The Second Tournament of the Red Lions Volume 2: Electric Boogaloo

[deathscythe]

"what the hell just happened?" Asked Daren, who was scared to Death, he had no idea what had happened, all he could do was fell pain in his biceps, and calves. "Whats your name?" replied Isthmal. "Just call me Daren for now" replied Daren, starting to gasp for breath. He was indeed being held onto the large walking stone man, scared to death, and wanting to die, but he knew not to give up, he had to fight for the life, and get revenge on what ever the hell was doing this. His ankles felt more pain than any other part of his body's, and the chains dropped the sword, onto the stony platform. He raised his hand.

"What is happening!?!?" he shouted, gasping for more breath until he had it. Isthmal laughed. "You couldn't know" he said. " I need more of an answer!" Shouted Daren. A large ball of fire shot from his hands, and Isthmal dodged it and rolled over, laughing more, the large ball of fire bounced off the back of the stone man, and into the back of the laughing man. Isthmal bounced forward, falling to his knees, his shirt ablaze, burning on his back. Burning some of his skin, and his arms, all the way up his neck.

Daren raised his hands, all the fire from his body came upon it, forming another large ball. "Now don't underestimate me, I know more than many know." Said Daren. He started playing with it as Isthmal started rubbing the burn. He shaped it in the shape of a sword. and than closed his palms on it, and the fire dissapeared. He than walked over and picked up the green sword, and said "Lets keep this a bit fair, but for some reason, i will kill you" he didn't really know why, he just needed too. Darens eyes glared, and something seemed to change, his glasses fell off, and he did not need them now, he could see, for some reason, but it must of been the passion he was feeling.

"Why you are going to be an annoying one aren't you?" Said Isthmal. "You can bet" replied Daren. He was trying to ignore the pain in his calves but it was just too hard. It was burning, agitating, becoming his devil. Daren sucked it up. He took a step forward, and the chains jerked. Isthmal stood up, and glared. "I hope you die" Went on Daren, and Isthmal only smerked as a reply.

The large man took a step forward, and Daren fell forward, almost tripping, but barely keeping his balance. The speed of the man had seemed to pick up. And the wind blew his hair like wild, making it harder, and harder to see. His glasses slid off the large platform, and Daren, and Isthmal had to lean to keep there balance. What was the reason for this fight? Daren had no clue. He knew it would have to happen though, why else would there be a platform on the large leg. There was another reason too. He could feel it, there was something that had to be done, and it would have to result in this.

The green sword hit the ground, and he caught himself with it, the giant Colossus seemed to be in more of a jog now, more than ever, the wind was very rapid, it felt as if his head would blow off, but he knew it wouldn't. The were now riding a colossus so big, that the were traveling faster than most people ever would...(I think).....

"I hope this ends quick" thought Daren.

[Repster]

Ooc: Range attack on an epic monk with CRAZY dex? Silly Asnabel...

Gungnir did not miss, it was stopped. Odin stared as the monk fist was clasped around the bladed stopping it in it's track a mere inch from his skull. That was about the time his pain screams stopped. The monk forced the weapon aside, still keeping his death hold on it. His second hand, or rather the fingerless stump, shoved his innards in place. He wiped the remaining flecks of frosh from his face. His eye no longer held anything close to life. As if the mind was gone. Then it snapped back, and it was different. Madness was there, then not. It was peaceful, then not. Much like a flickering flame the emotion and mood switched and bounced around endlessly.

"Woah..."
He smirked, and took a swig of his flask with his newly reformed hand. The other still clutching the Gungnir.
"Well now... That was freaky. I guess I odda be thanking ye for ending the crazies early. Mah brains were all scrambled up worse then a eggz. Then again... I think I'm just gonna beat you to a bloody pulp."
The monk let go of the spear, grabbed the haft, twisted and spun in the air, and hurled it while upside down. He landed on his feet and charged. He did not teleport. His mind was clear, and his raw speed was clearly enough.

