Due to popular demand and teh need for a new IC thread for my arena, I have had to create a new IC thread for purposes of holding more matches and keeping things from getting too confusing.
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 reserving two posts here in case I need them at a later date for something. :OOC
A red kobold in rune-studded chainmail strides into the arena, mounted on an unnaturally large weasel. He carries an adamantine lance but has no apparent weapons otherwise.
OOC:So discripe anything magical as slightly glowing.
"Wizard, you forgot something!"
His hand start to glow blue, as do his eyes. The blue energy forms into a tiny orb, which then rushes to Steropes' spellbook. The blue energy quickly fills Steropes, making him glow for a few seconds. After the glowing stops, Darshg opens his mouth to speak.
"There, the knowledge of HADOKEN is now memorized in your mind as well as it is written in your spellbook. Remember, it can only be used once per day even if you try to memorize it for more than once."
The cornugon speaks a command word and disappears from the arena once again.
"My name is Bartelemus. Apparently we are to commence battle? Pray forgive me if I do not present a sufficient challenge. It has been ages since I have engaged in battle."
OOC:He is 5ft and 6inch tall, not skinny and his rope is gray. He have circle around his head and one simply ring on his right midlefinger. The staff he carryes is silver and darkwood. and still you havet discripe what magic item do you have(there is spell that I activated):OOC
Hello Bartelemus I am Milerodo and am happy to meet you. I am sure that you will provide a good challange. He then begins to walk back to where he was before Bartelemus entered. Are we ready to begin then Bartelemus?
OOC: Gideon I need to know if Bartelemus is able to see invisble creatures becouse it affects what he see right now.
"Whenever you are, my friend. Don't rush yourself on my account."
OOC: Not at present
Some of the bags around his belt are magical, probably bags of holding. His lance is nonmagical, and the chainmail is slightly magical, a simple defensive enchantment.
" you're a wizard, ofcourse you're skinny! Skinnier, anyway. And you're forgetting that I see things differently, give a poor lizard a break... so, ready are we?"
He opens the match with a mounted charge, lance first at the wizard. The lance end of the lance seems to spin like a drill as the kobold closes in.
Right as the Explosive Fireball explodes the two air elementals fly in front of Milerodo and towards Bartelemus. As they fly towards him they pull back there hand hoping that Bartelemus would be knocked towards them from the blast of the fireball.
OOC: Gideon Milerodo has a special feat that allows his spells that do elemental damage to change to an element that you are weakest too. (Fire, Acid, Cold, Electricity, Sonic) I assumed you are weakest to sonic but if I am wrong then just post what you are weakest to so I can change my post.
The sky opens, pouring radiant light into the arena. A glowing angelic form descends. Hovering in place, holy light shining from its body, it suddenly blurs, striking out with inhuman speed. The glint of sunlight on metal is visible as a blade is drawn, and, in a flurry of wind and motion, one of the oncoming elementals dissolves, split asunder by the celestial's attack.
Milerodo looks at the newly entered creature. Let’s just get you out of the way now. He then moves his hand in a swift fluid motion and seems to utter some word but his voice seems to sound like the wind as he speaks. A then points his finger towards the angelic being. A bolt what seems to be lighting shots out from Milerodo’s finger tip towards the creature. Again his magic begins to warp as it approaches its target and then finally takes the form of sound again as it near the angel.
But not a normal flame. A silvery white fire that burns without heat, yet with a force that easily slices through his assailants.
As they fall back in pain, their very souls burning with a flame that will not extinguish, Bartelemus slowly rises from the floor. His body is still consumed by brilliant fire, and he strides through his fallen foes toward Milerodo.
Now come lets see what you can do. He then moves into a ready position for Bartelemus to attack.
Bartelemus waves his hands in a complicated pattern, and Milerodo defensive spell begins to pulse with a light blue light.
"See? What did I tell you?"
"Now...to remove it. Kamitswa'hianme Vaknei'gorutua!"
And with that phrase the spell unwinds, flowing back into the web of magic that entwines the universe. But as it does so, Bartelemus speaks again.
"Kebbis'hrunthorut!"
And the tendrils of magic grasp onto Milerodo, slowly draining his magic back into the universe. As his power wanes little by little, he tries to draw it back, but finds that the connection is one way only. Bartelemus bows to the stricken mage, although he does look upset at the other's obvious discomfort.
"I fully expect you to escape, but I think you'll find yourself much weaker than you expected. Having that much power drained can't be pleasant. I apologize profusely for my actions, and I am truly sorry to cause you such discomfort."
"However, this is a battle. I hope you understand, and that you will forgive me."
Please you need not worry about my discomfort for this is a battle and all is forgiven once the battle is over for we need not be enemies out side this battle.
Bartelemus feels the air around him push tighter against his body. The wind begins to push him to the ground as his speed and power increases.
As you can see I need not magic to control the air. I have a natural ability to control air through my studies as I have become part of the element of air. The power of the air again increases as Bartelemus try to push against it.
"That...was...unexpected. I am...impressed."
He jerkily flicks a wrist upwards and the winds die away. A perfect calm descends over the arena. No wind moves in the doldrums created by his spell.
"I wonder..."
Bartelemus speaks another brief phrase, and the magic within the arena fades and dies. Milerodo feels his bond with the wind lessen, fade, and vanish as all magic is cut off. He looks down in alarm as his elementals fade to nothingness and he plummets to earth, his powers of flight gone. Milerodo hits the ground with a heavy thud.
As he looks up in suprise, he meets Bartelemus's heavy ledger coming the other direction. The metal binding connects squarely with his face, and blood runs freely from what could be a broken nose.
OOC: Sorry this is a lot, but it would take very little time. Since Anti-magic cuts off supernatural abilities as well, all of our powers are currently gone. I altered the spell a bit to also remove the elementals to give Bartelemus a fighting chance. hope this is acceptable...it could be interesting. Two mages fist-fighting for a while. :D
"...as any miner worth their salt would know, which ofcourse includes all kobolds, there's such a thing as groundwater, and it exists anywhere, if only you can reach down deep enough. And as any illusionist worth their salt would know, which includes,again, myself, disguising your enemy may be more useful than disguising yourself."
With that he flicks his wrist, and the wizard appears to the entire crowd as a large hunk of prime beef. This gets a few laughs from the crowd, but more importantly, the attention of his mount. The kobold grins "I know you're hungry, dig in."
, sorry, I'm ill so it's hard to get this stuff already))Skraal looks up at his weasel in the sky in surprise. "oh well, bugger that plan, I'll deal with you myself. You know that trap I set for you?" The kobold grins and points at the space under the wizard's feet "yeah, that trap" A hole in the ground opens beneath steropes, and he plunges into a pit...for about 4 feet. Landing in bubbling black liquid. ((black lotus extract)). "damn, I made it for kobold size. Oh well, this isn't gonna be pleasant, but I'll be sure to heal you when it's over, alright?" With that, he shoves steropes down to fit into the pit, and drops what appears to be the lid of a cooking pot onto him.
"You won't be healing anyone, you filthy kobold. I know how you and your evil kin work, and how much suffering you cause. I am Dralix, and I am the new healer around, so don't even try it."
OOC: Dralix has keen senses when it comes to detecting kobolds. He absolutely hates them all.
"Oh my god, the usual, is it? Look, I'm sure that if I said all potion-makers have black cats, sit in shacks and make potions from shrunken heads, you'd be pretty upset, right? Well, now that we have that taken care of, I suggest that you cut the stereotyping too.
Look, most kobolds aren't all that bad, they just do waht their leader says, and those leaders are less than good news, half the time. So this little scaly guy you see in front of you is an example of a lizard outside the system. Frankly, your idea of 'all kobolds are evil, kill kill kill' is honestly not as original as you might think. Gnomes spend an hour with me and see that I'm not the usual, but the rest of the world... well, it's this all the time, either murderous treatment or dog biscuits.
Well, in both cases I have made a point of getting them out of the way unharmed. Well, except for their ego perhaps. So, what makes you think I will make an exception for some scrawny guy who's too stuck-up in his cauldron to see the real world, eh? That's right, you won't get hurt, don't worry."
The kobold begins to lift dralix up with telekinesis and slowly move him towards the outside of the arena "just a piece of friendly piece of advice, hurt me and the spell breaks off. After that, well... gravity is known for being less kind than me. If you really want to, feel free to heal this guy afterwards, and he'll need his robes cleaned too, sitting in that stuff."
BIC: Milerodo rolls backwards to make room between him and Bartelemus. He then kicks him self of the arena floor and land on his feet. He wipes the blood from his nose but there is to much to wipe it all away.
Well I see you want to fight this way then. I guess I will play this way for a bit.
He then reaches into his robes and pulls out a rod. Then pushes a small button on the side then the rod begins to grow in length until it becomes a spear. He then rushes toward Bartelemus and swings at him the with the grace and speed of the wind itself wind.
The elderly man then sticks out his foot, attempting to trip the charging mage.
Dang it I need to watch out for that. Now I am weaponless. I guess her goes nothing.
He again begins to move towards Bartelemus again but this time much slower and careful. Then lifts his fist and readies to swing as he approaches Bartelemus closer.
Sensing his momentary advantage, Bartelemus kicks out with as much force as his frail body can muster.
OOC: Halfling height + punch = BAD. Any Blackendearth...whenever you want, the field fades. It's up to you.
I am glad a don't have to worry about blood lose anymore for I think that would have done me in by now. I need a new approach. Wait I know what to try.
Milerodo then begins to rush at Bartelemus again but this time he jumps of the ground and begins to fly at Bartelemus with great speed.
OOC: I don't have any problem with the thing being down a little long. It fun to have to magics fight each other fist to fist. :D
Bartelemus's exclamation of suprise is abruptly cut off by the ballistic halfling slamming into his chest, and he cries out in pain.
Thrown backward by the force of the attack, he hits the arena floor with an thud and an audible crack.
"ahh..."
The old man lies prone, struggling to move, and it is glaringly obvious that he is in intense pain. His heavy breathing is raspy and fluid-filled, as though his lungs were filling with blood from some internal injury. His eyes roll back in his head, and he stops moving, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth. His weak spine appears to have fractured.
OOC: Blackendearth...please read the PM I sent before responding...
EDIT: Nevermind...ending in place. Sorry to end it early, but it seemed such a great character idea...maybe a rematch sometime?
"This fight is OVER! You've done enough to him!"
She stoops down to check his pulse.
"This isn't good. Halfling, I'll be borrowing this."
Syra waves her hand idly, and the short mage's shadow rips from the ground and streaks into Bartlemaeus. You can hear another cracking as his spine shifts back into place. With another wave, her shadow covers them, and sinks into the ground, taking the pair with it.
((To the Chronicles, that is!))
Dralix grabs a potion, which he throws at Skraal. When it hits, the liquid inside explodes, engulfing the kobold in massive fires.
When the telekinesis wears off, Dralix uses his Drift-granted bird wings to stay in the air. He then yells loudly:
"Chrom craags morrrrgumm, Eartern!"
A large rumbling noice erupts, as Dralix's huge earth elemental makes his way to the arena.
Skraal looks at the earth elemental briefly and speaks: "you know, I really don't want to go all natural selection on either of you, so let's just get this wacko out of the arena and call it a day, right? By the way, you're an elemental right? Don't you ever feel homesick out here?".
He flies over to dralix and tries to grab him. "sorry mate, but after reason fails, I've gotta get you out of here in more normal ways. As little as it may mean to me, you have my word that I won't cause any harm to either of you... say, mind if I ask why you're a psychotic kobold slayer?"
"Your foul kin butchered all my friends! Grag, Hector, Bumbo, Zack, Mil'Deen... Every single one of them are dead and can't be brought back. Wherever I go, kobolds destroy, pillage and slaughter. I will not let anyone else die because of your hideous race of monsters! Look at this scar!"
Dralix shows his left arm, where flesh is scarred black.
"One of your people did this to me. He struck me with a dark blade that gives me nightmares. I can't sleep ever again normally, and everytime I wake up I scream like I had seen the ultimate manifestation of death himself."
BIC:The illusion that appeard as Steropes was likely to be in danger disappears and the invisibility faints. Steropes looks Dralix and kobold and then decides that let them fight.
OOC:He is going to manipulate them through spells and charm:OOC
OOC: I dont mind interference but its just his job to try and keep the matches fair and flowing.
Dralix takes his wand-like device and uses a command word with gesture to activate it. He immediately vanishes in a cloud of smoke.
Well, I guess that’s the end of the match then.
Milerodo then folds his hand and begins to mutter a prayer in the language of the air for the old main. He then finishes and say
You where a strong opponent I only wish this did not have to end in death. Rest in peace and may your afterlife be filled with happiness. Milerodo then looks to Sorcen. My battle here has come to a finish. I will a wait your next decision about my next fight. When you have decided it l shall be in the bar.
He stands that for a few seconds just staring at the judges but then begins to leave. As he does he raises his hand in the air and whips it towards the ground and then snaps. Then suddenly two medium sized air elementals appear at his side.
He pulls a small blob out of his pocket, aims carefully as to avoid the sphere, and hurls it at steropes. "antimagic ooze, good luck avoidin' that."
He then charges around the sphere and halts next to steropes. Hoping that the ooze will stop the lightning ring in itme, he grabs the mage and starts swinging. "oi, now would be a good time to surrender, I'm not about to throw ya into something that nasty, but I could."
Steropes haves Silverfire ready.
"Study me?! Honestly, I've had it with you wizards *beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*"((:P ))"In case you're wondering, I'm just a kobold, so take your researches and bugger off! In the mean time though, this ought to do..." Skraal waves his hands around and chants in a frenzy, unleashing a series of spells. The first turns the ground beneath steropes into lava. The second creates a sphere that encloses him and a scoop of lava before shrinking rapidly to limit his movements. The third surrounds the whole with a Prismatic Sphere, and when the fourth is completed... the Kobold is nowhere to be seen.
The spells disappears as they reach Steropes defences. Once the spells final words are chanted Steropes screams with pain as the live story of the kobold opens in front of his eyes. After a part of second Steropes falls down on his knees.
OOC:Just tell me is its sex and is it arcane spellcaster
The combatants are unfrozen and allowed to go about their business.
So, I have heard about this place. I am Siventarr. Who am I to fight? He sneers at the two combatants in the arena already as he flies up to Sorcen. Humans? Ha! Humans are the weakest of all the creatures the gods made! Even a lowly dretch could kill a human!
The bolt flashes down, striking the exact center of the gaping crater. Earth and stone shatter instantly, and the lightning continues downward, splitting the earth asunder. Further and further the chasm widens and deepens, extruding such utter blackness that the darkness seems light in comparison.
The arena is completely shrouded: nothing is visible. Then, with a sound like the creation of the universe, a swirling white mist rises from the crevase. Planets, suns, and galaxies swirl into being, stretching onward forever, as if the arena had ceased to exist.
Each spectator feels themselves leave their bodies, as their conscious flies into the storm of creation. The spirits fly through the void, to the very center of the multiverse.
At its heart, the light brightens. The spirits break through the dark, into crystal clear water, and continue on, rushing through rivers, lakes, and oceans, emerging in a spary of mist, running through forests, and over fields, until, finally, in the center of a dark jungle, they come to a rest.
A small hut sits in the center of a clearing, torches burning in the ground around it. The spectator's consciousness enters, pushing aside the hide covering over the entrance. Within, floating above the ground, is a woman. Sitting in the lotus position, her dark black skin streaked with white paint, her robes, hair, and bead and bone charms flying wildly around her, she looks asleep.
Then, her eyes open, revealing deep pools of oblivion. The spirit falls into the gaze, and the world returns.
Floating before the judge's stand is the woman. She does not speak, but the words register, as if she had spoken.
[b][i][color=purple]Humans may be weak, mortal. But do not underestimate them. They have something many do not. They have ambition beyond the other races. They have me. And that makes them strong.
For I am the Dreamer.[/i][/b][/color]
[b][i][color=purple]No, foolish creature. You are hasty and unthinking, but that does not make me wish to destroy you. Return to your insignificant battle, and leave us be.[/i][/b][/color]
"No surprises there, I'm no druid, but I know enough about what's natural." He flashes his usual reptilian grin, and tosses a heavy looking multicoloured book into the gate. "you might want that, it's a book written by some slaad archmage. Just make sure you can read it and keep it from exploding at the same time... oh, and if you don't remember all that stuff about some regular old highly trained kobold, it's because I like my privacy." He then strolls briskly out of the arena, his wounds healing already.
EDIT: OOC: I just realized the Nobunaga vs Kyle match is over. Sorry for missing that.
[color=purple]You? Kill me? Not likely, mortal. Now, return to your little games.[/color]
Ukinanni turns, without seeming to move, and faces the newcomer.
[i][color=purple]You look...familiar. Who are you? I have seen you before, I believe.[/i][/color]
Finally, she returns her gaze to Sevintarr.
[color=purple]So mortal...it begins. Make your move.[/color]
"BOO! GO AWAY! WE DON"T WANT YOU HERE!"
(OOC: I didn't give up all of Siventarr's secrets in his description, as you wil find out.:OOC)
[color=purple]But a mortal you are, compared to myself. I remember the birth of your gods, and I will see their deaths. It is you who will spend eternity within these walls.[/color]
OOC: Please don't disqualify me, I can explain.
[color=purple]That is an impressive blade, mortal. Pray tell me about it.
But I must correct you. I never underestimate a foe. I make no such fatal decisions. I merely test, and test again.[/color]
With that, Ukinanni closes her eyes, and darkness descends on the arena. Gaping pits open in the ground, trying to engulf the fallen solar and grind him to pieces within the earth. And through it all, the racous cawing of the crows strikes deep into the eardrums, causing a blinding pain.
[color=purple]Ah...a pet monster. How quaint.
But can it reach me here?
[/color]
The voice is from within Siventarr's own mind, and Ukinanni steps to the forefront of his thoughts, her now ghostly form outlined in brilliant white fire. Siventarr feels himself falling inwards, into the land of impossibilities and nightmares...within his own mind...into the realm of dreams.
OOC: Let's take this battle to Ukinanni's realm for a while...unless you have a counter? And now that she's in there, what is Siventarr afraid of? What does he desire most?
))The apparition notices the Loathsome figure of Caben Duur in the arena, and moves towards it. "Caben Duur, Kyle Killigan is our quarry, and our quarry alone. You were next, but circumstances dictate that you shall be destroyed first. Come, we will do battle now." With that, the grey robed figure floats to the arena, and Caben feels an invisible force tug at it, drawing it towards the arena.
"Wha' quarrel ya go' wit' me? Caben an' I seem ta have something to discuss. I can' 'elp bu' think that his current sta' i' my faul' a' some poin', an' I've no time to was' wit' arrogan' fools wha' go' a death wish."
His knives are in his hands, and the glare he sends at the robed figure has all the seriousness of death. You may have picked a bad time to screw with Kyle Killigan.
BIC:
The apparation that is Caben Duur pulls its hood further over its face, obscuring all traces of its human shape, and turns toward the cloaked figure.
Fool! To trifle with me is to seal you own fate. Nothing escapes me unless I choose to be merciful.
And I have no mercy left in me. Now...get out of my way. This mortal is MINE!
"Caben...wha' happen' ta ya? I though'...well, I though' somethin' else, anythin' else,, migh' 'ave 'appened. If'n yer holdin' a grudge fer this, I understan'. Jus' 'ell me wha' I ca' do ta make it up ta ya, ta help. Thi' wa' never my inten'."
[i]Fine. Then step out of our way. These beings must die for their interference. Then you will perish, at our leisure.[/i]
Then a new voice is heard, so quiet only Kyle can hear it...a pleading whisper, rushed as if trying to finish before something terrible and inevitable occurs.
Kyle...run. Before they awaken again...I can't hold them forever...
Caben Duur's face begins to twist into a violent rage, and he steps foward agressively.
RUN!!!
Siventarr falls inward into his own mind, his thoughts played before him like an open book. He howls in frustration, clutching his head. "Get out! Get out, fiend!" He arches his back and throws back his head, trying to force Ukinanni out of his mind by sheer willpower.
Meanwhile, the dark portal next to Siventarr continues to open, and the audience can see a cerature beginning to form. Something with fangs and claws. Something with tentacles.
[b][i][color=purple]What is that thing?[/i][/b][/color]
Leave him ALONE!
The abomination rushes foward, catching the cloaked figure a mighty blow. Caben Duur lands on his fallen foe, bony claws ripping and tearing at whatever lurks beneath the cloak.
Kyle, run. Now. They're coming. I can't hold them off. If you're gone, they will choose another victim. Flee for your life!
OOC: if the battle begins soon, PM me and I'll open a new thread. It's gonna be crowded...to crowded for in here.
The Dreamer materializes before Siventarr, crashing downward to the arena floor. She lies unmoving, apparently asleep, or unconscious.
(OOC:So, what exactley happened? Something "Gave way"? What do you mean by that?:OOC)
The smoke rises above the arena, forming into a giant falcon, black as oblivion. It raises its beak, screeches a warcry, and plummets downward, sinking its talons deep into Chole's spine.
Ukinanni's voice peals across the battlefield as the ground buckles and stretches. A gaping chasm, pitch black and bottomless, opens in the arena, and Ukinanni walks from the center of the earth.
[color=purple][i][b]You'll not kill me that easily, mortal. And I have something of yours...[/i][/b][/color]
She holds out her hand, and a thin, otherwordly light is cupped in the palm of her hand.
[color=purple][i][b]All your dreams...all your ambitions...what are you without them?[/i][/b][/color]
(OOC:Also, the dragon's name is not "Chole". That is the species of the dragon.:OOC)
[color=purple][i][b]Let's test something...[/i][/b][/color]
Dipping her empty hand into her palm, she withdraws a thin strand of the dreamstuff. Holding it out, she blows on it gently, and it blossoms into Siventarr, standing before the true Siventarr.
[color=purple][b]So you believe yourself invincible? Interesting. Siventarr, meet your illusions. He is your delusion...and you will not be able to kill him.[/b][/color]
As the figure strikes, Ukinanni seems to blur forward, phasing through the Chole dragon. A deep line of white light appears across the beast's body, and it slowly begins to split down the middle.
But I control Reality.[/b][/color]
The world around the combatants spins and shifts as Siventarr runs. The arena twists horribly, the ground fades away, and the stands vanish. Soon nothing of the arena is visible, save that the audience can see the battle taking place.
Siventarr runs forward, and the floor drops out from beneath him. The solar falls downward, his wings refusing to respond. Beneath him is a hole in existance, something impossibly black and impossibly forceful...he is being sucked in, despite his struggles.
OOC: Was Tyrion going to join the battle against Caben? If so, he should show up at somepoint soon, probably. If not, that's fine. just letting you know it had started if you wanted to join.
All of a sudden, Anthar vanishes, showing up 300 feet in the air, still riding his nightmare. With a flick of his wrist, hundreds of gigantic rocks fill the sky and come crashing towards the ground.
(OOC:Okay, did you make another thread for it? Id so can you post the link on the original thread so Tyrion can join?:OOC)
And I need you to respond before I can do anything...you're gone. What could I do? So your move...again.
[color=purple][i][b]Fight you? I already am...watch.
Do you know what absorbing Dream into you does?
It gives me control.
And now it does end.
[/b][/color][/i]
Siventarr watches in horror, helpless, as his unbidden hands turn his sword around, and drive Merikel deep into his chest.
And out the other side.
IC: Anthar is blasted backwards by the force of his own explosion, but the fire seems to do him no harm. As the dust settles, you see him laughing at the sight below him. Septimus' small burns suddenly sprout horns, and the flesh beneath the skin begins to churn, as if something horrible was growing inside his body. A few seconds later, four small demonic creatures burst from Septimus, leaving gory wounds from where they came.
OOC: Do your shields give you protection from flying bits of rock? It was a gigantic explosion, not just fire.
OOC: Actually, yes.
BIC: The creature falls over as shining white rash spreads all over its body.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I'm not exactly a good energy source for these poor buggers."
Septimus gobbles down a potion, causing his wounds to heal.
A man can be seen floating in midair. On one side of his head, curly locks cover his scalp, and on the other, vicious swords of hair sprout from his skull. From a full set of gnashing teeth, a fang sticks up almost to his eye. His face has other deformities, and his body is muscular. All of a sudden, your soul is filled with horror as you realize who this mysterious man is. You are standing before Erythnul, lord of slaughter.
For a full minute, everyone in the arena is frozen with awe and fear. Suddenly, with a flick of his wrist, Erythnul sends a gigantic blast of energy towards the walls of the arena. The barriers shatter, and he continues casting spell after spell, easily slaughtering thousands among the arena's audience. Through the rising smoke, the god can be seen laughing as he continues to foully murder creature upon creature.
Septimus appears slightly tired by the spell he cast. Nevertheless, he begins to mutter a new one under his breath.
With this he descends to the arena because he knows the god of many faces will not listen to reason.
Then his eyes widen, his face frozen in shock, as the entire realm of nightmares pours into his soul. It it something no creature, nor even god, could handle...every sinister haunting of every spirit since the dawn of time. They flood his very soul, and the other dreams fleeing in horror and revulsion. Siventarr feels his new power drain, until his spirit, weak and drained, is all that is left.
OOC: Sorry...I'm busy with school, play practice, etc, so I won't be on as much.
He closes his eyes for a moment and opens them quickly, as soon as his eyes open he appears in front of the god with his arm receding from Erythnul as if he had just struck him in the chest. The archfiend takes a step back and smiles expectantly at the god. "Even your body cannot hold such power for long."
OOC: Basically he got a running hit on the god and hit him square in the chest and then slowed down to allow his recession from the strike to be seen.
In a scream of rage, Erythnul launches himself at Sorcen, swinging his morningstar faster than the eye can follow. His strike appears as a blur as it rushes towards the side of Sorcen's head.
As the clang resounds throughout the arena, the blade seems to cast a spell all on its own. Red Lightning springs forth from the blade and strikes Erythnul in his chest. Sorcen smiles, "Come on Erythnul, is that the best you've got."
"Ah a game then, I'll play along for now."
He quickly returns his attention to Eythnul and awaits his next attack.
BIC: Sorcen laughs a little at this turn of events, "I was almost mad that you actually managed to hit me but that just turned my mood around. Anyway, its your serve now God of Many Faces, perhaps one of those other ones will beget a new fang." Sorcen chuckles slightly but keeps a wary eye on his opponent.
She has an evil grin on her face and simply jumps off the balcony then spreads her wings and fly's over the fight between the god and Sorcen. She lands not beside, but close to Sorcen, careful to stay out of his way while fighting but so the god knows she is there. Her eyes become black and she says an incantation while staring straight at the god. When her words reach his ears, the god knows what is coming next.
Aya's voice becomes loud over the other voices as if she's yelling, "Let this unwelcome god be banished back to his own hell, never to return upon this land."
OOC: "My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die!!"
