11th Nintendoland Battlefield Tournament: 1st Round Battles
-
Metal Man
- Member
- Posts: 17964
- Joined: Sun Apr 23, 2000 1:00 am
- Location: 1592 Miles Away From Here
- Contact:
OoC: *Joins the crowd of people waiting for their opponents to post*
*Looks at watch*
06-03-2007, 03:56 PM
Current time: 06-07-07, 12:28 AM
It has been about 92 hours.
*Looks at watch*
06-03-2007, 03:56 PM
Current time: 06-07-07, 12:28 AM
It has been about 92 hours.
Super Smash Quest: Fighting evil since 2002.
-
Erdawn Il Deus
- Member
- Posts: 3036
- Joined: Wed May 21, 2003 1:00 am
- Location: Threading the jeweled thrones of earth under my sa
-
Inferno Dragon
- Member
- Posts: 6097
- Joined: Mon Jul 30, 2001 1:00 am
- Location: Planet Draco
- Has thanked: 1 time
- Been thanked: 7 times
-
Galefore
- Member
- Posts: 9354
- Joined: Tue Jan 04, 2005 2:00 am
- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
[QUOTE=Inferno Dragon]OOC: *waits*[/QUOTE]
<ooc>
I've written most of it on paper, just have to transcribe and polish.
Also,
[QUOTE=Galefore Amnasan]
2: No healing, and this means any healing. As is known, many of your characters regenerate, but you will have to make an exception for this tournament as not to infringe this rule.[/QUOTE]
Keep that in mind for your next post, please. :/
Also, Gale, when you say the tourney ends on the 12th, are we expected to do a "finishing" post before then or something?
</ooc>
<ooc>
I've written most of it on paper, just have to transcribe and polish.
Also,
[QUOTE=Galefore Amnasan]
2: No healing, and this means any healing. As is known, many of your characters regenerate, but you will have to make an exception for this tournament as not to infringe this rule.[/QUOTE]
Keep that in mind for your next post, please. :/
Also, Gale, when you say the tourney ends on the 12th, are we expected to do a "finishing" post before then or something?
</ooc>
Why is it drug addicts and computer afficionados are both called users?
-Clifford Stoll
-Clifford Stoll
-
Galefore
- Member
- Posts: 9354
- Joined: Tue Jan 04, 2005 2:00 am
- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
-
Inferno Dragon
- Member
- Posts: 6097
- Joined: Mon Jul 30, 2001 1:00 am
- Location: Planet Draco
- Has thanked: 1 time
- Been thanked: 7 times
OOC: but he removed an appendage, isn't there something in the rules about not doing that?
Besides, it can still come off, you've seen stuff like that before in movies and cartoons I'm sure. ex. some guy gets his nose ripped off he re-attaches it, it then becomes easier to remove from that point on. now had it been something more serious like oh say having a hand broken or something to that effect I would have gone with it but simply re-attaching a nose would be far from healing look. *takes nose off and re-attaches it and repeats several times* see, it becomes almost like a gag. and again, that nose isn't attached that well so it can and probably will fall off again *winks* in reality, having re-attached it the way I did could proove to be more of a hinderance than anything else.
Besides, it can still come off, you've seen stuff like that before in movies and cartoons I'm sure. ex. some guy gets his nose ripped off he re-attaches it, it then becomes easier to remove from that point on. now had it been something more serious like oh say having a hand broken or something to that effect I would have gone with it but simply re-attaching a nose would be far from healing look. *takes nose off and re-attaches it and repeats several times* see, it becomes almost like a gag. and again, that nose isn't attached that well so it can and probably will fall off again *winks* in reality, having re-attached it the way I did could proove to be more of a hinderance than anything else.
beware the power of Bahamut\'s eldest son.
-
Wyborn
- Member
- Posts: 12269
- Joined: Fri Jun 16, 2000 1:00 am
- Location: All over the place
OoC: Just so I'm clear for the judges, Wyborn is a psychic and a sorcerer, a relic from when I thought this kind of thing was the coolest - a jack-of-all-trades seemed proper to use here.
Point of interest: Wyborn's something of a glass cannon, (similar to Joker) in that he does as much damage as reasonably possible but beyond certain defenses is extremely fragile for a battlefield character.
Here's hoping THIS satisfies. -OoC
Wasn't that just typical.
His senses had kicked into overdrive, and he was painfully aware of everything - every crack in his skin, every tongue of flame whirling all around him, every pulse of his own heart, driving the power that allowed him to feel the swirling pain all around him. His body roared independent of his thoughts, and in his mind Wyborn brooded.
The apish man's fireballs had erupted all around him, and they existed for the briefest moment as roaring stars. In that moment he reached out with his thoughts, felt them swirling all around him. The air was burning, serving as fuel for the airborne furnaces for which the fireballs had only been the impetus. He felt that burning, felt the fire itself, how it moved, how it grew, how it breathed, and he knew it was not hot enough to sustain itself for long. A good thing, that; if it had been, he would not have been able to shield himself from the concussive force of it or the heat, and would be hamburger instead of burned and battered. But it had the potential to grow more, given enough power.
And so he reached out with his thoughts, touching the heart of the flame, and lent his strength to it. It flared anew. The air screamed and the fire roared. The wind rushed in from above, filling in the empty space where the oxygen was igniting, and it did not take much of a push to make it swirl around him. Given that push it continued in its own way, and as his hair fell from his head in cinders he smiled at the pattern it traced in the air.
The fire raged, and he opened his mind, watching the forces that drove it. It was a living thing, but it was now fueled by his strength, and he could see the reins by which he might grab hold of it.
So he did.
---------------------------------
What Mario saw was simpler.
His fireballs erupted into a raging hell storm. They should have existed only a moment before flashing into nothing, but they hung there, seething and raging like massive incinerators turned inside out. Something was wrong, and the way things had been going (for all of twenty seconds) told him that his attacker probably wasn't burning to death.
When the raging orb of fire began to spin, he took a step back, inhaling sharply through his teeth beneath his mustache. When it rose, elongating itself into a blazing red funnel, he had the distinct impression that he ought to run, but he knew more rationally that whatever this thing was, he wouldn't be able to run from it. It was pretty, though - kind of like a red, glowing tornado.
Then his attacker stepped out of the body of it, and the wide bottom of the funnel narrowed to the same width as the top, rendering it a cylinder of flame. Wyborn was a mess, his armor shattered by concussive force and his hair missing and at least half of his face nearly melted into slag, but his eyes stared through bright and clear, driving themselves into Mario's consciousness. There was something in those eyes, a murderous intent he thought could only be produced by dragons or beasts like them, and seeing that look in a human face, however mutilated, chilled his heart.
Wyborn's right hand, blackened and cracked and glistening with what might have been blood, was crooked into a series of claws. He raised it with a motion he might have used to pluck an apple from its branch, and the base of the cylinder rose from the black ground, hovering inches above it. He shoved forward with that same hand, as if reaching to pluck an eye, and the base rose up and turned upwards, facing Mario. The Italian hero saw into its mouth, for mouth it was, the whole thing was a hollow tube of flame that licked and danced in directions defying gravity, like billions of waving teeth. The roar coming from that hellish maw was not the sound of fire.
He knew he wouldn't be able to run from this, but his feet disagreed with him and Mario found himself fleeing. He heard the ground crack and burst behind him, felt the air push at his back with heat and force, and with a roar it was upon him. The infernal mouth closed around him, and all he knew was fire.