Odin was slightly distracted from the semi sane man as he retrieved his weapon from it's current flight path. A simple matter, but the fraction of a second it took to stop it from impaling Sleipnir was all it took Aidan's foot to connect. Hands on the ground to propel him even more then his jump, that foot to the jaw nearly took the god's head off. The tiniest of tremors once again shook threw Odin, the rattling of his teeth from the kick made it go unnoticed, Aidan impossibly rotated and ended up standing on the Norseman's head. He spoke, while the All father was still momentarily stunned.
"I've been thinking since about... oh two seconds ago when I could again. That little charm of your 'bout the magic... does it work against ki . I think not. let's find out"

Aidan's foot went up slightly and it came down fast, about as long as it took Odin's hand to almost make it to the monk's ankle, almost. The tremor hit the one eyed god once again, but this time it was far from negligible. Aidan hopped off as his now shanking temporary stand. A stand whom was now recovering with a rather upset stomach, unsteady legs and little more. Sleipnir however, was about to trample the monk, and Aidan would have none of that.
"By the way, even with the insanity turned up I randomly throw those until I run out, but more importantly they're remote activated"
Sleipnir screamed in pain as one of it's knees shattered from a sudden surge of pure vibrating force, the sudden lack of of support sent it down skidding across the stone surface it's burnt hide tearing and leaving a thin streak of blood. Aidan turned towards Odin and the smirk grew. Aidan lifted his hand, all his fingers extended.
"The horse's leg."
He pressed his thumb to his palm.
"The test on you."
A finger joined the thumb.
"That leaves three. Can you guess where and when they're gonna go off?"

Aidan moved again, and as soon as he was out of sight the Odin used his charm, planning to interrupt the teleport again. Unfortunately for him, the magic had been of a quite different nature. It had been a simple invisibility spell. Aidan's raw speed took him straight to Odin as he went invisible and stepped aside planning on seeing the monk go straight by. It seemed that way at first, the he got right in front of the Norse god.

Odin's eye went wide as Aidan spun on his heel and put the entire kinetic ennergy of his run, the circular centrifugal ( or the other opposite one, I dunno, science terms in English confuse me when I learned em in French) and the raw strength of his arm combine together. Aidan hand stabbed forward like a knife, and his arm went up to the elbow in god flesh, gripping a rather long length of intestines in his thumb. His fist close over it. The monk tore out his fist, the pain greater as it came out the the piecing strike going in. He leapt over the god's head and wrapped the digestive organ around his throat. The monk landed, pull and squeezed forcing Odin to bend backwards to try and avoid being choked. It was not very effective.
"Eyesight is a fleeting thing, easily fooled. Yet even threw my madness, on this day and those past, I see threw what is not there, I hear the unheard, I smell the masked scents, I feel the heat withing the cold, I sense the repressed ki. None can hide. If you run, I am faster. Remember that well, and mayhaps you shall live to see Ragnarök yet, but I doubt it."

Aidan released his choke hold, leapt back slightly closer to Odin, and kicked him in the back of the knee using it as a spring board. While still in mid air he took a swig of his flask, he felt Sleipnir's four frontal hooves pass next to his cheek with skull crushing force on each on of them. They hurled into where he had been a moment ago. Where the oddly tripped and prone Odin now was. The massive warhorse nearly tipped over from the unintended strike on it's rider, it's rearrest left knee previously destroyed.

Ooc: Next post to involve what would have happened this post if you would not have restored Aidan's semblance of sanity.I do not recall such a thing happening on the battlefield before. Should be fun.

[Wyborn]

OoC: For the record we're fighting on top of a massive living statue so tall that its head is somewhere out in space. How it has air on it is something better left to the imagination. -OoC

Raji charged, and Cuchulainn got his measure. He did not need Gae Bulg; not yet, anyway. So when he charged it was with his spear strapped to his back and his sword in his hand, a smile etched on his ruddy face.

