Well... I'd very much like to test my ability against other people in this thread that is not Galefore (since I'm already engaged to battle with 'im). If someone would please accept this challenge, I will be glad to provide the battleground, so that we may start the second dance.
Any takers?
Following the next attraction! Second battle, burst forth!
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Trickster-kun
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Trickster-kun
- Member
- Posts: 105
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Oooh, thank you for your very fast response! ^^ (Not even in my 'homeland' do I get such a fast reply... <<')
Well then, my friend, I will be using my as-yet-unrevealed 'avatar character' (as in, a single, special character that I will use for this the Gunjin thread), and for this occasion I would please like to use the following battleground:
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On the outside, a mansion, available to only the richest nobles and the hardest-working men of the middle class. A place of gold and silver, of crystal and purple. Armors, in the traditional style of the era, silent watchers of the large halls, confined to a lifeless existence of physical decoration and steel-colored beauty.
On the inside, a house of slavery, available only to the greediest and laziest of the evil-minded, exceedingly decorated with lust and hatred. A house of pain and disgrace, of devaluation and worthlessness. A place where the lowest of the low were gathered, locked, and sold to their timeless fates, a place of gold coins and silver daggers, of shattered crystal windows and purple rags of overused cloth. Cages, in the traditional style of the era, lined up in careless demeanors, filthy bars and grounds of ice-cold steel, where innocent people were confined to a lifeless existence and an endless wait for a definitive savior.
Slaves, they were called: people who live to serve, and serve to live. Innocents by nature, perverted by their masters, each specific one shaped and reshaped by their owners time and time again.
Masters, they were called: people who live to be served, and are served for their own reckless emotions of pleasure and laziness. People who are bound by the code of believing that they are the superior beings of the corrupted earth they sleep, eat and recklessly live from. A code created by those who are served, and broken by those who fall from the grace of excess gold, commodities and food.
But this scenario happened hundreds of years ago.
As of recent time, many of the steel cages have somehow braved the rusty storm that has overtaken the rest of their cousins and brothers, creating a brown-and-silver squared perimeter in the dusty, semi-darkened basement of the long-abandoned house of over 80 feet or so. Previously serving as a weapons smuggler's hideout not very long ago, empty and broken crates made of now-decaying wood lie on top of the empty cells, and the area that makes up the center lies in ruin and disarray: upturned and broken tables, torn and dirtied pieces of clothing, scattered debris from a rather small hole in the roof, and hardened mounds that were different kinds of previously liquid substances, such as blood, sperm and oils. The basement is idly illuminated by the daylight that pours through many broken glass windows -4 feet long and wide each- lining the entirety of the high stone walls, which extend up for as far as 30 feet before colliding with the slightly ruined ceiling above. The structure as a whole is made of a concrete/stone hybrid, which gives it extreme durability as well as the hardened characteristic of both materials. To the left of the entrance staircase lie the doors that lead to the shipping area- a series of small rooms where the masters would 'sample' their slaves before buying them-, a place that is now ruined due to a collapsing in the structure, which also created the hole in the ceiling located at the very farthest end at the center of the basement.
---------------------
If you agree to this battleground, then please be my guest. Let the second dance begin at your command.
Well then, my friend, I will be using my as-yet-unrevealed 'avatar character' (as in, a single, special character that I will use for this the Gunjin thread), and for this occasion I would please like to use the following battleground:
-------------------
On the outside, a mansion, available to only the richest nobles and the hardest-working men of the middle class. A place of gold and silver, of crystal and purple. Armors, in the traditional style of the era, silent watchers of the large halls, confined to a lifeless existence of physical decoration and steel-colored beauty.
On the inside, a house of slavery, available only to the greediest and laziest of the evil-minded, exceedingly decorated with lust and hatred. A house of pain and disgrace, of devaluation and worthlessness. A place where the lowest of the low were gathered, locked, and sold to their timeless fates, a place of gold coins and silver daggers, of shattered crystal windows and purple rags of overused cloth. Cages, in the traditional style of the era, lined up in careless demeanors, filthy bars and grounds of ice-cold steel, where innocent people were confined to a lifeless existence and an endless wait for a definitive savior.
Slaves, they were called: people who live to serve, and serve to live. Innocents by nature, perverted by their masters, each specific one shaped and reshaped by their owners time and time again.
Masters, they were called: people who live to be served, and are served for their own reckless emotions of pleasure and laziness. People who are bound by the code of believing that they are the superior beings of the corrupted earth they sleep, eat and recklessly live from. A code created by those who are served, and broken by those who fall from the grace of excess gold, commodities and food.
But this scenario happened hundreds of years ago.
