and the buildings throughout Baator rearrange themselves to allow access to a large field. Through that field marches an endless stream of goblins. Some are familiar, others less so. There are green goblins larger than usual. Red goblins with oversized feet and aggression in their eyes. Monstrocities that only qualify as goblins by a very loose definition. Small grinning goblins riding mechanical contraptions. Black-skinned goblins covered in skulls. It seems as if there are goblins from every word here. As if every race that chooses to call itself 'goblins' sent representatives. It is an army so large it could easily conquer the arena, if only by drowning it in goblin blood; yet it all somehow seems to fit into a field. At the front of the crowd are several creatures that appear to be the various goblin gods, enormous and powerful.
Ron stares at the sight in confusion.
"Wow, didn't expect that. Must be a lot of loose magic in this place. Ah, well!"
Ron raises his sword again and suddenly he seems more like a goblin than any of the goblins in the crowd. He seems to blaze with wiry strength, deathly determination, and a practically unkillable spirit. It is as if he's not just one goblin, but the entire goblin race in one body.
"Make your first real move, then, dragon, eh?"
As a stream of magically ionized air heads for the worm from above, Ron plucks several throwing knives from his belt and throws them in a wide arch, rushing forward only just behind one of the knives, fingering his short sword.
the huge worm rears back when stuck with the lightning. the beast launches itself from the ground at the dragon, spraying boulder sized rocks at ron
Ron hits the flat of the sword against the shield. Both roar with light and the sword goes into its full artifact strength. Ron folds the handles of the hilt, and a pole extends from its back, turning the sword into a spear. Ron throws it with unerring accuracy, holding on to the chain it leaves as it flies.
The dragon turns around. It doesn't look quite as impressive as it did before. It looks sort of...melted. Nevertheless, it breathes another blast of lighting straight into Lucy's face.
The dragon melts away, only to turn into a cape again.
"Dragon capes. They don't last long, but they're good for an unexpected attack. Useful to distract STUPID PATHETIC FLYING WORMS too."
Ron momentarily sheathes the sword, to pull out and hold a small crossbow with one arm and a cloth bag with another.
the worm roars in anger at being robbed of what appeared to be a large meal
lucy snaps her tail like a whip at the area where ron is before turning in a wide arc scorching everything in her path. the fire does not fade away however, when the fire touches the ground it continues to burn.
The arrow glows yellow, then red, and turns into a cloud of turquoise sparks. They settle down over Lucy, causing her to glow. The enchantment doesn't seem to do anything to her directly.
"Only one of those left for the day. I'd better save it. But still, too slow, dragon, too slow! You'll never hit me like that."
Ron grins.
"You, on the other hand, are one big target. And thanks to my preparations, you're actually one big bullseye. Watch this."
Ron casually drops several throwing knives. Before they reach the ground, they spin around, point themselves straight at Lucy, and fly straight at her.
"And that's just the beginning."
Ron throws one of his bags at a nearby wall. The explosion rocks the arena and dislodges several massive boulders. They pause in mid-air and slowly start flying towards Lucy, picking up speed as they go. The boulders are followed by smaller rocks, which are in turn followed by fine gravel and dust particles.
none of the fire that lucy spewed has gone out yet. nearly the entire arena floor is filled with giant roaring flames several times as tall as the goblin. the only open area in fact, is the ground around where ron is standing.
the dragon worm laughs, then blasts flame at the open ground.
"Oh, it'll take a little more than unquenchable fire to trouble me."
Ron clicks his heels once more and leaps forward. The magic treats him as a projectile and accelerates his flight. His sword, extended before him, sends out a cutting force, forcing the air in front of him to split. His armor changes quickly, transforming into metamorphic stone with thick wool underneath and wet leather over, and covering his entire body. Finally, his shield generates a field of force around Ron. He grins inside his armor, heading straight for Lucy's mouth.
(she is trying to think of a new plan with all four of her inteligence points)
a devil appears near cehon. he looks human, and wears red robes.
so, you can either wait, or ask me.