:heehee
"That was uncalled for, young man. I did not kill your father. Your father died years ago, when a dark god absorbed his soul. All I did was reveal that dark god and let your father be avenged. However, I can't help feeling a bit responsible. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Sorcen returns to his throne with Aya and resumes watching the matches.
"Well, that was a good bit of entertainment."
She settles herself back into her throne and watches over the crowds with a more relaxed look to her. As if that little fight was what she had been wanting or needing for a while.
((to fox: this guys i powerful, but I would prefer it if shiro didn't go all godlike power mode on him, thanks and let me know by PM if that is inconvenient))
Shiro appears in the middle of the arena's combat grounds in a small puff of pink flower petals. With his shining white fur aglow in the baatorian light, shiro bows once to the judges, once to the audience, and once to his opponent.
Once shiro finishes the bow, he steps back from his opponent, until they are about 15 paces from one another. Shiro takes up a very unusual fighting stance, being hunkered low to the ground, almost in a crouch, with his sword held low between his legs. Swaying from side to side as if standing on a rolling ship deck, shiro waits for the signal to begin.
"The time for words is past, let us begin."
Septimus dismisses the antimagic cage. He and the boy then float up high. In a clear field near the arena, Septimus charts a huge pentacle bound with signs of power. As Septimus yells the word of command, an ancient temple of strange architecture appears.
"I always knew it would come in handy one day."
With that, Karun'thek's blade ignites and swings toward shiro, only to vanish and reappear on his other side before swinging toward him again.
"Heh... fool." Shiro had planned this from the start, save for the getting hit part, and uses the acidic caltrop on the ground behind his foe as the starting point for one of his favorite spells. Acidic explosion. The acid on the ground, still potent explodes violently, sending a large wave of the stuff towards his opponent's turned back. Not stopping there, shiro speaks one arcane word and makes a flourish with his free hand, (Quickened spells are fun) causing another plain looking dagger to form. Shiro just stands there and waits, allowing his opponent to make the next move, and therefore the next mistake.
The acid erupts around Karun'thek, and the bones are briefly dissolved, but new ones wrench themselves out of the ground beneath the skeleton with moans and screams, replacing the old.
"so, what's next? Take your time, I'll be here all day.. but will you?"
With those moking words, he makes a gesture and black wings of flame rip out of his back, carrying him aloft and towards Shiro. As he spins around his opponent, strange demonic sigils carve themselves into the ground before erupting into a pillar of black-and-crimson flame, engulfing the fox. All he can hear is the mocking chuckle of Karun'thek as the flames threaten to snuff him out...
"Let's get on with this then. I've so many people to slay, it boggles the mortal mind."
He reaches back to his ethereal quiver and draws four arrows, nocking them with care and certainty. He takes aim at his foe.
"Allow me to introduce you to my personal friends, artifacts of some mild power. This one here is Wrath."
The arrow he indicates is covered in angry red runes, and seems to jitter on the bowstring like it can't wait for the release, and the blood of its foe.
"This one is Ruin. One blow, one touch, and whatever it strikes is destroyed utterly."
Ruin is a black arrow, with a silvered tip.
"Next we have Sloth. Should it strike you, you will be consumed with apathy and hopelessness. You will be helpless as a newborn babe."
Sloth seems shorter and thicker than the other arrows, and doesn't look like it will fly with much effort at all.
"And, finally, we have my personal favorite. This last arrow is Suffering. Should it even pass near you, should it come remotely close to touching you, the pain it will cause would be the stuff of legend. Don't let it touch you."
He pulls back on the bowstring, and for the first time, his expression changes. Valoran Galastini smiles a wicked smile, and lets his arrows fly. They streak towards Tyrion with hellish speed, spiraling through the air with minds of their own. They approach Valoran's foe at differed and staggered angles, determined to end him.
"Run, little fool, run."
Shiro, unharmed by the flame, but still hurt by the unholy energies of them, hurls his macially conjured dagger to the ground, causing it to erupt in an explosion of golden light, whihc quells the flames long enough for shiro to roll out of, and boy is he unhappy looking. Whisking away the last bit of unholy flames from his fur, shiro clenches both fists and smiles grimly.
Your magic is strong... but can you do this?"
Shiro snaps his fingers, and the entire arena fills full of orcs, ogres, humans and goblins, all decked out for war, they all turn on each other ang begins to fight, their weapons clanging here and their against the others armor, with the occasion shriek from a wounded man being heard. Shiro seems to vanish is this phantom battlefield.
Not worried in the least, unseen by his foe, (Unless the guy has trueseeing.) Shiro places glowing glyphs upon the arena floor, underneath many of the phantom soldiers, unseen once more by his foe. Shiro then stops moving, his white furry head poking out among the combatants, and holds out both hands, forming a small ball of blue energy and hurling it at Karun'thek.(Ki blast is just.... a cool feat)
[i][color=purple]Congratulations, mortal. It was amusing. Here, and now, you have triumphed. In a million other words, you have won. But, so have I, in an equally large myriad of realms. You may celebrate your victory here. For you, time and reality run one way only...but for me, they do not. In this battle, through my eyes, we have each died in countless ways, rejoiced in an eternity of victories, despaired in thousands of defeats...maybe, when you view time and space as I do, we can compete again. Until that time, I salute you.
Farewell.[/i][/color]
And Ukinanni fades back into the dreaming, waiting within the mind of the universe for her next challenge.
"So, you seek to do battle in my realm? Fine, mortal. We will do battle."
He slings his bow over his back and draws a longsword, hefting it with ease and certainty. With his free hand, he snaps his fingers again, and Tyrion can feel the eldritch energy gathering.
"Ever hear about a mage called Iaasac? Had the most wonderful obsession with magic missles. He perfected a spell that people call his Missle Storm."
Valoran smiles.
"I improved it."
In a blinding flash of blood-red light, thousands of screaming, demonic skulls hurtle through the air, seeking Tyrion.
"Of course, my magic missles look different from his, but everyone's do."
As soon as the flames had touched them, they glowed brightly and white tendrils shot out from them, heading almost unerringly towards the origin point of the flames, by following the lingering mana threads left behind. As the tendrils fling themselves towards the skeleton, shiro can be seen riding on one of them, mostly unharmed, but his stunning jacket slightly smoldering.
Growling softly, and with blade grasped tightly in both hands, shiro mutters "Fine, so you won't let me close with you, let's see how you deal with this. School of the Iron Heart, legendary focus, lighting throw!" (I love the tome of battle manuevers.) Shiro focuses, then HURLS his sword towards the skeleton, knowing full well that to try to catch it would be sheer folly. Shiro then leaps off of a tendril, just before it lashes forwards. Making a few hand signs and speaking a few words in mid air, shiro lands softly, waiting and hoping to see his fire using foe struck.
Shiro traces his hand across his blade, the blade glowing in response, as it takes on a pale blue hue, and begins to very slowly collect beads of water, the blade so cold that the miniscule amounts of water vapor condese on the blade. Of course, all of this takes place in only milliseconds, and shiro looks towards the skeleton, that terrible being wreathed in profane flames.
Shiro steps backwards now, getting within the perfect range for his weapon, and launches a set of slashes, each one fast, each one tracing a pale blue line in the baatorian air, which shiro seems to twist his body to avoid. Shiro keeps going, a blue and white flurry of steel and frost.
(Man I love bladedancers.)
"A powerful spell. It would have destroyed me had the missiles all hit."
Tyrion slips through space and reappears at Valoran's side.
"Shall we dance?"
The quarterstaff is a blur again, seeking the ghost's ethereal flesh.
"I never lose, Dreamer."
He turns back to Sorcen and the judges, and sheaths Merikel. His bones crackle and change, and soon he is in his normal form.
"I suppose I should thank you for giving me what was mine. But I won't."
His wings flap once, and he disappears in a puff of grey smoke.
"You are growing most irksome, monk."
He snaps his fingers and his visage blurs as he moves with incredible speed. He criss-crosses the Arena again and again, and stops in the center of a huge, elaborate formation.
Valoran has made a hexacle.
"Looks like I'll need to call in some friends."
He sheaths his sword and moves his hands in an intricate dance, gestures flying one after another in flawless form.
"Govori, denata, onlio, car, carvias, gorithas, DIOK!"
The hexacle flashes with blood-red light, and a mist forms between the ghost and his foe. When it dissapates, a huge phalanx of ghostly soldiers stands there, holding tower shields and longswords. Their uniforms are bloody chainmail, and ichor drips from them in a ceaseless cascade.
In unison, they chant.
"The Damned stand ready!"
In lock-step, they advance.
OOC
These aren't just dead people. These are the hard-ass elite mercenaries of Hell. They're tough, they're trained, and they know how to fight in formation. While they may not be as tough as Valoran, they aren't pushovers either.
"Have you learned nothing yet, Valoran? If you had watched my past battles, you would know how powerful I can be."
He raises his hand, and the ground beneath the mercenaries feet rumbles. His other hand, now balled into a fist glows with a gray radience. He smashes his fist into his open palm, and a hammer of lawful energy materializes in the air. The head of the hammer must be a hundred feet wide. As Tyrion brings his fist down, the hammer streaks downward. His fist hits his palm, and the hammer crashes into the ground. Soldiers fly hundreds of feet into the air, tossed about like toys as the hammer smashes the ground again and again. Soon all the soldiers are dead, pulverized into a mass of flesh. Tyrion then channels flame from his hands, incinerating the mess and cleaning the arena.
"I have lived for almost two millenia, Valoran. Soldiers like that cannot harm me."
He looks straight at the ghost, now.
"Have you heard of the spell Chaos Hammer? I improved it, and created a lawful version. I call it Hammer of Law. It is destructive, no? Since you seem to like battle with powerful spells, try this one."
Tyrion forms symbols with his hands, and traces lines in the air. Soon a glowing rune hovers in the air, blue light radiating from it. Tyrion now chants, and the rune pulses.
"Dravora, mahistos, torimba, jopande, KARIMBA!"
The rune flares with light, and a trumpet can be heard, playing one sweet note, long and beautiful. A pale mist drifts up from the ground, swirling around Tyrion's feet. Suddenly pillars of golden light shoot down from the sky, and where each one impacts a figure appears. Men with short fur and dog heads look around and draw greatswords. Small balls of light hover and dart to and fro. Beautiful men and women with glowing eyes wearing glimmering chainmail appear, drawing swords. A figure comes floating down one beam of light, a curved horn held to its lips. The pure note comes from this horn, an as he touches the ground, the trumpet archon draws his sword and puts away his trumpet. A large beam of golden-blue light hits the ground with a flash, and a figure with emerald skin stands up, greatsword floating in front of him. He strides over to Tyrion, a friendly smile on his face.
"Well met, friend Tyrion. How may I assist you?"
Tyrion smiles back. "Greetings, Rhevendalin. My opponent over there needs to learn the power of good. Shall we show him?"
Rhevendalin nods and smiles. He puts on a helm decorated with diamonds and fire opals, and bellows one word:
"CHARGE!"
The mass of celestials thunders across the arena, Tyrion and Rhevendalin at its head.
OOC
You know those were lawful, right? Hell is LAWFUL
With that, Karun'thek raises his greatsword and brings it down to sever Shiro's neck, not unlike an executioner.
As the greatsword is raised, shiro grins and opens his mouth, unleashing a magically Loud scream which echoes loudly throughout hell.(Quickened shout spell at point blank range... ouch.) Wriggling out of the firey grasp, which was doubtlessly weakend, and smolding a bit, shiro growls and throws his upwards in the air, the blade soon leaving sight and not coming down for some reason. "I see that a fine blade is wasted on your unholy hide, perhaps something a little less fancy, but equally dangerous should do it for you?" Shiro leaps backwards, and in mid air grasps a small charm on his left wrist, it looks a bit like a nunchaku, but with one extra segment.
As shiro speaks the word: "Sllvryn!" It enlarges, becoming a stout three section staff, not really impressive looking, save for the fact that it is made of steel, rather than the more common and much less difficult to wield wooden ones.
"Yes, it's been a while since I've gotten a chance to use this one, but I dislike it so, since it is far more dangerous than my sword, especially in a serious fight." (He ain't lying either, three section staves are tough enough to keep track of when they are made of wood, one messed up swing with a wooden one gives you a heck of a bruise, a steel one... )
Shiro holds his new, slightly less cool looking weapon out before him, and waits to see if the skeleton can recover from the sonic assault.
Left and right celestials fall, screaming as the arrows pierce them. Though the arrows try to corrupt their minds, they would rather die then willfully commit an act of evil. They collapse and drift back to their celestial realms. The charge falters, and soon only Tyrion and Rhevendalin remain untouched. Tyrion and Rhevendalin near Valoran, seekin gflanking positions. Rhevendalin raises his own mighty bow, and fits an arrow to the string. With demonic arrows buzzing around him like wasps, he draws the arrow up to this cheek. But as each arrow chose a foe to strike, so did one arrow choose Rhevendalin. It lances downward, screaming and howling for blood. Rhevendalin does not flinch as it drives itself into his flesh. He calmly breathes out and realeases his own arrow.
"There. I cannot help you anymore, Tyrion."
He sways, and falls to the ground. A golden glow surrounds him, and he fades from view. Tyrion looks up at Valoran, the solar's arrow speeding throug the air at supernatural speed. It hits Valoran, but Tyrion knows not where. For his own arrow has come to claim his life, and he must face the ultimate test.
The arrow shoots across the stadium, corkscrewing madly, trying to throw the monk off. Tyrion stands ready, and to the surprise of Valoran, drops Whiteoak. As Sin comes closer, he runs toward the arrow. Leaping forward to meet it, the air dims and crackles with energy. Time seems to slow as the arrow and the monk come only a few feet away from each other. The monk reaches out, and grabs the arrow. As soon as he touches the arrow, the arena goes black.
The blackness is suddenly broken by a single dot of light. It looks like a candle, wavering and glowing in the darkness. The blackness is pushed back, and the audience can see a hand. The flame is coming from a sword, dancing outward from the hilt. From the darkness, everyone hears Tyrion whisper one sentence:
"Let the dawn chase away the darkness..."
The supernatural night explodes in a cascade of light, red, blue, green, white, orange, every color imaginable. Then every color fades except for the pearly yellow-white of the dawn. The light illuminates Tyrion, holding his sword in one hand and Sin in the other. Sin is no longer twisted, and magical energies do not rage along its length. The arrowhead is made of pure gold, and the shaft is made of a golden wood. The fletching is golden, and the runes are inscribed on the shaft. The light fills the whole stadium. Tyrion walks over to Valoran, holding the new arrow in his hand.
"You see, Valoran? Evil can never live without good. And good is the end of all suffering."
He looks at the new arrow.
"This is... Compassion. If you would only listen to its teachings, you would understand. If you would only listen to the teachings of the other aspects of good, you would understand." Tyrion slips Compassion into his sash.
He reaches a hand out to Valoran.
"Do you see now?"
"Let's see how you fare with one of my weapons, shall we?" The skeleton speaks, as he swings forward in a sideways arc with his sword.
"Fool...monk. Sin can't be...changed, only...exchanged. You summoned...his sister...by sending...him away. And I'm...not done...yet."
Valoran dips two fingers in his own blood, drawing a seal upon the ground. The design is intricate, a geometric work of art unto itself, and he works at it intently, all other distractions shut out. Yet, in the space of two seconds, it is finished.
"Menok, vloka, hivirai, holgiunor, gravana, hi, lavorintavar, kolviga, novura, clarata, xala, VEEL!"
The seal surges with light, and widens into a portal in the ground.
"Remember how I spoke of the worlds beyond the afterlife? This is one. When your soul is forgotten by even the gods, when no one can care about you anymore because they do not even know you exist, your soul moves one step closer to oblivion, one step closer to the Jailhouse. This is the Forgetting."
He stands, raising his voice so that he might be heard through the portal.
"Forgotten comrades! Fallen heroes! Legends of ages past! I call to you, and make this offer. Freedom, in the worlds that once were for you, in exchange for a single service. Destroy this monk, and you will be free!"
Voices surge through the portal in responce, a jangle of different answers. Some, still clinging to values they held in life, refuse. Their answers are tinged with bitterness and regret. Others surge through the short-lived portal, bringing five forms in flesh and blood before Tyrion. One is a short man in dark leather armor, holding a short sword and a dagger. Another is a small, spry girl with a book, weaving one hand through the air in arcane sigils. The third is a knight in shining plate, geared for war. The last two are identical; twin brothers in chain mail, holding spears and shields.
They sound off their names.
"Rathbone, assasin of the Flaneass. I answer your call!"
"Escalla Magewrit, Archmage Most Mighty. I answer your call!"
"Vilar Kavis, Knight of the Word. I answer your call!"
"We are Hover, the Two who are One. We answer your call!"
Valoran smiles grimly.
"I am a man of my word, and already I can sense your discomfort working for me. Simply destroy that monk, and freedom is yours."
Solemnly, they all nod, and explode into action. The knight and the two who are Hover take a rather direct approach, attacking at full speed. Hover uses their shields in an attempt to bullrush Tyrion, while Vilar circles around to take advantage of the situation. Rathbone simply fades from sight, using his skill in hiding even in plain sight. Escalla continues tracing her sigil, the design lined out in blue fire as she traces it. The design, already intricate, is branching out into a sphere around her.
OOC
Meet the badasses of ages past. This'll hurt :P
The two who are Hover slam Tyrion with their shields, sending him sprawling head over heels. Tyrion shifts his weight as he tumbles, and comes up with a flying doublekick in Vilar's face. The knight is knocked backward by the attack, and Tyrion flips off of his chest as the knight hits the ground, winding him. The twins surge forward, and Tyrion jumps high into the air, higher then what should be humanly possible. He slips a red tinged steel shuriken out of his sash, and hurls it at the two who are Hover. They raise their shields, exactly what Tyrion hoped they would do. The shuriken hits the shields and explodes in a rage of flame, hurling the twins backward a dozen feet. Their shields are molten slag, and the skin on their hands and arms is burned. It sloughs off their bodies as they get up, ethereal stuff oozing out from the horrible wounds. Tyrion opens his palm, and the red shuriken is suddenly there again, undamaged by the flames. Vilar gets up once more, and Tyrion runs up and kicks his chin before he can raise a defense. The knights eyes roll up in his head, then he crashes to the ground unconscious. Tyrion sees something out of the corner of his eye, almost as if the air was twisting. Realization hits him as Rathbone materializes next to him. Tyrion throws out an arm to block the scything shortsword, but can do nothing as the dagger comes in behind and slashes his side. He grunts as the shortsword bites into his arm, cutting through his robe and exposing the tattoos on his skin underneath. One of the tattoos flashes brilliantly from beneath his robe, and Rathbone his sent flying through the air. His flight might have broken the record of nonmagical human flight distance, if the arena wall hadn't been in the way. Tyrion knows that the weapons of the assassin are undoubtedly poisoned, and he can feel the insidious liquid already draining strength from his limbs and life from his heart. He steps through space and time again, appearing two hundred feet away from Valoran and his minions. He focuses on the poison inside him, trying to neutralize it. He succeds, but only partially. He feels weaker, but he knows that he must finish this battle before seeking a powerful cure spell. Looking back to where Valoran was, he sees the two who are Hover charging across the battlefield, longspears at the ready. Tyrion raises both hands palms out. Twin lances of crackling green energy spring from his hands, twisting and looping through the air. They strike the two who are Hover with a flash of emerald light. Acrid green smoke billows outward, and when it clears nothing but fine ethereal dust remains. Tyrion turns back to Valoran and Escalla. The fiery dome Escalla had begun is nearly complete. Tyrion takes his shuriken again and hurls it with all his strength at Valoran. The shuriken bursts into flame as it hurtles through the air.
Escalla stopped time itself.
Rathbone picks himself up, shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs. Who was this monk, fast enough to land a blow upon Rathbone? Who was this mysterious mark? No matter. He would bleed like any other, the moment the spell faded.
OOC
Aww, you killed Hover! They were my favorites. Ah well, Rathbone, the knight (when he wakes up), and Escalla are all ready for battle. And yes, she stopped time for twenty seconds, long enough for a few spells, some Delayed Chain Lightnings and Delayed Fireballs, and a Telekinisis to move the shuriken into the groun
Tyrion throws up a reflective shield, and the fire and lightning are directed back at Escalla; the slicing blades disappear in a puff of blue smoke. Twisting together into a column of destructive energy, the front of the column forms the head of a silver dragon, frost streaming from it's open jaws. It crashes into Escalla's shield, envoloping it in a cocoon of explosive energy.
Tyrion's face is unexpressive as, without showing any sign of knowing Rathbone is there, reaches out one hand faster than a viper and punches the assassin in the face. Once more the assassin is thrown backward, but Tyrion follows up this time. Snatching the shortsword from the stunned assassin's hands, he drives it deep into the man's chest. Ectoplasm fountains out, and Rathbone gurgles away his last breath.
Tyrion calls his shuriken back to him. It appears once more, and Tyrion stuffs it back into his sash. Now he draws his sword, the blade a dancing flame. He strides toward Escalla, face still expresionless.
"You like to play with time? Then it's my turn now."
He strides by Vilar, and thrusts his blade into the unconscious knights back. The knight dies instantly. The move screams that something is wrong within the monk. His lawful good nature would abhor doing such a thing. Tyrion makes no gestures, speaks no runes. He simply keeps striding forward. Without warning, Escalla's protective sphere shatters, showering the mage with pieces of frozen blue fire, much like broken glass. At the same time a meteor comes crashing down on Escalla, cratering the arena where she stood. Now Tyrion is at the rim of the crater. He looks in, satisfied that the bits of carbonized bone are all that remain of Escalla. he turns his expressionless gaze to Valoran.
"You have pushed me too far, Valoran. Now I will end this."
"What's wrong, monk? Do you feel guilty, slaying a helpless foe? Does your conciense berate you for sending Hover to a fate worse than your death? Are you wracked with regret that you have sent four innocents, fighting only for their freedom from a fate so incomprehensibly tormenting that you and I cannot even remotely imagine of it, back to such a fate? Even poor Rathbone only wanted to be free."
Valoran fades from view as he translocates somewhere, but Tyrion can still hear him, whispering insidiously in his ear.
"Where was your 'compassion' then? Where were all those values of 'good' that you champion? Face it, monk, you're no better than I am. I offered them freedom. I offered them a second chance at life, and you sent them back to torment befitting their legendary status. You condemned them, monk."
His mocking laughter fills the Arena, issuing from everywhere and nowhere.
"Do I even need to finish you, Tyrion? Or have you finished yourself?"
OOC
In case anyone is wondering, Valoran dimension doored into a wall, where he's hiding.
Flattening his ears to the back of his head, and drawing up his lip to expose a set of pearly white, really sharp looking teeth, shiro snarls: "That... was unexpected, you shall not catch like that again. I've had about enough of you... so be it, I will take it upon myself to shatter your foul bones to dust! But of course, I'm no fool at all... you are made stronger by this foul plane. I'll have to bring a bit of my own in here for this."
Shiro hurls the traitorous staff to the ground, and it lands with a thud in the baatorian soil. Flipping backwards, in a move that shows off almost impossible grace, (Obscene tumble check... I love bladedancers) shiro lands softly, and begins to concentrate for just a moment, before a soft white aura envelops him, and spreads to about eh... sixty feet in all directions. This aura makes even lord sorcen feel a tiny lapse in his sight over the plane, seeing as how it is actually a small part of the upper planes. As the holy aura spreads outwards, what sounds rather like subdued screams can be heard, as the essences of these two planes come into contact, if only for a moment.
Shiro, bolstered and better able to concentrate now, raises on hand to wipe away the blood on his face. Flicking it to the ground, a small blue flower sprouts, and shiro closes his eyes, then takes up a fighting stance, unarmed, but expertly defensible. Springing lightly on the balls of his heels, shiro brings both hands together, and flings them forwards, another ball of energy coming forth, blasting it's way to the skeleton, and blazing hotly. (I love ki blast)
Shiro doesn't waste anytime either, taking advantage of his newly bolstered concentration spinrgs forwards, almost managing to beat his ki blast to the enemy, and unleashing a rapid flurry of blows, each raining down like a blow from a mace, made even harder by some mannor of concentration. (Iron fist feat... if you wanted to know the crunchy aspect. Sorry about the wait, hope this makes up for it a bit.)
"There is a point when doing what is right and what is necessarry change paths. Those you brought back died once, and they should have stayed dead. Bringing them back only fostered false hope, which leads to more suffering. I sent them back where they belong, ghost."
He looks around the arena, sending out feelers of magical energy that can sense the perversion the ghost manifests.
"I can do the same to you as well."
Tyrion sheaths his sword. Drawing Whiteoak with one hand, he mumbles under his breath and gestures outward in a circular fashion. A ring of shimmering blue energy forms around Tyrion, then explodes outward. The razor sharp ring of force shears through the arena walls, then contracts back in to Tyrion where it coils around his arm like an armband.
"Come out, Valoran. You can run, but you can't hide."
:OOC that spell was sort of like the spell greater warding, but really changed and turned into an offensive spell.:OOC
"Monk, they were beyond death, in a fate no god or mortal should ever suffer. The Forgetting is a place of ultimate suffering, and you cast them back into it like they were nothing. I can hear their screams, Tyrion. Each breath curses your name. Every moment for them is agony, and it is all your fault. Maybe, if they had lived, they might have enjoyed true death, a return to their proper afterlife. But you denied it to them, Tyrion. You want to face me? Fine. But can you face yourself afterward? Can you look yourself in the eye ever again, in the dark silence of your soul?"
Without warning, the ghost bursts out of the floor under Tyrion, sliding a bag up to the monk's knees as he flies away. With a grim smile of victory, the ghost readies his loaded longbow and fires in rapid sucession, a hail of arrows.
OOC
Alright, to explain: Valoran unmanifested, sending himself back to the Ethereal, and traveled through the floor to the point under Tyrion. He projected his voice through a minor spell of his own invention. The bag is his Bag of Devouring, and the arrows are just arrows. However, the bow *is* +2 Ghost Touch. He is currently Manifested
Karun'thek seems unfazed, even pleased with the appearance of the rift. As the blast and blows close in, the skeleton does his best to stop some, if not all, of the fists with his own crimson hand. He then raises his sword and, kicking Shiro aside, deflects the blast toward him, engulfing Shiro in a conflagration of his own energy.
"So much for your bravado, hmm? Fool, you should've taken help when it was offered to you, I gave you that weapon, in part, to even the odds, and not in the ways you might think. Well... it is too late now, goodbye, Shiro kakita, I will meet you in celestia.". The swordsman's unholy foe raises his sword, before plunging it full length into Shiro's gut. "Fiends and maruts, you shall bind me to this accursed plane no more!" he shouts to the crowd, loosing a sheet of flame in all directions.
It is then that he begins to walk through the rift...into celestia. "Too little shiro kakita, and too late... most of all for you."
Shiro can be heard laughing as he watches the skeleton walk away. "You....you...think you can kill or even hurt me like that?