It is not enough to say that he was buffeted by the flames, suspended by some magic force. The fire bit into his flesh, the tongues behaving like teeth that sliced skin and bloodied muscle, so he was torn from every side but bled not at all, every wound burned closed in the same instant it was opened. The pain was beyond words.
---------------------------------
There were words for what Wyborn saw, then.
The flame worm - that is what he thought of it as, because that is what it was - thrashed about, buffeting his target inside of it. Everywhere it touched, foliage burned and rock charred, crumbling to ash. He watched plants with teeth as long as his fingers literally disintegrate with nothing but gravelly chirps, saw fire-spewing plants swallow too much of it and wilt and fall and finally burn away. The flame worm thrashed, and everything it touched crumbled, and Mario was still inside of it.
Wyborn felt his limit being neared, knowing he would not be able to sustain the beast much longer, and his hand clenched into a fist. The worm reared back its head and rose into the air, whipping its tail so that Mario plummeted out of the other opening with such force as to shatter the charcoal earth beneath him. He lay still for the moment, which was to Wyborn's favor; he would not be able to do this with the distraction of an active opponent. He beckoned.
The worm flew through the air towards him, spinning and roaring and twisting, winding and tightening and growing brighter and hotter, until it was nothing but a golden thread a quarter of a mile long and brighter than the sun. This thread of solid flame dove towards Wyborn's outstretched hand, and where it struck it began to spin, to knot itself and roll and wind, tightening and burning and growing hotter and smaller, impossibly smaller.
When it was done, Wyborn was left holding an infinitesimal speck, its diameter smaller than that of the thread from which it had been wound, and he did not even bother to shut his eyes; the brilliance of it had long since blinded him, burning out his retinas so badly that he would need a powerful magic to repair them, and that at a much later time. What was in his palm, rolling around like a steel bead smaller than the width of a human hair and kept from burning his hand only by the power of his thoughts, was all the heat and power of a hundred thunderheads, enough force to...well, instead of considering it, he used it.
He placed the tip of his index finger against his palm, and the sun bead stuck to it. He placed his fingernail against the pad of his thumb, and aimed blindly, using his mind to see where his opponent lay. He flicked it as one might flick a booger.
As soon as the tiny orb of light left his hand, Wyborn raised his hands, and a huge bank of earth broke in front of him and rose like a wave in the ocean, twenty feet high and five times as thick. He threw himself against the base of it and lay there, shoving his fingers into his ears and gritting his teeth.
In his mind's eye he saw the orb of light and flame touch Mario's shoulder, and then he turned his mind's eye away, so no one saw what came next.
---------------------------------
The orb of light exploded with all the force stored inside - all the fire of Mario's own attack, the strength of the fire worm, Wyborn's own corrosive magic. The effect could not be understated.
There was no sound, not where Mario and Wyborn were. They were so close that the sound lost all meaning, becoming the very background drone of the universe that all living things learn to ignore, and all meaningful sound was pushed away by the heat and the force. Only far away could you hear it, and then not with a wham; it was the sound of a person exhaling through pursed lips for too long, and then the sound collapsed in on itself and became the roar of thunder.
Flag poles and brick platforms disintegrated, shattered and blown away on the wind of the eruption. So much ash.
Hideous fungal creatures the shape of the last segment of a human toe looked up in time to go blind and then to die, and beside them bipedal tortoises were reduced to charred skeletons that twitched and cracked and popped and moved, driven by some hateful force that refused to die even in light of physical eradication. So much ash.
The fire blossomed like a flower, and in an instant it was gone, vanishing into air like so much vapor. The wind howled, rushing to fill in the spaces that had been burned away.
---------------------------------
It was over a minute before Wyborn climbed over the crest of his artificial hill, a torn sleeve tied over his blinded eyes to protect them from further damage. He knew his enemy was still out there - no single blow would kill that man, no matter how extreme, and there was a reason he sat so haughtily in his kingdom. When Wyborn roared out into the silence, he heard no echo - everything had been burned flat, charred to nothing, or blasted to bits. His words, then, were confident.
"I'm not here to attack you, you stem-chewing, goomba-looking stereotype son of a bitch! I am here to kill you!"
He knew he had not killed him, but he had shattered brick and incinerated mortar. Such force would render almost anyone incapable of breathing, much less fighting.
Wyborn would have wept to know how often Mario applied the same amount of force using nothing but his head.
OoC: That's a wrap. Hope you like it, Andy, and if it's extreme - well, I trust it's not, Mario's been through worse often enough. :P Not like you didn't have enough mushrooms. -OoC
Point of interest: Wyborn's something of a glass cannon, (similar to Joker) in that he does as much damage as reasonably possible but beyond certain defenses is extremely fragile for a battlefield character.
Here's hoping THIS satisfies. -OoC
Wasn't that just typical.
His senses had kicked into overdrive, and he was painfully aware of everything - every crack in his skin, every tongue of flame whirling all around him, every pulse of his own heart, driving the power that allowed him to feel the swirling pain all around him. His body roared independent of his thoughts, and in his mind Wyborn brooded.
The apish man's fireballs had erupted all around him, and they existed for the briefest moment as roaring stars. In that moment he reached out with his thoughts, felt them swirling all around him. The air was burning, serving as fuel for the airborne furnaces for which the fireballs had only been the impetus. He felt that burning, felt the fire itself, how it moved, how it grew, how it breathed, and he knew it was not hot enough to sustain itself for long. A good thing, that; if it had been, he would not have been able to shield himself from the concussive force of it or the heat, and would be hamburger instead of burned and battered. But it had the potential to grow more, given enough power.
And so he reached out with his thoughts, touching the heart of the flame, and lent his strength to it. It flared anew. The air screamed and the fire roared. The wind rushed in from above, filling in the empty space where the oxygen was igniting, and it did not take much of a push to make it swirl around him. Given that push it continued in its own way, and as his hair fell from his head in cinders he smiled at the pattern it traced in the air.
The fire raged, and he opened his mind, watching the forces that drove it. It was a living thing, but it was now fueled by his strength, and he could see the reins by which he might grab hold of it.
So he did.
---------------------------------
What Mario saw was simpler.
His fireballs erupted into a raging hell storm. They should have existed only a moment before flashing into nothing, but they hung there, seething and raging like massive incinerators turned inside out. Something was wrong, and the way things had been going (for all of twenty seconds) told him that his attacker probably wasn't burning to death.
When the raging orb of fire began to spin, he took a step back, inhaling sharply through his teeth beneath his mustache. When it rose, elongating itself into a blazing red funnel, he had the distinct impression that he ought to run, but he knew more rationally that whatever this thing was, he wouldn't be able to run from it. It was pretty, though - kind of like a red, glowing tornado.
Then his attacker stepped out of the body of it, and the wide bottom of the funnel narrowed to the same width as the top, rendering it a cylinder of flame. Wyborn was a mess, his armor shattered by concussive force and his hair missing and at least half of his face nearly melted into slag, but his eyes stared through bright and clear, driving themselves into Mario's consciousness. There was something in those eyes, a murderous intent he thought could only be produced by dragons or beasts like them, and seeing that look in a human face, however mutilated, chilled his heart.