Cehon replies, Well, when you see him, please give him this. and Cehon hands the devil a yellow Word of The Past ball.
the devil stores the magic orb and redies the arena for the next match
"Well met. What do you say we highen the stakes to a little more than just honor? Say... if you win I let Elronson loose from my mirror, if I win you give one lecture for each of the graduate classes on the imperial mage arcademy. I'll see to transportation and you'll get food and lodging while there. Would that work?"
Then he begins to draw runes in thin air, one with each hand. Then he places them into a pouch that hangs around his belt that anyone with magical sight can see is the center of a multitude of powerful magical auras.
What is that pouch? Normally I would be able to distinguish between magical auras like a shot, but there are so many there, and they are so powerful, that I cannot begin to distinguish them."This metal is supposed to be unbreakable. Let's see how well you can fly with your wings bound."
"See ya, worm!"
As he reaches the apex of his jump, however, he looks down and realizes that all of the arena below is still burning.
"Oh, bugger!"
The clothing is in a shade of tan that can only be described as indiscriminate. Her mottled green and gold hide shines with health as she lands and ruffles her mane. “Tyler told me that this is a good place to find a friendly fight. My skin has been itching lately, and since no one where I live will fight without insisting that it is a test of strength, I thought I might stop by and see what I might find here.” Her golden eyes flash with good humor as she looks around. It was good to be away from the children for a few.
"Oh yeah, you came to the right place. Name's Brisinaria, and I'd be honored to fight you today."
Bris's easy smile is almost taunting, daring Calsi to come at her first.
OOC
It's sticky, but otherwise harmless - it's just a really smelly smoke bomb.
Coughing, the Nolisian turns her eyes down on her opponent. Looking at all the explosives on her belt she draws her wand. If this woman knew anything about Nolisians, she wouldn’t expect this kind of magic. Uttering a word she ‘flicks’ the wand at Bris and a dash of purple light streaks towards the woman.
OOC
It’s a spell that will set anything it touches on fire. Calsi can only perform, simple, low-power spells, but most Shadian’s use this one to start camp-fires.
"Oh great," she calls out drolly. "You're a flying mage."
Brisinaria plucks a stick of dynamite from her belt and lights it with the sparking clockwork contraption, lobbing it like a grenade in Calsi's general direction. It goes off after scant seconds, filling the air with tiny metallic balls - bullets, packed into the explosive powder.
"C'mon, c'mon!" Bris calls out impatiently. "Quit running!"
Calsi lands with a grunt, cursing herself for making a sound she moves to the side, listening for her opponent.
When she is almost right on top of her she readies herself for the leap when one of those bombs hit her right in the face. Quickly Calsi runs away, leaving the bomb right near the woman. Knowing it will explode before she can get far enough away from it, the popping and cracking of bones can be heard as she changes shape mid-run, to keep the heat of the blast from killing her.
“Nostashia!” She flips a circle with her wand and hides behind the shield as the bomb goes off. Shielded from physical debris, but the heat and the blast send her flying backwards, landing on her back, and on her injured shoulder.
The explosion - not to mention the bullets - pick up and hurl Brisinaria, slamming her flat onto her back and breaking several ribs. Her vision starts to turn red, and Calsi hears loud screams that segue into deep, feral roars. The Nolisian can smell blood everywhere, and hear something moving in the dark.
OOC
Pain transformation! Wee :D
Bracing her feet and tucking her wings close, she waits to see what will happen. With the bullet lodged in her shoulder, flying was not an option, but she needed the thick skin and tough muscles of the Nolisians.
OOC
if she hits, she is reaching for the head and shoulders.
As the sharp claws begin to rake her stomach she is forced to leap back to keep them from actually ripping open the skin of her stomach, as it is she is seeping blood from claw makrs on her stomach. Another few second and she would have broken through the skin.
Roaring her anger at being marked so, Calsi drops to all fours and bull charges the werewolf, her head down. She was trying to ram her oppnent, trying to throw her into the air, or at least roll her over, to make her an easier target.
OOC
she is dodging to the side of the injured foot.