Hehehehe...hahaha. Foolish skeleton, do you know who I am?"
Shiro laughs and begins to stand slowly, wincing just a bit, and in quite a bit of pain. "You....you...fool. I am going to bring you miserable existance to an end, you wish to see celestia don't you? To be freed from this plane? I am kind, and I will grant you that, I'll show you the very heights of mount celestia, goodness and order made solid!" Shiro stands now, bleeding from his wound, but smiling anyways, a look of grave determination on his face, and practically ablaze with holy light. "Oh loft pinnacles of the righteous, pathways to the ultimate truth and home of the greatest of strengths, fling wide your eternal doors, and flood this plane with your awesome power and light!"
Shiro laughs again, watching as the small rift he had created tears itself open with a sound not unlike a million voices singing in a choir, each one in perfect harmony with the other, weaving together to form a quilt of sound. As wave upon wave surges forth, the foul ground of hell itself begins to vanish slowly but surely, eaten away by the sheer holyness of the rip.
Coughing a bit, and frowning at the bit of blood he just tasted, shiro holds one hand forth, and breathes out the heavenly words of the celestial choir, each word seeming to grow louder and louder as they are spoken, causing the energy to focus into a single ball, which travels towards Karun'thek, and he can hear a voice, softer and kinder than anything he could possibly imagine in his head. "You needn't worry anymore, come with us, and we shall free you from your eternal bindings." With those words of mercy, the ball flings itself fowards, heading to Karun'thek at a speed almost unbelieveable.
Shiro, still standing, still wounded throws one hand upwards, and catches his sword. "You... you are lucky. You are given another chance... and not simply obliteration. I...I pray you don't waste that chance." Shiro sighs heavily, then stands ready for more battle, still bleeding, but not at all worried.
At Shiro's indignation, Karun'thek begins to speak softly, if slightly condescendingly. "of course I know who you are, Shiro kakita, though I very much doubt you know as much of me." . He sheathes his sword and walks toward the lantern archon((I'm assuming that's what it is)), seemingly satisfied.
"Spirit, I believe that before you allow me in, it is appropriate that the inhabitants of Celestia know why I am here. My tale begins many years ago, with the tale of a murderer... his name is Valoran. A foul elf which you have no doubt heard of, he walked the land slaughtering men and women alike. So many of them..." Here the skeleton covers its face in true anguish.
"He claimed that by killing them, removing them from their happy lives, he was alleviating their "suffering". Among those poor souls slain was one named Nakk mason. He was a scholar, a dabbler in magic, and quite knowledgeable. Most of all, he was happy with his life, but it was not to be. He too was slain, his body placed with all the others. Valoran went unpunished, even by you... and in the war soon after, the bodies were brought to the suffering that Valoran had never succeeded in removing. They were animated as living dead, near mindless soldiers existing only to be slain again!"
"As they were finally destroyed, their souls rose to the heavens, here in celestia, at long last. But it was not to be, they were sent away, attacked, even, at the gates. Why? you ask. The answer is simple, their souls had been used to power undead, and so had not been pure enough to enter Celestia. Through no choice of their own, their souls had been damned from the day they were slain by Valoran, that cursed fiend!."
" They were sent to baator, the darkest depths of it, where their killer should have been. They wished for one thing now: vengeance upon their killer, so their twice-slain bones banded together, wielding the flames of their hellish prison. One among them took control, his name was Nakk mason, the scholar. He named them Karun'thek, the exiled."
"They escaped their accursed prison by force, and trekked the planes, searching for Valoran, destroying all those who stood in the way of their quest. They believed that, by destroying Valoran, their good deed may earn them a place in Celestia at last. The truth was far from it, the carnage they created and the prison they escaped, though for a good cause, had forever banned them from the heavens. For all this, the cursed elf was nowhere to be found!"
"Eventually, their activities came to the notice of the devils, bringing them back to fight to the death in this arena. They fought tooth and nail, but to no avail, they were outnumbered and dragged back to their former prison, by their cruel baatorian jailors. Yet what luck! It was a blessing in disguise, for there, unpunished for his sins and welcomed to the arena, was Valoran, their foul killer. They, of course, attempted to end him."
" But just as their life was cursed, so too was their unlife. They were stopped in the attempt by one who dares to call himself a living incarnation of compassion, Shiro kakita! Finally, however, their eternal wish was granted, and they were allowed to enter celestia, it seemed all was well..."
"But now, I realize what must be done. For the sins that celestia has commited against these poor souls I lead, and for the sake of good and the justice you claim to love so much, it must me done."
It is then that Nakk mason, Karun'thek, twice slain and once exiled, cleaves the archon in half.
"First, I shall deliver justice to celestia. Then to you, Shiro kakita. Then, when it is over, I shall end Valoran, and take the heavens... for these souls who have suffered so much, it must be done. You need wait no longer, my lost lambs, for I shall deliver the justice that you have waited for for so long!"
Shiro shakes his head sadly, as the contact with the skeleton's blade unleashes a holy blast, super concentrated and shining so brightly that even shiro must cover his eyes or be blinded by it.
"Your story is full of holes and half truths. I am no fool, and I'm not without blame for your current state, but before you are erased from this universe or perhaps bound in pure diamond until you have understood your errors, hear me out." Shiro sighs and begins to speak.
"You were murdered by valoran, this is true, as were legions of others, each of their deaths rained like a blow upon my heart. I was forced, forced to watch each one perish. Do you not think that I would have helped them had I the chance? I could not help them, no more than could pelor or moradin walk over and stop the suffering."
Shiro frowns having heard the reason for the soul’s refusal at the gates. Raising one eyebrow and shaking his head sadly, shiro says softly: "You are wrong on that count, the gatekeepers make no such foolish judgments. Were they, and you refused entry, it is because of a unholy pact, made by valoran. I, and the gatekeepers know not what has happened. No soul is fundamentally flawed due to no fault of their own."
Shiro, how has been slowly focusing, releases some of his focus, to heal his wounds, which slowly begin closing up.
"Listen to me now and hear me if you can. You have ceased to be those people who make you up. You have managed to become something else, something that has lost its path. I know that no excuse of mine shall be enough, but I also know this: If you slay one being in celestia, you shall have taken that one, last, final step towards true damnation. You have found your way here, to this arena to dispatch your justice on a foe worthy of it indeed. Yet you blame me for your state. Perhaps I am to blame, for not breaking free from my bindings at the time, and perhaps I am to blame for not setting things right at the time."
Shiro watches as the energy, which had been glowing bright enough to be blinding now dims, and the small rift to the platinum heaven begins to close. "karun'thek, for the orb of righteousness to speak with you so... is a sign that even one such as you is not beyond hope. Perhaps you teeter to the edge of it, but you are not beyond hope yet. I cannot hope to know your suffering, any more than you can hope to know mine, for I am not just a swordsman, and I am aware you know this, but do you also know that I too once traveled a path like yours?"
Shiro waits now, waiting and watching to see if his foe had embraced the light, been obliterated by it, or somehow was unaffected by it.
"I'll tell you, since this may as well be told now. I was not always Compassion, and in fact... I am no longer, that title has passed from me, to my newborn, who now lays with her mother, in that very plane you seek to destroy. When I was much younger, long before I had ever managed to even hear of the twin factions of existence, I was a warrior first. I fought. I killed. I was good, very good. I didn't care why I did it, nor did I care who for. Eventually, I came across a powerful warrior, carrying a blood red sword. He and I fought, he died, I lived. However, his sword was not just a piece of steel. It was something far more than that, and something far older than even I am. Its story shall have to wait for another time."
Shiro sighs and keeps going. "Well... I saw the ease with which this sword could let me grow stronger. I saw my enemies running in fear. I saw them dying at my feet. None posed any threat to me, not as long as I held that blade. In return for this gift, all I had to do was let this blade become a part of my being, and I would have all the power in the world, able to make even the mightiest of men tremble before me. I would have been a fool to refuse. I was no fool, so I didn't refuse at all, and allowed the blade... ketsueki-shimyaku was its name; a hold over my mind, body and spirit."
Shiro spits at the irony. “So, I let this blade, cursed by men and god to eternally thirst for blood, take a hold of me. I was mighty, I was death incarnate. Villages, towns, cities, even countries quaked in fear at the mere whisper of my name. All I met obeyed me, or died. If a few countries didn’t listen to me, they died as well, each and every one of them.
Oh, the power was exhilarating, holding a country in the palm of my hand, able to let it walk, or to crush it at my whim, as one would allow na insect to live until you tired of it.”
Tears begin to fall from shiro’s eyes, shining strangely in the light of the plane, and soon being absorbed into the foul soil. “Eventually, I tired of the world I was in and took to walking the planes, never staying for too long in one place, and never, ever neglecting to feed my thirst for blood. I came to hell, probably before even lord sorcen was promoted from a pit fiend to his current status. I sought out the mightiest of archdevils at the time, blizarrieal, astaroth, and any others who would stand before me in combat. They came at me, launching their pathetic fire spell, and slashing with feeble claws. I laughed at them, and in fact had developed a suitable treatment for them. Slaying them outright was too easy… no instead I would let my blade feed off of the energy of their connection to their ruler, one of the archdukes. You see; it was either they allow me to siphon of some of their energy, or they demote the devil I had drawn from. I cannot begin to count the number of devils I sent hurtling back towards being a mindless lemure.”
Shiro doesn’t stop there, still crying silently. “What did I care? They were weak, and it as so easy to do. Eventually, since I could not find my way to the archdukes, I left hell, and instead sought out celestial, just as you are doing now. I of course, intended to find and slay the mightiest there. I went up, slaying all of those solars who would stand in my way; at least until I got to the top of the holy mountain of celestia. There, I met someone, no god, but my predecessor. She showed me something on top of that mountain… something that struck my heart cold. Rather than me seeing anger, or judgment for my innumerable crimes, she simply showed me that I could be forgiven, even as far as I had fallen. All I had to do was leave a part of me behind that had grown throughout my body and soul like a tumor, corrupting all that I did, and all that I though. Even through that haze, where everything looked dark and ugly, causing my world to be nothing but blood and pain, I saw the truth of existence. I saw the weakness of my own soul and body, the weakness of my blade, which had bathed in the blood of millions. I saw, for that moment, the truth behind celestial, and what truly makes a good person good. I saw only one thing, Karrun’Thek. I saw Compassion.
DIABOLIC GENESIS: ORIGINS OF EVIL
By
Daniel Wood
Chapter 1: Gate Activity
Diabolic Genesis: Origins of Evil is a DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS adventure suitable for a party of five average D&D characters who begin the adventure at or near 6th level. It is recommended that at least one of the player characters has some clerical ability and at least one have access to arcane spells. The adventure can be adjusted to play with very
large, very small, higher level or lower-level groups.
PREPARATION
You, the DM, should have a copy of the Player’s Handbook 3.5, the Dungeon Master’s Guide 3.5, and the Monster Manual 3.5 to use this adventure. Familiararity with the FORGOTTEN REALMS campaign setting is recommended but not essential.
Text that appears in shaded boxes is player information, which you can read aloud or paraphrase to players when appropriate. Unshaded boxes contain important background information for the DM. Monster and NPC statistics are provided with each encounter in abbreviated form, full stats for the monsters and NPCs can be found in the Monster Appendix: 1 or, for more detailed statistics, the monsters in the book can be looked up in the MONSTER MANUAL 3.5, MONSTER MANUAL 2, and MONSTERS OF FAERUN. Page numbers and the source book are provided at the end of each monster entry for easier referencing.
Individual encounters possess an overall rating called the encounter level (EL). The encounter level is a tool for the DM to calculate total experience points for each encounter and as a point of information to the DM, allowing him or her to gauge the strength of any particular encounter at a glance.
ADVENTURE BACKGROUND
On a beautiful island in Faerun called Genesica, a red dragon named Colossus ruled with an iron claw. She just laid her clutch of eggs then went to sleep. During her slumber, the dragon goddess Tiamat blessed one of her eggs,for she believed that through this offspring great deeds of evil would be wrought.
When the eggs finally hatched, five red wyrmlings were crawling around in the lair and one egg still remained. The next day the last egg began to crack open. First a tiny red head poked out, then a black head, a green, then a blue.
A final head poked out, white as snow or ice, and as this head became visible the shell cracked completely open and Colossus was amazed but at the same time dismayed to see that the wyrmling was deformed for all five heads was connected to the same body.
She was further dismayed that the wobbling reptile could not coordinate and decide which way to crawl, but the last straw was when it finally zeroed all heads but the red in on each one of his siblings and zapped, poisoned, chilled, and partiallydigested with acid five of the red babies. Each one went down lifeless and he began to feast upon each carcass. The new mother was infuriated with the tiny death bringer and picked him up, carried him out into the morning sunlight, and tossed him away as so much refuse. Colossus had no idea of the implications that these events held and did not
care, nor did she know of the consequences that were soon to follow.
Tiamat soon made her self known to Colossus and called her from her lair. When Colossus made her exit, she was shocked to see her son held ever so gently in the hands of Tiamat. The tiny deformity, diminished by the Dragon God’s size, began hissing and spitting vile things in draconic at his mother and almost vomiting fire, poison, and sparks of lightning at her. Tiamat put down the baby dragon and went to war with Colossus for two score and nine days and slew her by freezing her with an icy blast from her white head. Colossus fell, and great was the fall of her.
A millennium had come and gone. When all creatures thought they were free of the tyrannical rule of dragons, the dreaded son of Colossus, reared and trained by Tiamat herself, *Sver’ir* (in the common tongue means Dark One) rose on the horizon of a new terrible era of rule over Genesica. He ruled as his mother once did and was venerated as
a demigod unofficially. He made a volcano his lair for he had grown accustomed to the fires of Ba’ator, the home of Tiamat. He named his new home Sverthicasver (Mountain of Darkness, or as it has come to be known, Mt. Darkest).
As the Dark One’s rule continued over Genesica, an evil plan for domination formed in his sinister mind and began making preparations at once. He took a half wyvern, half dragon named *Lorea’renk* as his mate and her clutch of eggs numbered in the area of one score and ten.
His plan was simple enough. Through his ability to charm masses of creatures, he brought together mammoth armies and commanded archways to be built so he may construct portals and gates to all the planes and realms as an eternal fixture in his land to be used as the instrument of his dominance of all creation in any plane, and to stand
forever more as monuments thereafter to his superiority.
The time had come for him to strike. His children were old enough to find prey on their own though a few had fallen prey to other creatures already. Almost all the portals had been created.
One of the gates was opened to the astral plane by mistake in the Dark One’s rush for supremacy (Tiamat tried to teach patience, but that lesson fell on deaf ears) resulting in a tragic end for the beautiful island Genesica.
The other end of the astral portal opened into the pathway of an asteroid belt. Great rocks from this plane hurtled and smashed their way through the gate. Without an atmosphere to slow or stop the onslaught of rocks, three quarters of the land was laid to waste. One third of all life was destroyed including the Dark One’s mate and all
but five of his children. The gate to the astral plane was ruined in the fray and the other gates and portals became unstable for use. They functioned only to anchor this island to a fractal zone it has teleported to in the outsider plane. The link with other
planes and realms were fortunate for repopulation purposes but unsteady at best.
With the Dark One’s legacy still intact, he vows to try again. He gathers his armies even as you read this. He has created five new portals. He’s poised for the attack and he must be stopped. The fate of the realms, even yours, is at stake.
Adventure Synopsis
The heroes become involved when they are asked to investigate or happen upon a strange magical cabin fading in and out of existence. There they will find four doors leading to a portal at the end of a room the door opened to.
There are clues to what lies on the other side of the portals lying on the table: The Book of Unwritten Chroniclesa magically intelligent book possessed with the spirit of an epic bard, and a map of an unknown island surrounded by a sea of desert. The best information can be gathered from the Guardian, an old elf behind one of the doors who
believes he is only guarding one gate and is unaware of any others. He is however aware of what is on the other side of the portal he guards and that is why he has kept a constant vigil over it for so long.
The five dragons: Zazbeth, Shaysbeth, Darmatair, Wolvertain, and Phraughstbight, await their master’s command to rise and lead his armies into the gates for conquest. The humanoids that have become trapped in this world survive only as long as they pay tribute to the dragons in the given territory, serve as minions, or make human
sacrafices. The human settlements are Kamosa, Sebria, Cabaya, and a military outpost that was recently razed, Cordyan. All settlements are lightly defended by conscripts and archers. If a dragon attacks, they will retreat and rebuild. Only once has anyone risen up against a dragon and his arrows and melee weapons are the things of legends.
When the Heroes defeat their first dragon, they will be revered as dragon slayers and the people of the settlements will call on them for all their dragon related problems. As payment, the deed for the land that was the Cordyan settlement will be given to the heroes as a base of operations or to use as they see fit (stronghold, a holy refuge, etc.).
By defeating the dragons, the heroes cripple the morale and the proverbial magic glue holding the armies made up of chaotic creatures and natural enemies together. The armada will dwindle and the efficiency of their tactics will suffer making it easier to defeat the Dark One’s plans.
The heroes will learn more and more about the Dark One as they travel and adventure throughout the land and if you think he will tolerate the destruction of his legacy, you’re wrong. At the end of the adventure the Dark One will send wave after wave of creatures after the heroes, then finally confront them himself. After his destruction, all will be magically restored and Genesica will return to its original place in Faerun.
Character Hooks
The heroes can become involved in the beginning of this adventure in one of the ways described below. Each hook Is an easy way to bring the characters to the Fading House and through one of the portals leading to Diabolic Genesis.
Of course, you can always use a hook that is more appropriate for your campaign or your group’s player characters.
These adventure hooks can take place in any part of Faerun, since the heroes will be magically transported to their next destination.
Rumors
Several points of light appear south of the fortifying walls of a city in Faerun. Children from this city go to explore and find this phenomenon and play in the area trying to catch the lights thinking they were fire flies. A couple of swift flashes from these points of illumination scared these children almost half to death and they went screaming back
the city with wild stories of ogres and a black dragon, and one child recalled a half dead man. A zombie, maybe?
All but the governor of the city dismiss these stories as childish fantasy for his scouts have brought back reconnaissance reports on the lights taking form of something big and their accounts confirm the children’s stories of the flashes of light.
The party is somewhere in the city and they hear the rumblings and rumors of something significant happening outside the city. The governor knows of their presence in the city and their fame from the last quest they took precedes them.
The governor calls for an audience with the party and requests a closer investigation of the disturbance and to ascertain any threats to the city and its people. If the party are hesitant he promises one +2 magic item or weapon to each of the party members to start with and they will be well paid upon their return with information on the incident taking place outside the city. He offers free room and board for tonight and 1000 gold pieces per party member on their return.
A Lost Child
While traveling home from a gruesome battle between good and evil, you hear stories from a merchant caravan traveling in the same direction as the party. They tell of a house that has appeared magically about half a mile outside the party’s home city and keeps fading in and out of existence. They also tell the adventurers that the
governor of the city has made it unlawful to approach the house until they return, because the governor wishes for them to investigate the disturbance.
When the party makes it back to the city, the governor summons the group to his office and makes his request. An unknown woman busts into the room in tears interrupting the meeting yelling, “he’s gone, my son is missing!” The governor being a kind and gentle man calms the woman then asks in a firm voice to tell him what happened.
She tells him that her son was trying to join a gang or impromptu “guild” and his initiation took place last night without her knowledge. The children who put the group together told her that his initiation involved going into the fading house to find something of value and bring it out to pay it as a club due. They say that no sooner did he enter, the house faded away and they ran in fear. She pleads to the adventuring party for help in finding her son. The governor vows to deal with this new guild himself and offers the party a reward of 1000 gold pieces to each of the
party members upon the safe return of her son.
Attempted Invasion
On the group’s way home they happen upon a house that magically appears outside their home town. The house glows with a powerful magic property that apparently makes the house fade in and out of the material plane. As the house materializes again the door opens and a group of 8 ogres exit stealing toward the party’s home town during the night (spot DC 15 or survival DC 10 to track ogres if first check fails).
Creatures: (8) Ogres EL 8-
Ogre CR 2; Large Giant ; HD 4d8+8 (Giant) ; hp 26; Init -1; Spd 20; AC 16
When they are caught trying to invade your town 5 retreat back to the house and 3 stay to fight to ensure the escape of the others. The party will have the choice to give pursuit into the house or wait until morning to report last night’s happenings to the governor who will give a scroll of hold monster, a potion of invisibility, and a +2
weapon or protective item to each of the party if they go into the house and seek out and eliminate any and all threats to the town. All treasures found are theirs to keep and 1000 gold pieces await each of them upon their
return.
DM should read or paraphrase the following:
You find yourselves in a grassy meadow, less than a 100 yards from a small cottage slowly fading in and out of existence. This house is lit with a magical light like none of you have ever seen.
Chapter 2
ENTERING THE FADING HOUSE
1. Upon investigation of the cabins interior DM should read or paraphrase the
following:
You find yourselves in a soft white room with four continuously glowing and fading
doors. The doors and a large table with chairs are the only features in this room
and they appear to be made of wood. The door you entered through seems to have
disappeared! On the table, to the right, is a large piece of parchment and upon closer
examination, you see that it is a map of an unknown land. There is also a large leather
bound book entitled "Unwritten Book of Chronicles".
(SIDE BAR)
If the book is opened and examined, tell the player examining it that there is only one
page written so far. If the player reads the page, DM should read the following:
“All others have failed and I was the last. My spirit is bound here for my time is past.
Unspeakable evil lies behind each door. Take care you don’t end up like others before.
Five colors, five heads is all I know of your fate. If you must know more, ask the
guardian of the gate. To what I have written you must take heed and I will record your
actions, your words and your deeds. For in you must go. There’s no way to turn back.
Defeat your greatest foe before he attacks.”
Then ask, "Are such adventurers present and ready to undertake this task?" When the
players answer "yes" tell them that the book starts writing itself, "Then choose a door
and yourdestiny." At any time the book is opened during the adventure, the DM should
tell theplayer reading it that it details the players' actions up to that point and their
discoveries. At the end of the adventure the book's title magically changes
to "Genesica: The Restoration”.
When the players start opening doors and entering the four rooms to look around,
roll a D6 for each of the rooms that are entered. The results are as follows:
2. roll (1-2)
Read or paraphrase the following:
This room is brightly lit and white. You see an old man sitting in a chair in a corner on the far end of the room on the right hand side. He sits on a rocking chair, patiently waiting for you to address him. He seems to be an old wizard, though you've seen nothing of his likeness before. There is a glowing keystone archway, apparently a portal of some sort, next to his rocker. Upon closer examination, you find him to be an elf, old even by Elven standards of age.
NPC: (1) elf wizard-
Guardian: Male Elf, High Wiz19; Medium Humanoid ; HD 19d4-57 (Wizard) ; hp 50; Init + 5; Spd 30; AC 21
The players may want to ask the wizard questions, but he will answer only 10
because, although he seems fine, he’s tired and weary for rest. After the 10 questions
have been asked, the players witness the old wizard fade away into nothingness. He
dies of old age so healing won't do much good, but there is a 30% chance that it will
buy time for one more question. The wizard should make a point to tell the players
that he is the last of the Gate Guardians and that these gates need to be destroyed.
He will help the players if they ask him by making his treasure chest visible and
unlocking it. The players may have its contents. The chest contains Guardian's
possessions as listed in the Creature Stat Appendix.
DM reads:
The wizard begins to fade out of existence but manages to say," This gate, you
must go through! A domain of evil it is, but it is your only hope of escape! Once gone,
am I, this place goes shortly after............now go!"
When the players witness him fade out, his passing leaves something of benefit behind.
All players who witness his passing rise 1d4 levels (DM rolls).
3. Roll (3-4)
Room of "Doom"- White room gives feeling of foreboding. (as spell Doom cast by 10th
level cleric. Will save DC 21.)
DM reads:
The room is white, but the feeling is dark. You see a keystone archway that glows as if it
is a portal.
4. roll (5)
Creature: (1) Black Dragon EL6
Shaysbeth, Juvenile Black Dragon CR 6; Medium Dragon (Evil,Water,Chaotic); HD 13d12+26 (Dragon) ; hp 113; Init + 0; Spd 60, Fly, Poor 150, Swim 60; AC 27
DM reads:
A black dragon that stands as tall as the tallest one of all of you blocks your way. It
looks at you with fury in her eyes for your intrusion. Beyond the dragon is an arched doorway that glows magically and to the right is a respectively large horde.
The dragon’s position is marked by the encounter mark on the map in this room.
Whether the party tries to attack the dragon or not Shaysbeth will try to retreat through
the portal at the end of the room. She will breathe once to repel the party back and allow her to escape. If she is able she will scoop as much of her horde into her mouth as possible before leaving. The portal in this room is unstable and time will seem to be effected next time the party encounters her for she will have grown to a mature adult and have her own lair in an underwater cave close to Phraughstbight’s island.
5. roll (6)
Creatures: (5) Ogres EL7
Ogre CR 2; Large Giant ; HD 4d8+8 (Giant) ; hp 26; Init -1; Spd 20; AC 16
DM reads:
Five ogres guard the arched doorway at the end of this room with their lives.
All ogres have hide armor but two have 10 sp in their coin pouch each.
The ogres attack on sight of an enemy with javelins as a first attack.
The ogres' position is marked on the map.
Players can enter the Diabolic Genesis realm through any of the afore mentioned
portals in the four rooms. They all lead to the same destination.
Chapter 3
Entering Diabolic Genesis
AREA - A
Trap: The Volcano EL10
DM READS:
You step through the portal and, in a flash of brilliant light, you find yourselves in a
whole new place. An imposing, cone shaped shadow looms far past you, even farther
than the canyon up ahead. You’ve just exited the portal around 20 ft. away from the
base of a volcano. You feel the ground rumble beneath your feet and hear the rising
crescendo of a roar coming from the black mountain behind you!
If the players don’t move immediately, read the following:
You see the beginning flow of lava come down the mountainside, and is about to cover
the portal you just came through! What do you do?
A sheet of graph paper or battle mat may be useful for the following:
Roll 2d10 to determine how fast the lava is moving. If lava comes within 5 ft. or
touches a character, that player’s character takes 2D6 fire damage (REF save
DC15 + 1 for each check after the first or catch on fire taking 1D6 damage per round). If a player’s character is immersed (up to their waist in lava and being carried away by the flow), that character takes 20D6 fire damage. PCs take half as much damage after
escaping exposure or immersion for 1D3 rounds (1D6 or 10D6). Use table below. All
characters should make initiative rolls and the DM should roll initiative for the lava.
% LAVA SPEED (PER ROUND) % LAVA SPEED (PER ROUND)*
1-20 30 ft. 61-80 50 ft.
21-40 40 ft. 81-90 70 ft.
41-60 45 ft. 91-100 75 ft.
*If roll is this high, there is a 25% chance of the volcano to explode doing 10d6 fire damage and 2d6 subdual damage for any character within 80 ft. radius of blast point. Reflex save DC 20 negates 1/2 damage. If save is failed, character is knocked to the ground (full round action to get up).
