Wow, cool. Accepted. Post pending!
THE BATCAVE!!!!!!
I Challenge Neo!
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give me food
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give me food
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- Posts: 10068
- Joined: Thu Nov 15, 2001 2:00 am
- Location: :O omfg ovar tehr3!!1
- Contact:
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give me food
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- Posts: 10068
- Joined: Thu Nov 15, 2001 2:00 am
- Location: :O omfg ovar tehr3!!1
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The empty, stony walls rang with an estranged kind of silence--not crystalline, not airy, but more or less depressing and dank; it sang with a kind of gloom, and Neo--choosing to be herself and not robotic or monotonous--hated it. Loathed it, to be exact. It was a bitter sense of cold, and depending on where you looked, there could've been a million-some shades of gray...and for cheery Corpse Herders, it sucked oh-so-badly; it reminded her of loneliness, of solitude--it wasn't too foreign, but she would often recoil reflexively from the thought.
Leather-bound hands grasped emptily at air, eyes unsuited and vision fuzzy in reply to the darkness; however, her finger banged heavily against a hanging spectacle, and after a short swear, her hand wrapped around the rocky tip, ignoring the way small, suspended pebbles pecked away at her fingers. Her nose sniffled, and she snorted waspishly as a mound of sawdust nearly flew into open nostrils. And then Neo traversed from pick to pick, effortlessly lifting her weight on unseen breezes so as to not disturb the fragile silence--and give away her location. Surely her opponent would be able to sneak in a free hit, and then...
Hanging limply from a conelike rock from the endless depths of the Batcave's ceiling, she lowered one arm carefully, making sure her other arm didn't fall out of its socket or that her grip wouldn't loosen--hell, she was having trouble glancing downwards: it was all simply stagnant shadows below... Was she really that high up? It was somewhat scary to think about it.
Nondescriptly, the Samurai lingered on that single pike for a while, dangling like a deathly still marionette from a thick string; her eyes frantically scanned the cave, and even then it was difficult to see her own hand in front of her face. That being said, she considered giving herself a small guiding lantern--forged presumably from her own powers of summoning flame; but that, too, would remove the mask she had "subtly" placed over herself in order to blend in with the cover of darkness. So basically, she was left to fumbling around in the black, like a blind old man who had lost his cane.
With this analogy in hand, it was logical that her grip--hands smelling faintly of a shoe store due to her leather binds--would begin to slowly yet surely slide off from the rock.
Now, the reason for this is pretty invalid--her gloves may have been damp via perspiration, or perhaps her rather "lifeless" state allowed her fingers to slip; however, as slender fingers clutched the tip, panick and then calm flickered across her expression. Within mere moments, the Samurai vaulted soundlessly into the air, spinning around whilst arm flailed for a grip; finally, it stumbled onto another stalactite, and instinctively she held onto it for dear life--halting mid-tumble, causing her shoulder to twist abnormally. Ow.
Unfortunately, patches of ice and grime lined the tiny, clifflike crevasses of this particular pike, and she found herself grasping for a hold that would at least support her weight. Neo's other hand threw itself outwards, and its back smacked lightly against another spike; she let out a short breath of relief, using these two for stability. This path, she noted, would go on forever--until she would at least note her opponent's presence on the area, anyway. The Samurai paused for a moment, and then she lifted herself gently upwards, placing her feet on the dusted ceilings, planting them firmly in the stone creating foot-shaped imprints in even this hard a substance; simply for camouflage effect, scaled wings launched themselves out of her shoulderblades, creating a humid breeze in the winds. In this way, she resembled...well, a bat on a ceiling.
Neo, though with a small frame and stature as a girl, could become a relatively large dragon, oft weighing differently in both facades; able to slightly alter her bone structure and build with her wings spread out, she felt her lower body become relatively light--or perhaps she was getting adjusted to the weight she was applying to the ceiling. Either way, the blood was beginning to rush into her head--a most unpleasant feeling, as she felt her skull was going to bound right off her damn shoulders; she sniffled lightly, but that only made the sensation assail her nerves, as if a bubble of blood was pulling itself through her nasal structure. Ow.
She concealed her wings, being not at leisure to rest in this position any longer; she twirled over her arms, intercepting her own long, spiked tail--unfortunately, at this point she had little control over the spare appendage, so instead of it flattening against her turning body, it smashed lightly into a pick... Relatively lightly. And that's not exactly feathery for this warrior.
"MWHAHAHHAHAHHA!!11"
The echos of maniacal laughter resonated dully throughout the den, without the usual airy jingle of usual singsongs; it was through this her attention was attracted to the depths of the Batcave floor, splattered with the subdued odor of blood--where, apparently, her opponent made no realization of her presence. But it wasn't really the time, as the stalagmite crackled slightly, dust and pebbles plummeting down, down, DOWN... Damn, she was high, and not in the "stoned" relation either. Desperate now, she thrust one hand out with a slight incoherent wheeze, using her airy control to at least break the fall.
