Well, then, the purpose is as the title reads. High-level vet versus a self-proclaimed high-level... well... Person, I suppose you'd call me. Bein' mod doesn't mean instant veteran-hood, after all.
Anyway, the rules should by now be known to you. As for ccharacter, I'll use Erasmus Sindierus. I don't require you to read the bio. You'll find out PLENTY during the fight.
If you want to, you can intro. If not, I'll go first. Doesn't matter. One way or another we'll eventually reach the ass-whoopin'.
The battlefield: (heh, simplicity...)
[quote="repster]
The field of battle. Quite literally what the name suggest. A simple field. Short or not so short grass as far as the eye can see"][/quote]
Alright, let's get this shindig started.
Alright, I hereby challenge Erdawn!
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Galefore
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Apiary Tazy
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Galefore
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^^Please consider shutting your mouth about my choice of BF. It was repster's idea anyway, so if you don't mind, allow my challenge to continue. If you want me to change it, ask nicely. I won't accept your foolish death threats.
Besides, I never said Erdawn had to accept this. Pre-mature bashing of my decision to start this thing before he even responds is out of the question.
Besides, I never said Erdawn had to accept this. Pre-mature bashing of my decision to start this thing before he even responds is out of the question.
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Scripture
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Repster
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As an arrogant bastard child, I'm thinking you'd need a third bullet for myself, and that one in the head. And well... don't bother with only a single clip on my actually characters. Unless you know... you go for the face... and it's not Aidan...
I consider the default adequate for three situations.
1. Not wanting anything fancy just to smash into the guy bloodily and messily. No having to think about is there a hill there or what about them giant skyscrapers or anything of the sort. Just your fist, his/her face.
2. Not wanting a field advantage, or disadvantage.
3. Fighting people that are just gonna ignore the battlefield anyway.
I'm guessing this is more of a number 1 then anything else.
I consider the default adequate for three situations.
1. Not wanting anything fancy just to smash into the guy bloodily and messily. No having to think about is there a hill there or what about them giant skyscrapers or anything of the sort. Just your fist, his/her face.
2. Not wanting a field advantage, or disadvantage.
3. Fighting people that are just gonna ignore the battlefield anyway.
I'm guessing this is more of a number 1 then anything else.
When our world is burning.
When all run like the cowards they are.
I shall stand in the inferno, and fight until I am consumed
When all run like the cowards they are.
I shall stand in the inferno, and fight until I am consumed
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Erdawn Il Deus
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OoC: Okay, jack-knobs. Step one, shut the hell up all of you before I personally make it my bussiness to dig and fill your graves in this or an adjacent topic.
Two, god dammit Matt the generic field is a staple in battlefielding history. Phenom only became Phenom in a green ****ing field - the largest of BF wars have been fought across generic fields, Cameron actually once started his book in what I remember to be an impressive introduction in a generic, endless field, and if Manfred wants to die in a generic, green, endless field, then by God he shall and has every right. Personally I have a tendency to more than not throw in some twisted messed up idea of a battlefield - I loved Cameron's endless, senseless world of identical stone megaliths, and remember... what, Ferret's tournaments at the Superbard Forums - no, it was Magus or Phantom, one of the bards, who had a tendency to make up these ridiculous but intricate battlefields for each round and battle of the tournament. I actually respected L64 for his ability to develop detailed battlefields.
I've hopped across battlefields of asteroids in space, fought one battle that started on a mountainous tundra-and-crystal-tower and ended with half the participants murdered and the ensuing combat on freaking Tatooine, and simplicity has never once bothered me - simplicity is saying let's fight in Hyrule, let's fight on the death star, let's fight in a misty forest... with rows of pillars, let's fight in ****ing Mario World, on a floating battleship, in a desert, on an actual MK-style tournament ring, and have a fight to end all fights anyway. And the generic green field is the root of all that, harkening back to the HBF where every battle was fought in one topic, so sit the hell down, take a pill, and love every blade of green, generic grass in that endless field before I make you eat them all.
And then? And then I will set you on fire. /OoC
Two, god dammit Matt the generic field is a staple in battlefielding history. Phenom only became Phenom in a green ****ing field - the largest of BF wars have been fought across generic fields, Cameron actually once started his book in what I remember to be an impressive introduction in a generic, endless field, and if Manfred wants to die in a generic, green, endless field, then by God he shall and has every right. Personally I have a tendency to more than not throw in some twisted messed up idea of a battlefield - I loved Cameron's endless, senseless world of identical stone megaliths, and remember... what, Ferret's tournaments at the Superbard Forums - no, it was Magus or Phantom, one of the bards, who had a tendency to make up these ridiculous but intricate battlefields for each round and battle of the tournament. I actually respected L64 for his ability to develop detailed battlefields.
I've hopped across battlefields of asteroids in space, fought one battle that started on a mountainous tundra-and-crystal-tower and ended with half the participants murdered and the ensuing combat on freaking Tatooine, and simplicity has never once bothered me - simplicity is saying let's fight in Hyrule, let's fight on the death star, let's fight in a misty forest... with rows of pillars, let's fight in ****ing Mario World, on a floating battleship, in a desert, on an actual MK-style tournament ring, and have a fight to end all fights anyway. And the generic green field is the root of all that, harkening back to the HBF where every battle was fought in one topic, so sit the hell down, take a pill, and love every blade of green, generic grass in that endless field before I make you eat them all.
And then? And then I will set you on fire. /OoC
<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
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Galefore
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OoC: Bah, finally. Here we are...