DM READS:
The lava lunges forward closer, and closer toward you. You’re not out of danger yet.
Your only hope is the rope bridge that stretches the 180 ft. gap from land mass to
land mass.
If characters are still on the bridge when the lava reaches the ropes of the bridge, the
ropes catch fire and snap 1D3 rounds later. Any characters still hanging on need to
make a balance check DC 10 or fall 250 ft. down taking 25D6 damage only to await
the hot lava shower to follow. DM may offer another balance check to catch the bridge
during the fall, DC 15. Climb check DC 10 or take 10 to climb the bridge like a ladder
at half of player’s movement rate.
tell me what you think.:D
Karun'thek, or Nakk mason, is unfazed by the blast of light. Indeed, he does not even seem to care. He stares on as Shiro speaks, making no movement throughout the course of his tale. Finally, when it is over, the flames die out, and Karun'thek kneels before his opponent, setting down his sword.
"Shiro kakita, I see that I have lost my way, and have led these poor souls to their doom. It saddens me, for I have meant nothing but what I thought they deserved since the very begginning. But now that you have spoken, now that you have heard me out and shown me the error of my way, I see what must be done. At last, this accursed journey can come to an end. This ends now, Shiro kakita, and I thank you for it.. on the behalf of those that I mistakenly guided."
He rises to his feet once more, and raises his sword, plunging it into himself. Within moments, the sword vanishes with the bones that hold it, engulfed in white flames. With a sigh, the exiled, the twice-slain, and now the redeemed, turns to dust with a relieved sigh. Where he stood, now only a shining pearl is left.
As Shiro watches this, the gates of Celestia open once more.
-tiamat5774
Sorry if I misposted. Im not sure how to make a new thread or where this one would belong. I apologize if I stepped on any toes.
-tiamat5774
Dont worry we all have to start somewhere and will make mistakes along the way. To make a new thread there is a button at the bottom of this screen that says New Thread. click that button and it will allow you to create a new thread.
Cog, look at this
Hey Cog, you know Valoran is Human, right? Also, are you aware that anyone he kills/killed is sent straight to the Jailhouse? If you're gonna use my mass murderer, use him right! You don't even know what the Jailhouse is!
"Lord sorcen, judges, what is your judgement of this match?"
gareth
Sorry! Somehow, I thought he was an elf. As for the jailhouse thing, can we just say he messed up?
Wow, I was this close to coming up with something decent.
Wow, I was this close to coming up with something decent.Sorcen
In all honesty, I'm not surprised. The guy's dead, for the third time!:P. On a more personal ote though, I'm happy with what I managed to achieve with this guy. However, I'm noticing a disturbing tendecy to retire/kill off my characters for the best endings.
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.
"A bag of devouring? You truly are full of surprises, Valoran. But so am I."
Time blinks, and without warning the space around Valoran explodes into a whirlpool of pearly-white swirls of energy. Tyrion turns the arrows aimed at him aside with his bare hands, snatching them out of the air at times. The whirlpool of light fades, and the hail of arrows quits. Tyrion looks around for any sign of his foe. Valoran has disappeared.
:OOC So what happened was Tyrion cast time stop and used the bag of devouring and a portable hole together to create a portal to the astral plane. Then he used his Deflect and Snatch Arrows feats to block the arrows. Can Valoran beat that? ;) :OOC
OOC
He can beat the portal to the Astral. The only planes he can go to (until Elminster decides otherwise, anyway), are the Ethereal and Baator.
The arrows dart in, and Tyrion raises a spell in defense. The arrows of death pass through the barrier with ease but lose some of their magical energy to the shields' magic-draining effects. The steel arrows angle away from Tyrion and swoop back around at the Valorans.
"Your magic is powerful, ghost."
Tyrion spits out the words as he draws his sword.
"But mine is stronger."
The flame on the blade changes to a neutral gray color, much like the color of steel. The flame stops wavering and forms a straight edge on one side. The shape of the blade curves much like an oversized scimitar. It looks almost like a dragon's claw. As the arrows of death near, time slows down. Tyrion still moves as fast as he ever did, though, and weaves between the arrows as he runs toward the slow-moving Valorans
"Now go back to hell."
Pale transdimensional fire and ice rips up from the ground beneath Valoran. Time reverts back to normal speed, the arrows of death curving back around towards Tyrion. The other steel arrows impale each Valoran through the chest as fire burns the ghosts and ice freezes them. Tyrion casts another spell, lowering a web of arcane magic over the whole mess. The net tightens to a small bundle of energy, then explodes in a burst of magic. Tyrion, still running towards where Valoran stood, lowers onto all fours as his body crumples and changes. Silver scales wriggle up from beneath his skin while his hair shrinks into his scalp. Fingernails enlarge and harden into claws as a tail snakes out from behind him. Wings erupt from beneath his robe as the clothing begins to meld into his new form. His neck lengthens, and his jaws grow powerful muscles. Soon a raging silver dragon is charging into the crater where Valoran stood. Ice coats the ground in some spots, and Tyrion can see the ghost with his dragon eyesight. Wtih a roar, he blasts frost from his jaws, coating half the arena wtih a foot of ice. Tyrion roars victoriously, and then the arrows of death hit him in the back.
OOC
Impressive. Most impressive. Unfortunately, we're about to bring the Arena down over our heads. Valoran's not just gonna take this, and this is likely going to cause the death of both of us.
Sorcen, this is going to disqualify Valoran, as the audience is about to bite the dust. Every. Last. One.
Sorcen, this is going to disqualify Valoran, as the audience is about to bite the dust. Every. Last. One.
The wave of hellish energy washes over Tyrion. Then it clears, and not a trace of him remains, except for his sword. It lays in the blackened and unholy dirt of the arena. The blade sparks and sputters fitfully, like a candle about to go out. The blade suddenly bursts into all of its original splendor, and fades from existence.
Tyiron has died.
OOC: D***, that was one hell of a battle. No pun intended.:OOC
For the roleplaying purposes of keeping order I was going to have Sorcen destroy Valoran but he destroyed himself. Our judgement was that Tyrion won as the character winner and Lord_Bahamut won for the best roleplayer as well. :OOC
BIC: Sorcen warily waves his hand and reverses the ghosts damage to the audience and arena barriers. "It was a good show but try to spare my audience if you would be so kind."
"Good, you have arrived. Well then, let's get this match started!"
The half-troll's eyes start glowing green and a bright green aura appears around him. In his meditation posture, he raises up into the air. Krono hears a voice in his mind. Dralix's voice.
Go ahead and make the first move
With an incredibly swift move Dralix leaps back. A massive hand of earth and stone pierces the arena floor and grabs Krono. Dralix's earth elemental. Still glowing green, the half-troll throws his spear towards Krono. The weapon nears it's target, ready to pierce the heart of it's target.
Securing the last of his possesions, Doran steps out into the arena and notices firstly that the arena is packed, and secondly that his opponents are not there. "I just don't understand it, they should have been here by now." Nimbrixion stammers "We were sure to be late."
"Hmmm, well, from what I've heard of kyle, he'll be sharpening his knives and practicing his aim. As for this Gideon fellow, well, he's probably waiting for a dramatic enterance, apparantly returning from the dead draws a large crowd. Lets just be thankful that we've got his time to prepare." He casts a recites a small incantation and puts some pressure on the shields protecting the audience. Assuring himself that they are secure, he smiles to himself and leans against the nearby wall to wait for his opponents, after casting a small spell upon himself. After some griping, Nimbrixion joins him.
"A finge'-waggla? They pu' a mage agains' ol' Jagger? You're jokin'! Back off, ki', if'n ya know wha's goo' fo' ya."
He twirls his knives in his hands, smiling broadly. This would end quickly.
At this point, Nimbrixion lift her head from the dirt and says "Nice weapons, but I've got a mouth full of them" and she bares her teeth to prove it.
Kyle squats down on his haunches, waiting for the arrival of this 'Gideon' fellow. Hopefully, he'd prove a better match than a mage.
OOC
Kyle doesn't think much of magic-users. None have been fast enough to catch him yet :D
Dramatic, isn't it? You know...this walking.
My friend, I don't need drama. I'm Gideon Gideonson...
With that he throws the cigarette between the other two men, and the resulting explosion rocks the stadium as gallons of compressed chemicals ignite instantly. A billowing red and orange engulfs Doran, Nimbrixion, and Kyle in heat and flame. The combatants are thrown backwards by the force of the blast, and Gideon chuckles to himself.
So I lied. Sue me.
OOC
If you dodge, I'll edit, but I figured Roran wouldn't anticipate a complete turnaround that fast. Incidentally, Kyle's max land speed is Mach 3.
OOC
Sorry for posting ooc, but firstly, it Doran with a D, secondly, just so you know im going to be gone fri-sat
"Have at you!"
The half-troll notices Krono's attempt to run him flat and impales his charging opponent with his trusty Spear of the High Forest.
Damn...that one is fast.
What to do...what to do...
Gideon sweeps aside his cloak, revealing a well-worn traveler's outfit covered in odd devices; spheres of glass, metal creations of unknown origin, all ticking, whirring, and orbiting the artificer. Reaching down, he selects a slim vial, bites off the top, and takes a swig. He shudders.
Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. But...
His cloak flies up behind him as he speeds away, reaching his foes in seconds flat.
...none the less effective. Ah...the wonders of alchemy...
...I wonder...would flavoring dilute the effects? Something to do in my spare time, I suppose. Still...I have things to do now.
As he speaks, he reaches beneath his cloak, and metallic clicking sounds are audible, as if some mechanism was winding up. The whisper of moving fabric is heard as something brushes up against the inside of his cloak.
Well friends, its up to you. Attack me, or not.
Choose wisely...either you win, or I get to test some new devices. Lucky me! And for the record...most of the stuff I've done lately is deadly...VERY deadly.
"Bah, mechanize' jun'. Almos' as ba' as tha finga-waggla. Ain' anyon' i' thi' Are'a go'a face me like a man?"
Kyle smiles a broad smile.
And vanishes.
There is a whistling, like wind, behind Gideon before it happens. Kyle whips past the Artificer, slashing with both daggers in a vicious run-by attack. He continues moving, circling about to face his opponent again and charge once more.
What? Upset that I'm not as strong or as fast as you? You want me to fight with blades and clubs against you?
Gideon dodges under Kyle's strike, and his knee comes up squarely between the other man's legs. With a click. And with a blade, shot out of a sprind loaded kneepad. Gideon pulls Kyle close, looking him dead in the eye. He smiles grimly, and his tone is cold and compasionless.
Don't insult me like that again. I've got stuff you've never seen...just cause I can't lay you out with a punch doesn't make this a game. Some of us don't fight fair...some of us need ingenuity to win. While you're off flinging daggers, I'm up nights brewing potions. While you're in the bar, I'm building clockwork...and don't tell me it doesn't work. And that doesn't mean I'm not man enough to fight you. You're stronger, faster, and tougher than me, and you heal faster. I get cut and I stay cut, I don't heal up like you...so who's man enough now? You? Picking on those weaker than you? Don't make me laugh.
His voice picks up again to a much friendlier tone, and he grins at his foe.
I really had you giong for a while there, didn't I? I'm not mad. Just think about what I said before you bring that up again. And cheer up. You'll recover. The multiverse is filled with female healers...maybe they can give you a hand. See? Its not all bad.
Now...anyone else want to complain about my fighting? No? Good. Cause man to man doesn't have to last long...
...No offense Kyle. That was tasteless of me.
Oops...so was that. Shutting up now.
Kyle slams his daggers into Gideon's shoulders, driving them in deep. Picking up his leg, he kicks off his victim, dragging the daggers out through muscle and bone, and landing a full five feet away.
"I ne'er sai' ye were yella, Gideo', I sai' i' ain' manly. Manly warefare ain' always tha smar'es' thin' i' tha worl', bu' i' is a bi' refreshin' ta see some'imes. An' I don' pick on people weaker tha' me. I wa' jus' calle' ta fight."
Aaah...gods...arghh...#$&* @#&*(*!@$ @#&*!!&*#@...gods damn it...
....Still, I suppose I deserved that...
Alright...I give in. I'll try to oblige you a bit. Nothing to lose 'cept my life.
So saying, Gideon reaches for something under his cloak. With a click and the rasp of metal on metal, spring loaded blades jut out from above both his wrists...blade with barbs, spring-loaded sections, and twisted hooks...blades made to do serious damage to metal or flesh.
So...your move, friend.
A Halo of golden light wraps iteself around Doran, knitting his bones as for his innards, well...they'll be fine for the battle at least. As he stammers to his feet, spitting out some excess blood, the golden light shoots outward in all directions, forming spikes of arcane energy. As he watches the other two finish their little heart-to-heart, he cries out "Gideon, you really need to get out more; all that preparation, you're worse than a wizard." He smiles, hoping that the two will be keep each other company while he works his art; a wind begins to circle the arena, growing in strength with each passing second...
Friend, I work when I feel like it...and when I do, I work fast, unless something is extremely interesting. Spending hours at a time on a project? Not likely! Normally, I'm off somewhere having a good time...some of my best work is done in front of the bar after midnight!
Working alone in my tent...worse than a wizard...ha! What will they think of next...
Kyle concentrates, and a halo surrounds his head. This halo surges to bright light, radiating from a literal angel's halo upon his head. Kyle smiles and rushes Doran, moving quite fast, but not as fast as you've seen him go.
And, again reversing in an instant, he's rushing Gideon, moving top speed with daggers ready to go.
As Kyle's momentum brings him back around, Gideon releases a latch, and the blades release their hold, sending Kyle to the ground bleeding and launching Gideon (according to his calculated trajectory) accross the arena and into Doran, where he stabs down again, digging his blades into his other foe.
Simultaneously, Doran yells out in pain as the knives pierce his flesh. "Holy! Son of a..." but instead of finishing his curse, he follows it with an incantation, spouted out hastily. The golden spines twist and wrap themselves about Gideon, no longer piercing, but holding him firm; at least for the moment. With the same tranlucent tail that he used on Kyle, Doran bats Gideon away towards the center of the arena.
The wind begins to howl as it circles about the arena and reaches hurricane force. The blood that runs from Doran's two open wounds are sent flying to land in a bloody array a few feet away. His robes flutter out from behind him, and his words are sucked away by the wind as he prepares to put the finishing touch on this latest of inspirations. Nimbrixion, knowing it futile to chase either combatant, takes up a defensive pose in front of Doran, her glance seemingly conveying "Come closer if you dare..."
Kyle slams onto Gideon's blades and watches his intended victim fly away. He grits his teeth and stands. He'd be feeling this fight in the morning. And the afternoon. And probably for a week afterwards. Time to quit joking around.
"Righ'. Fi'ally foun' a soul tha ca' kee' u' wit me. Le's ho'e me lesso's don' fail me now."
Kyle streaks away from the fight, the crowd booing him, but he begins to circle around. He picks up speed at a prodigious rate, leaving an immense dust cloud behind him. He streaks past Doran and Gideon, and his dust storm shrouds their vision, obscuring sight and sound.
In the haze, Doran hears the rapid running steps of Kyle, coming towards him from seemingly every direction at once.
And then the slashing begins.
Remembering what a frontal assault had given him last time, Kyle approaches Gideon from behind, sliding low at the last moment and handspringing his boots towards the artificer's back.
--20 seconds into the past--
Gideon struggles against the magical bonds constraining him, muttering curses at the futility of the effort.
Gods damn this...stupid lich-kissing mages and their spawn cursed spells...why the hells do I fall for this again and again?
Damn! Nothing for it. I'm a target, I guess...unless...
Gideon's struggles do nothing to free his body, but he manages to release a single arm, which he points at a point in space above his head. The sound of compressed steel springing back into position accompanies a thin metal rod that flies out of his sleeve at a tremendous speed, trailing a fine thread behind it.
Above the fighters, the rod anchors itself in space, and the line retracts, sending Gideon whipping across the arena once again. His face contorts in pain as the G force tears into him, ripping at his flesh and clothes, threatening to knock him out completely. His bonds last a few seconds, and then shatter from the forces involved. Gideon hangs in the air, hidden in the clouds of dust and fishing around in his cavernous pockets for something and whispering to himself...
Ah...where would I be without immovable rods? Hmm...speaking of which...where did I put that...
And then Kyle appears beneath him.
OOC
Go ahead, edit away. I've been a victim of posting times myself
Like an angel expelled from heaven, Gideon comes crashing down onto Kyle. The small man doesn't weigh much, but the amount of gear he carries adds a brutal force to the impact. Things snap. Not metallic things. Kyle feels his ribs splinter from the blow, and he and Gideon fall to the ground in a tangled heap.
Unfortunately for Kyle, however, Gideon's blades are not circling in the air...both are still drawn, and Gideon quickly puts them to good use on any part of his foe he can reach.
Right as his blades plunge into Gideon's back from above.
"I's math, Gideon. Now GEROFF ME!"
Kyle surges up, sending the gnome flying. His ribs feel broken, and his left leg probably isn't in any shape to move. Making matters worse, Gideon has his knives. Kyle grimaces, realizing what he has to do. This was going to hurt.
He reaches down to his leg, where bone is poking through, and rips his shinbone out. Miraculously standing, he snaps the bone in half and concentrates. The two halves shimmer and form into bone knives.
"Come o'. I can' move."
That's...disgusting. You know...that, right?
I...need to...end this soon. I'm not sure...how much...more I've got. Time for a little...trick I learned from...Hestaby. I don't think...you...met her. VERY interesting theories about...immovable rods.
Gideon's arm whips out, crossbow in hand, and he pulls the trigger. The bolt shoots out, spinning and trailing razor wire in a deadly spiral...right at Kyle's head level.
"Hey..I jus' remem'ere', there's a mage 'ere. Whaddya say ya concentrate o' 'im fer awhile, ratha tha' kill yerself o' me. I ain' goin' nowhere."
No...you're not.
As Kyle ducks, the crossbow's other bow recoils and fires, sending the immovable rod inside flying outward...as it homes in on the arrow using Hestaby's method of connecting the two (see Hestaby's entrace near the start of this thread). Kyle's ducking has brought his body between the first projectile and Gideon's bow, and the rod passes through the man's chest as if it were paper. Bone and blood cover the arena floor as Kyle falls over, gasping for air.
Gideon turns away from the stricken man.
However, if by some miracle you survive, I quite agree.
"It's time...that I dropped the charade. I can talk normally...for one. I..need...you..to promise me something."
He screams as the wire rips through his gut, scrambling his innards.
"My defeat...was no easy task...but I fought..for more than glory. On Toril, where....Five Mountains Meet...there is an ancient monestary. They must know...I failed...bring my body...to them....tell them...Tymora's smile hides in the setting sun..."
He shudders, still fighting to stay alive as his sanctified blood covers the arena floor. Though the effort is futile, his natural healing still attempts to keep him alive, prolonging his life somewhat.
"In the name...of Sune...I sanctify this ground...let all who cometh here....know true beauty..."
He rips the wire through his heart and lungs, spilling what is left of his blood. As his blood soaks into the grass, something changes. Green shoots come up and grow into trees. Flowers spring up, a breathtaking variety. Lastly, where Kyle's body has fallen, a small, pure pond spreads forth from his blood. His body rests on a rock in its center.
The Jagger, legend of a thousand battles, has fallen.
Earlier
Doran watches as Gideon falls from the sky to assault Kyle, not quite sure who he wants to win. "Best to be prepared for the worst I suppose." He begins to channel his magic and conform it to his body. His skin hardens and transforms into tiny scales, his hands sprout claws, his teeth grow inside of his mouth to a sharp tip, and his ghostly tail is filled out by one made of flesh and blood; he has become a lizardfolk with stipes of black running down his scales where his blood was earlier.
As he sees Kyle kick Gideon off, he realizes that one of the whirling blades os coming for him!
He rolls to the side as the knife impacts the ground near to him. Standing, he feels something small hit his back. Looking up, he realizes that his spells are finally working as he'd intended:
The clouds dissipate as they are ripped apart by the wind and acid globules begin to fall, bringing a whole new meaning to acid rain.
As he sees Kyle kick Gideon off, he realizes that one of the whirling blades os coming for him!
He rolls to the side as the knife impacts the ground near to him. Standing, he feels something small hit his back. Looking up, he realizes that his spells are finally working as he'd intended:
The clouds dissipate as they are ripped apart by the wind and acid globules begin to fall, bringing a whole new meaning to acid rain.
Gladly, friend. Whatever you ask, consider it done. Whatever it is you failed in, I will see through.
I am sorry it ended this way.
With that, Gideon turns away once again, and locks eyes with Doran.
Mage, let me leave. There has been enough bloodshed for one day. I must go. There will be time later for us to finish...but if you continue to bar my way, no force in the multiverse will save you. Don't trifle with me now.
With that, heedless of Doran's response, Gideon strides from the arena.
What have I gotten myself into now...
OOC: Gareth...PM me with Kyle's mission, please. Cause Gideon might now help see it through.
The five figures slide back together like a humanoid accordion. Snapping his hand backwards, the lone lizardfolk allows his whip to retract into the cuff he bears of his forearm.
Walking towards the place where Gideon stood just moments before, Doran's features melt away to the silverbrow human inside.
"I just don't understand it..." he mutters "One moment he ruthlessly and dispassionately murders a person, and the next he leaves the arena with words of 'there has already been too much bloodshed.' It just doesn't make sense."
"Perhaps," puts in Nimbrixion hesitantly "He did expect this 'Kyle' to die? After all, Sorcen usually does the honor of restoring slain victims"
"Yes, I suppose you are right, but why would his soul simply dissapear like that?"
Nimbrixion shakes her head from side to side; silence is her only answer. After a moment, she wanders over to Kyle's body, strewn on a rock, and Doran follows.
They stand together for quite a long time, the acid rain pattering softly about them and sliding down their bodies. Slowly, very slowly, the eyes of the silver dragon tear up, and a single tear slides down her nose.
It falls to the earth, easily distinguished from the green rain about it, and lands on an exotic flower. The tear is absorbed into the flower's petals and it slowly spreads throughout the entire flower, turning it to flawless crystal. Cracking under its own weight, the flower lands squarely in the center of Kyle's chest.
Doran places a comforting hand on her shoulder, and they slowly exit the stadium...
"That was a neat trick the way you avoided my ambush, but let's see how you avoid this one."
Dralix raises his hand towards Krono. It gives off green light as suddenly some spiked vines and poison ivy grow off from the ground, surrounding Krono and pinning his arms.
"Oh I don't think I'll have a problem with that."
After saying these last words Krono leaps high into the air doing a back flip as he easily clears the elemental to stop in mid air just behind the giant creature to bolt strait up fifty plus feet in the air.
" Lets see how you cope with this."
Wraping him self in a sphere of ectoplasm (in mid air mind you) and starts to drop out of the sky strait for the elemental.
"Khas mulrumgaa, thoaar gom morgomm..."
The wand glows yellow for a while and the earth elemental disappears and reappears right behind Krono. Totally catching the warrior off-guard, Rockfist attacks with it's full arsenal of slams. Dralix glares his opponent with his glowing green eyes.
"It seems that I need something better to defeat you. Time to raise the stakes!"
Suddenly raising up into the air, the half-forest troll spreads his arms and sets his eyes to the "sky" of Sorcen's Baator.
"Nature's divine masters, Ehlonna, Obad-Hai. Give me the strength to take down this prey. Turn the tables for nature's favor. I ask of you, please."
A moment passes and then green meteor-like ethereal objects fall from the sky towards the arena.
"Now its just you and me"
Dralix starts to shake uncontrollably, calling up energies that tear his opponent's ectoplasmic sphere.
"No matter how much stronger you are... I... CANNOT-BE-CAGED!"
The half-troll begins to grow, and his skin is growing hair. His cloak and armor are absorbed into his skin and his eyes shift into avian eyes - sharp like owl's. Dralix's arms grow, becoming far too big for Krono to hold, a beak sprouts from his face and his fingers grow into claws of massive size. The half-troll has become a 10 feet tall owlbear. He rips off his foe's hold and jumps off right through a rip in the ectoplasmic sphere as the green meteor-like ethereal objects hit the ground and spread until the entire arena's floor glows green. Then suddenly, trees start to sprung from the ground and grow at alarming rate until a small jungle stands where used to be nothing. As Dralix drops down to the ground, he slowly shifts back into his natural form and disappears to the jungle, being covered by his camouflaged armor and cloak. The geopsychic doesn't want to take any chances of being detected, so he shields his mind from possible psionic and magical detection spells.
Good luck trying to find me now, because now I have a home field advantage
I dont think I need to come find you!
BIC: To Krono's shock, the trees that he just toasted grow right back, as if the forest was regenerating itself. Also, the trees that are in risk of getting burned seem to move away from the fire! The fires are soon naturally extinquished as they have nothing to feed on.
Don't do that, your problems won't work out that way. By the way, what does it feel like to be first at the top of the game only to get pushed to a corner. Like they say: out of the frying pan and into the fire.
And then, from out of nowhere, a huge rock flies right towards Krono. Only a creature of massive size could have thrown that, so the earth elemental that the druid had with him must still be around there somewhere.
well if I can't slow you down I'll speed up!
the next thing Dralix sees is that his Forest is gone and that hes beeing bombarded by many fire blasts.
Show
so you know what he did.
using the Temporal acceleration power He did aReality revision Dismissing your forest, then he used many many deleayed energy rays agmented to the max
using the Temporal acceleration power He did aReality revision Dismissing your forest, then he used many many deleayed energy rays agmented to the max
As Krono easily doges the projetile he stops to ponder his situation.
well if I can't slow you down I'll speed up!
the next thing Dralix sees is that his Forest is gone and that hes beeing bombarded by many fire blasts.Showso you know what he did.
using the Temporal acceleration power He did aReality revision Dismissing your forest, then he used many many deleayed energy rays agmented to the max
"This don't bother me yo...
"Stoping in mid sentence he sees Dralix start for him.
"Time to get Serious."
Shifting to Hybrid form Krono holds out his hand and mutters something under his breath and a Falchion appears in his hand just in time for Krono to spin out of the way and cut down hard on Dralix's back. Pulling a stone from his pocket muttering another word and another Falchion appears in Krono's other hand and swings this one around to hit Dralix in the back of the thigh.
"Spirits of the Land, infuse me with your power!" He yells.
Then, the Geopsychic's limbs disappear one by one, until he is completely transparent, just like an invisible stalker. The transparent blur that he has become moves for a little while, until a his form completely disappears into a puff of gray smoke. Krono hears a mocking laugh in his mind:
Ha! Once again you can't see me!
oh, but thats where your wrong my little green friend I do know where you are, I can smell you!
turning his wrists in Krono stabs both falchions in the direction of Dralix arcing both swords to the side and behind him clearing his personal space of anthing that shouldn't be there.
"Argh! Cursed werebear mongrel! No matter, I will just heal myself and continue!"