Raji attacked first, an overhead blow that could have severed a limb, and the king of heroes danced to the side of it, swinging the hilt of his sword in his fist and smashing it into Raji's mouth. Raji owled as his teeth shattered, but the sound abruptly stopped when a tightly curled fist rammed into his throat, leaving him gagging and choking. He struck with his sword again, but the blow was clumsy and easily turned aside with the Irish man's steel. A heavy leather boot collided with Raji's ankle, shattering the bone there, and when Cuchulainn grabbed him by the head and threw him down onto the stone there was little that could be done about it.

The boot connected with Raji's face as he lay on the ground, sending him sprawling further, and the hero stood, and waited.

"Come on, show me that I am not wasting my time," he said.

OoC: Not particularly inspired just yet, hopefully this will suffice for now. -OoC

[Erdawn Il Deus]

OoC: I recognise that compared to old fights - in the NLBFT no less - my reputationeable brutality has somewhat slackened. I will remedy this.

[UltimateGamer178]

Raji ran his hand across his face, and when he looked at his hand, it was covered in blood. "You ruined my face, now you must die!" Raji growled at Cuchalainn. Raji drew his sword and charged at his opponent, while Cuchalainn drew Gae Bulg and charged at Raji. When they met, their weapons clashed together. They then drew back their weapons and retreated.


Raji yelled, "I'm not going to lose to you!" while Cuchalainn growled a low "Bring it!" The young warrior took out a gauntlet, and promptly put the metal glove on his left hand. Raji then ran up to Cuchalainn and gave him a hard uppercut, shattering his jaw. While he was still in the air, the young warrior jumped up and punched Cuchalainn in the gut, sending him down on the ground with a giant thud, landing so hard it shook the ground.

[Galefore]

^^ I was beginning to notice the same thing, actually. Bring it back. Make organs fly like eagles on a pale summer's night. (/lame)

Anyway. Yeah. You guys are doing well. Continue.

[Scripture]

Before I reply, Soul, are you still chained down, or...?

[deathscythe]

^Actually I had not idea what you meant by the chains thing so... just do it either way you feel.

[Scripture]

I basically meant you were strapped down down to the statue from the meat of your calves and biceps. Very Saw-esque. Kind of a big detail to overlook. Ah well, post pending. Need to figure out what to do with this.

[deathscythe]

no, I just didn't understand what you were doing with that, for one thing, I thought the chains were longer than a few feet, but apparently they weren't..... so.... I don't know *Shrug*

[Asnabel]

The sky god was shocked as his eight-legged steed fell straight towards him. He was relieved, however, when the horse galloped through the air above him, as was his blessing. Sleipnir stopped himself several feet beyond where his master lay, not bothering to touch his feet to the ground at this point. Odin lifted himself to his feet, holding his intestines in his hand. Sleipnir ambled up beside him, still impaired by his horrific injuries. Odin gathered his spilled organs in his hand, and promptly shoved them back into his abdomen. Lightning popped and arced in his hand, and he seared the wound closed, the cold expression on his face never giving hint that he was pained by it.

The god glanced at his watching opponent, and then turned his gaze with affection to the beast alongside him. He gently patted the animal’s side with his free hand, and gestured toward the horizon. Understanding, Sleipnir hesitated only a moment before galloping away through the air, leaving the battle between the two warriors. He turned to his perplexed opponent, and began to utter another incantation. Seeking to stop the attack before it happened, Aidan charged forward, propelled by his incomparable speed and ferocity.

As he charged, the one eye of the sky god seemed to release a shimmer, and its true magic was used. The god’s eye seemed to slow the world in his eyes, though all seemed normal for the monk. Odin was aware that he could never match the crazed monk’s speed, but he could slow the world down. By the time the monk’s kick was thrown, Odin’s arm was thrown up to receive the blow, and his other fist swung around to deliver a crushing blow to Aidan’s skull. Shocked, the monk was only barely able to avoid the blow, and retreated away from the angry god. All the time, Odin continued his deep, haunting chant.