Wyborn's right hand, blackened and cracked and glistening with what might have been blood, was crooked into a series of claws. He raised it with a motion he might have used to pluck an apple from its branch, and the base of the cylinder rose from the black ground, hovering inches above it. He shoved forward with that same hand, as if reaching to pluck an eye, and the base rose up and turned upwards, facing Mario. The Italian hero saw into its mouth, for mouth it was, the whole thing was a hollow tube of flame that licked and danced in directions defying gravity, like billions of waving teeth. The roar coming from that hellish maw was not the sound of fire.
He knew he wouldn't be able to run from this, but his feet disagreed with him and Mario found himself fleeing. He heard the ground crack and burst behind him, felt the air push at his back with heat and force, and with a roar it was upon him. The infernal mouth closed around him, and all he knew was fire.
It is not enough to say that he was buffeted by the flames, suspended by some magic force. The fire bit into his flesh, the tongues behaving like teeth that sliced skin and bloodied muscle, so he was torn from every side but bled not at all, every wound burned closed in the same instant it was opened. The pain was beyond words.
---------------------------------
There were words for what Wyborn saw, then.
The flame worm - that is what he thought of it as, because that is what it was - thrashed about, buffeting his target inside of it. Everywhere it touched, foliage burned and rock charred, crumbling to ash. He watched plants with teeth as long as his fingers literally disintegrate with nothing but gravelly chirps, saw fire-spewing plants swallow too much of it and wilt and fall and finally burn away. The flame worm thrashed, and everything it touched crumbled, and Mario was still inside of it.
Wyborn felt his limit being neared, knowing he would not be able to sustain the beast much longer, and his hand clenched into a fist. The worm reared back its head and rose into the air, whipping its tail so that Mario plummeted out of the other opening with such force as to shatter the charcoal earth beneath him. He lay still for the moment, which was to Wyborn's favor; he would not be able to do this with the distraction of an active opponent. He beckoned.
The worm flew through the air towards him, spinning and roaring and twisting, winding and tightening and growing brighter and hotter, until it was nothing but a golden thread a quarter of a mile long and brighter than the sun. This thread of solid flame dove towards Wyborn's outstretched hand, and where it struck it began to spin, to knot itself and roll and wind, tightening and burning and growing hotter and smaller, impossibly smaller.
When it was done, Wyborn was left holding an infinitesimal speck, its diameter smaller than that of the thread from which it had been wound, and he did not even bother to shut his eyes; the brilliance of it had long since blinded him, burning out his retinas so badly that he would need a powerful magic to repair them, and that at a much later time. What was in his palm, rolling around like a steel bead smaller than the width of a human hair and kept from burning his hand only by the power of his thoughts, was all the heat and power of a hundred thunderheads, enough force to...well, instead of considering it, he used it.
He placed the tip of his index finger against his palm, and the sun bead stuck to it. He placed his fingernail against the pad of his thumb, and aimed blindly, using his mind to see where his opponent lay. He flicked it as one might flick a booger.
As soon as the tiny orb of light left his hand, Wyborn raised his hands, and a huge bank of earth broke in front of him and rose like a wave in the ocean, twenty feet high and five times as thick. He threw himself against the base of it and lay there, shoving his fingers into his ears and gritting his teeth.
In his mind's eye he saw the orb of light and flame touch Mario's shoulder, and then he turned his mind's eye away, so no one saw what came next.
---------------------------------
The orb of light exploded with all the force stored inside - all the fire of Mario's own attack, the strength of the fire worm, Wyborn's own corrosive magic. The effect could not be understated.
There was no sound, not where Mario and Wyborn were. They were so close that the sound lost all meaning, becoming the very background drone of the universe that all living things learn to ignore, and all meaningful sound was pushed away by the heat and the force. Only far away could you hear it, and then not with a wham; it was the sound of a person exhaling through pursed lips for too long, and then the sound collapsed in on itself and became the roar of thunder.
Flag poles and brick platforms disintegrated, shattered and blown away on the wind of the eruption. So much ash.
Hideous fungal creatures the shape of the last segment of a human toe looked up in time to go blind and then to die, and beside them bipedal tortoises were reduced to charred skeletons that twitched and cracked and popped and moved, driven by some hateful force that refused to die even in light of physical eradication. So much ash.
The fire blossomed like a flower, and in an instant it was gone, vanishing into air like so much vapor. The wind howled, rushing to fill in the spaces that had been burned away.
---------------------------------
It was over a minute before Wyborn climbed over the crest of his artificial hill, a torn sleeve tied over his blinded eyes to protect them from further damage. He knew his enemy was still out there - no single blow would kill that man, no matter how extreme, and there was a reason he sat so haughtily in his kingdom. When Wyborn roared out into the silence, he heard no echo - everything had been burned flat, charred to nothing, or blasted to bits. His words, then, were confident.
"I'm not here to attack you, you stem-chewing, goomba-looking stereotype son of a bitch! I am here to kill you!"
He knew he had not killed him, but he had shattered brick and incinerated mortar. Such force would render almost anyone incapable of breathing, much less fighting.
Wyborn would have wept to know how often Mario applied the same amount of force using nothing but his head.
OoC: That's a wrap. Hope you like it, Andy, and if it's extreme - well, I trust it's not, Mario's been through worse often enough. :P Not like you didn't have enough mushrooms. -OoC
Help me out with the best fanfiction ever, Ganondorf Beats Up EVERYONE! You decide who gets beaten!
For the battle-minded and mathematically inclined, there's the Hyrulian War, a revived time-honored tradition!
For the battle-minded and mathematically inclined, there's the Hyrulian War, a revived time-honored tradition!
[QUOTE=Inferno Dragon]OOC: but he removed an appendage, isn't there something in the rules about not doing that?
Besides, it can still come off, you've seen stuff like that before in movies and cartoons I'm sure. ex. some guy gets his nose ripped off he re-attaches it, it then becomes easier to remove from that point on. now had it been something more serious like oh say having a hand broken or something to that effect I would have gone with it but simply re-attaching a nose would be far from healing look. *takes nose off and re-attaches it and repeats several times* see, it becomes almost like a gag. and again, that nose isn't attached that well so it can and probably will fall off again *winks* in reality, having re-attached it the way I did could proove to be more of a hinderance than anything else.[/QUOTE]
Battle Only Rules:
1: No transforming or character switching, this is permitted only between rounds and is not to be done mid-battle for risk of deduction from the ever-present final score out of thirty. In other words, judges will judge on a scale of 1-10 and will at the end combine the scores of each judge for a single person into a final mass of thirty, as most of you know, but I know that some of you battlers are new to this and may need a heads up.
2: No healing, and this means any healing. As is known, many of your characters regenerate, but you will have to make an exception for this tournament as not to infringe this rule.
3. No god-moding, as this isn’t a damage based tourney, it’s performance based. God-moding is wrong, and as Wyborn said in his rule set, “You can be brutal without being cheap.” Remember that. Oh, and unleash hell. It’s fun to watch.
That's all that's specified.
---------------------------------------
A few silent seconds followed the impact, and Inferno thought he might be one step closer to holding his love in his arms.
Then the doll twitched, and it was back to the present.
Legs, body, arms, neck, all snapped back into normal angles. As each limb whipped itself into place, a puff of rock dust flew into the air before dissipating. When the doll's left arm moved, green powder flew into the air in addition to the ordinary rock dust, drawing Inferno's attention to the long scratch that ran down the surface of the limb, and the remains of the green crystal on the wall near it. The doll could be damaged, after all.
Yet something was wrong, however. Inferno tried to place it as the doll jerkily stood up, and then it hit him - the doll was no longer creaking before each movement. That was troublesome. Could it move even faster now? How had it improved itself?