The manuever, while impressive-looking, is ill-concieved in the extreme, and the two of them crash to the ground, Calsi slightly harder than Brisinaria. The werewolf contorts her body into a ball, trying to bring Calsi's neck into the range of scything claws.
Bump
Lunoc and I will have a match here shortly.
zodiac greets his opponent. unable to come up with anything clever he says
hey, whadya say after this we have a drink back at the bar?
meanwile a huge black pit fiend yells from the stand
boooooo! booooo! zodiac! your a little girly bast-
a bucket of popcorn hits him, effectively shutting him up.
She holds up a finger. "Also, I accept your drink offer after our match. Perhaps it will help stall your fight with him a bit longer." The hints of a forced smile show on her cheeks.
She swings her hips purposefully and swings her gun around to her awaiting hand. She catches the firearm deftly and cocks a mechanism on the side of the weapon. She tilts her head sideways once again. "Shall we begin?"
arracar...shaclotome....regouri!
molten metal shoots from his palms at the woman, bubling and boiling in the air.
The woman meanwhile lands gracefully and in one smooth motion propels herself into a run, encircling Zodiac.
he is cut off as four of the bullets connect with his body. he gasps in pain, but seems to take the damage in stride. he becomes more serious now.
teoh nass! jal meh vetil!
he spits the words of the incantation at X.
a cage of lightning surounds zodiac, wile X is tageted by an attack by numerous blades of force from all sides
As she lands from the last evasive backflip, she catches her gun and inspects the scratched paint. She never looks up as she squeezes the trigger, shooting four more rounds at the devil.
It seems my high velocity rounds arent working, perhaps these will do better. She thinks to herself as she deftly changes out clips from her belt. Her left leg moves quickly and she suddenly rushes into a run to her right, firing a short burst of three glowing white (holy) bullets preceded by one slimy blue (dispelling) bullet.
OOC: In hopes that the first dispelling bullet will dispell the barrier/cage so that the holy bullets will get through. And dont worry, I plan on her actually taking damage in the next post or so, she was just built for speed and agility.
(a detonation is an attack spell with power generaly ranging from "the explosive power of lemonade" to a rocket launcher. for zodiac it would be like a stick of dynamite)
She slams a hand onto the ground and propels herself upward. In midair she simply vanishes, the only sign of her landing is the small cloud of dust that arises as she presumably lands. Immediately to the left of where the cloud of dust went up there is another short burst of three holy bullets.
Zodiac senses something invading his mind. His right arm seems to be uncontrollable as his fist lashes out at his own face.
kill her.
at these words, the skull starts to fly throughout the smoke, it's burning eye rays searching everywhere.
From directly beneath the skull, a bullet fades into view, glowing with the same holy energy as the others. The shot was point blank and aimed to pierce the bottom of the skull, stopping its rain of destruction.
no way am I being number 8,655!
zodiac thinks as the spell takes effect, turning all the smoke into roaring magical fire.
IC: The android's eyes go wide as all the harmless smoke suddenly transforms into roraing flames. She crouches and looks all around. Luckily enough for her, the spot she stands in was mostly free of smoke due to the force of the skull's explosion.
The surroundings flames are indeed close enough to cause her clothes to mostly burn away and to singe her flesh. The strap to her gun catches fire, causing her to disconnect it and throw it, where upon landing it is instantly incinerated.
X does the calculations in her head and decides on a plan. She stands and winces from the flames licking at her bare flesh. She grits her teeth and pulls a grenade-like device from her belt. She slams the grenade down and leaps high into the air, the heat from the fires becoming almost unbearable with the increased altitude. She aims her gun at Zodiac, her processors nearly shut down from the heat as she squeezes and holds the trigger, emptying her clip at the devil.
zodiac shouts in surprise as X leaps from the flames. darkness creeps into zodiac;s eyes. he sways alittle, bringing his hand up to the bullet hole in his head.
loosing conciousness, zodiac falls backward onto the ground, concealed by fire
BIC: The grenade explodes just as both combatants fall from the sky. X's body falls limply towards the incinerating flames below, she instead crashes through flame shaped icicles. Her ice grenade did the trick and her calculations were correct.