There was a change in the air itself, as his voice grew deeper and louder in its calling. It grew and grew, until the sky itself seemed to rumble with his booming voice. The monk could feel the energy in the air, the magic in the sky itself shift, its flow seeming to pulse rapidly. The magic began to center on Odin, and his voice grew to such proportions that Aidan was forced to cover his ears to block its constant booming call. Thunder boomed above their heads, and the winds howled around them with greater force than before. The air grew thick with a potent magical force, and the chanting reached a screaming, shouting peak. As the chanting reached its peak, the winds calmed, the thunder ceased, but the sky itself seemed to dim as all of the magic inherent in it flowed into the one-eyed god below.

The god seemed almost to swell as the energy poured into him, and he was filled with the full raw elemental power of the storms and sky themselves. A great grin broke across his face, and he laughed to the sky that he held sovereignty over. His eye saw all, even the coming charge of the monk, who had taken the chance the moment he knew the chanting had ended. Another kick was thrown, and may very well have taken the god’s head clean off, but before the kick had landed, the monk found his leg caught, held tight in the vice-like grip of the All father’s massive hand. Though he struggled with all his great strength, he could not break the hold Odin had on his leg, and despite his great speed, he couldn’t avoid the great knee which sped towards his abdomen. It struck his side with all of the raw elemental strength of the sky itself, causing the bones in his chest and ribs to cave in instantly upon impact with a sound frighteningly akin to a thunderclap.

Odin laughed uproariously at the monk’s cries of pain, preferring to drop pleasantries and banter at this point. Before Aidan was able to regain his senses, he felt the massive hand wrap around his head, and his eyes bulged as the other struck his skull like a hammer. The blow ruined his teeth, left his jaw hanging broken and unhinged, and left the one side of his face an utter mess of bone and flesh. Odin released the monk only long enough to reassert his iron grips on Aidan’s leg with both hands, and lifted the monk over his head. All of the god’s strength was asserted into whipping the monk into the ground behind him, slamming him against the ground and simultaneously shattering the leg he held. He arched him overhead and into the ground again, this time breaking the rock beneath him into a jagged mess. He repeated this movement a last time, driving his broken and bleeding opponent into the rocks.

Odin gazed for a moment at his opponent in the small crater, then brought his foot up above him. He placed all of his great mass into a stomp on the monk’s head, then again and again, driving his head deep into the stone. For nearly a minute, the sound of his thunderous stomps resonated for great distances, and his boot was drenched in blood when he finally finished his flurry.

Satisfied for the moment, Odin retrieved Gungnir, and hoisted it high above his head as he approached the crater again. The great magical energy flowed into the spear, gathering to a glowing point at its head. The air howled as the magically charged blade sliced through it, and the haft burned in the god’s calloused hands. He leapt into the air, and brought the brilliant blade down into his opponent’s back. All of the magical energy of the skies, the storms, and the god himself exploded into and around the monk. The hurricane it released was as powerful as any the world had ever seen, yet was far more concentrated and potent. Aidan whipped around from the winds while pinne by the spear, his limbs flailing and dislocating. Through the vacuum it created, his lungs began to force themselves out through his throat. Blood poured out of his bulging eyes, and his eardrums burst, bleeding wildly. All through the fury, Odin laughed, laughed like a glorious madman.

Soon, the storm calmed, and Odin stood laughing with his spear still stuck in his opponent. He lifted the weapon, and hoisted Aidan along with it. He held the monk high above his head, like a grim standard to bear with him into battle. The god then cast Aidan from his spear, sending him crashing hard to the ground several dozen yards away. And he stood, the magic still running through his veins, awaiting what would come next.

[Wyborn]

OoC: For he record, Cuchulainn will only be using his spear when I explicitly say so - writing him into using it in YOUR posts would have bad consequences. Just a heads-up. -OoC

When Cuchulainn hit the stone of the platform it was with enough force to rattle his torso inside of his armor, his dislocated jaw waving excruciatingly as his head bounced. Were it not for his helmet, his skull might have cracked. Gae Bulg was still clenched in his hand as Raji landed, his eyes blazing, and advanced on the prone hero. Cuchulainn watched him, waiting, waiting...