The hum started, and the doll sang his words in a particularly annoyed tone.
"If you are going to be difficult about this, please refrain from damaging the crystals. It takes millions of years for them to form. I would hate to see them destroyed from a few minutes of battle."
Its arm snapped and bent so it held its hand in front of its face. It pondered the movement of its fingers for a moment before continuing.
"I am interested by the flame you wield. It seems truth that you have dragon blood in you. Yet you should know that halfblood is a race - it is not who you are."
The doll shook its head in disappointment, though it was more like a few jerks left and right than anything resembling a smooth movement.
"You know, I was wondering whether you would have done anything that wasn't totally predictable, but I was right as always. Did you see how I held myself for the impacts? The strikes and slams would have done it in the end, but that flame of yours just helped clear out that nine hundred years of dust from my joints even faster. Thank you, Inferno-named."
The doll began to circle the wary Inferno.
"You see, I have no brain, but my mind works faster than your fleshbound grey matter could ever hope to achieve. My material power far exceeds yours when all the limit lines are broken, true, but what matters is that I know how that power should be applied."
The jeweled lines on the doll's body clouded and dimmed, and the crystals that lined the walls blackened in turn. The chamber dimmed, and as his pupils dilated, Inferno unstuck his sword so that he would ready to draw at a moment's notice.
As his eyes adjusted to the pitch blackness, he saw the doll nearing a run, approaching the entrance tunnel to the cave in an attempt to get behind Inferno. Inferno called out to the doll, mocking it.
"I can still see you, guardian! My dragon eyes can see even in total darkness!"
There was no response from the doll, but the room itself retorted with a blast of brilliant light from all directions. Every crystal in the room shone out hyper-intense beams of all hues - including the entrance tunnel full of crystals, right behind the doll and directly in the middle of Inferno's vision.
Inferno's highly developed eyes could see in near total blackness or surrounded by incredible blazes, but the sudden, sharp transition overwhelmed even his advanced optics.
He lit his blade as he drew and swung wildly, but only hit air. He heard the whip of the doll rushing through the air, and realised that the next few seconds were not going to be pleasant.
The first sharp jab came to the pressure point at his elbow, and sheer reptilian reflex made his hand open and fumble the katana. The second strike was what felt like the doll's knee connecting with his chin, sending his head whipping back. The third and final strike came from the doll's other foot, a kick with such force that the foot squelched through the skin and into the intestines themselves. As acceleration kicked in, Inferno's torso disengaged from the doll's foot and he flew across the room until he slammed into the great crystal's throne cavity.
As Inferno sat there, head aching, eyes watering, and gut leaking, the light returned to normal and the doll sang to him once more.
"I know this place, you know of it. You came here with twisted desire, I stand here with sage knowledge. So long as the pattern continues, you will die in this cave, Inferno-named."
<ooc>
Who the hell is Calbrena?
Kargath go sleep now.
</ooc>
Besides, it can still come off, you've seen stuff like that before in movies and cartoons I'm sure. ex. some guy gets his nose ripped off he re-attaches it, it then becomes easier to remove from that point on. now had it been something more serious like oh say having a hand broken or something to that effect I would have gone with it but simply re-attaching a nose would be far from healing look. *takes nose off and re-attaches it and repeats several times* see, it becomes almost like a gag. and again, that nose isn't attached that well so it can and probably will fall off again *winks* in reality, having re-attached it the way I did could proove to be more of a hinderance than anything else.[/QUOTE]
Battle Only Rules:
1: No transforming or character switching, this is permitted only between rounds and is not to be done mid-battle for risk of deduction from the ever-present final score out of thirty. In other words, judges will judge on a scale of 1-10 and will at the end combine the scores of each judge for a single person into a final mass of thirty, as most of you know, but I know that some of you battlers are new to this and may need a heads up.
2: No healing, and this means any healing. As is known, many of your characters regenerate, but you will have to make an exception for this tournament as not to infringe this rule.
3. No god-moding, as this isn’t a damage based tourney, it’s performance based. God-moding is wrong, and as Wyborn said in his rule set, “You can be brutal without being cheap.” Remember that. Oh, and unleash hell. It’s fun to watch.
That's all that's specified.
---------------------------------------
A few silent seconds followed the impact, and Inferno thought he might be one step closer to holding his love in his arms.
Then the doll twitched, and it was back to the present.
Legs, body, arms, neck, all snapped back into normal angles. As each limb whipped itself into place, a puff of rock dust flew into the air before dissipating. When the doll's left arm moved, green powder flew into the air in addition to the ordinary rock dust, drawing Inferno's attention to the long scratch that ran down the surface of the limb, and the remains of the green crystal on the wall near it. The doll could be damaged, after all.
Yet something was wrong, however. Inferno tried to place it as the doll jerkily stood up, and then it hit him - the doll was no longer creaking before each movement. That was troublesome. Could it move even faster now? How had it improved itself?
The hum started, and the doll sang his words in a particularly annoyed tone.
"If you are going to be difficult about this, please refrain from damaging the crystals. It takes millions of years for them to form. I would hate to see them destroyed from a few minutes of battle."
Its arm snapped and bent so it held its hand in front of its face. It pondered the movement of its fingers for a moment before continuing.
"I am interested by the flame you wield. It seems truth that you have dragon blood in you. Yet you should know that halfblood is a race - it is not who you are."
The doll shook its head in disappointment, though it was more like a few jerks left and right than anything resembling a smooth movement.
"You know, I was wondering whether you would have done anything that wasn't totally predictable, but I was right as always. Did you see how I held myself for the impacts? The strikes and slams would have done it in the end, but that flame of yours just helped clear out that nine hundred years of dust from my joints even faster. Thank you, Inferno-named."
The doll began to circle the wary Inferno.
"You see, I have no brain, but my mind works faster than your fleshbound grey matter could ever hope to achieve. My material power far exceeds yours when all the limit lines are broken, true, but what matters is that I know how that power should be applied."
The jeweled lines on the doll's body clouded and dimmed, and the crystals that lined the walls blackened in turn. The chamber dimmed, and as his pupils dilated, Inferno unstuck his sword so that he would ready to draw at a moment's notice.
As his eyes adjusted to the pitch blackness, he saw the doll nearing a run, approaching the entrance tunnel to the cave in an attempt to get behind Inferno. Inferno called out to the doll, mocking it.
"I can still see you, guardian! My dragon eyes can see even in total darkness!"
There was no response from the doll, but the room itself retorted with a blast of brilliant light from all directions. Every crystal in the room shone out hyper-intense beams of all hues - including the entrance tunnel full of crystals, right behind the doll and directly in the middle of Inferno's vision.
Inferno's highly developed eyes could see in near total blackness or surrounded by incredible blazes, but the sudden, sharp transition overwhelmed even his advanced optics.
He lit his blade as he drew and swung wildly, but only hit air. He heard the whip of the doll rushing through the air, and realised that the next few seconds were not going to be pleasant.
The first sharp jab came to the pressure point at his elbow, and sheer reptilian reflex made his hand open and fumble the katana. The second strike was what felt like the doll's knee connecting with his chin, sending his head whipping back. The third and final strike came from the doll's other foot, a kick with such force that the foot squelched through the skin and into the intestines themselves. As acceleration kicked in, Inferno's torso disengaged from the doll's foot and he flew across the room until he slammed into the great crystal's throne cavity.