Still in his invisible form, Dralix puts his spear away and puts both hands on the wounds on his shins and mutters something. The wounds heals right up in a few seconds, as the light of healing magic fills them.
Now I shall try a different tactic on you
The unseen half-troll raises the palms of his hands against his foe.
"Take this! HAAAAA!" He yells, and ten yellow orb-shaped blast of pure psionic energy form in his hands and fly towards Krono.
"Shut up! Shut up! No point being invisible it he can hear you! Shut up! Shut..."
The other demons, eager to see the outcome, quickly hush him into silence.
That hurt!
Darting in with his mouth open and a look in his eye Krono lunges for Dralix's neck with every intention to bleed him out.
"Say goodbye!"
As he says this, his hand glows yellow, and a massive beam of energy comes right trough the back of the head of Krono. The beam throws Dralix's body backwards away from Krono, and the half-forest troll geopsychic stays there lying in the ground perfectly still for a few seconds. Then, slowly the half-troll reaches out for another potion and quaffs it to his throat.
"This is for you!!!"
Relesing the ball of fire Krono then puts a shpear of fire around Dralix and begins walking with much effort in Dralixs direction.
"1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8..."
But then, for everyone's shock Dralix sits up and then raises to his feet. Still covered in flames, it would seem that the geopsychic is no longer what he used to be. He has taken the form of a fire elemental.
"So you tried to incinerate me, fool?! Fires of hell will purge you clean!!!"
With that, Dralix raises both of his arms and then lashes them immediately down. With his hands down, great amounts of flame, fireballs and lava rain from the skies, and the surface of the arena turns into half-molten rock. Geysirs of fire burst from the arena's floor while Dralix advances to his foe with his hands filled with infernal hellfire. Behind him, Dralix's former earth elemental looks now more like a magma paraelemental.
This is More like it!! ha ha
Closing his eyes and stoping his dance Krono hurls a ball of Psonic energy into the sky. Turning his atention back to Dralix as masive storm clouds build.
What do you think of the rain?
As Krono finishies his sentence a bolt of lighting cuts silence between the two combatnts striking between them and it begins to rain. Krono's wounds on his face heal as he reaches down to his waist taking hold of a bone carved into a sword hilt. Holding it out at the ready it begins to glow a soft yellow color.
I do belive its your move.
However, in a moment's notice trees and spiky vines begins to grow from the ground, as does an odd, tree-like creature that looks just like Dralix. The creature opens it's eyes and speaks.
"Very clever, Krono. Very clever. However, I think it's time to end this. One last shot for both of us. Your turn to go first, since it was my turn in the beginning of this match. Do have in mind that just because I look like a plant doesn't mean that I am vulnerable to fire."
Dralix stands ready, willing to take on whatever challenge Krono will give him.
Yes lets finish this.
Walking twords Dralix he sweeps his hand out in front of him releasing psionic energy as he does, throwing sparks and dust in the air cracking and splintering Dralix's barkskin as it hits him. Doing this a few more times Krono stops and telikeneticly hurls Dralix to the middle of the arena, turnning in that direction, Krono once again begins advancing on Dralix.
"I believe that I said one last shot. You expended yours already. Now... it is... MY TURN!!!"
From his hand, Dralix draws his trusty spear, which spontaneously forms from his wooden "flesh". Then, the tree-like Dralix runs towards Krono and leaps into the air with his spear directed right towards Krono. In the air, however, the tip of his enigmatic spear begins to burn with strange, green flame and in a following moment, Dralix disappears leaving a mirror image of his former "natural" form. This image moves more quickly and it's ethereal shape goes right through Krono before disappearing. In two seconds before impact Dralix's form becomes visible again with the spear ready to strike it's target's chest.
I'll bet you didn't expect me to delay one though did you.
"Congratulations for your victory, Krono, but now I must go!"
With his master on his back, the earth elemental rushes and leaps away from the arena, and both figures disappear.
"Nice trick but how will you fare when I become incorporeal as well." She flies slowly back down to the area of fog and as she descends into the fog, her body becomes pure undiluted sunlight energy and she spreads her mass to engulf the fog entirely.
Her voice now emanates from the surrounding energies and rings through the mind of her opponent, "Come out come out wherever you are."
The lord of Baator nods his assent, and Llval rises up and raises his hideous arms.
Great waves cascade around the combatants, knocking them sprawling as the arena fills with water: not pure, but a twisted, blackish, squalid color that radiates the stench of filth and disease. The floor cracks, great rifts open, releasing scalding blasts of hot air, and deep trenches tear the floor apart. Rivers of cooling lava roll slowly along the bottom, slow, but deadly, as the arena of Sorcen's Battle Royale is transformed into the bottom of the oceans of Hell.
[FONT="Arial Black"][i][color=green]There. Let them try surviving THAT![/i][/color][/FONT]
OOC
Consider it like the actual ocean, but with the lava flows and fetid water. We haven't had a truly dangerous landscape yet, so...you're the lucky ones! :D
I look foward to seeing what you guys make of it.
I look foward to seeing what you guys make of it.
(IC) With the sudden upheavel of the filthy volcanic ocean, Katherizaltix takes advantage of her opponents confusion and changes back to her draconic form. She swims out of the range of the fog and hides behind some of the debris waiting for her opponent to show his true form.
OOC: If your character can understand the tongue of shadows, then I'll give you a free translation of the sentence he spoke.
To Gideon, I can't breathe underwater, nor can survive inhaling toxic fumes...Yet my character is still alive and breathing (air, in fact). If you'd like a PM I can explain how I'm working that. :OOC
ooc
Just for the record...I'm not sure either of you can currently breathe underwater, let alone survive inhaling the toxic substance whenever you talk...
(IC) The sunwyrm looks at the beast emerging and curses under her breath. She swims up, trying to reach the surface of the water so that she can take the battle to the air. She breathes a burning beam of concentrated solar energy at her enemy below her to give her more of a headstart.
OOC: Hehe, he said "You'll never see my true form."
(IC) Katherizaltix shifts her form suddenly into pure sunlight and escapes the clutches of the mirror's soul stealing abilties and, unwittingly, the shards of glass coming from behind. She quickly rushes up towards the surface of the toxic ocean and begins chanting as she shifts back to her dragon form. She speaks telepathically with the beast below, "It is tough to fight what is not there but I have a way to reveal you."
(OOC) Also, Gideon, is there a top to this toxic ocean we're in? (OOC)
OOC: Thank you. I worked hard to make this guy really fit the theme I had imagined for him. :OOC
OOC
Nope. The whole of the second battle area is submerged, up to the shield.
Oh...just for the record...if either of you happens to do what I'd do in this situation, I'll give you a
(nothing arena related Sorcen...no bribery here :D). Cause I see some interesting potential here...
Anyway...back to the fight.
Oh...just for the record...if either of you happens to do what I'd do in this situation, I'll give you a
(nothing arena related Sorcen...no bribery here :D). Cause I see some interesting potential here...Anyway...back to the fight.
(IC) Katheirzaltix swims as fast as she can to the apparent surface of the great toxic ocean... only to find that an invisible barrier is in her way. No matter, she is close enough to the surface to draw enough power from the sun.
She spreads her wings and embraces the sunlight, her body glowing a brilliant golden yellow as if she were the sun itself. The mirror catches up to her and reflects the damage of her sunlight back on her as darkness, she screams in pain but continues to concentrate on her attack. The sunlight grows brighter and brighter and she loses her corporeality and the water begins steaming and evaporating.
Soon it seems as if the entire area of the arena that housed their fight was occupied by a sun. All the water has evaporated now along with its garbage and waste, even the lava fows have been sealed over by the heat and the lava loses its solidity as it's melted away by the power of the sun.
The sun slowly dims and sputters out, leaving the sunwyrm drained and nearly unconscious, she plummets to the ground below and lands with a thud but amazingly she remains conscious. Her body is freckled with black spots from the mirror's attack on her.
OOC: Since I did that move I was waiting for now, I am ready for the ruling whenever you are my esteemed opponent Memnanth.
OOC: I'm ready to finish this too. Either way, it was a good match.
(OOC) Congrats on your victory Memnanth. It was a good match, feel free to end it as you see fit, although I'd like to keep my character.
BIC: Dia's voice booms throughout the newly changed arena. "Welcome to my home. Please find your way out now." With that, a small portal opens in the air in front of Katherizaltix. The sunwyrm, despite her wounded pride, proudly steps through the gate into the tavern cycine, knowing she had done her best.
"I stand ready, Lord Sorcen. Tyrion should be here shortly."
"Sorry to keep you waiting, but I needed to think about what happened in the Jailhouse."
He crouches low in a fighting stance, his deadly hands held at the ready before him.
A coloumn of silver energy shoots down from the sky, and with a loud crack Silence forms from his own teleport spell. Striding up next to Venti, he mentally speaks with his ally.
So, you are my ally for this battle. Let us begin.
He raises a hand and sends a bolt of silvery lightning blasting out towards Tyrion and Valoran.
"I understand, my friend. But let us dwell in the now, while we fight."
Almost lazily, Valoran swats the lightning bolt aside, the energy streaking back towards its owner as his reverse counterspell takes effect. The War Mage draws his bow and nocks an arrow, one that Tyrion recognizes as Wrath.
"I suggest peaceful surrender."
Fine. Try this.
Silence's left arm trembles, and then a strange looking gun, covered with shark-like fins and spines forms. It hums to life, red light glowing out of the barrel. With a high-pitched whine, it spits out a line of silvery-red balls of light.
The balls of light streak towards Tyrion and Valoran, and this time Tyrion counters. A wall of stone shoots up from the arena floor, blocking the path of the balls. The wall is engulfed in a blaze of fire and light as the balls hit it, and when the smoke clears the stone wall is nothing more than a puddle of molten lava. Tyrion draws arcane lines in the air, white fire tracing the path his fingers draw. A glowing rune hovers in the air when he finishes, and the a transparent, blue shield of energy flares to life around Tyrion and Valoran.
"Indeed. My mind cannot seem to rest, though. I believe something was put in my mind Valoran... And I intend to find out what. But as you said, let us finish this battle first."
Tyrion casts another spell, not needing to draw the rune this time. Both Tyrion and Valoran feel stronger, smarter, and faster. Valoran knows that when he fires Wrath he will be more accurate.
As Silence's assaults are negated, Venti sets a spell of his own on Tyrion and Valoran : "I assume you are prepared, sirs." Venti says with cool courtesy, as his magic begins to syphon off the heat from within the shield Tyrion created, moisture in the air crystalizing as the temperature drops.
Valoran lets the demon arrow fly, and it screams furiously, streaking towards Venti at speeds unmatched by god or mortal. But even as it flies, Valoran nocks another arrow, covered in raging black runes.
"And you, my telepathic friend, should be introduced to Ruin."
Valoran lets the arrow fly, streaking towards Silence, before dashing off to his left, reaching to nock two more arrows on his bow.
"Normally it's best to counter Wrath with calm," he says, polite yet wincing, "But there's always the exception." Holding his scorched hands aloft, a shower of tiny silver stars rushes towards Valoran.
Your bow cannot harm me.
Flicking a single finger at Valoran, a lance of ice materializes and streaks off towards him. Silence flicks a second finger, and a wave of acid rolls forth, the ground sizzling and popping as the scorching liquid washes over it.
Tyrion frowns at the separate spells, all aimed at Valoran. Running towards Venti, he throws up a wall of force in front of Venti's spell to try and block it from reaching Valoran. Not looking back to see if he was successful or not, he tumbles around behind Venti and lashes out at his foe's unprotected back. His fists blur as he uses a secret monk technique to try and stun Venti.
Eyes watering, Venti nods in appreciation of Tyrion's speed, unable to move enough to direct any magic in retaliation as his arms fall limply to his sides.
Silence regards Venti and Tyrion, then simply turns away towards Valoran. He walks straight through Tyrion's wall of force, which is dispelled as soon as Silence touches it. As Silence nears Valoran, both of his hands melt and reform into weapons. His left hand is an enourmous morningstar with dozens of cruel spikes and barbs; his right a longsword with a serrated edge. Silvery flames flare around both of them as the construct suddenly leaps forward to swing his ginormous morningstar and his smaller, faster longsword.
"I have indeed trained for many years, Master d'Sylph. I am fast, yes, but it is only one of my strengths."
Gesturing broadly, a powerful wind sweeps around Tyrion, whipping his robes as it picks up sand and dust from the arena. Tyrion rises into the air, standing atop this pillar of roaring wind, and his eyes flash like fire. He throws a hand out at Venti, and a lightning bolt of giant proportions blasts out from his pointing finger. The roar of thunder ripples the air itself as the bolt of surging electricity crosses the arena in the blink of an eye.
OOC
If Sorcen doesn't like this, consider it gone.
"How...breakable. Kolkira INVOCARI!"
The shout rips through the new battlefield, full of sonic force, and sends the mirror's into powdered glass as the gale force sends even that flying towards Silence. Smiling, Valoran rips his hand through the air, and flame streaks to melt the powder into very hot -and very painful - slag, flying at the golem.
ooc
Poor mirror city...:D
Anyway, I've decided that the terrain is more active in this battle, due to an up and coming revelation I have planned, so for now...
Anyway, I've decided that the terrain is more active in this battle, due to an up and coming revelation I have planned
, so for now...Your spells are ineffective against me.
Waving his right hand, the molten glass heats up again, and swirls together to form a vaguely humanoid shape. The molten glass golem charges toward Valoran, swinging it's fiery fists. Silence the waves his left hand, and from the icicles flying through the air he creates a like golem, this one comprised of ice. It too charges at Valoran. Sielnce leaps forward with his own dimension door spell, his hands once more forming the morningstar and longsword.
The icy einvironment doesn't slow Tyrion down, although the swamp does. Throwing his hands out in a wide arc, he sends a wave of acid hissing out across the arena, sweeping toward where Venti's spell originated and where Tyrion believes Venti to be.
"We will see about that, fool. I grow tired of your boasting. If I cannot destroy you directly, then I shall do so indirectly."
Silence's golems reach the war mage, and he almost blithely touches them, shattering them into their component parts as destruction rips into them. Valoran's smile becomes a predatory expression of malice, and he gestures at the swamp below Silence.
And it heats intensely as it turns to lava.
Confident that his maneuver will slow the golem, Valoran teleports to Tyrion's side.
"Need some help, old friend?"
OOC
By the way, the spells he's casting are Inflict Critical Damage
"Not really old friend. It's just this swamp is so sticky and thick. I think it's pulled off one of my sandals!"
He lifts his foot up to his face and sure enough, the mud has sucked away his sandal. Tyrion wipes some mud off disgustedly from his leg and then seems to step onto an invisible step as he yanks his other leg from the ground. He growls in frustration as his other sandal is left in the mud too.
"I had just made those, too! Oh well, it was just a sandal. Or two sandals, I should say."
A couple of gallons of water spontaneously appear in midair and splash over the monk's feet, cleaning off the mud. He stands up and turns to where he thought Venti was.
"Have you seen Master d'Sylph? It seems he's given me the slip. Ah, I'll have to-- Look out!"
Silence could feel the lava melting his legs as he sank deeper into the swamp. But the construct was stronger than Valoran thought, and easily stepped out from the lava and into the swamp. His feet automatically reform as he leaves the lava. His gaze settles on Tyrion and Valoran chatting amiably a few hundred feet away, and his eyes narrow to slits. His whole form ripples, and then melts away into the swamp. Beneath the murky water, Silence glides silently in the form of an ochre jelly towords Valoran and Tyrion. Coiling insidiously a few feet behind them, his form suddenly bursts from the mud and gunk as a huge silver-scaled black dragon, acid spewing everywhere as Silence tries to bite the two of them in half with his mighty jaws.
"I can't hold this for long. It will block anything from getting in, but it also blocks anything from getting out. Think of something to get distract Venti. I know what to do about Silence. But hurry, I can only hold this a few more seconds!"
Sweat pops out on his brow, and his arms begin to tremble as the magic energies trying to break through begin to overcome the magic.
Silence gnaws and chews on the invisible globe furiously, trying to pop it with sheer strength. He casts out a telepathic thought to Venti.
Ready your spells. They cannot hold for long, and your spells will not harm me.
Valoran snaps his fingers almost nonchalantly, and Venti is assailed by a thousand screaming voices, a psychic dagger in his mind as their desperate pleas for help tug this way and that on his soul.
"Very distracting."
The protective shield pops like a soap bubble and several things happen at once. Like a coiled snake, Tyrion leaps out of the mud and spins to face Silence. The construct's jaws begin to close around Tyrion and Valoran, but Tyrion strikes first. Lashing out with a single fist, the very air itself seems to gather around Tyrion. It strikes out along with Tyrion's fist, and the resulting concussion blasts out and sends waves of swamp water twenty feet high away from Tyrion. Silence is hurled high into the air, where he reverts back to his normal form in shock. Silence's body is dented in the chest, and silvery liquid drips from small cracks in his body. The blue electricity surges forward inthe remaining water, as Tyrion lands lightly on his feet. All this happens in less than two seconds.
Silence flies high into the air, stunned by the force of Tyrion's blow. He flips backward and stands on his feet in midair. His green eyes form slits as he gazes down on Tyrion.
You'll pay for that.
Pointing a finger at Tyrion, and ray of raging red and yellow flames as wide as a horse is long blasts toward Silence's opponent. The very air itself seems to catch on fire as the ray roars down on Tyrion and Valoran.
However, Venti is utterly unable to watch his see his handiwork, as the terrible sounds of torment reach a throbbing crecendo. Staggering under the weight of their need, and even more under his inability to help them, he collapses into the water of the swamp with a small splash.
"I have suffered enough! Let the wrath of my mind consume you!"
Tyrion flings his charred hands out, and arcane energy lances away from him in seemingly random directions. The arena seems slowly to be pulled into his insanity, and soon the swamp around him is a roiling mass of energy. Multicolored beams of light blast into the other combatants, but Silence takes most of the brunt of Tyrion's mad rage. Lightning thunders down around Tyrion hurling clods of dirt high into the air. The swamp water spontaneously combusts, rivers of flame snaking away from the monk. Flights of whirling blades zip to and fro, slicing everyone, even Valoran. Then a beam of brilliant purple energy screams out from Tyrion's forhead, madness incarnate. The ray strikes the construct in the chest, and to the horror of everyone in the arean reflects off of his silvery frame and shoots back at Tyrion! Tyrion doesn't bother to move, still flinging arcane energy about with abandon. The purple beam hits him, and there is a flash of purple light. From this flash the swamp transforms into all manner of things, from rivers of frozen air, to mountains of lava ripping up from the ground. Strange beasts appear and disappear with the sound of popping popcorn, sometimes for only a moment, other times long enough to take swings at the other combatants. Raw insanity then belches forth in a wave of destructive energy, swallowing everything that touches it.
Silence watchess emotionless as Tyrion is consumed by his own spell. The purple wave of energy washes over him, and though he tries to avoid it, he isn't fast enough. It tears through him scattering chunks of silvery metal across the arean floor.
"Tyrion! Say something, old friend! SAY SOMETHING!"
OOC
Ouch. Not a good time to be face-down in the swamp water...
Tyrion stands in the blackness of his mind, head swiveling back and forth. His insanity was out there, waiting to strike.
"Come, I know you're out there. Let's finish this now. Rotten beast, I know you are only a figure of my mind! Let me purge you, so I can be whole once again!"
Then a second Tyrion appears from the blackness. His robes are purple, his skin purple, everything purple. But his form wavers, as if it wasn't quite there. Then it speaks.
"Yooouuu aaaaaareee nnnooot imgainnninggg thingsssss, fooooool. I wassss ssssennnt by thhhhheee Keeeeeperrrrr to dessssstrooooy yooouuu. Eeeevennn iffff I diiiiieeee, thhheeee Keeeeperrrr will ssssstilll haaaave yooouuu in hisssss grrrasssp."
Tyrion's fists clench, and he growls at the apparition.
"You lie! I know the ways of the Keeper! Deceiving, lying wretch! You seek only to unseat my stability, my belief that you are nothing! Vile worm, I shall destroy you!"
Tyrion leaps forward, white robe flying as he lashes out at his own mind. Insanity, as skilled as he is, fights back, and the two fight through the corners of Tyrion's mind. Insanity summons memories out of depths of Tyrion's mind, memories of the Jailhouse and it's cursed inhabitants. Tyrion counters, bringing up the memory of escaping the Jailhouse. The two Tyrion's use memories as much as fists as they fight, trying to unstabilize the other and gain an advantage. Both know it will only take one punch to destroy the other.
The pieces of Silence twitch in the swamp. They glow silvery in the muck, then float silently towards each other, and soon Silence is reformed.
"Golkinaboror oroboro gigbratsotha vexthata kili tra invocari ignis roto wilsalle poloto trilavitragopi -"
The chant continues, but even the half-formed magic swats aside the beam as though it were an annoying child. The look of rage in Valoran's eyes has no mercy, no pity, and no remorse. The Butcher is back again.
Finally, a challenge! I shall relish your destruction, human.
Silence begins casting his own spell, eldritch energy sparkling around him. Rings of light encircle his metal fists as he mocks Valoran.
Oh? Are you angry? I would say I am sorry, but you will need to defeat me first. And that will not happen.
Valoran's spell continues as he blithely ignores Silence. The energy gathering is making the air tense, streatching the fabric of magic thinner and thinner as he becomes an eldritch weight on reality.
"Yhigo knitra blokno hobrath werl ZIVOLORO HEVA!"
There is a sound that defies human comprehension, but may be most likened to a thunderclap. Near Silence, the air rends, the molecules actually fleeing to escape whatever horrible fate awaits Valoran's unfortunate victim.
"You. Have. Been. Judged."
The razor-edged yellow portal opens, and the horrid sounds of shrieking and battle come from the other side. All at once, appendages of all sorts, magical and mundane, reach through to take Silence.
"You will suffer for this. You will suffer."
OOC
Be warned that Silence is a big fish to try and catch.
Cold fury is plain in the elf's voice.
"You underestimate me, fool. You make empty boasts as though you were the only one capable of such things. There is a reason I am called the Butcher."
A dark tongue, one that should not be spoken or written by the tongues of men or any other race, pours from his lips. In his mind, Silence hears Valoran's wrathful voice.
I never had any intention of slaying you. You will be Unmade.
OOC
So Silence's monlogue about the future depends on how you look at it. In my games, I've ruled as a DM that time travel backwards is fine, since things have already happened. But time travel forwards is nigh impossible because of the things that could happen. For instance, Valoran could very well whoop Silence's ass right now. But what if he doesn't? That's why Silence is so confident and arrogant, because no one knows for sure what the future will hold. And if the Silence in the arena now dies, then it's just as likely that another Silence from the future will come back for revenge.
OOC
GRAAAH!! Fine, I'll double post. Maybe one of you (Lord Gareth, I'm staring at YOU!) will reply!
Tyrion growls. Venti can tell he's p***ed off, and isn't his most rational self right now. He knows for sure when a beam of hissing green energy lances toward Venti, the air desintegrating around it.
Valoran ignores the hand as it envelops him, the chant continuing. The black tongue that pours from his lips is still clearly audible from inside his casing of muck, and it is painful to simply hear it. As he continues his incantation, the muck and grime forming his prison falls away, less than ash, less than the tiniest fragments of existence.
And all at once, the chant reaches a crescendo, the warmage releasing a single word that refuses to stay in the minds of those who hear it, lest they lose their sanity in a way that cannot be described. Silence is encompassed in an enigmatic field, one that cannot be seen but is nonetheless precisely defined around him, and the construct can feel the threads of being unraveling as Valoran's words undo the multiverse around him. Weary, but smiling triumphantly, the warmage raises his bow again to face Venti.
Silence snarls as reality around him breaks up.
No! You're coming with me!
And he reaches out one silver hand, the metal corroding and flaking away to reveal the naked magic powering Silence beneath. Rays of magic reach out to Valoran, transforming the energy of the spell into a barrage of silver flame. Holes in reality crumble away to leave yawning blackness as the flames spear through the air, all aimed at Valoran.
It's not over! I will come baaaaccc-kkkkk...
Silence keels over and crumbles into fine silver dust which scatters across the arena, his words cut off as he is destroyed.
OOC
O.K., I confess: I couldn't work out how to fit in the post that Sylph's Staff is kept in otherspace, so I put it here.
OOC
So this "divine screen" I've been talking to is similar to the Sacred Shield (I think that's what it's called) special ability in the Sacred Warder of Bahamut PrC in Draconomicon. It's basically a shield that nothing can pass through coming in, but attacks can go out from inside it. Only the Profane Blast special ability of another Tiamat PrC (can't remember the name) can break through it.
His Death Arrow.
Panicking, he screamed the incantation for a spell of speed, racing ahead of the flame as he nocked and aimed the arrow. But the warmage was running out of trees. With one last brilliant idea, the warmage lets fly at Venti before leaping into the air, a dimension door already forming in front of him as his sword clears the scabbard.
The warmage comes back into view swordfirst, the longsword scything in at Venti as he steps through aggressively, needing to press his opponent hard and fast if it was to work.
His eyes widen in shock as he twists around to find himself facing a crippling blow from the warmage's blade, gashing his stomach. But before Valoran can land another blow, he finds himself having to contend with a sudden blast of wind: Levanter.
Straight into Silence's flames.
OOC
An invention of a player in my campaign, who named it in honor of the other Bigby's Hand spells, allow me to present Bigby's B*tch-Slapping Hand
Valoran's desperate moves unknowingly set Venti and Levanter up perfectly for a counter from Tyrion. The dazed Venti and Levanter are unprepared as Tyrion drops down from a hundred feet above, trying to crush them under his massive weight.
OOC
Bigby's B*tch-Slapping Hand, I love it! 
OOC
The following assumes that, as I am guessing, those "flames" are lasers
Whipping his hand reflexively at Tyrion, a streak of blazing white flame rushes towards the dragon, a spear of starfire conjured from some distant, ancinet reach of space.
OOC
Not really. Valoran will have to do something better than use a hand mirror to deflect the attack. You get the prize for creativity though, I have to admit. But Silence's death curse isn't something to be trifled with (although I'm sure you will anyway :D )
And then there are mirrors everywhere. They appear out of the swamp, out of thin air, everywhere, laying themselves down on the ground and interlocking with each other seamlessly in blatant defiance of the antimagic field. Countless, endless mirrors, forming mad architechture, a maze-like city that claws its way into the sky, reflecting the light a billionfold. Twisted balconies and spires connect the buildinds, and yet there is method to the madness - every single building is symmetrical. Even as this city forms and the combatants see each other's reflections everywhere, two more join them - Diedre and Lyra, facing each other in a standoff, blood imminent between them.
Tyrion opens his maw wider and swallows the flame, bleching it back out a moment later back at Venti. He gazes up at the mirror city, and leaps into the air with a beat of his mighty wings. He circles a building once, gliding under an arch to make another pass at Venti. Magic crackles around his jaws, sparking from tooth to tooth like lightning. Venti's original attack blasts into him, and Tyrion lets forth a beam of brilliant blue energy, frost creeping up on the buildings it passes by.