A miniscule crackle of the impact of pebbles on the ground caught GORE-ILLA's attention, and he turned around to view the source of the distraction. It was then the pike decided to detach itself from the hardened binds of the cave ceiling, and with a fractured cleaving sound and a whoosh it crumbled haplessly from the ceiling above; it soared down, and then with an enormous smash it made its own collision against the cavern's mineral... Oh, crap!
*CRAAAaaAAASSHDOOMANDSTUFF*
The dust settled a moment or two thereafter--GORE-ILLA appearing rather flummoxed by this unseen eruption, he glanced around, positive (and correctly so) that an outside force was clearly attempting to wreck the entire citadel...or something. The cinders cast a wolfish-gray kind of pallor over the already-monotonous scenery, and cautiously, Neo scrabbled upwards, clinging onto the higher with all her might; you couldn't see her at first, but she was extremely panicky about now, and silently wishing she wouldn't be seen. Wings folded slowly and silently back out of her shoulderblades, the dark shades allowing her to transfix herself soundlessly into the darkly veils... Too late, however; GORE-ILLA peered curiously upwards, craning his head back to get a better look.
She relatively resembled a bat--an abnormally large bat, anyway; she made a small, aghast sound in her throat and scrambled further upwards, closing verdant eyes so they created no illumination against the dullness. Neo could practically feel the opponent's eyes and ears netting all motion, all sound, and she tried her best to sap some of her energy, masking her own life force from his physical detectors. Well, it wasn't like she could hide too much anymore, anyway. A challenge note sat pinned to the elongated forearm of her cloth, navy gi, scribbled furiously, and who was she to refuse?
Neo dug her wolfish claws into the rock, ignoring the tiny yet irritating scritch-scratch they made as she did so; the crevasses and fissures began to spread at breakneck speed, and without much of her consent her own means of assistance blasted its way to the grounds of the massive Batcave.
The Samurai scrambled to the flattened, conelike top of the stalagmite, resting one hand in the jagged edge where her nails had sliced; and then she launched upwards and off of it, turning a nearly flawless tumble in the air and soaring away from it as it burst into a hundred-some pieces upon hitting point with the rock. She landed safely a split-second after it made its concussions, on two feet, sinking into a small crouch to absorb what little impact it made on her strengthened legs; wings shrunk aimlessly into her shoulders with a "fwish", as if footage of something being poured out rewinded slowly... Strange analogy, yes, but it was pretty damn suitable--a mirrored image of her previous action, mimicked perfectly without a molecule, fiber, or cell out of place thereafter.
She hesitated for a moment, removing the mask and daring him to come closer by her catlike--and sleekly dangerous--position; then, her heel was tucked on the ground and she did a sort of sweep to spin herself around, coming eye-to-eye with GORE-ILLA. Her eyes flashed amusedly, and for a moment a flicker of green made harsh impact on GORE-ILLA's eyes.
"Hey there."
Leather-bound hands grasped emptily at air, eyes unsuited and vision fuzzy in reply to the darkness; however, her finger banged heavily against a hanging spectacle, and after a short swear, her hand wrapped around the rocky tip, ignoring the way small, suspended pebbles pecked away at her fingers. Her nose sniffled, and she snorted waspishly as a mound of sawdust nearly flew into open nostrils. And then Neo traversed from pick to pick, effortlessly lifting her weight on unseen breezes so as to not disturb the fragile silence--and give away her location. Surely her opponent would be able to sneak in a free hit, and then...
Hanging limply from a conelike rock from the endless depths of the Batcave's ceiling, she lowered one arm carefully, making sure her other arm didn't fall out of its socket or that her grip wouldn't loosen--hell, she was having trouble glancing downwards: it was all simply stagnant shadows below... Was she really that high up? It was somewhat scary to think about it.
Nondescriptly, the Samurai lingered on that single pike for a while, dangling like a deathly still marionette from a thick string; her eyes frantically scanned the cave, and even then it was difficult to see her own hand in front of her face. That being said, she considered giving herself a small guiding lantern--forged presumably from her own powers of summoning flame; but that, too, would remove the mask she had "subtly" placed over herself in order to blend in with the cover of darkness. So basically, she was left to fumbling around in the black, like a blind old man who had lost his cane.
With this analogy in hand, it was logical that her grip--hands smelling faintly of a shoe store due to her leather binds--would begin to slowly yet surely slide off from the rock.
Now, the reason for this is pretty invalid--her gloves may have been damp via perspiration, or perhaps her rather "lifeless" state allowed her fingers to slip; however, as slender fingers clutched the tip, panick and then calm flickered across her expression. Within mere moments, the Samurai vaulted soundlessly into the air, spinning around whilst arm flailed for a grip; finally, it stumbled onto another stalactite, and instinctively she held onto it for dear life--halting mid-tumble, causing her shoulder to twist abnormally. Ow.