As Inferno sat there, head aching, eyes watering, and gut leaking, the light returned to normal and the doll sang to him once more.
"I know this place, you know of it. You came here with twisted desire, I stand here with sage knowledge. So long as the pattern continues, you will die in this cave, Inferno-named."
<ooc>
Who the hell is Calbrena?
Kargath go sleep now.
</ooc>
Why is it drug addicts and computer afficionados are both called users?
-Clifford Stoll
-Clifford Stoll
-
Erdawn Il Deus
- Member
- Posts: 3036
- Joined: Wed May 21, 2003 1:00 am
- Location: Threading the jeweled thrones of earth under my sa
OoC: And it's posts like those that re-affirm why I love fighting you so much. //
When Wyborn came across the Tanooki statue it looked so fractured and crumbled it only vaguely held resemblance to the man it effygied. Wyborn was not a man hopeful or stupid enough to believe he had killed the super brother in his attack - as... "thorough" as it had been, but now, at least, it was apparent how he'd survived. Neither was Wyborn a weak-stomached man, but the conversion Mario underwent from stone to flesh was such that it gave his insides a turn. His trained Mind's Eye could not block out the sound. In a sense, it was lucky he'd blinded himself.
He could smell charred flesh, like roasting, overcooked pork, and the copper-stink of evaporated blood and open wounds, and when the pieces of stone fell away from the statue they landed with a sound much too moist to be stone. His skin crawled with the idea of what his opponent must look like, but not the knowledge - it in fact, painted a much more horrible picture in his mind that an opponent could continue fighting. Even a psychic's imagination could deceive him, and despite the mage's long road of experience, it did so. Mario spoke and his voice was hoarse and much too wet and that only made the image worst.
"You a man with a belly, padrigo. A real pezzonovante, a .90 calibre." He paused. "But in land of pig, butcher is king." He took in a breath and it was a wheezing, bloody thing. "And you just a pig who can do tricks. Show me real trick, ah? Show me some good trick you pig bring to my mushroom kingdom, show me trick you think make you king."
They stood in a dessicated field of dead turtle shells the size of medecin balls burnt to a layer of black char and colonadded with those immense steel drainage pipes. These were burnt hot, warped in the heat, some stooped over themselves like cooked macaroni noodles, others taken on bizzarre new shapes cooled down and all blackened with char. Flagpoles were melted bent over across the field, and the weed-ridden hills which had crested the expanse like lumps of roll of matzo bread were mostly flattened to upheavals of cooked earth.
Wyborn moved first. He had dropped and in his fist was a stone he noticed half poking its hide from the blackened sand and it hadn't even been a second before his arm was cocked back and ready to put it through what was left of Mario's right eye. But Mario one-upped him. In the same instance, he'd taken a single step forward and kicked out his right leg. There was a hollow knock as the toe of his boot struck one of the blackened koopa shells right in the centre, and it whickered through the air, spinning like a top, and Wyborn thought, "Feck", and it slammed into the right side of his mouth and punched half his teeth from the mortar of his gums and grinded his cheekbone to a fractured sequence of jigsaw pieces up to the eye socket. His head snapped to the side, back, and forward again in three seperate motions as the shells bounced upwards and away and blood gushed openly through the air full of teeth and the flesh of his face swelled up and the rest of his teeth was sucked down the corridors of his throat with his intake of breath.
Black spots danced and WYborn was falling to one knee before he recovered his wits but the kick had been the second step in a dead sprint and christ, Mario was already there, but the psychic mage hadn't forgotten he was holding a nice-sized rock. It was ideal, really. He brought his full appreciation on it now, bringing his arm around and bashing it across Mario's flayed brow.
There was a hollow crack, and the plumber's head rocked back and he kind of staggered, but more than anything was Wyborn suprised when the stone fell to pieces in his fist. Mario breaks brick blocks with his head. It struck him that, in hindsight, he should have remembered. At that moment, however, Mario's head broke WYborn's face. The bone of his nose compressed into his skull and the pressure squirted blood from mouth and nasal canal with enough intensity to bring a pink mist across the air and, well, everything that generally happens when a face impacts with a much harder object at high velocity. Mario withdrew his skull, and brought it forward again, knocking this time into Wyborn's forehead with all the verve of a runaway dump truck. The cold hard knocking sound wasn't one conductive to tranquility.
Wyborn yelled as he fell backwards almost blacked out, but also brought his knee right up and closed Mario's mouth up to his moustaches with force, breaking his teeth against one another. He reeled forwards, insane with disorientation and bloodrush, and brought his right fist around in a haymaker - expect this time, he reached out with his mind again, focused on that arm, and by the time it had cleared half to distance to Mario's temple it was moving faster that human muscles should have been able to motivate it. When it impacted against his adversary, its force was such that it simply plowed through, meeting so little effective resistance it just kept going and Mario's head fell out of its path, knocked clean aside. Clack.
Mario was effectively spun around on his feet in a circle before falling to the ground into a pile of koopa shells, spitting out blood. Wyborn stomped over. He was going to crush the plumber's spinal column under his boot and make damn sure he pumped enough power into it to punch right through to the earth itself. Mario picked up a shell, and whipped it back the way he came. It pounded into Wyborn's midsection and he bent double over, wheezing, staggered backwards over himself, and his face slammed hard into one of those big drainage pipes (he noted it was still warm, still hot in fact, and he heard but did not really feel the hiss of his skin against its surface).
Mario bit the insides of his cheeks and jumped to his feet and started running, neverminding the fact he wanted to vomit, and as he came upon Wyborn he threw his head back as far as he could, jumped forward, and when he butt his head against the back of wyborn's skull he did it with such force the air closed behind him like the clapping hand of a giant. WHAM! The pipe split upwards from the point of impact, steel wrenching open like peeled layers of a onion and vine, vegetable, creeper entrails busting outwards in a green and charred mess of thorns and frayed foilage. Those plants, which so looked like the end segment of a human toe, those alive still smouldering and chewing on the charred corpses of their comrades, came to slow, busied life, opening up to reveal tunnels lined with fibrous needles of teeth like the venus fly-traps on steroids.
The smell of blood filled their nest and they pounced on Wyborn, biting, tearing, chewing, coiling around his body. He roared. That told Mario it wasn't over. It managed to drown out to the wet tearing of bloodied flesh and the squealing of punctured armour, that roar. Still, inch by inch the mage was pulled into those depths, and even Mario had to crawl backwards to get away from those snapping mouths which floated across the sand on their long, serpentine stalks. The speckle piranha plants feasted. Mario stood up, dizzied, wiping blood from his savaged face. This was his kingdom.
When Wyborn came across the Tanooki statue it looked so fractured and crumbled it only vaguely held resemblance to the man it effygied. Wyborn was not a man hopeful or stupid enough to believe he had killed the super brother in his attack - as... "thorough" as it had been, but now, at least, it was apparent how he'd survived. Neither was Wyborn a weak-stomached man, but the conversion Mario underwent from stone to flesh was such that it gave his insides a turn. His trained Mind's Eye could not block out the sound. In a sense, it was lucky he'd blinded himself.
He could smell charred flesh, like roasting, overcooked pork, and the copper-stink of evaporated blood and open wounds, and when the pieces of stone fell away from the statue they landed with a sound much too moist to be stone. His skin crawled with the idea of what his opponent must look like, but not the knowledge - it in fact, painted a much more horrible picture in his mind that an opponent could continue fighting. Even a psychic's imagination could deceive him, and despite the mage's long road of experience, it did so. Mario spoke and his voice was hoarse and much too wet and that only made the image worst.