OOC
That was a empowered polar ray, by the way. LG, I'm assuming that Lyra and Diedre are younger than Tyrion.
OOC
Lyra and Deidre are not actually near the battle - their reflections have been carried all the way to this side of the Arena by virtue of the mirrors. So there's a LOT of them standing about. Look at the Reflections thread.
And place some bets, damn it!
And place some bets, damn it!
Not really important, but...
Lyra actually wouldn't cast reflections, since she'd have to have a mirror-person bound to her, which is unlikely. But, for the dramatic effect, well...
OOC
Ah. Edited.
He does not stop his floating procession across the arena floor until he reaches the Betting Window.
"The pleasure was mine."
He steps through his customary doorway of light, and into the Tavern.
Silence's death curse, as if angry that the match has ended, fades away.
He walks slowly to the center of the arena and sits down in the lotus position, his head bowed and his eyes closed, waiting.
OOC
Bets, anyone? Dibs on the guy's liver when he goes down? Anything?
”Greetings, Dreamer. It is good to see you in the physical realms at last.”
His voice is calm and quiet, possessing an almost ethereal quality.
”My visions have been shattered of late. I had all but assumed that your existence was nothing more than a dream; that you were naught but a phantasm created by my addled psyche. Admittedly, given the abstract relationship between perception and reality, this is still a possibility, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt. I will address you as if you are a corporeal being and not some specter brought forth from the depths of my consciousness.”
“That being said, understand this: I seek not to provoke your wrath. I seek not the victory, nor the fame. Truly, I seek little from this confrontation…it is merely a way to distract myself from my thoughts, which, truth to tell, are not often uplifting. One needs some connection to the world, regardless of what that connection is. Can you fault me for that?”
Black, roiling clouds appear from thin air, encircling Wresh Haltirak , mercifully obscuring him from the vision of all onlookers. Screams and multicoloured lightning rush through the clouds, which slowly expand to fill the entire ring.
"Dearly mistaken."
”I know you, Wresh Haltirak. I know what you are. For those of us with the sight, however clouded, find that little escapes our vision."
"And I do seek solace, but solace means different things to each of us, Wresh Haltirak. For some it would mean the end of the dreams...”
He stares deep into the roiling blackness, locking eyes with Wresh as though his sight could penetrate the darkness.
”But for me it simply means a change in their nature. To long have the same ghosts haunted my mind...and I doubt you can do worse than they, although you are welcome to try.”
Dorian spreads his arms slightly, standing open and defenseless before the dream creature.
”I am prepared, and ready to face your power. Can you say the same?”
"You are ready? Many say so, mortal, but none truly are. They think that they fear nothing, that I am nothing but a troublesome whelp to them, to be bent to their will. But none are truly ready..."
The clouds begin to part, and a figure shambles out, but it is not Wresh Haltirak. It is Dorian Rike, bruised, burned and mangled. No man can survive what has been done to this body, and perhaps, he has not.
"[color=Green]They think they brave all, that I am nothing, but even the strongest mind will bend, and a hard will can only bend so far, mortal, before it begins to crack...[/color]"
The corpse of Dorian looks up at the sky, making a harsh, guttural, unearthly shriek. Lifting both fists into the air, it begins to flail hysterically at its target.
"And break."
"I am a seer, Wresh Haltirak. I have forseen my end, and this is not it. This is a mere phantasm conjured by you in an attempt to fracture my resolve, and it does not work.”
Dorian takes a step forward, gazing steadily at his foe.
"And I do not imagine that I fear nothing. I am not that delusional. I fear everything, for fear prepares us for the worst, but I do not let my fear weaken my resolve. In this manner I am ready to face the worst with a calm demeanor, and coolness in the face of a crisis is a valuable thing to possess.”
Wresh feels his mental wards peeling slowly back as Dorian stares through him, and a strange feeling descends over the Dreamer, as if someone were scouring his mind.
"The real question here is what do YOU fear...and if you are prepared to face it and triumph. What do you think?”
OOC
Dorian is searching for anything Wresh fears, and thoughts/emotions that can be used against him, since that's mainly how Dorian fights...for now
The Dreamer's mind offers no resistance as his opponent searches through it, but the answer he seeks is spoken to him een before he can discover it: "I fear nothing, mortal. I am fear, and surely no fool will fear themselves?" His answer taken, Dorian notices something, at the edge of the Sleeper's vast mind. A wall, strong as steel before him, bars his way out. He is trapped, his body frozen, as Wresh Haltirak slowly walks toward him, smiling.
Slowly, he reaches out with a thin, clawed hand, and punches through the frail man's chest, ripping out his still-beating heart, crushing it.
Dorian Rike, the seer, falls to the ground, lifeless.
"I leave the decision up to you."
The corpse slowly rolls over, it's chest a mangled and bloody crater. But it's eyes still carry a spark of life, and Dorian Rike stares back at Wresh Haltirak, his eyes mournful and forgiving. And slowly the spark begins to fade and die.
"Tragic."
Dorian steps next to Wresh, hands in his pockets as he looks down on the ruined body.
"But you feel nothing, do you? Do you kill for amusement? Do you attempt to flay the sanity of others for mere pleasure? Why? What makes you do this?"
Dorian reaches out and gently touches Wresh Haltirak's arm, sending sorrow, self-loathing, and guilt flooding into the Dreamer.
"What sort of monster are you, Wresh Haltirak? Look upon yourself and see!"
OOC
Let the mindgames begin :D
"There are those, sometimes, who see me as the monster that you do, who attempt to stop me, destroy me, 'save' their brethren. Those few, those precious few, Dorian Rike, are destroyed forever, erased from the memory of the universe... Tell me, if one were to put a knife to your throat, would you not act against them? It is the same for me, I am simply defending myself, as best I can. "
" Truth be told, I am needed by all of you, whatever form I may take. Cowardice, fear, caution, call me what you will, but if no mortal feared anything, if you knew nothing of caution, if you were free of my influence, than you would have slain yourselves long, long ago."
" But you, you have done nothing to anger me, you have merely been placed in battle against me, and I am simply doing what I can, fighting with the few weapons I know. Surely, none but the most prejudiced fools could call me a monster for what I have done? "
The Sleeper stands before his opponent, clearly and intentionally defenseless.
"Accept me for what I am, Dorian rike, and you are indeed a wise man. Slay me now, and the memory shall haunt you forever.
The choice is yours."
"No, Dreamer. There is no choice. Whether you are what you say or not, there is one difference between us: I do not kill. Not even to save my own life."
"But we are both enigmas. Meaning within meaning, layer upon layer...does what we say truly reflect what we think? I do not believe it does."
Dorian advances slowly.
"You, however. How would you think? A parasite, instilling fear into a victim and then draining their spirit, tearing their mind away...preying on the weak of the universe...this you give reasons for: you are a predator of minds."
"But you are different. You are not some rapid dog. You are sentient, and you appear to have feelings, however distant. And that makes what you do that much worse."
"Does a wolf know if it's victim is deserving? Of course not. But you have the ability to determine this. And yet you affect the weak-willed most of all. Those who pose no true threat to you, to their fellow beings, or to the universe as a whole."
"You are what you exemplify, Wresh Haltirak. A coward, full of fear at those capable of driving you off. It is for this reason that you focus on the meek."
"Wresh Haltirak, you say you are the embodiment of fear. Well, here am I, naught but a mortal, and yet I stand before you, exposed to you, hiding nothing but my thoughts. You shroud yourself in cloth, showing nothing, obscuring everything to the ourside world. You are afraid."
"I am not one of the defenseless, Wresh Haltirak. I am one who poses a threat...and I am far stronger than any foe you have met so far. Can you bring yourself to face me?"
Reaching out quickly, Dorian grasps the fabric of Wresh's cowl and throws it back, exposing the creature's face.
"Games, Wresh Haltirak. Who are we really? We do not know...but let us meet face to face, and maybe we will both learn something."
"I am, as you say, the embodiment of fear. I am what I am, Dorian Rike, and so I feel fear, cowardice, all the names that you brand me with. Is it not common sense to feel fear toward those who can slay you, destroy you forever? You say I am a coward, tell me to show myself, but if you were to see me, you would not live a moment. "
" I have one question for you, mortal: I have done nothing to wrong you, your visions are your own, not anything that I have brought to you. Why, then, do you seek my end so? "
As Dorian's hand shoots out at his cowl, Wresh Haltirak nods in grim acceptance.
"I have no quarrel with you, Dorian, none at all, even now. But if you wish to see my true nature, than there is little I can do to save you. Remember this though, whatever may happen: this is your choice, not mine. You have none to fault for what will happen now. None, but yourself."
The hood is thrown back, dissolving into green mist that surrounds the Many. Beyond it is one, hauntingly familiar face: That of Dorian Rike himself. It smiles ruefully, and suddenly begins to change. First, a black blot appears in the corner of each eye, slowly creeping across until both eyes are covered in inky blackness. Then, slowly, it cries, cries blood. The blood, in turn, drips down into its mouth, and with the first drop, the teeth begin to sharpen.
Quickly, the mouth turns to a ringed sucker-shape, until it resembles nothing more than a lamprey's blood-soaked maw.
Finally, both of Wresh Haltirak's arms begin to bulge, until they burst, serrated blades of bloody bone erupting from them, twitching eerily, all pointing toward Dorian Rike.
"My face shows the worst fear of those who look upon it, and this is what all mortals fear: themselves. Truly, I am not the fountain of fear that you think me to be, I barely need to work at all, when so many can imagine a death that will never be, dread a day never to come. In the end, none of you have anyone to blame but themselves."
The dreamer shakes its mangled head, sighing.
"But now it is too late for words. You have chosen to destroy me, and I sense that little will sway you. You say that I do not care if my victim is deserving, but I gave you a chance, but now... now it is too late."
"Interesting. I have never seen the like before...but you are mistaken with me. There are things I fear far more than myself..."
He pauses, shaking for a monent, and then recovers himself, and then begins again, speaking almost sharply.
"Tell me something, Dreamer. How do you think? You see, although I would not kill another to save my own life, I am not the fool you make me out to be. I will be honest with you: you respond in interesting ways, and I am hard pressed to find an opening. I seek not to destroy you, although I seek to emerge unscathed, as do you, I assume. I merely sought a weak point, sought to incite some emotion, as rage and overconfidence are as open doors to me. But you, for all my provocation, show neither..."
OOC
This is truly unique...the first battle fought without either combatant actually striking the other physically, and hardly using magic at all...all mindgames, until someone finds a weak spot. I love this! :D
I feel little emotion, Dorian Rike, those of my kind are created to be what they are, no more, and so have no emotion but that which they embody, and seldom even that. "
The Dreamer sighs and bows its terrible head.
"In the end, dorian, my kind are less than beasts. We have not their emotions, or your freedom, we are nothing but pawns, pawns with the minds to recognize ourselves for what we are."
Dorian touches a finger gently to his temple, brings it before his lips, and laughs quietly, blowing outward across his hand toward Wresh Haltirak.
[FONT="Georgia"]"Joy, Wresh. Joy. Hard for me to conjure up these days, but it is worth the loss to see what happens to you."[/FONT]
The Dreamer's hand whips around, knocking Dorian to the ground.
"That was for you, you fool! For you, and for the world. If I allowed you to do that, I would have become the monster you had thought me to be before, I would have joy, to be sure. I would take joy and solace in destroying the sanity of others. No longer would I destroy only to sustain myself, but merely for sport, for my own amusement, do you see now why I have stopped you? "
Dorian looks up from the ground.
[FONT="Georgia"]"But that's not going to stop me."[/FONT]
Dorian Rike stands up, slightly dazed from the blow, and walks forward, pressing his hands against Wresh Haltirak's temples. And he begins to shake, tears streaming from his eyes, as his small reserves of happiness and joy flow from his mind, through his fingertips, and into the Dreamer. All the Dreamer's defenses are overcome in a single instant, as sheer joy rushes through him for the first time.
"So it has come to this, than, Dorian. Very well, I shall tell you the enormity of what you have done. My kind, mortal, have no choice at all. We cannot become that which we are not, it slays us almost immediately, leaving us in the darkest depths of oblivion, erasing us from the memory of the very universe. You have forced me to... to change, to become something that I am not, was never meant to be. My time is limited, soon I shall vanish, and you shall not even remember me, for the whole world will become free of my influence and existence. All mortals will suffer from my death, mortal, and they shall have you to blame for it."
As the Many fades even further from view, his cloak dissolving into green smoke, Dorian finds his visions, his terrible fears and visions that have haunted him all this time, vanishing.
"The only punishment that I can inflict upon you for your acts is this: for an eternity, you shall remember what you have done to me, to the world, on this day. This memory, Dorian Rike, shall haunt you forever."
The dreamer stares at the man before him, not in rage, but with a look of sad regret.
"This is my last day, Dorian, the end of all fears. Bask in the glory of your foolish act!"
And he is gone.
"There!"
And slowly, majestically, Dorian Rike falls forward, collapsing on the arena floor, one word slipping from his lips.
"Fooled..."
"My kind cannot change their nature, mortal,but I am above them."
The great stone wolf before Dorian seems curiously alive. The worms that compose it give it an eerie fur, and jagged rocks make a maw. In the stead of eyes, a pair of small, green gems glint. Howling once more toward the Baatorian air, the wolf bounds forward, slavering jaws open, clawing and biting at Dorian.
But this time, the pain is real.
[i]Hello again, Wresh Haltirak.
Dorian Rike's thoughts ring out in Wresh's mind, and the Dreamer realizes something is very, very wrong.[/i]
The arena begins to waver, become insubstantial, as a bank of mist fills their view. All seems as normal, but a gut feeling tells Dorian that something has changed. The arena is still there, yet it is insubstantial, unreal, while the Dreamer seems firmer than anything else in this strange place.
"This is my domain, mortal. This is my mind, my plane, where the worst fears of the world become a reality. Where you, Dorian Rike, are naught but a dream... this is not your place, mortal, but you have chosen to come to this place, and I shall not deny you. Come, I am ready."
"I, but a dream? Dreamer, you almost make me laugh...in the material world I am but a shadow of myself, locked in my physical form. But here, even in your mind..."
Dorian suddenly unfolds, standing up twice as tall as before, and the mists retreat from his body as he continues his advance. Whisps of shadowy substance curl off him, and his eyes are dark spheres, with something just visible inside...the spiraling arms of galaxies...yet something more as well.
"...I am strong."
Any semblance of the arena vanishes, replaced by one, endless mist-filled corridor. Each panel of the floor, each part of the ceiling, every section of the wall, all unite as a thousand great mirrors, mimicking his every move. Yet each one is slightly different, mimicking him, and yet not. From each image radiates a malign intelligence.
And then, as one, they turn on him.
A thousand stares are upon him, a thousand stares from his very own eyes. Each one looks on, seemingly piercing his soul with their glare, looking through, even beyond him.
"Tell me this, Dorian Rike, what are you?"
"What I am is no mystery, Dreamer. I am mortal. I am human. But I am also a Nueromancer, or Psychomancer, if you prefer. And this is my realm as much as it is yours. You are a creature of dreams and nightmares...but I am a creature of thought and consciousness. And the mind is my domain.
The images turn from his gaze, yet even as they turn their back on Dorian, their forms swell and burst into a thousand eyes, covering them entirely. In each eye is a small blue flame, glinting with a great and familiar power, something stolen from him, leaving a hole too great for any other thing to fill.
In each eye burns a fragment of his stolen soul.
"Than you are naught but a fool, Dorian Rike, a fool unworthy of my mercy."
"Listen to yourself, Dreamer."
Wresh hears his own words thrown against him, although it is the burning figure's mouth that moves.
So, you consider yourself my equal...my superior, perhaps, in my own domain? You think yourself to be sovereign over myself and my domain?
The flames begin to die down, leaving Dorian standing, naked, before Wresh, his clothes stripped away by his transformation.
"I do not assume things, Dreamer. I said this is my realm as well as yours; that I am a creature of thought, and that the mind is my domain. Never did I assume to be greater than you...that remains to be seen."
"You cannot steal my soul from me, for I do not believe in such things. To do so would require a belief that there is something I cannot walk to through the mind, and I have yet to find it. Belief is strong...it shapes who we are, and how we think. There is nothing you can steal from me, Wresh Haltirak, unless you can steal my thoughts, for I have no soul. Or, I suppose, I AM my soul. Either way, whatever you believe, you cannot separate my thoughts from my being."
Dorian looks around the desolate mindscape, shaking his head.
"And you call me a fool based on the words you place before me. And you delude yourself into thinking as such. Still, your thoughts are hidden behind a mist of your own creation, so it is fitting that your opinion be clouded by your perception. Come, Wresh Haltirak..."
The mists spin and swirl, darkening and then fading away, until the two combatants stand in blackness as far as the eye can see.
"...and let me show you a mind unclouded!"
With a sound like the birth of creation, a soft white light creeps out of the blackness, banishing the last of the clinging mists. Before the pair floats an immense galaxy, spiral arms spinning and turning majestically in the empty blackness. Each star is a point of brilliant light, shining strong against the dark surrounding them. And to Wresh Haltirak, the scene is startlingly familiar...he last saw it reflected in Dorian's eyes.
The Dreamer reaches out to grasp his opponent by the throat, his long, thin clawed hands tightening around his neck.
"When I first met you, Dorian rike, I thought you to be a wise man indeed. Yet by what you have said to me, you have taught me one, and only one thing. Perception can mislead, for you are far from what I thought to be. I will tolerate no more words without wisdom from you, fool. Leave now, and you shall leave with your life. Insult me once more, and you shall know my wrath."
Thick, black, oily smoke fills the mindscape, and writhing tentacles and claws lash out from it, accompanied by a maddening gibbering. Flames creep around him, charring his skin, yet they burn with no heat, but a clammy, wet cold. Soon, insects swarm around him, devouring him, surrounding him with chittering sounds that mingle with the gibbering of the smoke, painful to his ears. Through all this, needles pierce the seer, inflicting terrible, almost unbearable pain upon him.
And then, as suddenly as it started, it is over.
The smoke, the claws, the maggots, the flame, the needles, all vanish in an instant, and Dorian Rike feels himself being lifted up into the air.
Soon, he finds himself staring into the face of the Sleeper, yet he seems to be but the size of an insect, or perhaps it is his opponent, staring at him with eyes that blaze with hatred and fury, who has grown. A green, bone-thin hand tightens around him, cutting into him with great claws.
Suddenly, a great rumbling sound fills the air, filling Dorian's mind with a terrible pain. The mindscape seems to buckle under the force of the Many's attacks... and something appears in the corner of the mindscape.
A crack.
It is in that moment, when Wresh Haltirak is torn between his dying rage and his growing triumph, that something goes horrible, horribly wrong. From the center of the swirling nexus of stars comes a dark light, expanding and swelling, engulfing everything in it's path. Try though he might, the Dreamer cannot twist away, nor can he break through the barrier of the mindscape...and the light crashes over him like a tidalwave.
For an instant, all is still in the darkness, save for the slow progression of the swirling spiral arms of the galaxy. And then, for Wresh Haltirak, time begins again.
Memories rush before him in a flood...every single event of his life is thrown before him in a single instant that lasts an eternity. His mind is forced open, scoured through in that fleeting second, recorded somewhere within the cloud of stars...and then he is back. But something is missing.
Try though he might, Wresh Haltirak can no longer remember who he is.
Show
This to much for you? I can tone it down a bit...but it's what Dorian would do to an opponent, and could do, even in that short a time-frame. Can you work with this, or should I re-think his move?
By the way...also note that Dorian's in a bad spot at the moment...his consciousness is floating around some...place. If you can guess what that place is, feel free to use it...but Wresh probably wouldn't have seen it before, as I doubt he travels in the collective consciousness of being much. He seems more "up close and personal" than that.
By the way...also note that Dorian's in a bad spot at the moment...his consciousness is floating around some...place. If you can guess what that place is, feel free to use it...but Wresh probably wouldn't have seen it before, as I doubt he travels in the collective consciousness of being much. He seems more "up close and personal" than that.
Slowly but surely, the Sleeper's form begins to dissolve, and Wresh Haltirak falls to his knees, gasping in pain. Shrouded in the green mist that most of his form has already become, he kneels on the ground, knowing nothing, not even his name. Nothing but pain.
And then, suddenly, in his last moments, a perfect clarity returns to his eyes.
"Very well, mortal, I am beaten. For my kind, our memories shape what we are, and if we lose our identity, even for a moment, we are destroyed. I shall return before my influence on this world is wiped out, but until then, I shall be forced to lie in the darkest pits of the abyss, condemned for my percieved evil.
This time, Dorian Rike, you have won. But I shall not be banished to the hells for long, and wehn I return, there shall be but one thing I shall seek before all others."
The last of his form crumbles as his long banishment begins, whatever soul he may have had sucked into the abyss. At that moment, a terrible, furious roar is unleashed, and what little was left of the shattered mindscape starts to fade, perhaps forever, or perhaps, like all else the seer has shown, it is but an illusion. It seems that the Dreamer, the Sleeper, the Many, Wresh Haltirak, the bringer of nightmares, has finally entered a long, dreamless sleep.
"Vengeance."
As Wresh vanishes from the arena, the outcome of the fight becomes clear...but Dorian Rike does not rise to acknowledge the crowd. Sensing something wrong, the arena medics rush onto the field...only to find the seer unresponsive and unthinking, his eyes solid white and soulless, though his body is still alive.
There is no sign that Dorian Rike was ever a sentient being...save for a single dying whisper heard in the minds of the most sensitive devils...
Where are you, Charles?
OOC
Yes...this gave me the perfect chance for some, as Gareth puts it, plot Voodoo in the Nexus :D
Tarak walks out onto the arena, oblivious to the ensuing carnage around him. He unsheathes his blades. "So, 'tis a fight you want, fiend? Then a fght is what you shall have!" Noticing the bard nearby, he says: "And you, Bard! I shall be your oppoent! I shall take both of you on at the same time!"
(Oh, and Tarak is also battling Xarius at the momment. He used fissure to split himself in two, so he can be in both places at once. Smart, eh?)
Nim body starts to transform in to werepireform.
what do you say to this!
the sky is on fire. the earth is covered by ice
Nim right hand is flaming and the other hand covered by ice look my meat. this is a mighty fireball and a mighty iceball BUT if you know me then run for you life!!
Nim fores his hands to getter and hit them in to the ground. it makes the earth to lift his opoment op in the air and makes an tonado of fire and ice.
and you god cant hjelp you her!
The whirling tornado of fire and ice simply dissperses at Tarak's command.
"You see, fiend? That is but 1 meager feat of the Ruby Sorceress. If I wished to, I would instantly annihilate you in a single blow...But I do not wish to. I wish for a challange, fiend. And that challange is you."
Tarak then utters a single word:
"GO."
Instantly, the raging tornado of fire and ice forms once again. This time, however, it is around it's creator, Nim. Tarak leaps into the tornado to combat the Werepire.
Nim steps in the earth and makes the tornado to get smaller and to close in around him.
listen too me. You notes that the tornado is my spell and I controls it more than you do
The ice part of the tornado is coming op form the ground down under Tarak and the fire part is coming over him.
But you have not meet my good friend yet
And wolf is jumping op an Tarak`s back and bit him in his neck.
"Your good friend? Hmph. I, too, have a friend dear to my heart; but you will meet him in time, fiend. And I have much more control over the tornado than you do;"
Tarak snaps his clawed fingers together and the whirlwind stops. He theb clicks his fingers a second time and the whirlwind is resurected, with more ferocity than before. Tarak than charges in and slashes at his foe furiously.
Nim stops the tornado once agen but this time it do not forms as an tornado. this time it forms as an aura around the wolf. the aura makes it`s fur in to flams. and around it`s pots ice is geting in to spiks.
Nim put his arms op in to the air while saging ladt the party begin wit RAKNOROCK
spell you are nice to battle i think.
BIC: "Ragnarok, eh? Is that the best you've got?"
Tarak again kneels down in prayer.
nim has almost power inof to make the little spell
Tarak still prays while he is speaking.
Nim`s body is now covede by shadow.
The dire wolf is groving bigger.
little picse of earht is lifting of the ground
Let the games begin Mian Gou
biāo bǐng shuǐ!!
the spirit shouts
a torrent of brilliant golden water explodes from his outstretched hand, rushing at sarran like a compact tidal wave. the demons/devils in the crowd are blinded and burned by the mere aura of the water, it corrodes the chains it touches.
spirit takes devil, id call that check
he opens a flask and takes a drink
Meanwhile as chains are corroded and destroyed more grow and take their place. They reach down from the ceiling attempting to slash Mian gou with spikes and blades.
ooc: was that just a kind of acid or was there any other energy form at play?
says the spirit as the globe disappears
yuè liàng dùn!!!
a spinning blue disk blocks the chains, and hovers near the spirit. he lands on the ground smashing the floor were he lands
yuè liàng wù
a fog pours into the arena and begins to obscure mian gou, it will soon fill the arena
now ive evened the playing field
ooc: that water destroys or harms evil/darkness or anything tainted by or created by it
A pair of eye-slits watches from a shadow... several shadows actually, both in and out of the arena. They all seem to be paying an unhealthy amount of attention to the battle at hand...
bào lù !
the shadow disappears
who are you? and more importantly, why shouldn't i attack you
the spirit spins and throws a energy disk at saran
(As Mian gou lands on the floor he begins taking acid damage from yellow squares and cold damage from brown squares. The same goes for shiv alba if he touched the chess board that makes up the entire arena floor. Chains lash violently at Mian Gou from the floor now. This effect was already in place. Brown squares are brown mold and yellow squares are ochre jellies bound into the chess board. They are released if they out grow their square or their square is destroyed. Molds and Jellies are neutral creatures so your earlier spell would not effect them.)
Following the fireball a strange thing happens that you probably cannot see because of your obscuring mist but the temperature drops dramatically all around you. You are now standing on a large brown spot that is dealing you cold damage. You are surrounded by several yellow colored jellies that begin attacking you. They are unaffected by the mist. They don't have eyes to sense with.
Saran desperately spins his chains in front of him deflecting the energy disk. It flies off and hits the ceiling causing rubble to rain down and dislodging some chains. Saran recieves some minor lacerations but the wounds quickly heal up. How's the wheather spirit? his face then tranforming into the image of Mian Gou's mother surely passed on for many centuries. Mian, Mian, why are you trying to hurt me? Saran says in Mian's mother's voice. The illusion becomes the complete form of Mian's mother wearing the very outfit she had on the day she died.
the spirit slides back smoking from the fireball
dǎ sǐ wù!!
its for killing you!
the jellies writhe and die, sarran feels as if his skeleton is shattering and he is exploding on the inside
my mother is still alive, she rises each night to watch over the earth. her name is yuè liàng
bái dào!
out of the mg's hand a pillar of white energy flies at saran. it destroys the ground beneath it.