Footfalls in the grass, giving forth no noise but that of grass giving way under the slightest of weight, signaled an event so close to happening. Under no injunction, and having never been over the course of his grisly life, came across the swinging grass the most genteel of men. Were it not for this man’s haunting past and terrifying somber countenance, all would be reverential, using perhaps the term “father” when his personage came hovering by.
And that is what he did; he hovered. Or, at least, his soft-shoed feet seemed never to touch the ground. It was as if the earth would spoil his self-proclaimed perfection, and he would mirthlessly give up and die from his spots and blemishes.
What he was seemed unwonted: an old, blue-haired man with wrinkles riddling his visage and a tuft of fuzz jutting from his chin. On his head was hair that bristled as porcupine-quills, and starting from his gullet until his ankles was a white robe with light-blue trimmings. He walked so much as if he were a traveling friar that there would be nothing salient about him, lest his more prominent features existed like they did.
As if a beacon in the dark, steam rose from his shoulders, on which were monoliths of chilled blood. They still dripped in the moonlight, sprinkling like the first of a summer rain and penetrating silence with no hesitance. His eyes were so full of experience that they seemed iced over as well, squinted but glaring with full force. In his hand, which was wet with bleeding, he held an ice-crafted blade, curved and speed-centered to bring about full potential with every ferocious strike.
Everything around him seemed to blur, as if the air hesitated to touch him. His bleeding body seemed to affront the sky, the earth, and all of living creation, and he almost beamed with happiness at the fear he induced. He was happy to be the devil.
No true reasons could be given for his happening upon such a common place. Tufts of differentiated colors and shades permeated the greenest of green, which seemed almost white underneath the glistening moon. Such dull surroundings, one of the very reasons humanity deserved punishment. It was almost as if humans desired the land to be filled with boredom and lust for life, and wanted to push these feelings of inhuman incompetence unto his very being. Despicable.
But boredom couldn’t honestly describe the man standing in front of Erasmus. Not even extravagant or ‘festive’ could do him any honor. This guy was a trip. Not only was he covered in what was dead, he seemed to be among his own company of bones as the dead as well. Everything about him seemed slender, even the gun he carried.
“Another fool in the way of progress. I seem to always fall into the cesspool of foolishness this earth calls ‘human’. Come. Let me liberate you.”
Footfalls in the grass, giving forth no noise but that of grass giving way under the slightest of weight, signaled an event so close to happening. Under no injunction, and having never been over the course of his grisly life, came across the swinging grass the most genteel of men. Were it not for this man’s haunting past and terrifying somber countenance, all would be reverential, using perhaps the term “father” when his personage came hovering by.
And that is what he did; he hovered. Or, at least, his soft-shoed feet seemed never to touch the ground. It was as if the earth would spoil his self-proclaimed perfection, and he would mirthlessly give up and die from his spots and blemishes.
What he was seemed unwonted: an old, blue-haired man with wrinkles riddling his visage and a tuft of fuzz jutting from his chin. On his head was hair that bristled as porcupine-quills, and starting from his gullet until his ankles was a white robe with light-blue trimmings. He walked so much as if he were a traveling friar that there would be nothing salient about him, lest his more prominent features existed like they did.
As if a beacon in the dark, steam rose from his shoulders, on which were monoliths of chilled blood. They still dripped in the moonlight, sprinkling like the first of a summer rain and penetrating silence with no hesitance. His eyes were so full of experience that they seemed iced over as well, squinted but glaring with full force. In his hand, which was wet with bleeding, he held an ice-crafted blade, curved and speed-centered to bring about full potential with every ferocious strike.
Everything around him seemed to blur, as if the air hesitated to touch him. His bleeding body seemed to affront the sky, the earth, and all of living creation, and he almost beamed with happiness at the fear he induced. He was happy to be the devil.
No true reasons could be given for his happening upon such a common place. Tufts of differentiated colors and shades permeated the greenest of green, which seemed almost white underneath the glistening moon. Such dull surroundings, one of the very reasons humanity deserved punishment. It was almost as if humans desired the land to be filled with boredom and lust for life, and wanted to push these feelings of inhuman incompetence unto his very being. Despicable.
But boredom couldn’t honestly describe the man standing in front of Erasmus. Not even extravagant or ‘festive’ could do him any honor. This guy was a trip. Not only was he covered in what was dead, he seemed to be among his own company of bones as the dead as well. Everything about him seemed slender, even the gun he carried.
“Another fool in the way of progress. I seem to always fall into the cesspool of foolishness this earth calls ‘human’. Come. Let me liberate you.”
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Galefore
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Galefore
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Erdawn Il Deus
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...OoC: WOW I haven't seen this in ever. I could've SWORN I used Shepherd somewhere. As if you replied. Thought it had faded away. Post pending, to whenever I get to it.
OoC...k I JUST posted. It got deleted or some **** I don't know. Watev. Will reply to this later then, when i get back from BMQ. Will most likely re-design Shepherd, because I'm fickle that way and it's been a while and these spur of the moment things seem to be the going rate for me and Cameron lately. Have an idea though. And then we shall bloody this place!
OoC...k I JUST posted. It got deleted or some **** I don't know. Watev. Will reply to this later then, when i get back from BMQ. Will most likely re-design Shepherd, because I'm fickle that way and it's been a while and these spur of the moment things seem to be the going rate for me and Cameron lately. Have an idea though. And then we shall bloody this place!
<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
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Galefore
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