"You a man with a belly, padrigo. A real pezzonovante, a .90 calibre." He paused. "But in land of pig, butcher is king." He took in a breath and it was a wheezing, bloody thing. "And you just a pig who can do tricks. Show me real trick, ah? Show me some good trick you pig bring to my mushroom kingdom, show me trick you think make you king."
They stood in a dessicated field of dead turtle shells the size of medecin balls burnt to a layer of black char and colonadded with those immense steel drainage pipes. These were burnt hot, warped in the heat, some stooped over themselves like cooked macaroni noodles, others taken on bizzarre new shapes cooled down and all blackened with char. Flagpoles were melted bent over across the field, and the weed-ridden hills which had crested the expanse like lumps of roll of matzo bread were mostly flattened to upheavals of cooked earth.
Wyborn moved first. He had dropped and in his fist was a stone he noticed half poking its hide from the blackened sand and it hadn't even been a second before his arm was cocked back and ready to put it through what was left of Mario's right eye. But Mario one-upped him. In the same instance, he'd taken a single step forward and kicked out his right leg. There was a hollow knock as the toe of his boot struck one of the blackened koopa shells right in the centre, and it whickered through the air, spinning like a top, and Wyborn thought, "Feck", and it slammed into the right side of his mouth and punched half his teeth from the mortar of his gums and grinded his cheekbone to a fractured sequence of jigsaw pieces up to the eye socket. His head snapped to the side, back, and forward again in three seperate motions as the shells bounced upwards and away and blood gushed openly through the air full of teeth and the flesh of his face swelled up and the rest of his teeth was sucked down the corridors of his throat with his intake of breath.
Black spots danced and WYborn was falling to one knee before he recovered his wits but the kick had been the second step in a dead sprint and christ, Mario was already there, but the psychic mage hadn't forgotten he was holding a nice-sized rock. It was ideal, really. He brought his full appreciation on it now, bringing his arm around and bashing it across Mario's flayed brow.
There was a hollow crack, and the plumber's head rocked back and he kind of staggered, but more than anything was Wyborn suprised when the stone fell to pieces in his fist. Mario breaks brick blocks with his head. It struck him that, in hindsight, he should have remembered. At that moment, however, Mario's head broke WYborn's face. The bone of his nose compressed into his skull and the pressure squirted blood from mouth and nasal canal with enough intensity to bring a pink mist across the air and, well, everything that generally happens when a face impacts with a much harder object at high velocity. Mario withdrew his skull, and brought it forward again, knocking this time into Wyborn's forehead with all the verve of a runaway dump truck. The cold hard knocking sound wasn't one conductive to tranquility.
Wyborn yelled as he fell backwards almost blacked out, but also brought his knee right up and closed Mario's mouth up to his moustaches with force, breaking his teeth against one another. He reeled forwards, insane with disorientation and bloodrush, and brought his right fist around in a haymaker - expect this time, he reached out with his mind again, focused on that arm, and by the time it had cleared half to distance to Mario's temple it was moving faster that human muscles should have been able to motivate it. When it impacted against his adversary, its force was such that it simply plowed through, meeting so little effective resistance it just kept going and Mario's head fell out of its path, knocked clean aside. Clack.
Mario was effectively spun around on his feet in a circle before falling to the ground into a pile of koopa shells, spitting out blood. Wyborn stomped over. He was going to crush the plumber's spinal column under his boot and make damn sure he pumped enough power into it to punch right through to the earth itself. Mario picked up a shell, and whipped it back the way he came. It pounded into Wyborn's midsection and he bent double over, wheezing, staggered backwards over himself, and his face slammed hard into one of those big drainage pipes (he noted it was still warm, still hot in fact, and he heard but did not really feel the hiss of his skin against its surface).
Mario bit the insides of his cheeks and jumped to his feet and started running, neverminding the fact he wanted to vomit, and as he came upon Wyborn he threw his head back as far as he could, jumped forward, and when he butt his head against the back of wyborn's skull he did it with such force the air closed behind him like the clapping hand of a giant. WHAM! The pipe split upwards from the point of impact, steel wrenching open like peeled layers of a onion and vine, vegetable, creeper entrails busting outwards in a green and charred mess of thorns and frayed foilage. Those plants, which so looked like the end segment of a human toe, those alive still smouldering and chewing on the charred corpses of their comrades, came to slow, busied life, opening up to reveal tunnels lined with fibrous needles of teeth like the venus fly-traps on steroids.
The smell of blood filled their nest and they pounced on Wyborn, biting, tearing, chewing, coiling around his body. He roared. That told Mario it wasn't over. It managed to drown out to the wet tearing of bloodied flesh and the squealing of punctured armour, that roar. Still, inch by inch the mage was pulled into those depths, and even Mario had to crawl backwards to get away from those snapping mouths which floated across the sand on their long, serpentine stalks. The speckle piranha plants feasted. Mario stood up, dizzied, wiping blood from his savaged face. This was his kingdom.
<i>\"We know how to sing but we don\'t know how to handle money or women. Do-wap, do do wop.\"</i>
-The Runaway Five
<i>Rx Prozach</i>: Toronto is one sucky Toronto. :P I can\'t imagine smoking enough pot to find a shoe museum interes
-The Runaway Five
<i>Rx Prozach</i>: Toronto is one sucky Toronto. :P I can\'t imagine smoking enough pot to find a shoe museum interes
-
Inferno Dragon
- Member
- Posts: 6097
- Joined: Mon Jul 30, 2001 1:00 am
- Location: Planet Draco
- Has thanked: 1 time
- Been thanked: 7 times
OOC: calbrena is a demon doll boss in FF4
Inferno shakes his head to shake off the dizzyness and stands up. he looks to the guardian while holding his gut, applying preassure to stop the bleeding.
Inferno: so, you want to know what I am huh?okay, I am a warrior, a hero to my people, a protector of an elven princess, and the only defender of Planet Draco. my intentions are good because if I am to resurrect my love my father Bahamut will allow me to become king and my world will be in good hands seeing as I've saved it three times from being destroyed. Why would my father send me here if I was just going to be turned away by a guardian doll, please, you must let me *UGH*
the doll had kicked inferno in the chest hard enough to crack several of his ribs. Inferno staggered back before recieving an uppercut again from the doll his nose falling to the ground again. the humming began again.
Doll: if you are of Bahamut's bloodline then prove it to me Inferno-named half-breed
Inferno: fine if I can not reason with you then I must defeat you to earn what I came here for.
Inferno picked up his nose and placed it in an enchanted bag of coldness and placed it in his right jeans pocket and inhaled deeply. the pain of inhailing was terrible due to to the cracked ribs but Inferno tried to ignore it as best he could. Inferno then slowly exhailed. divine flames swirled around him as he exhailed and began thinking of his father in battle.
Bahamut was hovering in mid-air as he staired down the giant arch demon lord before him. devine flames began to encircle Bahamut as he began to charge his breath weapon. the divine flames were drawn into the charging beam and caused a radiant stream of divine flames to spew forth from Bahamut's mouth. the demon saw what was comming and tried to escape but the divine flames followed him and engulfed him, completely destroying the demon.
Bahamut: someday Inferno, your mega flair will be stronger than mine, but that won't happen until you are older than me. heh.