Raji's sword was raised for a killing blown when the butt end of Gau Bulg's haft came around in a wide swing. When it struck his face, he was momentarily aware of how it was moving past his head for a moment, he felt his remaining teeth fly from his jaw and his cheeks shatter into powder, felt his head snap around so quickly that he feared he would black out. He staggered backwards, sword still in hand and raised defensively, and waited for his vision to clear.

When he was able to look again, Cuchulainn had risen, strapping his spear to his back again, and his hands were on his loose-hanging jaw. Raji looked on in something like horror as Cuchulainn smiled with half of his mouth and then wrenched his jaw back into place with a wet pop so loud it was a wonder the colossus beneath them did not flinch. The pain of it must have been excruciating, paralyzing, maddening, but for all of that the king of heroes only flexed his jaw and grinned between bloodied teeth.

"For all of that I still seem to be better off than you," the red-haired warrior said, drawing his own sword again. He beckoned to Raji with his hand, and the other warrrior went into a rage, screaming his fury as he came on in a charge, sword dancing and flashing against the blackness encompassing the stars.

The slash came on wild, and when Cuchulainn's blade met it it was with such force that the sword nearly tore itself from Raji's grip, and then the Irish steel bit into his stomach. Blood burst from between his lips as Cuchulainn threw his free arm around him and pulled, shoving the sword through him so that it peeked out of his back. When it twisted he bit back the urge to vomit and screamed in agony as his stomach acids seeped out over his other organs. It burned. It burned like Hell.

The sword came out and his hand came to his stomach so his innards would not fall out - and Cuchulainn reared back and brought down his sword to cleave through his shoulder, parting flesh and bone all the way down to his sternum. Raji would have screamed, but his own blood began to pour into his ruined left lung and he choked as the sword was pulled free again. A boot connected with his stomach, but he barely felt it. He hit the ground on his back, but he was barely aware.

The Hound of Culann stood above him, bloodied sword in hand, waiting as his bloodied mess of an opponent rolled on the ground. Raji had better than this, he knew - he hoped. There had to be something.

OoC: I apologize for the lack of quality here, still not quite feeling it. -OoC

[Repster]

Aidan rose. His legs were shot and could never support his weight, yet he rose, and they did. He stretched his bone snapping back into place, or rather being forced into place. There were advantages to the level of control he had over his body. It hurt little more then his normal rate of regeneration, which was enough to send a man in shock usually. His fractured skull forced itself into a semblance of human shape and two pinpoints of light looked out at the sky lord. Golden glow of the beast as always, but the left socket held something new, something once held hidden behind the eye patch. What it held had power beyond the sky. Fire, fire of such compressed magnitude Odin could feel the blistering heat from the distance that separated them. Fire was to little a word for it. It was the sun. The one flame that Odin's charm could not snuff out trapped within the man's skull. The blinding light cast from it was muted by the cascade of blood above it. Aidan's blood, blood that coasted the field of battle.

The monk's left arm hung momentarily limp besides him as the right barely managed to bring his flask up to his missing jaw. Then he spoke.
"Bloody flame... now that's a pain..."
He titled his head back and managed to poor the to strong to still be called whiskey down his throat. He righted himself, and Odin could see the smirk that should be there.
" Now then. I felt the storm, and I seem to have weathered it well enough. Now let's just see how you will handle the heat ."
Aidan walked forward. Almost forcibly dragging his bleeding limp body forward. Yet that invisible smirk, that light in his eyes, that raw cocky mocking expression was full on his face, missing jaw and all. The most frightening thing was a simple thing. The man had no fear. There he was, limping forward barely able to stand on his power, facing the All father. Facing the man that did so to him, facing a god pulsating with divine might to such a degree that he could wipe out they're field of battle and let the monk plummet the miles to his doom. He face one that slowed time, one that saw all, one that shattered all the monk's magic with a mere thought.Yet the was no glimmer of fear, no hesitation, nothing but sheer overbearing arrogance.