As of recent time, many of the steel cages have somehow braved the rusty storm that has overtaken the rest of their cousins and brothers, creating a brown-and-silver squared perimeter in the dusty, semi-darkened basement of the long-abandoned house of over 80 feet or so. Previously serving as a weapons smuggler's hideout not very long ago, empty and broken crates made of now-decaying wood lie on top of the empty cells, and the area that makes up the center lies in ruin and disarray: upturned and broken tables, torn and dirtied pieces of clothing, scattered debris from a rather small hole in the roof, and hardened mounds that were different kinds of previously liquid substances, such as blood, sperm and oils. The basement is idly illuminated by the daylight that pours through many broken glass windows -4 feet long and wide each- lining the entirety of the high stone walls, which extend up for as far as 30 feet before colliding with the slightly ruined ceiling above. The structure as a whole is made of a concrete/stone hybrid, which gives it extreme durability as well as the hardened characteristic of both materials. To the left of the entrance staircase lie the doors that lead to the shipping area- a series of small rooms where the masters would 'sample' their slaves before buying them-, a place that is now ruined due to a collapsing in the structure, which also created the hole in the ceiling located at the very farthest end at the center of the basement.
---------------------
If you agree to this battleground, then please be my guest. Let the second dance begin at your command.
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Erdawn Il Deus
- Member
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- Joined: Wed May 21, 2003 1:00 am
- Location: Threading the jeweled thrones of earth under my sa
Make a topic there Neji and Id be glad to take you on personal-like.
<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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Trickster-kun
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- Joined: Mon Jun 25, 2007 8:30 pm
- Location: I moved. Somewhere.
- Contact:
@UG: All righty. ^^ I kinda got stuck here waiting for a response, even though I've had to shuffle off for a while now. << Expect the first post by tomorrow or Wednesday at the latest, I hope.
@Erdawn: Your wish is my command... as long as it's not dying, getting raped, or godmodding. Same, expect the post to come up later on as well~
EDIT: And it's Negi... as in Mahou Sensei Negima! Negi Springfield, not Naruto Hyuuga Neji. -.-
@Erdawn: Your wish is my command... as long as it's not dying, getting raped, or godmodding. Same, expect the post to come up later on as well~
EDIT: And it's Negi... as in Mahou Sensei Negima! Negi Springfield, not Naruto Hyuuga Neji. -.-
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Trickster-kun
- Member
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- Joined: Mon Jun 25, 2007 8:30 pm
- Location: I moved. Somewhere.
- Contact:
((Well then.. here we go.))
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A storage room is rarely a place of beauty, nor does it often have the proper surroundings to hold whatever contents would happen to be placed within it. More than a few hundred years ago, the basement of the LePreneur coast mansion had first been conceived as part of the prestigious family's plans of training their children in the arts of everything from battle to love. Alas, in the end it was a failed experiment where the rebellious nature of the young children, coupled with the greed they developed from being born with a silver spoon in their mouths, brought the family into a certain economic disaster, ending with their acts a lineage over 300 years long. Oh, woe is the mistakes of humanity at times. -sigh-
Then after the event, another event, and yet some more events after those, and in the blink of an eye, bam! The mansion had become crippled by the mists of time, and ruined by the hands and fangs of both man and beast. The structure was a mere, pale ghost of the former glory it once held: the once-majestic rich purple curtains were nothing more than rags playing at covering windows, and the many pieces of delicately exquisite furniture became nondescript pieces of wood lost without track nor purpose, left to the will of looters, squatters and other random scum that would use the place for one reason or the other. However, this house -or rather, what remained of it by this time- has always been 'famous', if such word could be used, amid the many circles of the underground world because of the main attraction it became just a few years after the fall of the LePreneurs: a slave market.
But even the show that was once capable of uniting even the darkest and most vile of beings in one place is nothing but a memory, a fleeting needle lost in a writhing haystack. From the days long gone, a place in ruins remains. But this was a perfect place for her.
Standing in the plain middle of the broken underground basement was a girl, though if such creature was indeed a girl it would only be a figment of man's imagination caused by the impression that the being would give at first sight. The body was that of a fifteen-year-old, underdeveloped human girl, all right: she had the limbs, the torso, and most likely the sexuality that would define her as such a girl, but I ask: would a normal girl have such pure and detailed crystal-clear eyes, in which a slight green mist-like substance seemed to struggle in search of certain acknowledgment? Would a normal girl have a natural expression as bland and basic as the very ground she stood on, unmoving and unblinking? Moreover, would that girl be enveloped in what I would most better describe as an invisible ball of sorts?
I guessed not, too.