Inferno began charging his breath weapon and the divine flames quickly drew to the charging breath weapon, swirling with the charging energy.
Inferno: MEGA FLAIR!!!
a stream of divine flames shot from Inferno's mouth and ripped through the air with such velocity that the air around the divine fire stream ignighted. The divine flames engulfed the doll before he could react and an exlosion resulted from it, filling the crystal cavern with blinding white light. as the light faded Inferno could see the doll was lieing on it's back and charred from the divine flames.
Inferno shakes his head to shake off the dizzyness and stands up. he looks to the guardian while holding his gut, applying preassure to stop the bleeding.
Inferno: so, you want to know what I am huh?okay, I am a warrior, a hero to my people, a protector of an elven princess, and the only defender of Planet Draco. my intentions are good because if I am to resurrect my love my father Bahamut will allow me to become king and my world will be in good hands seeing as I've saved it three times from being destroyed. Why would my father send me here if I was just going to be turned away by a guardian doll, please, you must let me *UGH*
the doll had kicked inferno in the chest hard enough to crack several of his ribs. Inferno staggered back before recieving an uppercut again from the doll his nose falling to the ground again. the humming began again.
Doll: if you are of Bahamut's bloodline then prove it to me Inferno-named half-breed
Inferno: fine if I can not reason with you then I must defeat you to earn what I came here for.
Inferno picked up his nose and placed it in an enchanted bag of coldness and placed it in his right jeans pocket and inhaled deeply. the pain of inhailing was terrible due to to the cracked ribs but Inferno tried to ignore it as best he could. Inferno then slowly exhailed. divine flames swirled around him as he exhailed and began thinking of his father in battle.
Bahamut was hovering in mid-air as he staired down the giant arch demon lord before him. devine flames began to encircle Bahamut as he began to charge his breath weapon. the divine flames were drawn into the charging beam and caused a radiant stream of divine flames to spew forth from Bahamut's mouth. the demon saw what was comming and tried to escape but the divine flames followed him and engulfed him, completely destroying the demon.
Bahamut: someday Inferno, your mega flair will be stronger than mine, but that won't happen until you are older than me. heh.
Inferno began charging his breath weapon and the divine flames quickly drew to the charging breath weapon, swirling with the charging energy.
Inferno: MEGA FLAIR!!!
a stream of divine flames shot from Inferno's mouth and ripped through the air with such velocity that the air around the divine fire stream ignighted. The divine flames engulfed the doll before he could react and an exlosion resulted from it, filling the crystal cavern with blinding white light. as the light faded Inferno could see the doll was lieing on it's back and charred from the divine flames.
beware the power of Bahamut\'s eldest son.
-
Wyborn
- Member
- Posts: 12269
- Joined: Fri Jun 16, 2000 1:00 am
- Location: All over the place
OoC: Apologies, Andy. Tomorrow. -OoC
Help me out with the best fanfiction ever, Ganondorf Beats Up EVERYONE! You decide who gets beaten!
For the battle-minded and mathematically inclined, there's the Hyrulian War, a revived time-honored tradition!
For the battle-minded and mathematically inclined, there's the Hyrulian War, a revived time-honored tradition!
-
Erdawn Il Deus
- Member
- Posts: 3036
- Joined: Wed May 21, 2003 1:00 am
- Location: Threading the jeweled thrones of earth under my sa
-
The Willful Wanderer
- Member
- Posts: 2221
- Joined: Fri Mar 05, 2004 2:00 am
- Location: Aisle 12, between the kumquats and the radicchio.
-
Galefore
- Member
- Posts: 9354
- Joined: Tue Jan 04, 2005 2:00 am
- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
OoC: Dastren? Meet U'ondire. U'ondire? Dastren.
----------------------------------------------
Bleeding. Unfamiliar, but oh so common for any man. Kiunju knew from the moment his master first cut his arm wide open that someone else would make him bleed. However, this "Dastren" was not at all the skilled man Kiunju’s only father figure, the master, was, he was not nearly the skilled fighter.
That skill was immaculate. Untouchable. Never could Dastren or Kiunju imagine its horrible potential, and only Kiunju himself and the thousands of dead knew it.
And as such, something began to flow over Kiunju.
Kiunju desired that ability. He desired to show Dastren the man he had messed with a part of, the man he had utterly defiled when he did such travesties to his young student. This was now a game of unknown end and the start was so far away now…
Slowly, the mind he called his own was fading. He was letting it go, something he had been thought to do. Something he wanted to do. He wanted his master to show him now the ability he was taught to use when against anyone who could see through the invisibility trick.
Creeping away was his sanity…
And slowly, on his arm, an enormous gash opened and poured old, dried blood onto the marble.
And now, Kiunju was so far away. The master, now taking his rightful place in the boy’s heart, slowly began eclipsing his mind with a vicious, unending fury, Kiunju simply sitting back and accepting his fate as the temporary and perhaps final host…
No, not Kiunju…
U’ondire. The fire and the wind, the eternal undying. He was the end, he was final. He woke with the spirits and slept with the souls. He was U’ondire, now taking over the scorched, cut, and wet body.
The walking doppelganger ceased. In some sort of spectacle of gruesome macabre, it ruptured, and as a volcano, erupted into blood, bits of organ and bone flying everywhere as a horrid show of symbolic death.
And Dastren? The man who controlled the stave of elements? He stared in wonder, but nonetheless, he lifted his staff to end young "Kiunju’s" life.
But where was it? He looked into his hand… To find many things missing.
Squiiiiriiiiiiiirrrrsssshhhhhhhh……
Out of… Stumps, as they were, blood squirted in multiple directions, his fingers now lying on the ground. In front of him, he saw young master Kiunju holding his stave.
"Fool. You have seen your only folly, yes? Have you seen it? I walked upon the earth as a poet, as the master of many… Perhaps I even mastered you in some way, in some form, in some shape. And you, human, insult me? You insult my student?"
The young man’s eyes were different. Now they were inhuman. Now they showed forth a presence, a knowing glare that seemed to go beyond his years. It was impossible to look away. Those eyes captivated and frightened, freezing a man in panic.
"Sight."
U’ondire smirked, but Dastren did not know this. He was lost.
And while he stared, U’ondire was laughing, laughing at his work, laughing at his own skill, laughing at the trapped look in Dastren’s own eyes. He could feel it. Dastren was losing the mental battle. Now he would lose the physical battle.
"Body."
Upon Dastren’s body were four cuts, each on a pivotal join, slicing directly through the meat into the joint. Blood was gushing, as the bone itself received a series of small slices, immobilizing said joint, a cut like this appearing twice on each hip and twice in the shoulder. Dastren was unknowing of this; He felt no pain.
Master U’ondire knew this. And he did not care; for all things a purpose.
"Pain."
And Dastren felt it. A retching, horrid pain… He noticed the pain of his now nonexistent fingers the pain in his hips and shoulder, he felt the sickening twisting in his head as U’ondire cut his way through his sanity. He felt pain that was not yet realized, as if his chest were being ripped open, his stomach rent from it, his head sliced into two pieces…
And he saw the darkness that awaited him…
"Now you have seen it… Eternity. Allow me to have you embrace it."
U’ondire removed the sword from his hip, an easily visible swing ensuing not long after. The foe, this masterful enemy of elements and time, saw it. He did not know what to think…
Until he felt it. He was relying on his newly rediscovered sense, and he knew where he had been hit. His mouth. On each site, the corners split… And split, and tore, and bled into his mouth, the metallic taste forming a grimace on his horribly disfigured face. He felt more disembodied pain soon thereafter, as what seemed like stone fist thunderously rammed into his chest and reduced several ribs to dust.