Saran is still flying by the way. All around Saran is a globe of clean air the fog drifting around the globe he erected earlier. As the white hot energy slams into him he takes it thrown backward into the ceiling. Rubble rains down on your head from the ceiling destroyed by your spell. But instead of destroying him as you thought he absorbs it and points both hands at you. He even draws in the power of the mist all around him absorbing its destructive power and his arms glow as raw spellfire power hammers down on you into you. He laughs with the ecstacy of converting your own energies into pure spellfire hotter than the sun walking on a razors edge threatening to be destroyed by it as much as he seeks to destroy you with it. The floor around you turns molten and you sink into the liquid stone. The extreme heat blasts outward in a ripple like a stone thrown into a pond spreading the entire length of the arena floor. Many spectator in the first few rows of the bleachers are instantly vaporized by pure spell energy. The brown mold grows wiping out the entire chess board and growing up the sides of the walls and reaching all the way to the ceiling. The temperature drops suddenly instantly. Suddenly so cold that the molten stone solidifies around your legs and cracks from the extreme and sudden change. The cold is so extreme that it seems to threaten the plane of ice. The chains shatter and fall to the ground all around the ochre jellies are gone. Saran pants from the exertion and smiles from the pleasure.
His own spellfire protects him from Saran's own spellwork, but Vice's Shadow Presense is still struck harshly by cold damage... and several souls of the damned pour the shadows made by Saran's chains, free... before they are devoured by the Shadow Plane forever. The visage of a terrible black figure comes fourth from the shadows, gathering the souls under a thin ribbon of tattered rags that binds the poor souls by their throats... and then they are gone.
All of this happens within the span of a second or so... before the eyes of both Saran and Mian Gou. All of these effects are clerical though, and both Mian Gou and Saran will no doubt react to these happenings as they would to a passing wind.
but as soon as saran takes the energy in it stops. the energy gathers into clumps then visible rapidly growing orbs under the skin. they cannot be used, converted, or removed. all that can be done is change there position in the body and soul, before they explode.
Saran says I leave it to Master Sorcen to judge who has won this match.
and he leaves.
whats the matter are you afraid to fight me devil?
mian gou shouts and spits on the gound
That also goes for technomagi, though not so much because atleast he was trying. :ooc
The eye slits in the shadows of the audience (or what's left of them) blink closed, and everything seems just a little less dark and ominous...
ooc:eatin crow
"Cor, now there's something you don't see every day...where'd you get those amazing wings? I've been trying for years, and I never got further than that glider, and...wow, what's that ring for? No no no, not that one, the one on your left hand, you know, the one with the funny lightning in it...alright, you've got to tell me about this stuff later, this is amazing. After you're done, I'll show you a thing or two, deal?"
So saying, he slowly walks back to his place, still staring at Enoch in amazement. Once there, he calls out to his opponent.
"Alright, I'm ready when you are, just say the word."
Kharon swiftly leaps away from the bolt, landing carefully so as not to disturb the alchemical vials around his person. As he lands, he deftly removes a small metal device from his pouch, which looks something like two truncated domes pressed joined to eachother, with a small slit between the bases of the two domes. he looks up at Enoch and aims carefully, as if he were about to throw it.
"Buzz disks," he explains, "Can't seem to find anything else that gets the job done so well."
he presses a small switch on the top of one of the domes, and a dozen small blades erupt from the slit in the middle of the disk. As he throws it at Enoch, the disk and blades begin to spin and whirr in opposite directions.
Show
i liked the predator disk idea i hope you have more than one
Small holes open up in Kharon's jacket, which begin to spray an icy mist all around him. Surrounded in a veritable halo of frosty fog, he walks blithely past the ring of black flames.
"Alchemist's frost, in case you're wondering. Made it myself, deals with fire like nothing else. Now, when are you going to give up on magic..."
he suddenly leaps and rolls to the side, swiftly removing the pair of revolvers from his belt and loosing a volley of lead toward Enoch.
"...And start using something real?"
(the black flame sword area effect increases the heat has doubled and the demon fear is now twice as strong, the buzz disk begins to melt off the sword and the ground stars glowing from the heat)
Thats a smart jacket you got there. ...Real?...ok, I have got something your going to love.
Enoch raises his hand and the spider ring on his finger jumps off and instantly expands, at the same time Enoch draws another sword from the wing, the sword glows blue with lightning running up and down. The spider ring transforms into a large clockwork spider, the mechanical body has many plates composed of different metals, the sound of gears turning permeates the entire construct it moves with same speed and grace as the insect it was copied from. and it begins to stalk the kobolt
"Now that," he says, "is quite something..."
hurriedly, he leaps up, the mist from his jacket chilling the flames around him into nonexistance, sparing him from the heat of the fiery crucible that the arena has become. Swiftly, he removes what appears to be a small box full of gears from his backpack.
he presses a small button on the top, and a long, thin, and above all, razor sharp wire extends from it, ending in a wickedly sharp dagger. he swishes it through the air, and the wire sprouts a thousand, infinitely small, yet equally sharp barbs. Slowly, the gears within the box begin to whirr into action, and it is evident that they are accelerating by the moment.
As he lands on the spider's back, he brings it down with all the force in his small body, and quite a bit more, provided by the motion of the gearbox. A large gash appears in the clockwork creature's back as the wire strikes it, sending sparks flying.
Wasting no time, Kharon grabs a bottle of fizzing, green liquid off his belt with one hand, and one containing a murky white liquid with his other hand. he hurriedly pours both into the gash, and even as the acid in the first flask takes effect, melting the intricate clockwork, the white liquid explodes in a brilliant, multicoloured shower of sparks and lightning, coursing through the gears, cogs and wires that make up the spider.
"Never heard of alchemist's spark? Tough luck, than. What next, wonder boy?"
(so we are clear, there is still a line ruining form the spider to the kobolt)
Enoch laughs and replies What's with the personal attack,you don't hear me referring to you as a tea-cup dragon do you? Enoch fires a dozens of ice shards from his weapon each explode as they hit the superheated ground, all around the bound kobolt.
(the black blade area effect continues to increase in temperature and in coverage, the demon fear is increased as well, the ground around the sword is now starting to soften if you can't feel the heat it is like mud) ((by the way you should explain why your not responding to my Demon fear i posted earlier your just going to ignore it?))
after a moment the spider is back up and running and now seems to be cover in translucent material.
As he is bound in the spider's webbing, Kharon hears the faint tinkle of shattering glass.
"Oh, damn...."
Moments later, every bottle on his belt chain reacts, sending great waves of frost, lightning, acid, fire, explosions, smoke, sound and shockwaves out in all directions. Earth is ripped from its place in great lumps, and sent flying, impacting with the arena wall and shattering into small chunks. Stones fly everywhere in the alchemical catastrophe, and after the blasts subside, a thick pall of smoke still covers the arena ring.
From somewhere behind the smoke, there is a clink of metal, and see two flashes of light. A moment later, the sound of two bullets being fired reaches Enoch's ears, muffled through the smoke. A pair of lead slugs fly through the smoke and air at Enoch with surprising accuracy.
From out of the smoke walks a kobold, pistols in hand, a shimmering sphere of force around him. he is apparently unscathed, and looks around at the assembled audience.
"And that, kids, is why you don't mess with my belt."
Kharon clicks his fingers, and the sphere fades away, leaving him before Enoch, the smoke rapidly clearing behind him.
"So...tell me, what's your next trick?"
During the explosion the mechanical spider is thrown back head over feet, landing on its back, but quickly righting itself. Using its artificial eye it scans the dust cloud to reacquired its target which it was able to do by the gunfire....
Enoch hearing the bullet whizzing through the air before the rapport reach his ears caused him to react by snapping a trailing edge of one wing round to block stopping a single bullet inches from his face the second bullet found its target in Enoch's shoulder, as the bullet enters his shoulder for a moment blood pours out, then the blood stops and a silvery liquid fills the wound, seconds later a new star-burst scar is formed were the wound was.
as the dust settled the mechanical spider approached the kobolt from the rear. The second Kharon stops talking the spider shoot a new web line attaching itself to the kobolt's back and backpack and quickly begins reeling him in, dragging him over an area of molten earth,
Enoch dives at full speed at Kharon at the last second pulling up and coming down feet first on the kobolt chest driving him down into the semi liquid earth, the frosting mist of Kharon's jacket harding the earth into rock.
Enoch step off the kobolt, puts sword to his throat and asks"Quit playing around, your toying with me right? Regardless this is where I give you, your only chance to walk away without having to be resurrected later, I did not come here to battle artist like yourself. But I am licensed to kill and will do so.
(the arena slowly returns to normal)
oh my oppent is not her jet
Shen starts to make work on the bow
while the attacks hit hes wing he pull out he sword said somthing again now the sword becoms in to an blade whip.
yello
he attacks the creature while he searchs hes bag
Shen body turn in to blue flames.
little things VANISH
the 3 creatures is turned in to dust
when is the master of the undeads??
A single voice rise from all of the small bony creatures and from thousands of points in thin air at once.
"The master is here, he has been all along"
Shen turn up behind the big creature and stabs it in the bag with two swords and turns them in to whips
so if you are the master, why did you not attack first??
"The wise commander keep control over and distance to the action"
yes but at the master you can at least say hallo to me. I am you opponent
now the two swords turn it to whips in the bage of the undead and covers all of the body in a second.
it was nice to mit you
Shen jumps in to the air and pull the two whip to him making the undead body it to very small pieces
"You seem to have mistaken something... the creature you just destroyed was not me. It was merely a servant of mine. When my servants are present, my mind is as well."
the he starts to make an unnom spell
aruond Shen the earht starts to glo and makes some totoos
Shen koms out of the spell and cast an fireball to him
grab it
With these words, Artak let the screens that shielded him from sigth and detection fall. His statesque is not overly impressive, a human-sized person in a dark robe with a dragonlike skull for head. In his mouth gleams serveral long razor-sharp teeth made from diamonds.
In his hand rests a large bone covered in dark runes.
He raise the other hand and catch the orb of flames. It turn blue before exploding and showering most of the arena in blue flames. The fire does not seem to harm Artak. The flames continue to burn where they land. None of them hit Shen.
shen looks at the flames like somthing is sone befor hes eyes
all of a sotten hes body is covered by tatoos. hes body startes to flam in black and white.
(occ Shen is loseing control)
his body is growing and his face is turning in to an balor
stop the monster in me
Artak casts a spell and necrotic energies begin to shimmer between the large bones that encircle Shen.
die little necormanser
the gemstones that take up Artak's eyesockets takes on a dangerous gleam, not of plottng but of a devious plan. He mumble a few words after which large crackling bolts of necrotic energies strike out between the ribs.
out form the bag of the hydra commes an angel the angel is not awake
"Even in anti-magic my necrotic dweomers harm you, you cannot win"
A whirl of necrotic energy appear between the ribs before a gate to the negative energy plane opens and negative energy in large quantities spill out into the arena.
"Now I get the terrain benefit as well, healing for me further loss of life for you"
the angel is now awake and starts to make a spell.
out from the body of the hydra comes 100 hands, the hands starts makes summode spells
the angel fires the spell of. the spell summoms lots of holy weapons thats surounds the necomanser and all holy spells is now attacking the necormanser.
the summoms spells the hands is makeing is now finished and the summomed beist is dragons and demons dragon riders and hydras
Artak mumble an incantation andmoves his hands in a pattern that must be extremely exact in order to work. A large flash or eroding energy emerge from him, rusting the weapopns to dush and turning the summoned creatures into skeletal creatures, which the following wave of unholy negative energy animates.
all of the summomed cretreus is rusing in to attack the necomanser
the angel is now makeing and new spell and the hands form the bag of the hydra is now grabbeing the holy weapuos and is now attacking the necomanser
the hands is turning is to weapuons them self and attack the necomanser
the angel summons a magi wall a round the summomede ceatrus are now unsummomed.
the all the heads of the hydra is now toking((tale)) to angel and non of them looks at the necormans
((Må jeg (igen) forelså at du enten skriver dine posts i word eller bruger dern nye version af firefox der har indbygget stavekontrol?))
the heads are cut of but the hydra do´s not notes
"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.
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.
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.
OOC
I've done this correctly, right? Jump in and have some fun?
BIC: 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..."
OOC
Should we perhaps keep everything on the other thread, IC:1? So everyone's reading the same page?
BIC: 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."
He walks slowly, his eyes hidden behind his dark glasses, speaking quietly to no one in particular. Presumably the shadows that accompany him.
Aaron passes by Sysiphus, but turns around after walking a few yards. Looking over his glasses, his purple eyes stare into the cloak - is it possible that he can see where angels can not?
"You're looking for a fight, aren't you?"
The young man indicates himself - "Aaron Wight."
Aaron pulls from his sleeve a stick of fragrant, smouldering incense, and waves it in small circles, leaving delicate whisps of smoke in the air.
"Fantasmi, et oteri, aiere mi con ieri..."
Two forms appear in front of Aaron - there is no mistaking them for ghosts: a wild looking elf,and a weathered knight. Their whispering voices address Aaron, who answers in turn. After a short conversation, Aaron bows to them both, and places in their waiting hands a small, delicate silver bell.
"Are you ready?"
The trio spring up - the white shadow parting the ethereal ropes, beads of darkness melting at its touch.
Aaron's ashen shadow flies through Sysiphus, clawing at his soul.
Finally, the black shadow raises its ghostly arms, and dozens of ebony skeletons rise from the arena floor, shambling towards the cloaked spectre, points of icy white light in their eyes.
Aaron, however, can not move - Sysiphus flies easily through the young gentleman, inadvertantly slicing through the bonds he conjured and freeing the pair of ghosts.
Adamantium wings sythe through Aaron, who drops to the ground in a spray of blood. However, even as he falls to the ground, he catches a pillar and pulls himself up. Should Sysiphus look back upon his opponent, he would find him unscathed.
"A diseased soul is better than none. You can still be helped - I can do it."
Coin's voice dies away, leaving the entire plane of Baator ringing.
Aaron steps back from Sysiphus and begins to work a spell anew.
OoC
Sorry for the delay - exams have been keeping me tied for the past few weeks.
However, he is affected by the whispering voice, carefully noting what is says...
"Very well."
However, he does not - can not - move.
And what of you, worm?
Aaron struggles to move up off of the arena floor, but slowly, he rises, standing shakily to look into the dark hood of Sysiphus.
"For this power, then, I thank you. For many years, I've sought to make ammends for my past. However, it would seem that I no longer have a choice in the matter."
His eyes are deep, his skin a light brown. He wears a hooded sweatshirt, written across which are the words "Penso / Sono" and at his side hangs a canvas satchel, corners of torn paper poking out, graceful Arabic script barely showing. Arc Shahmet, djinn diviner.
He leans on the side of the arena, waiting for Melissa to appear.
"Alright, let's do this," she says, and spits black soot out before firing both barrels straight at Arc.
In the ensuing explosion, she pulls another gun off of her pack, this one a rifle that whirrs and clicks dangerously. She loads a belt into it and spins what looks like a chamber - but when the air fills with the crackle of electricity and the smell of ozone, it's obviously something more.
Running past Melissa, Arc says "Mind you, being a diviner means I see what you're doing ahead of time -- anything to say to that, Miss Nathans?"
The disorientation passes as Melissa whips her rifle to face Arc, squeezing the trigger hard. The gunfire is too fast to even hear individual shots - a sheet of bullets, crackling with electricity, fire from the machine railgun, seeking Melissa's foe.
"I told ya, there's no such thing as Magic, never has been, never will be. Don't make me start gettin' mean on ya, handsome."
In his head, Arc hears an entirely different voice.
Oh, looks like we've got another unfortunate. How'd this happen?
When the dust and debris clears, Arc is nowhere to be seen - however, a light breeze brushes against Melissa's cheek, and a whistling voice says in her ear "Convinced, aren't you. But there's no need to get mean -- just some friendly competition."
Another? Before I respond, might I have the pleasure of knowing who has contacted me?
Oh, me? My name's Kaylee, ruler of the Megaverse, at your service. I'm indirectly responsible for Melissa's existence. Oh, and as she keeps providing explanations for what you do, they'll start becoming real.
Melissa pulls a cord on her shirt, and a huge gout of steam covers the immediate area. Arc hears clacking and whirring, and then the steam blows away - revealing thousands of mechanical spiders pouring out of her oversized backpack, scuttling towards him and spitting Greek Fire.
"Let's see your "sorcery" deal with this."
"Watch." Arc says, as he returns to the shape of a young man. He claps his hands once, and the spiders nearest him turn to real, flesh - and - blood creatures, which simply scuttle past Arc.
He eyes the rest of the machines as he dampens the flames from a stray spark that caught his cuff with his other hand.
Arc knows what really happened. Magic clashed with belief, and, somehow, belief won.
Then the spiders explode in a roiling gout of fire.
Melissa stands cautiously, hefting her machine-railgun and scanning for her foe.
"You okay there, handsome?" she calls out.
One eyebrow raised in sligh annoyance, he answers "Never better, Miss Nathans. Though you ought to know, your perception of the world is flawed. I'm interested in knowing how your technology might make one a gust of wind, or an ember."
Christ man, you know how to set a girl off. Look kid, you have to be /subtle/ around a 'Mancer. Don't let her know you're doin' ****, or she's gonna break the world around you, and then where will you be?
"Optical illusion," Melissa says slowly, "or teleportation of a very advanced kind. You still aren't fooling me."
More spiders pour out of the backpack, the whole swarm still seeking Arc's blood. Melissa raises her rifle and, with one finger, flicks down a glass over her eye. Arc sees it light up, and a targeting reticule appear. Melissa opens fire, the spray of bullets coming out faster than the eye can see.
Arc's message ceases as Melissa begins to fire her rifle, and a few bullets strike his shoulder and abdomen before he can raise his left hand imperiously, turning the lead into raindrops.
He looks at his wounds, wincing slightly and cursing in a harsh, gutteral language. Placing a hand over the shot in his shoulder, he draws the bullet out with a spell, leaving a small, dark hole in his shoulder.
The devils of the arena looked on with wicked smiles, new blood was about to enter the arena and make battle, and enter it did.
From no where Shisunen Appeared within the arena, and stood there-dead silent-waiting for his foes.
OOC: If you want to know anything about Shisunen, go here
http://forums.gleemax.com/showthread.php?p=16712144#post16712144
Next thing that happens is that time on time a sound is heard, continously, rythimcally, as if a heavy object wrapped in cloth hammered against rock. Slowly a shape appears in the darkness of the gate and moves outwards to take position opposed to Sishunen, about a hundred feet away. It is humanoid in shape, but a head or so taller than any human. Seeminly wrapped in cloth from head to toe excapt the face, red silken cloth, with loose ends hanging low in the sudden lack of wind.
The fists below the cloth seems to be clenced, if there are even fists at all. The face is carved from a white gemstone, with an astonishing amount of detail. The open eyes glow faintly blue as the automaton gazes emptily at his opponent, but not empty as devoid of feelings, the emptiness is more as if the blue surface was a wall, hiding whatever might be below.
When the scent of blood-which he recognized instantly-hit his nose, his mind was thrown back to countless battles, bloody and seemingly without end, but he still did not move.
When his foe stopped opposite him in the arena, that is when he moved.
The air around him seemed to warp as he suddenly moved from where he had been, to just in front of his foe.
He eyed his foe, studied him to the extent of his ability, and then with a unnerving calm said, "So you are my foe? If that is the case then let me introduce myself, I am Shisunen. If you don't mind me asking, what name do you go by?"
Shisunen hears behind him.
a black gnoll type creature (well, the wolf equivalent) stands behind him impatiently
He then waited for an answer from both the gnoll and from the construct(at lest thats what Shisunen thinks he is).
lunoc has already turned around by the time the man is behind him. lunoc's bright green eyes stare into Shisunen
i am lunoc. i hear you have some skill
After giving Lunoc a thorough look over, and realizing he is not really a gnoll, Shisunen said. "Well Lunoc, I do indeed have some skill, both in sword and fist, and I'm starting to look forward to this match.
Shisunen continued his-almost malicious-smile as he stared down Lunoc and his green eyes.
long green cresent shaped blades form in his hands then fade away.
most of my power is all in how i use the second. i am a warrior of the spirits.
Shisunen then directs his attention to his other foe, and pointing to him says. But what of that one? He has made no motion, no noise since our conversation began. What do you know of him?
lunoc says sarcasticaly
OOC:Our guys can play the shogi game until Munch gets back.
Shisunen then pulls a whole shogi board from his left pocket, and soon after takes the pieces from the same pocket.
He sets the board on the ground and sits-cross legged-on one side of it, he then places the pieces and invites Lunoc to sit on the opposite side of the board.
OOC:Now Shi and Lunoc can play there shogi game until the next post by Munch. We can still talk in the OOC thread.
"Cruor Solitudo"
Then a slight breeze blows, catching the ends of his red wrappings and making them wave slightly as he waited for the two to get their thing over with.
Well Cruor, its nice to meet you. I guess our game well have to wait for later Lunoc.
As soon as this was said Shisunen warped to a standing position a couple feet away from where he had been sitting and said. Because now it's time to beat each other senseless
With that said, Shisunen raised his arms, the right toward Lunoc, the left toward Cruor. He channeled his Ki into the palms of his hands, and with a fanged smile on his face lunched two silent and invisible orbs of force at his opponents. As they grow ever closer to the targets, the only sign of there approach was a slight warping of the air as they moved.
Cruor is strange, an abomination in the sense of magic. The energy does not bounce off or dissiapte harmlessly. It is consumed, absorbed by him, seemingly without him spending any will on the act at all. Curiously, the energy is absorbed fastest at the places closest to his arms and face. Even more strange though is that the more of the energy he consumes, the weaker does the energy presence around him, the innate magic of the world near him, seem to become.
For now he abstains from action.
With that Shisunen took 3 steeps toward Lunoc, and on the 3rd steep he exploded forward off the ground. Now headed at Lunoc at great speed he performs a flying kick on impact, and follows the attack with a flip kick for good measure. He then lands back on the ground a mere 3 feet from Lunoc.
OOC: Cue the Japanese action music.
At that moment Shisunen seemed to slide over to Cruor, and in one flawless motion drew and struck with his O-katana, the force of the draw kicked up dust and even made a small sonic boom.
Curiously, the blade was made from the same gemstone as the face of the creature... white as marble.
Dodge this! And let loose a flaming breath attack at point blank range!
OOC:Got to go pick up food, be back in 20 or so.
As the blade sinks in it begins to drain the mystic energy and Ki of the victim. That does nto prevent the blast of flame from hammering into Cruor and set ablaze his wrappings and leave sooth on his face, but only seconds after the blast had occurred the dirt and sand of the arena floor rose in a twiser around the golem, snuffing out the fires and sending sand to the eyes of the dragon warrior.
Upon reappearing a good distance away from both Cruor and Lunoc, Shisunen began focusing on healing his body and replenishing his Ki.
OOC: Let's give Lunoc a turn, just to be fair.
lunoc apears a few moments later holding two soulblades. he is a few yards away from the samurai's back
Shisunen assumes a iado drawing stance, a sound of screeching metal is heard, but Shisunen has not seemed to move.
Suddenly the air around Lunoc is ripped apart, as if a hundred blades were tearing though the air. Lunoc's chest and arms are left with numerous gashes after the attack.
Shisunen decides to do something about it, but what? Cruor would simply absorb a direct Ki Wave...He would absorb a direct Ki Wave, but what about an indirect one?
While still performing his roundhouse on Lunoc, Shisunen throws back his right arm and lunches a Wave at Cruor. It approaches him at an incredible speed, and looks as if it will hit dead on, but at the last second it veers down.
The wave strikes the ground just in front of Cruor, there is a horrendous cracking sound as the ground is sundered, sending chunks of rock flying about in all directions and kicking up dust and dirt.
After a temporary stall, the darkening and the drop in temperature resumed, the temperature turning actually frigid now. All the while a tempest of sand and dirt is building, howling loudly where Cruor fell.
He then notices the drop in temperature and that a tempest is forming where Cruor fell, to this Shisunen thought. (What does it take to slow that guy down?) Deciding that attacking Cruor further would just be a wast of time and Ki, Shisunen choses to devote himself to knocking out Lunoc...or killing him, which ever came first.
With that he warped to point blank range in front of Lunoc with his O-katana raised, and brought the blade down with enough force to cleave a block of adamantine in half.
OOC: Just so you guys know Shisunen does not have to actually look in the direction he is seeing with mind's eye, it's like having 360 degree vision.
Shisunen moves to the side and forward, the kick connects with his left side. The force from the kick is so great that it rips scales and flesh from the area, and causes Shisunen to start bleeding internally...But it was worth it to get this close.
Shisunen places his left palm to Lunoc's chest, and with a crazed smile on his face, uses Ki impact to release a wave of Ki right into Lunoc's ribcage with the intent of turning his internal organs into pulverized mush.
Then the construct charges the two combatants, the temperature dropping even more the closer he gets, and slash his blade in a wide arc, aimed to decapitate them both.
As Cruor nears and swings his blade, Shisunen shouts. I did NOT get kicked just so YOU could take my head off! With that Shisunen swung his O-katana to meet Cruor's blade in an attempt to deflect it.
OOC:Now I have to wait for Lunoc to resolve the Ki impact.
Shisunen looked up from from the blade in his chest, there was no crazy smile on his face, just a blank emotionless expression. With a deadpan voice, he said but 3 words. Now, I'm annoyed.
Shisunen's Ki exploded though his body, creating a small shock wave around him and cracking the ground under his clawed feet. His body temperature started to raise, and steam was beginning to come off of his body. From his wounds tiny pieces of white energy shaped like lotus petals began to float out, and dissipate in the air. His O-katana reacted to his Ki, and was beginning to heat up and glow a bright white, this melted the ice crystals turning them into water vapor.
With all the limits on his Ki released, Shisunen grabbed Lunoc with the arm he was trying to twist off and slammed him into Cruor. He then swung his sword around and made a horizontal slash to his right, with the intent of decapitating them both.
OOC: In case you couldn't tell, annoying Shisunen is not a good thing.
All the while the amount of steam coming off his body increased until it seemed less like steam, and more like white flames.
lunac attacks with his soulblades to strike at shisunen's ghost form.
When on the other side of Lunoc, Shisunen begins to inhale a large amount of air, if he could not kill them with his sword, he would turn them to ash. He focused his Ki in his abdomen, super heating the fire his body was making, and when the fire had become so hot that it was starting to burn Shisunen himself, he let loss the breath attack.
The fire was bright and blinding, like the flames of the sun, the ground melted, the air hissed, and Shisunen extended the attack for as long as he could. He would leave nothing of his opponents, nothing but dust.
OOC:Ya, you can disregard the punches thing, I typed that when I was dead tired, so my brain wasn't what it should have been.