Unfortunately, patches of ice and grime lined the tiny, clifflike crevasses of this particular pike, and she found herself grasping for a hold that would at least support her weight. Neo's other hand threw itself outwards, and its back smacked lightly against another spike; she let out a short breath of relief, using these two for stability. This path, she noted, would go on forever--until she would at least note her opponent's presence on the area, anyway. The Samurai paused for a moment, and then she lifted herself gently upwards, placing her feet on the dusted ceilings, planting them firmly in the stone creating foot-shaped imprints in even this hard a substance; simply for camouflage effect, scaled wings launched themselves out of her shoulderblades, creating a humid breeze in the winds. In this way, she resembled...well, a bat on a ceiling.
Neo, though with a small frame and stature as a girl, could become a relatively large dragon, oft weighing differently in both facades; able to slightly alter her bone structure and build with her wings spread out, she felt her lower body become relatively light--or perhaps she was getting adjusted to the weight she was applying to the ceiling. Either way, the blood was beginning to rush into her head--a most unpleasant feeling, as she felt her skull was going to bound right off her damn shoulders; she sniffled lightly, but that only made the sensation assail her nerves, as if a bubble of blood was pulling itself through her nasal structure. Ow.
She concealed her wings, being not at leisure to rest in this position any longer; she twirled over her arms, intercepting her own long, spiked tail--unfortunately, at this point she had little control over the spare appendage, so instead of it flattening against her turning body, it smashed lightly into a pick... Relatively lightly. And that's not exactly feathery for this warrior.
"MWHAHAHHAHAHHA!!11"
The echos of maniacal laughter resonated dully throughout the den, without the usual airy jingle of usual singsongs; it was through this her attention was attracted to the depths of the Batcave floor, splattered with the subdued odor of blood--where, apparently, her opponent made no realization of her presence. But it wasn't really the time, as the stalagmite crackled slightly, dust and pebbles plummeting down, down, DOWN... Damn, she was high, and not in the "stoned" relation either. Desperate now, she thrust one hand out with a slight incoherent wheeze, using her airy control to at least break the fall.
A miniscule crackle of the impact of pebbles on the ground caught GORE-ILLA's attention, and he turned around to view the source of the distraction. It was then the pike decided to detach itself from the hardened binds of the cave ceiling, and with a fractured cleaving sound and a whoosh it crumbled haplessly from the ceiling above; it soared down, and then with an enormous smash it made its own collision against the cavern's mineral... Oh, crap!
*CRAAAaaAAASSHDOOMANDSTUFF*
The dust settled a moment or two thereafter--GORE-ILLA appearing rather flummoxed by this unseen eruption, he glanced around, positive (and correctly so) that an outside force was clearly attempting to wreck the entire citadel...or something. The cinders cast a wolfish-gray kind of pallor over the already-monotonous scenery, and cautiously, Neo scrabbled upwards, clinging onto the higher with all her might; you couldn't see her at first, but she was extremely panicky about now, and silently wishing she wouldn't be seen. Wings folded slowly and silently back out of her shoulderblades, the dark shades allowing her to transfix herself soundlessly into the darkly veils... Too late, however; GORE-ILLA peered curiously upwards, craning his head back to get a better look.
She relatively resembled a bat--an abnormally large bat, anyway; she made a small, aghast sound in her throat and scrambled further upwards, closing verdant eyes so they created no illumination against the dullness. Neo could practically feel the opponent's eyes and ears netting all motion, all sound, and she tried her best to sap some of her energy, masking her own life force from his physical detectors. Well, it wasn't like she could hide too much anymore, anyway. A challenge note sat pinned to the elongated forearm of her cloth, navy gi, scribbled furiously, and who was she to refuse?
Neo dug her wolfish claws into the rock, ignoring the tiny yet irritating scritch-scratch they made as she did so; the crevasses and fissures began to spread at breakneck speed, and without much of her consent her own means of assistance blasted its way to the grounds of the massive Batcave.
The Samurai scrambled to the flattened, conelike top of the stalagmite, resting one hand in the jagged edge where her nails had sliced; and then she launched upwards and off of it, turning a nearly flawless tumble in the air and soaring away from it as it burst into a hundred-some pieces upon hitting point with the rock. She landed safely a split-second after it made its concussions, on two feet, sinking into a small crouch to absorb what little impact it made on her strengthened legs; wings shrunk aimlessly into her shoulders with a "fwish", as if footage of something being poured out rewinded slowly... Strange analogy, yes, but it was pretty damn suitable--a mirrored image of her previous action, mimicked perfectly without a molecule, fiber, or cell out of place thereafter.
She hesitated for a moment, removing the mask and daring him to come closer by her catlike--and sleekly dangerous--position; then, her heel was tucked on the ground and she did a sort of sweep to spin herself around, coming eye-to-eye with GORE-ILLA. Her eyes flashed amusedly, and for a moment a flicker of green made harsh impact on GORE-ILLA's eyes.
"Hey there."
<i>relax, we understand j00</i>
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