"Now then Odin. Here's what going to happen."
The monk chuckled.
"I'ma go over to you. And kick you in the face. Then, your going to burn . After that... let's just say you won't like what comes next."
Adain limped, walked, jogged, ran, sprinted, and then pain filled him as he pushed his body further across the limits he had broken some time ago. He moved. Such raw speed could no be described as anything less. Odin saw it coming, saw the very details of it as it formed, and was horrified by them as he slowed time before it even began. It slowed to such an extent that it very nearly stopped. Yet it only managed to get Aidan back down to sprinting.

Which, Odin found out, was still quite fast enough for the monk's sudden leap to land his foot in his face a scant moment before the god stopped him. Odin almost swallowed a tooth. Even at the speed everything else moved that tooth shot straight into the back of his throat and lodged itself there. That's when Odin saw it, and would he had been able to he would have sped time up again, yet that required higher brain functions, higher brain function that were rather abruptly stopped by pain. Burning agony filled him.

Natural fire was one thing, magical fire another. Then they're was something more. What erupted from Aidan came from deep within. Odin, blanketed by the white hot raging flames, fully realized then what he was up against. This was no mortal man. Sheathed within was something more, something ancient, something primal, something from the time of creation of the gods themselves. It burned, and it would burn all from the most insignificant plant to the greatest divine being. With time slowed, it burned slowly.

Time snapped back to speed as Odin yet burned, Aidan's raw ki fed flames. Aidan's hand went to his eye, and he tore out the eyeball, as his second hand clawed open the god empty scarred socket. Odin's eye widened with horror, as Aidan shoved his golden eyeball withing the god bloody open socket.

The effects where felt immediately as Aidan's flames receded and the monk collapsed to his knees. Odin's hands went to his head as a vast array of new sensation filled him. His sense of scent became even more heightened, he could smell the blood that lay waste everywhere, he could smell the stone, he could smell the very magic in the air. His heightened hearing picked up the monk's troubled breathing. Picked up his own breath, every shifting strand on the colossus's massive pelt and grinding stone was heard. But most of all, he felt two things. The rage of a wild beast, and the monk's madness. The raw animal instincts consumed him as the insanity wreaked havoc within. He could see nothing beyond his own common place divine sense. His omniscient sight was gone. The all seeing one eyed god no longer was one eyed.

Aidan got to his feet, and took his first deep breath since what seemed an age. He promptly spat out of glob of blood, yet that bothered him little as he stood there jawless, the smirk almost seen. More of an invisible grin now. and listened to Odin's howls as bestiality consumed him. Then, Aidan ended it. His magic restored, momentarily no longer threatened by Odin's charms, he struck. It was a simple thing really, a matter of common place to him. A slight application of his will and the magic of his own body reacted, and exploded violently. The target was, of course, the eye still caught within the god's skull. A skull that tore itself apart from within.

Aidan's mad laughter rang over the explosion out as the god's blood splattered around. He knew better then to expect what should have blown off his head to stop Odin. He had fought gods before, and had been cut down himself. Even as a mortal, he had taken a greater injury then that and lived. Having the equivalent of a high powered grenade mess with your brain matter and blow out a hole through your skull played hell on the body though. God or not.

The sightless monk watched the All Father. The eerie combination of the contained sun and empty bleeding socket making a gruesome sight with the missing jaw. He "spat" out more blood. He was still bleeding. That was a problem, but one to be dealt with later. He smelled, heard, and felt Odin over half a dozen different ways. The lose of sight was a minor thing.

Ooc: To many words... to lazy to fix it. Did not come out right at all... oh well.

[Acradius]

((OOC: Probably last post until Friday.))