As things were though he stood up still, as the dragon was still recovering from the massive energy use he dashed in, slashing a sword in low to slice through his knees, the other was kept back for now.
a spear of soul energy stabs into (through?) shisunen's back at the spine
With that and his breath attack finished, he watched as Cruor stood up, he watched as he came forward, no doubt to make an attack of his own. Shisunen thought. (This just ant my day) But this was not the end, oh no. Shisunen refused to loss so easily.
Despite his body's aces of protest, Shisunen forced himself to Ki flash just before Cruor could hit him. But he did not appear some distance away on the ground, no, he appeared above them, way in the air. He was levitating. Shisunen ripped off his torn and bloody kimono, and began to focus. The Ki that was poring off his body started to grow in density and moved as if it were forming into something.
When the Ki was ready Shisunen crossed his arms over his chest, and with an ear shattering roar spread his arms to his sides. There above him, and yet at the same time attached to him, was a T'ien Lung dragon made of his Ki. The dragon had no body from the mid-section down, and instead was attached to Shisunen from there, but from above the mid-section it was fully formed and three times Shisunen's size.
Shisunen waited in the sky, readying himself.
OOC:Introducing Ki Aura, what do you think about that?
Shisunen's body flickered for a moment, and then there was a sonic boom as he disappeared. He reappeared a split second later...In multiple places. There were now three Shisunens and Ki Dragons. One was seven feet in front of him, the other two were seven feet back and to his sides, forming a triangle with Cruor in the middle.
The Shisunens pulled back there right claws, and the Ki Dragons mimicked there movements. All at once the Shisunens swung there claws in a downward diagonal cut, and while the Shisunens were to far away to hit, the Ki Dragons...were not.
In the blur of sand, Cruor disappears, and suddenly a pair of white gem blades slash at the one dragon left unattacked as Cruor materializes from sand particles in the air.
Shisunen shot his arms forward and closed his clawed hands around the air in front of him, as if he was grabbing something. The Ki Dragon mimicked this, except now it made far more sense, Shisunen wasn't grabbing the air, he was making the Dragon grab Cruor. If the Dragon did manage to grab Cruor, Shisunen would then surround Cruor in an orb of Ki in order to keep him from simply turning into sand again. After that, all Shisunen would have to do is crush Cruor before he could find a way to escape.
OOC:I know Cruor can absorb energy, but Shisunen has enough Ki that he could probably kill Cruor before he absorbs it all if he does get trapped in the Ki orb. Unless, of course, you find some other way out.
Cruor, anticipating what will happen as soon as he sees Shisunen begin to move, simply position his blades so that they will pierce the claws of the ki dragon if it lays pressure on him, causing heavy drain of the energy. Then Cruor simply waits for his opponent to realize that what he does is futile, while hoping it will take long.
With the Dragon holding Cruor in place, Shisunen draws his O-katana and tosses it in front of himself. The sword floats in mid-air and begins to spin end over end, it spins faster and faster until it no longer resembles a sword, but a giant saw blade hanging in the air. With a swing of his arm Shisunen sends the sword hurtling towered Cruor, it will cut him right down the middle if he can't escape it.
OOC:Shisunen is assuming that the Dragon can keep Cruor in place despite the drain, feel free to prove him wrong if he can't.
The sword, sensing that someone other then it's master had dared to take hold of it without it's master's expressed permission, began to create and launch hundreds upon hundreds of small razer sharp blades from it's own blade into the one holding it. And it would not stop until the transgressor had been punished for it's crime, or it's master told it to stop.
floating in middair are hundereds of soulspears. they all point at shisunen, their tips following his movement. lunoc creates more and more of the translucent spears. lunoc raises his hands, and all the spears start spinning. he pulls his arms back to his chest, and takes in a deep breath. the spears move backward like arrows about to be fired
die!
he punches outward in front of him. all the spears fire out in a huge swarm at shisunen
Lunoc finished making the spears and lunched them Shisunen's way. Shisunen payed it barely any mind and seemed not to care that hundreds of spears were racing toward him, in fact he just floated there with his arms crossed watching everything unfold.
When the spears had come within a dozen feet of himself, Shisunen uttered two words in his own language. Kei Baria. Suddenly dozens of hidden kanji on the large sutra beads around Shisunen's nick began to glow in a crimson red light, in an instant a invisible barrier appeared around Shisunen. The soulspears smashed against this barrier with little effect, a few moments later all the spears had dissipated after striking the barrier. It's job done, the barrier disappeared and the sutra beads stopped glowing.
Shisunen looked at Lunoc and in a deadpan voice says to him. Ya, thats not going to work. With that said, Shisunen uncrossed his arms in front of him, sending a barrage of Ki waves in Lunoc's direction. The dozen or so Ki waves swarmed toward Lunoc, they seemed to change trajectory in order to match Lunoc's movement, as if they were homing in on him.
OOC:Guess you forgot about the sutra beads.
A few seconds passed while the density of the spinning orb of blades grew before it started expanding outwards, slicing at the claws of the dragon and the ki sphere that Cruor was caught in, adding an immense pressure to it's capability to contain, which were already strained by the constant energy drain applied to it simply by being near Cruor.
the spears ricochet off the barrier. they fly through the air, regroup, and crash down on lunoc's enemy strait down.
Shisunen took no heed of the soulspears, he was to busy watching Cruor. Cruor...was trying to use his own sword against him! It...it was laughable! It was so laughable that Shisunen actually started to laugh! As he laughed Shisunen said. Hahahah! You think you can actually use my own sword to beat me?! Hahah, and here I thought you were going to be a real challenge. With a snap of Shisunen's clawed fingers his sword stopped it's attack on Cruor, and all the blades that had been made stopped being carried by the gale crated by Cruor.
The blades started pulling together in two separate masses, when they were done the blades compressed into each other, combing to make two perfect copy's of Shisunen's sword. Said swords proceeded to attack Cruor without mercy while the original sword attempted to free itself.
OOC:... When did I say they were real spears? In fact, as far as I can tell, the way I talked about them implies that there made of energy. If you want me to explain the barrier in detail, just ask. Oh, and one more thing. Lunoc, I couldn't help but notice that you ignored the Ki waves that I sent your way.
lunoc ducks and leaps around most of the ki waves, but runs into one in the process. he is knocked back several yards from the impact.
The chunk of glass, while far less dangerous then the sand, is still headed Shisunen's way. Shisunen reaches for his O-katana, the sword reappears within it's sheath as if it was always there. Shisunen draws his sword and with one flawless slash, cuts the chunk of glass in half. The two half's pass Shisunen harmlessly on ether side before starting there fall to the ground, and Shisunen sheaths his sword while the two copy's appear around him, waiting to serve there master.
Just as the glass passed by Shisunen it splintered into thousands of thousands of dimunitive razorsharp shards, now speeding at Shisunen. At the same time The blades quickly returned to Cruor's head, and from excess sand flying on the wind, the body of the construct, wrappings included, reformed.
With that done Shisunen raised his left arm, and with a wave of that arm sent the still spinning swords at his side soring toward Cruor.
OOC:Those swords of his sure come in handy, otherwise this would not of ended nearly as well as it did.
As the two swords and their protection of Shisunen was gone the glass sprang to lige again, forming a gale of shards spinning all around Shisunen and closing in on him rapidly as the hissing sound of splitered glass ripped the air and the eardrums of all who were too close.
"Come on, you clumsy old scrapbox," he hollers out, "I haven't got all day." His voice, high-pitched and not at all pleasant, is a contrast to his shiny outfit.
"Cube sees no scrapbox, only an imp. Query: where is the clumsy old scrapbox?"
Scowling, the imp extends his arm in front of him and snaps his fingers imperiously and invokes a cantrip, causing a thin blue-white ray of frosty energy to shoot from them toward the Modron in chastisement. "You should learn to respect your betters!"
"Query, Balthazar: Cube cannot see or hear a walking trashcan. Where do you see it?"
Cube thinks for a moment, and adds, "Attention, Balthazar: you have missed the walking trashcan. Shall we begin the match?"
The imp clenches his snow-filled hand into a fist and the powdery snow explodes through the cracks between his fingers, somehow multiplying as it did so to fill a large circular area (it looked like a good forty feet in diameter) centered on Balthazar. The temperature in this area immediately drops like a stone, not just cold but painfully cold, condensing the moisture out of the very air and triggering a light snowfall in the frozen area. Balthazar, of course, does not seem to mind, and is, in fact, chortling to himself. "Hope you don't mind a little chill, you blundering packing crate."
Cube only noticed the snowflakes as the chill wave swept over his frame. After all, Modrons are incredibly resilient creatures, especially where cold is concerned. he flicks the wrist of his right arm, and the hand folds back. In its place, a spinning disc appears, resembling a saw disc. The other hand grabs a crossbow from his back. Settling into a battle stance, the Modron waits for its opponent's move.
Materializing another snowball, the imp tosses this one gently into the air and claps both hands together on it as it falls. The moment his hands strike together, three beams of icy-blue energy, cold enough to freeze an frost worm, fire from in between them toward the Modron.
Taking a deep breath, the imp blows into his handful of snow, which flies forward and transforms into a freezing, shrieking gust of wind aimed right at Cube.
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Angel. One-winged angel. Get it right, will you? :p
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Don't be silly, Angels don't come from Mechanus. :P
"Incorrect: Modrons possess a soul."
And as one, the weapons strike.
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Note how he said a soul, singular. For all of them. Yeah.. Modrons.
Scowling darkly, the imp invokes a surge of power to speed up his spell, vanishing in a flicker and reappearing high in the air, back on the other side of the freezing barrier. "Oooh, that is the last straw! I will obliterate you, you son of a trapezoid, do you hear me? You are literally dead!"
Concentrating, he produces yet another handful of snow, which he actually swallows in one gulp. Pale blue light flashes from his eyes momentarily, and he opens his mouth to release a thick beam of piercingly bright energy, colder than the coldest ice, straight at the Modron.
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This is now the Modron song. Also, son of a trapezoid? Brilliant :D
Oh, and unusually for a Sorcen character, Cube's powers more or less boil down to (for now) minor spellcasting, taking a lot to kill, and more or less being the Swiss Army Modron. Not much for this place, as I said, but I intend to develop him quite a bit over time.
Oh, and unusually for a Sorcen character, Cube's powers more or less boil down to (for now) minor spellcasting, taking a lot to kill, and more or less being the Swiss Army Modron. Not much for this place, as I said, but I intend to develop him quite a bit over time.
He considers countering with another attack, but he can still feel the drain that last spell put on him, so he decides to try a slightly different tactic. Darting straight up to give himself a few seconds, the imp chants quickly, then vanishes as he lays a veil of invisibility over himself.
Shockingly, no insults come down this time. It seems that even Balthazar isn't so stupid as to give away his position with another tirade.
Instantly, the powder shifts. Balthazar can almost feel the Modron's concentration as each piece of dust sharpens into a tiny needle, the cloud spreading to cover the entire ring. Yet these are not meant to harm - instead, some fall upon the imp, hooking themselves upon Balthazar's scales. Outlining his invisible form perfectly.
And Cube does the impossible as it strides forward, weapons raised.
The Modron smiles.
"Target re-acquired."
Desperately retreating again, the still-invisible (but now outlined) imp waves his hand, and a pair of gargoyles appear from the frigid air, seemingly crafted from pure, crystal-clear ice. The creatures swoop down from behind the Modron, attacking with claws and battering wings, as Balthazar himself attempts to use the distraction to retreat higher into the air.
Snickering, he snaps another snowball into existence and cups it in his hands, then crushes it. When he opens his hands, an impossibly large amount of snow falls out, filling the area with a perfectly harmless, but vision-obscuring blizzard. The snow appears to be perfectly nonmagical, however it becomes quickly apparent that there is enough of it to blanket the arena to a depth of about ten feet.
"Hah! Have a taste of real power, you barely-sentient toaster!" Balthazar cackles as the snow falls thick and fast, apparently quite confident in the usefulness his apparently-harmless maneuver.
It quickly becomes apparent why, as the imp begins chanting. The snow collecting on the ground starts to tremble and rumble as magical energy infuses it, beginning the process of animation. Drifts begin to rise up, as though attempting to free themselves from the rest of the snow, only to fall back down a moment later. Clearly pleased, the imp continues chanting.
As his vision fades, the snow above him leaps up briefly, and in the Baatorian sky beyond, he sees a chance.
"Executing Gatecaller Drive."
And with those words, the Modron's body is wreathed in scorching white flames, tongues of fire whipping out to melt the snow as though it had never even existed. Wings of golden fire spring out from the inferno, sending Cube flying towards the heart of Balthazar's globe of snow.
But there is a price: even as the inferno burns all that it approaches, so too does the Modron's body begin to scorch and crumble beneath the heat. For now, however, Cube maintains his form, flying like some fiery bird toward Balthazar.
So the Modron hits him. Hard.
Literally on fire, the Imp is knocked high into the air, before falling back down to the snow (the blizzard and the movement stopped when Balthazar was hit, but the snow remains). Like a small comet, the imp hits a deep snowbank and drills right through it, getting completely buried in the process.
Fortunately for Balthazar, the snow both extinguishes the flames and cushions his fall, and neither the cold nor the threat of suffocation pose any real threat to him. That is, assuming that the Modron's attack and the (still quite painful) fall didn't already kill him. For now, there are no signs of movement beneath the snow.
Coughing and hacking up large quantities of snow and water, Balthazar manages to get to his feet and stand. Slowly, he points one arm at the Modron and speaks, his voice heavy and raspy with exhaustion. "You... surrender. Now."
As he addresses his opponent, his outstretched hand (already visibly scorched by Cube's fire) begins to smoulder and glow red as Balthazar attempts to make use of what little power he has left. "I... am not going to lose... to you. Surrender... or I'll use... every last ounce of life in my body to fight you."
Unlike Cube, Balthazar had fully intended this fight to be to the death. The only reason that he was asking for surrender at all was because he'd been knocked around enough that it was very likely that he wouldn't manage to stay conscious through another spell. But his pride would never allow him to surrender. At least, not to a Modron, of all things.
"Understood, Cube will surrender now. Cube will carry you to the nearest safe location and locate a source of healing."
With that, Cube takes off, landing in the Taverne Cycine after a short flight.
ooc
hope that wasn't too much god-moding. Posting in the Taverne now.
[color=Yellow]I sorry I'm late, but I was caught up with Sorcens excellent library. Shall we begin the match?[/color] As he speaks, Cehon also establishes an obviously unique set of magical glyphs and wards.
He snaps his bone fingers on the other hand and suddenly he reappears right next to Cehon, attempting to place the rune on his back.
The rune absorbed the anti-magic and seemed to actually grow in doing so. He then left it hanging in the air but a faint grey shade kept hanging from his hand.
At the same time he leaves the red rune hanging for a bit and inscribes another one on his throat, then graps red one with four fingers and completes the one on his throat with his thumb on that hand. Suddenly he splits into three copies of himself which closes the distance and places themselves in three of the four cardinal cardinal directions and once again attempted to place the red rune upon Cehon, and at the same time the nothing-rune sped towards the archmage from the fourth cardinal.
Then he spilts in 3 again, but curiously, onely one of them is holding the nothingness rune. They are all inscribing runes where they stand, red runes like the one he placed upon the ground earlier, forming a spade shape with Cehon in the center.
Sorry for the Godmoding
but a high magic spell is almost unstoppable. the twelve ghosts are the Old Gods that Cehon is made up of, and are a Dragon, an Elf, a Halfling, a Human, a Gnome, a Half-Elf, an Archdemon, an Archdevil, an Archangel, an Archarchon, an Eladrin, and a Djinni. But their just Cehon without a body.
"This is getting interesting."
With a surprisingly powerful trust from his left hand he is standing again and in a blur of speed originating from one of his runes he is suddenly in the center of the spade, swiftly inscribing a black rune. Ley lines of energy form between the runes and negative energy in amounts that would kill a pit fiend in less than a minute pour into the arena. Munchlord's damages begins to heal slowly due to the necrotic energy infusion.
Another set of runes that Munchlord pull from his pouch placed in a circle around the center rune in the source of negative energy causes a black himesphere to emerge and envelop the ancient lich.
Suddenly Munchlord emerged from the hemipshere again, raising from it's depths to stand upon the top of it as it expands to cover a huge circle in the arena. The main difference about the Archmage is that now his robe is covered in magical runes in the colors of the rainbow, and most of the runes are even made of tiny runes that are again made of dimunitive runes. The robe also comes with three sets of sleeves instead of one, and strangely, it seems Munchlord now have gotten an arm for each sleeve.
Deep purple shades are occasionably visible within the dark hemisphere, shades of wings and claws and fangs.
All the ghosts speak at once, then all cast a single spell. Each one spreads his hands and cast a spell of Crushing Hand, six pairs of hands attempting to block the mist while the other six pairs attack Munchlord.
Munchlord scribes runes in the air with a blinding speed that can under no circumstances be humane. Runes are placed upon the fists and they stop assaulting the mage as he willpower seeps into them and starts wresteling with that of the now split Cehon inside the spells with a strength that would easily parallel that of a god in each spell.
The thing beneath the mist of negative energy was hard to learn anything about, but it was draconic in nature and more powerful than even the greatest of the metallic and chromatic ones.
Munchlord merges the six runes into one and slides it down through the dark mist, seemingly to feed the draconic thing, because suddenly it hammers back at the fists of force with more than enough power to launch them outwards with exlposive force, shattering the walling of the arena bounds upon impact with them. As per the nature of the arena the walls regenerate instantly, but the demolition is still more than a little impressive.
Munchlord, say hello to my daughter.
Mystra.
A cold wind blows through the arena, and with it comes a glowing figure and a voice. I COME TO YOUR CALL, FATHER. Mystra stares at the draconic thing, and a powerful blast of pure magic hammers it. WHAT ARE YOU.
The mists reform though before anyone gets a closer look, but by the bearing of Munchlord he seems to believe that anyone but the mad and the ignorant would be running in fear by now, and truthfully to his bearing, most of the onlookers have fled the arena despite them being protected by the arena shield.
The blast that Mystra send into the mist is reflected back out just next to Munchlord who slaps a set of runes onto it draining it into one large rune-encased sphere even quicker than the goddess formed it, then he sends it to feed the draconic being yet again, causing an explosive growth in the dark mist and probably the draconic thing below as well.
"You have no idea what you are doing have you?"
Munchlord starts inscribing runes in the air around hims and as he walks across the surface of the mist, they follow him around.
"Something for something though, that has always been my policy. What I'm doing is a relatively simple calling rune, but of course appropriately powerful for me, and the creature in itself is something special as well."
[color=Yellow]Perhaps we're thinking of different tessarects. Mine is, oh two-hundred-fifty-six spells at the same time. Want to see?[/color] And the tessarect grows, pauses-and shoots off to the draconic thing.
((By the way, what is the thing?))
"oh that's just great.... there goes my Spire of the Outlands rune. Gotta get my hands on another one some time."
Munchlord says in a surprisingly dry and seemingly non-caring tone. At the same time he flips back forth the nothingness rune that he had been employing previously, and used it as a ward against the tesseract. The rune itself shrinked to nothingness, cancelling out by far the majority of the energy of the spells, but a little something was left, enough to knock Munchlord flying and enter the dark mists... from which it didn't leave again.
Munchlord reemerges from the dark mist briefly and starts inscribing a rune on the ground, between having 6 arms it passes quite quickly and he soon proceeds to write yet another and another beginning to form a huge circle just outside the dark mist.
What emerges from the darkness as it is shattered by the anti-magic blast is a fully formed purple herald, looking like an enormous purple dragon dragon with a bodily shape like that of a red, but the horn of a blue dragon extends from it's skull. As it spreads it's wings they reach all the way from one end of the arena to the other and it lets loose a poweful roar, shaking the arena all the way to the bedrock.
Munchlord jumped all the way from the ground to the back of the dragon, seemingly the magic dampener didn't cut him off from supernatural improvements entirely. He then raises his voice and yells "Technically you lost Cehon since you left the arena, but if you want it, feel free to reenter and let us finish this properly."
For Munchlord
Feel free to end the match with a spell that traps cehon, and propose a draw. Cehon will agree if he does.
The Herald buries it's claws deep into the arena floor and turns it's head to face the portal. It roars again, sending out a wave towards the portal in the process, a wave that destabilizes the spell that keeps the gate open, thus collapsing it and leaving a haze of arcane energy that is soon sucked in by the Herald. As the haze disappears down the throat of the mighty creature it's eyes starts glowing deep purple and it turn it's head back to face Cehon.
"You're in trouble little one."
Suddenly the tail of the draconic monstrosity comes swinging at Cehon from behind, all the while crackeling with eldritch energy. At the same time a front claw rapidly approaches from either side.
Seriously
munchlord, can't we end the match with a draw?
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that was actually what I waas doing....
"We have to decide though, how do we deal with the stakes set?"
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I was actually hoping the match would end in a draw, since I didn't want Cehon to lose a match vs another spellcaster, but Cehon would have wanted to at least see the school in munchlords home plane.
OOC
Both of our characters are the kinds of characters that generally don't loose to spellcasters.... Munchlord primarily due to a stupifying amount of ward options and tricks that screw up enemy spells, and one of his secret weapons: selective anti-magic field.
"Its been awhile. What are the rules of this worlds arena?"
"Lets get started, shall we." As he says this, a black broad blade leaps to life from the hilt of his sword. The blade seems made of the same 'material' of a sphere of annihilation. The sun shines against LeMondis's armor and his armor now seems made of the same material as well.
LeMondis walks determinedly towards Nemecyst, brandishing his sword in such a way as to swing at the devil when he gets within range. It looks as if to be a sloppy swing but a strong one.
OOC:
Lemondis would not be able to tell it was not Nemecst, because he is always surrounded by an aura of hellfire. By the way, the Rapier is forged in blood, is intelligent, and is powered by the stolen soul of Nemecyst's most deadly enemy. And it's unbreakable, too.
LeMondis lifts his swordhand high, a blinding flash of light emits from his swordhand. From his other hand, a spray of snow flies at his blinded opponent.
OOC:
OOC: LeMondis's has the sword and armor of annihilation. Someone very very insane crafted the sword and armor from a sphere of annihilation. LeMondis himself has to be very careful how he does pretty much everything, lest he disintegrate himself.
For the record I use the annihilation effect as sort of a spreading effect. When the blade hits something it annihilates the point of contact and spreads, annihilating anything touching the point of contact until it finds itself against something of a different material.
So for a sword against his armor, it would annihilate the blade and likely stop at the hilt due to the different types of metal in each.
For the record I use the annihilation effect as sort of a spreading effect. When the blade hits something it annihilates the point of contact and spreads, annihilating anything touching the point of contact until it finds itself against something of a different material.
So for a sword against his armor, it would annihilate the blade and likely stop at the hilt due to the different types of metal in each.
OOC: I hope.
BIC:
In the time it took Nemecyst to cast the anti-magic field, LeMondis was able to turn and charge him. LeMondis's sword of annihilation was aimed to stab directly at the devil's head, the field was cast though and the blade sputtered out, leaving only the empty hilt about to collide with Nemecyst's face.
the anomaly seems relatively stable, but every time it is interacted with it reacts. sparks fly off it harmlessly when it is even thought of.
LeMondis catches himself with one hand on the ground. A ring on his swordhand flashes a bright blue, the sword and armor spring back to their utter blackness. The armor on LeMondis's wrists begins to spread into a gauntlet of the same material as LeMondis stands up.
He eyes the pillar and clenches his now-gauntleted fist. A wicked smile creeps across his face as an idea forms. "I wonder..." He reaches out with his hand and touches his knuckles to the pillar as if punching it very lightly.
(similar wounds are appearing all over the city.)
LeMondis anded hard on the ground, sliding forward and destroying a small portion of the arena floor as he went. He pulled himself back to his feet, a spell beginning to form in his hands as he looks around for Nemecyst.
OOC: Sorry if I misinterpretted anything.
)LeMondis appears just behind Nemecyst, his sword swinging nonchalantly at the devil. "My armor has an odd effect on my blinking. Enjoy."
the woud absorbs the leftover hellfire and uses it to begin healing itself.
BIC: LeMondis glances at the 'misaimed' attack, just in time to see that the aim was not at him directly. Nemecyst's blade glances just to the side of the stone and manages to slice through the metal band of the ring, slicing the warlock's finger as well.
LeMondis pulls back his hand and deftly catches the ring in midair as it begins to slide off his bleeding finger. The warlock stares at the ring as a blue snap of force emenates from the broken band. He tosses the ring at his armor, destroying the small object quickly.
The warlock grins and blinks away, appearing and disappearing all around Nemecyst, creating more and more sucking tears in reality as he does so.
The warlock blinks out of existence once more, this time though there is no tear in the fabric of the multiverse.
Still smiling, Nemecyst releases an eldritch blast at LeMondis. At the same time, he summons a large golem which tries to punch LeMondis.
BIC: LeMondis dives aside, barely dodging the eldritch energy. He expected his blinking to still work but apparently this was no ordinary anti magic field.
The warlock stands and hangs the empty hilt of his sword back on his belt. His gaze lifts back to the battle just in time to see a huge golem's fist slam into his chest, throwing him forcefully head over heels backwards.
LeMondis catches himself and begins to stand again. As he stands he feels a crack in his chest and instinctively puts a hand to his ribs. He stands and looks at the golem and at Nemecyst. His broken ribs would slow him but he may still be able to pull this off.
The golem breaks into a charge. LeMondis grits his teeth wildly and grips the devil stabbing him. The golem swings its large fists at the two smaller beings, not caring which one he hits.
OOC: I had hoped not to tap into the Hate part of it but I'm curious how it'll turn out.
BIC: LeMondis holds a hand up as the golem slams into him. The golem turns just before LeMondis is crushed against the arena wall, the golem seems to have forgotten completely about the warlock and now seeks the devil that got away.
LeMondis shakes his head and rubs his jaw. He fumbles around in his pocket for a moment and pulls out a feather. He rubs the feather on the back of his right arm, the appendage glows a bright blue for a moment, the glow slowly spreading to the rest of his body.
The feather seems to have faded away during the glow. LeMondis clenches his fist, feeling the magical energies returning to him, his armor is still inactive though.
Nemecyst reforms in front of the avatar of hate. The golem punches and its fist goes through the image of Nemecyst to strike LeMondis. But then Nemecyst appeared behind the golem and deactivated it, causing it to fall on LeMondis.
Red light pierces through the cracks between the rocks. The rocks are sent flying high into the air in all directions as a huge wave of red force bursts forth from LeMondis. Dust covers the are and the warlock is concelaed from view.
Blazing red eyes pierce the smokescreen and stare at Nemecyst. A beam of burning red energy blazes its way towards the devil, burning away the dust in its path as well as anything else it touches.
The cataclysmic energies around them break though and divert his attention. He calls across to the devil.
"Say we end this battle for now, the apocalypse above our heads seems a bit more... pressing."