The android's body slides down into the bowl shape where the grenade went off, breaking shards of ice as she slides. The woman's body is in bad condition, most of her clothes burned away, her flesh and hair badly singed and burned, and her gun battered and partially melted.
A close look at her eyes reveals a green bar in each eye, it seems to be counting down to something.
OOC: The countdown is to her reboot, no selfdestruct dont worry.
zodiac tries to cast a spell before going compleatly unconcious
nalgas...dammit that hurts!
zodiac's voice can be barely heard over the flames
nalgas... tiros!
a freezing wind dispels the fire.
OOC: I thought about saying it plays the Windows startup tune here but I think she's advanced past Windows. lol
yeah, I think that could work.
booo! finish him!
IC: X extends her hand for Zodiac to shake. She whispers to him. "You know I can help with him if you need. I need to get repairs first though."
heh, I like this one...
he thinks.
as soon as I can manage to pull all the bullets out of my body, I can repair you no problem.
Sorcen easily sidesteps the slash. He swings his short sword in to slash at Asmodeus when his slash leaves him unbalanced. Sorcen's other hand readies a spell. A bolt of lightning breaks from the sky and plummets towards Asmodeus.
asemodus is struck hard by the energy, but shrugs it off. a hyperfocused beam of light erupts from his fingertips towards sorcen.
IC: Sorcen throws forth his fist, a bolt of lightning streaks forward to meet the beam of light. Just before the energies collide, the lightning is wreathed in hellfire. Sorcen brings down his sword to help shield him from the likely explosion that will happen.
Sorcen stumbles but recovers fromt he beam strike. He spins with it and drops his sword, which floats just beside him, Sorcen body makes a complete rotation and his swordarm lets forth a similar beam of light directly at Asmodeus. The acid begins to digest the reflectors and drips an equally acidic goo between the dueling devil lords.
three of the reflectors are redered useless, asemdus waves his hand and they are hurled at sorcen. he hopes that that will buy him the seconds he needs to repair and aim the device.
IC: Necros flies in front of Sorcen, slicing through one of the reflectors in his path to destroy the reflectors that were untouched by the acid ball.
Sorcen seems not to move but nonetheless the reflectors strike just to Sorcen's right. Asmodeus' keen eye catches the trick this time though, there was a slight shimmer as the reflectors neared the archfiend, indicating either a force shield or more likely a refraction/displacement effect concealing Sorcen's true position.
Sorcen wastes no time and extends his left hand, sending a bolt of lightning at some of the reflectors.
Sorcen's other hand comes from underneath, and upon touching the other hand's palm, begins to mix hellfire in with the lightning.
did you think I would risk myself in a battle with an equal?
he begins shouting in some strange language
azkor...demonium...ashcengy!
a devil in broken chains appears beside him.
The archdevil waves his hand at the beast. The broken chains glow red hot and begin to constrict the devil to which they are attached.
do it.
asemodus brings down his sword on the devil, causing a wave of energy to be thrown throughout the arena.
when the wave settles, there is only one figure facing sorcen. steam rises from his body, the ground is burned around him. he seems to radiate evil power and unholy light.
you know, I got this idea from watching one of your servants, smoke.
(asemodus just killed his alternate self. )
I was not expecting that.BIC:
Sorcen is thrown back by the explosion. He catches his balance and stands straight, peering through the dust. Sorcen's eyes grow wide as he realizes what just transpired.
The devil lord collects himself and regrips his sword. "And here I thought you were sending a pawn against me. I must admit, that was a good move but I myself am not at full power yet."
Sorcen raises his hand, palm up, at this gesture the arena floor bulges all around Asmodeus. Sorcen turns his hand over and lets it fall back to his side. The encircling bulges around Asmodeus suddenly explode, causing the entire arena to shake as well as sending shards of rock inwards at Asmodeus.
Necros flies from Sorcen's hands and floats just behind Asmodeus, the sword sheathing itself in an acidic layer and readying itself for a strike.