He felt something blunt hit him twice in the face, his bones seeming to collapse as he cried out in agony, and noticed Master U’ondire’s absence.
Visibly gone. Not invisible like his apprentice had been, merely… Gone.
The master was not hiding. He was waiting. He was laughing. Behind Dastren, there stood the master of ages, his new body as spry as it had been before any injury despite the visible wear and constant bleeding. And then, he was in front again.
Dastren did not care about this; he cared about the sword that was now sticking through his back, poking out of his chest.
And at this, U’ondire laughed.
"Come, oh omnipotent element master. Meet the master of the spirit."
----------------------------------------------
Bleeding. Unfamiliar, but oh so common for any man. Kiunju knew from the moment his master first cut his arm wide open that someone else would make him bleed. However, this "Dastren" was not at all the skilled man Kiunju’s only father figure, the master, was, he was not nearly the skilled fighter.
That skill was immaculate. Untouchable. Never could Dastren or Kiunju imagine its horrible potential, and only Kiunju himself and the thousands of dead knew it.
And as such, something began to flow over Kiunju.
Kiunju desired that ability. He desired to show Dastren the man he had messed with a part of, the man he had utterly defiled when he did such travesties to his young student. This was now a game of unknown end and the start was so far away now…
Slowly, the mind he called his own was fading. He was letting it go, something he had been thought to do. Something he wanted to do. He wanted his master to show him now the ability he was taught to use when against anyone who could see through the invisibility trick.
Creeping away was his sanity…
And slowly, on his arm, an enormous gash opened and poured old, dried blood onto the marble.
And now, Kiunju was so far away. The master, now taking his rightful place in the boy’s heart, slowly began eclipsing his mind with a vicious, unending fury, Kiunju simply sitting back and accepting his fate as the temporary and perhaps final host…
No, not Kiunju…
U’ondire. The fire and the wind, the eternal undying. He was the end, he was final. He woke with the spirits and slept with the souls. He was U’ondire, now taking over the scorched, cut, and wet body.
The walking doppelganger ceased. In some sort of spectacle of gruesome macabre, it ruptured, and as a volcano, erupted into blood, bits of organ and bone flying everywhere as a horrid show of symbolic death.
And Dastren? The man who controlled the stave of elements? He stared in wonder, but nonetheless, he lifted his staff to end young "Kiunju’s" life.
But where was it? He looked into his hand… To find many things missing.
Squiiiiriiiiiiiirrrrsssshhhhhhhh……
Out of… Stumps, as they were, blood squirted in multiple directions, his fingers now lying on the ground. In front of him, he saw young master Kiunju holding his stave.
"Fool. You have seen your only folly, yes? Have you seen it? I walked upon the earth as a poet, as the master of many… Perhaps I even mastered you in some way, in some form, in some shape. And you, human, insult me? You insult my student?"
The young man’s eyes were different. Now they were inhuman. Now they showed forth a presence, a knowing glare that seemed to go beyond his years. It was impossible to look away. Those eyes captivated and frightened, freezing a man in panic.
"Sight."
U’ondire smirked, but Dastren did not know this. He was lost.
And while he stared, U’ondire was laughing, laughing at his work, laughing at his own skill, laughing at the trapped look in Dastren’s own eyes. He could feel it. Dastren was losing the mental battle. Now he would lose the physical battle.
"Body."
Upon Dastren’s body were four cuts, each on a pivotal join, slicing directly through the meat into the joint. Blood was gushing, as the bone itself received a series of small slices, immobilizing said joint, a cut like this appearing twice on each hip and twice in the shoulder. Dastren was unknowing of this; He felt no pain.
Master U’ondire knew this. And he did not care; for all things a purpose.
"Pain."
And Dastren felt it. A retching, horrid pain… He noticed the pain of his now nonexistent fingers the pain in his hips and shoulder, he felt the sickening twisting in his head as U’ondire cut his way through his sanity. He felt pain that was not yet realized, as if his chest were being ripped open, his stomach rent from it, his head sliced into two pieces…
And he saw the darkness that awaited him…
"Now you have seen it… Eternity. Allow me to have you embrace it."
U’ondire removed the sword from his hip, an easily visible swing ensuing not long after. The foe, this masterful enemy of elements and time, saw it. He did not know what to think…
Until he felt it. He was relying on his newly rediscovered sense, and he knew where he had been hit. His mouth. On each site, the corners split… And split, and tore, and bled into his mouth, the metallic taste forming a grimace on his horribly disfigured face. He felt more disembodied pain soon thereafter, as what seemed like stone fist thunderously rammed into his chest and reduced several ribs to dust.
He felt something blunt hit him twice in the face, his bones seeming to collapse as he cried out in agony, and noticed Master U’ondire’s absence.
Visibly gone. Not invisible like his apprentice had been, merely… Gone.
The master was not hiding. He was waiting. He was laughing. Behind Dastren, there stood the master of ages, his new body as spry as it had been before any injury despite the visible wear and constant bleeding. And then, he was in front again.
Dastren did not care about this; he cared about the sword that was now sticking through his back, poking out of his chest.
And at this, U’ondire laughed.
"Come, oh omnipotent element master. Meet the master of the spirit."
-
Mushi
- Member
- Posts: 6880
- Joined: Thu Apr 20, 2006 10:54 pm
- Location: In a van down by the river.
- Has thanked: 2 times
- Been thanked: 11 times
Ooc: OH JEEZUS, My apologies, Scripture. Also, you're going to have to excuse the lack of dialogue from my character. You should know why.
His heart quickening from the loss of blood, James stepped back. He needed a better plan then running straight towards his opponent...
"Well? You finally come to your senses?" As Damian said this, he lunged for another slice at James's shoulder. His blow would have surely severed James's arm, had James not disappeared from sight.
"!?" Damian had forgotten his temporary weakness, his left side. James side-stepped the blow, and took the chance to finally make a connecting blow with his sword. He swung the broad sword, creating a gaping wound in Damian's side.
"ARGH!" Damian turned to his left, clutching his wound. The wound was bleeding profusely, and his abdominal muscle was badly torn, adding to the pain.
James didn't wait for his opponent to make another move, instead, he swung his sword again, making another gash, this time on the hand that clutched Damian's wound. He attacked a third time, this time his fist caught Damian in the face, shattering the cartilage in his nose, knocking him back and almost completely knocking him over.
James was going to finish what he started.
His heart quickening from the loss of blood, James stepped back. He needed a better plan then running straight towards his opponent...
"Well? You finally come to your senses?" As Damian said this, he lunged for another slice at James's shoulder. His blow would have surely severed James's arm, had James not disappeared from sight.
"!?" Damian had forgotten his temporary weakness, his left side. James side-stepped the blow, and took the chance to finally make a connecting blow with his sword. He swung the broad sword, creating a gaping wound in Damian's side.
"ARGH!" Damian turned to his left, clutching his wound. The wound was bleeding profusely, and his abdominal muscle was badly torn, adding to the pain.
James didn't wait for his opponent to make another move, instead, he swung his sword again, making another gash, this time on the hand that clutched Damian's wound. He attacked a third time, this time his fist caught Damian in the face, shattering the cartilage in his nose, knocking him back and almost completely knocking him over.
James was going to finish what he started.