Blackness. Pure and unending. Ineffably so. When the mind of a psion shuts down, the result is not your typical unconciousness. Rather, it is all-encompasing. For a race who relies on eyesight, it is blindness. For those who emphasize scent or hearing, it is deafness or olefactory malfunction. Now, imagine all of those at once. You have been deprived of all your senses. You cannot see your opponent in front of you. You cannot smell the stink of your own charred flesh. You cannot feel the empty pits within your torso where the blood gushes out in droves. You cannot hear your own heartbeat. But the difference is this. To Acradius Journeyman, he did not simply go unconcious and wake up later. No. He was too powerful for that.

The Archon watched as his opponent simply stood up. No amout of healing. No rage, nothing. The facial expression was completely unreadable. The only thing that was strange were the eyes. Burning with the fires of a thousand suns, the Time Warrior faced him. Without regard for any injury, and seemingly functioning just the same, he raised the Quantum. Bits of charred flesh simply flaked off like the ashes they were.

Whoever this angelic being was, they elected to finish this fight. Now. With speed born of purpose, the being lunged. Acradius did the most peculiar thing imaginable. He stood there.

The pilum plunged through his ribcage at a joint in his armor. And there was no reaction. No words. No screams. The unearthly being was caught in something just as powerful as his faith. His surprise. The Quantum raised up, and plunged through his back at the kidney, through the armor between them, and into the impossibly durable man's body, pinning them together. Acradius' hand fell from his blade, and a piercing, cerulean fury of energy surrounded the Elue ring on his middle finger. With no witty comment whatsoever, he pointed his jeweled weapon at his opponent's chest and let it loose.

Whatever this winged warrior's race was, it knew fire. Scorching fire from the powers of their enemies, and granted fire from the powers of their creators. But this fire, this ghostly turquoise, was like nothing he had ever experianced. It was concentrated in a beam. Where it stopped, not even the immense creature upon whos hand they fought knew. It just leapt out of the ring and kept going. First, his immaculate skin was scorched. Then it was melted, then it blew away. The angelic body crumpled upon the ground with a gaping hole in its chest the size of a tea saucer. A few inches up and to the right was another hole, where the Quantum exited by going all the way through.

Acradius removed his blade from his body and decided to end his unconciousness. The pain of everything that had happened flooded back into his mind, threatening to send him right back to where he just came from. It was difficult, using his own body as a meat puppet like that. But you work with what you have, right? He put psionic stoppers on the now-diminished geysers of blood that were previously erupting from him. Gone were the laughing eyes and overconfident smirk. Replacing them was fury sharper, and determination more invincible than the very sword he held.

He simply walked over to his stunned opponent. With his blackened boot, he scraped the steel mask of this being into the hairy 'ground', and with his shimmering blade, he did something unthinkable. He cut them off. Both of them. The once proud and luminecent wings now were simply wisps that blew away when the gargantuan form took its next step. Acradius, being a psion, could feel this thing's pain. Which was worse: physical or emotional, he couldn't be sure.

[UltimateGamer178]

Raji struggled to get up, he was in a lot of pain. "Prepare to die" Cuchalainn growled at the young warrior. "I'm not going to lose" Raji growled back. Raji's left hand glowed a dark purple as he ran his hand across his body. Cuchalainn watched in total awe as most of Raji's wounds started to heal. "Prepare for one hell of a fight" Raji growled at the redheaded warrior. Raji charged at his opponent and kneed him in the groin. Cuchailainn's eyes bugged out for a moment before the redheaded warrior let out a mighty howl of pain.


As Cuchalainn was holding his forbidden areas in pain, Raji plotted his next move. Suddenly, he decided on his next move. Raji charged toward his opponent and suddenly did a backflip. While he was still in the air, Raji made a downward motion with his sword onto Cuchalainn's chest, making a deep gash in his chest. Cuchalainn staggered for a moment before collapsing onto the ground.

[Scripture]

“You’re not the sharpest sword on the statue, are you?” Isthmal asked, focusing briefly on his feet and then feeling them weigh down, affixed by some gravitational influence to the stone below.

Daren opened his mouth, but Isthmal raised a hand, and some of the chains hovering behind him followed suit, raising themselves like charmed snakes.