Sorcen's body bursts alive with blue lightning and threatens to shock Asmodeus if he doesnt move quickly enough.
Asmodeus can likely hear Sorcen and Necros's thoughts as they argue.
You're not escaping that easily, father.
Why didnt you let him free me, then I could be out and show you how a real Lord of Baator kills his usurpers.
When Asmodeus is finished, Sorcen stands holding back the devil's sword with his two fingers, while Necros floats high above both of them. Strangely, the arm that was not blocking the sword has a slight cut on its forearm now, but has bulged to twice its size and the hand is moving as though casting a spell.
annoying, but not unexpected.
he thinks. asemodus leaps back as every separate point where his blade stoped explodes with tremendously destructive force.
Meanwhile a large ball of the combined primordial elements begins to form where the explosions happened. The spell seems to be feeding off of the energies of the explosions. A pull of energy is felt by Asmodeus, as if the forming energy is pulling his innate energy towards it.
Sorcen lets loose his hold on Necros and tries to snatch Asmodeus by the throat. His bulged arm draws back for another strike, the fingers forming arcane gestures as the arm moves.
The primordial orb of energies draws the remnants of Asmodeus's blood into itself from across the battlefield. The pull against Asmodeus becomes that much stronger now and the orb seems to grow teeth, or what can be percieved as faint ghostly images of thousands of sharp and hungry teeth.
DIE!
the whole of the arena lights up as if it were the sun as that ray of light bounces off thousands, perhaps even millions, of reflectors all around the arena, growing exponentially stronger by the time it reaches sorcen.
Sorcen, lord of the arena, pushes himself to his feet, eyes glowing red. His bulged arm is burned and shrinking as the spell fades away. The ash covering the arm falls away with the muscle. The red-eyed devil looks up, his glare meeting Asmodeus's peering eyes.
Sorcen suddenly appears in front of Asmodeus, he seems different though, more bloodthirsty and wearing black and red battle armor. Asmodeus notices something strange though, the Sorcen he had been fighting still glares at him from below on the arena floor.
The battle armored Sorcen swings a massive broadsword sheathed in lightning in a downward slash at Asmodeus.
The Sorcen from below shifts his gaze to the other Sorcen, seemingly angered more by the other one's appearence. He begins to float towards the two other battling devils. Necros floats just beside him.
OOC: Sorry for the long post.
asemodus falls backwards as the sword cuts deep into his chest through his shoulder. he stabs out at his foe's face as he falls, landing flat on one of the invisible reflectors.
"You see, Asmodeus, I am son of Tiamat and upon banishing her, I absorbed her powers. I am effectively an immortal god, yet I do not rely on worshippers for my power. Over the years I have absorbed the power of more gods than you could count."
The battle Sorcen floats down to the wounded devil and leans down to stare him in the face. "So much power have I absorbed that even now when my form is spread out into three seperate entities, I am still powerful enough to defeat someone as legendary as you."
asemodus stands.
you forget so easily that I live as a mirror to you, and you to me.
he roars with laughter.
I posses the power of all that I hold dominion over. from spark to star! from infant to champion!
with one fist he punches at one sorcen. whether he hits him or not, the force is so terrific that it is enough to create a fusion reaction in the air alone, resulting in an enormous explotion. with his sword he slashes at the other, the blade cuting apart atoms in it's wake.
"I see, so why have you even come here then if you know you cant defeat me? It would be much more beneficial to both of us if we worked together, exchanging our resources between the dimensions to help each other conquer are respective multiverses. Or is it simpler then that and you've allowed yourself to be beaten and now you work for Division?"
The white robed Sorcen says tauntingly.
conquest has not been my goal for some time now. my true motivation has been survival. I am no fool sorcen, I know what division wants. but the creature is too powerful. no one can stop it! but I thought if I had your power in addition to my own... there would be a chance.
The white robed Sorcen nods. "I agree, for the sake of all our dimensions we should join forces and at least weaken Division. What say you Asmodeus? If you still want to fight afterwards then we can do battle but for now time is of the essence."
asemodus takes off toward the arena division landed in.