The being was given a name at the time of her birth and creation: Iris Arandel, she was called. A homunculus-type creation with shoulder-length hair that held a hue of oceanic green, very much like her eyes, and stood little over 5'5", very probably to be weighing only a few more than 110 pounds or so. Dressed in a black skirt that reached some ways below her knees and a simple shirt of the same color, her only accessories were a pair of blood-red ribbons tied to each side of her skirt, their loose ties caressing her ankles, and a bright, extremely detailed emerald-like jewel that hung from her small neck, about half a fist in size and encased within an equally bright and polished golden, hexagonal pendant. Barefooted, she stood in silence amidst the wreckage of the basement, a strange 'field' of sorts surrounding her in such a fashion that even the dust beneath her feet was misplaced and forced away into a perfect circle on the floor: a shield orb that was composed of her very own existence. Nameless, invisible and featureless, save for the spherical shape that could be discerned in the light dust that was constantly sprinkled in the air due to the shifting winds that penetrated, lived, and died inside the underground box that was this basement.
Staring with intent she was at the open window closest to her, a single ray of sunlight illuminating her face as there was neither reaction nor acknowledgment from her part. An echoing silence reigned over the basement, and a small breeze invaded the room, flapping a stray piece of cloth.
-------------------
((Launch'd. Have fun~))
----------------
A storage room is rarely a place of beauty, nor does it often have the proper surroundings to hold whatever contents would happen to be placed within it. More than a few hundred years ago, the basement of the LePreneur coast mansion had first been conceived as part of the prestigious family's plans of training their children in the arts of everything from battle to love. Alas, in the end it was a failed experiment where the rebellious nature of the young children, coupled with the greed they developed from being born with a silver spoon in their mouths, brought the family into a certain economic disaster, ending with their acts a lineage over 300 years long. Oh, woe is the mistakes of humanity at times. -sigh-
Then after the event, another event, and yet some more events after those, and in the blink of an eye, bam! The mansion had become crippled by the mists of time, and ruined by the hands and fangs of both man and beast. The structure was a mere, pale ghost of the former glory it once held: the once-majestic rich purple curtains were nothing more than rags playing at covering windows, and the many pieces of delicately exquisite furniture became nondescript pieces of wood lost without track nor purpose, left to the will of looters, squatters and other random scum that would use the place for one reason or the other. However, this house -or rather, what remained of it by this time- has always been 'famous', if such word could be used, amid the many circles of the underground world because of the main attraction it became just a few years after the fall of the LePreneurs: a slave market.
But even the show that was once capable of uniting even the darkest and most vile of beings in one place is nothing but a memory, a fleeting needle lost in a writhing haystack. From the days long gone, a place in ruins remains. But this was a perfect place for her.
Standing in the plain middle of the broken underground basement was a girl, though if such creature was indeed a girl it would only be a figment of man's imagination caused by the impression that the being would give at first sight. The body was that of a fifteen-year-old, underdeveloped human girl, all right: she had the limbs, the torso, and most likely the sexuality that would define her as such a girl, but I ask: would a normal girl have such pure and detailed crystal-clear eyes, in which a slight green mist-like substance seemed to struggle in search of certain acknowledgment? Would a normal girl have a natural expression as bland and basic as the very ground she stood on, unmoving and unblinking? Moreover, would that girl be enveloped in what I would most better describe as an invisible ball of sorts?
I guessed not, too.
The being was given a name at the time of her birth and creation: Iris Arandel, she was called. A homunculus-type creation with shoulder-length hair that held a hue of oceanic green, very much like her eyes, and stood little over 5'5", very probably to be weighing only a few more than 110 pounds or so. Dressed in a black skirt that reached some ways below her knees and a simple shirt of the same color, her only accessories were a pair of blood-red ribbons tied to each side of her skirt, their loose ties caressing her ankles, and a bright, extremely detailed emerald-like jewel that hung from her small neck, about half a fist in size and encased within an equally bright and polished golden, hexagonal pendant. Barefooted, she stood in silence amidst the wreckage of the basement, a strange 'field' of sorts surrounding her in such a fashion that even the dust beneath her feet was misplaced and forced away into a perfect circle on the floor: a shield orb that was composed of her very own existence. Nameless, invisible and featureless, save for the spherical shape that could be discerned in the light dust that was constantly sprinkled in the air due to the shifting winds that penetrated, lived, and died inside the underground box that was this basement.
Staring with intent she was at the open window closest to her, a single ray of sunlight illuminating her face as there was neither reaction nor acknowledgment from her part. An echoing silence reigned over the basement, and a small breeze invaded the room, flapping a stray piece of cloth.
-------------------
((Launch'd. Have fun~))