“I don’t really know what’s happening here, you idiot. What kind of question is that – I mean, isn’t it obvious? There is a huge statue walking on Earth. Is that really so hard to wrap your little mind around?” Isthmal said.

“And as for underestimating you, I really don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t,” Isthmal said, pointing a thumb to the black, charred flesh on his back, though it also ran up his neck, nipping at his hairline and down the backs of his arms. It looked like he had slept on a bed of coals. “A fireball? Okay, fine, a bouncing fireball, great. So original. Must’ve really had to read up on that one, right?”

Then Isthmal pointed at Daren, whom, strapped down to one of the titan’s odd platforms by the meat of his biceps and calf-muscles, made an easy target. A chain perked up from the mass behind him and snaked forward, eclipsing the distance between them in a second and diving into Daren’s opened mouth, the makings of a response poised on his lips. The chain dove down his esophagus, passing through the various valves it encountered on the way until it hit the soft mass of his inner stomach – and then it kept passing through his mouth, choking off his breathing with the taste of cold metal, and giving him the sensation of something clawing at the inside of his stomach.

“Ah, yeah, I decided I like it better when you’re either screaming or not talking at all. So this works for me,” Isthmal said, turning around briefly, gritting his teeth at the feeling of his flesh flexing over his back – he was naked from the chest up, now, revealing his upper-body to be borderline emaciated.

He pointed at a chain, the lot of them almost impossible to discern, and this particular selection darted forward, as was customary for chains to do when addressed.

The first chain, as most of Isthmal’s chains did, made quick time between itself and Daren, and before he even knew yet another strange projectile was coming towards him, he was run through the right lung with its bladed end. It popped out of his back, through his shoulder blade, and stained him further with the blood of his dead family members. All in all, he looked pretty dire, blood running crimson down his arms and legs, his weight entirely to one side in favor of a broken ankle, and chains ramming themselves into his gullet.

“Say, are you into piercings?”

OoC: Any questions, just ask.

[Asnabel]

For a moment, there was nothing; then Odin raised his head. Odin turned to the monk, smoke pouring from his empty socket, and his one eye shining like the moon against the charred blackness of his face. His skin still steamed, covered in burns and boils of skin. The god saw the monk before him, observing him sightlessly. He took his spear in hand, and for a moment, stood off at odds with his opponent. He then turned towards the back of the colossus behind him, his spear held high. He threw it into the mess of hairs, and the blade seemed to move with a will of its own, dodging between the great shafts of fur as big around as mighty redwoods. It disappeared into the shadow of the massive mess, but one knew it found its target from the sickening noise of its impact. The colossus did not take notice, but the effects on the sky god were immediately noticeable.

A great, mythic power seemed to flow from the beast. It was less than a most infinitesimal fraction of the mighty creature’s strength, but it would bowl over most with the sheer magnitude of magical fury it carried with it. And like the sky’s might before it, this energy flowed into Odin, swelling him with its unfathomable potency. He turned back to his shocked opponent, the phantom of a grin plastered on that great, ruined face. He held out his hand, and Aidan could sense the formidable force flowing into his palm. He could feel the energy gather into a sphere, which itself churned with a power that dwarfed any yet brought to bear. To this swirling, gray sphere of pure magic force, the god lowered his charred lips and blew.

Though his breath was only gentle enough to move a feather, the sphere burst, and from it flowed a great gray cloud. The cloud spread, and spread to mind boggling proportions. It blocked out the sky, casting them in pitch-black shadow, though neither warrior was impeded by this darkness. It swirled and spread through the air, covering several miles of sky and space. It spun, and then churned towards Aidan. He could not escape it, no matter his speed, as it closed in from all directions. And when it collided with him, he felt himself instantly torn by millions upon millions of unbelievably cold razors, flowing in and around him in a great churning mass.

They flushed around him, turning his skin all over into a mass like ravaged hamburger meat. The blades cut into his ears, turning the canals to shreds, and eliminated any semblance of hearing he had left. They gouged, and tore swirling into the sockets of his eyes. The mass flowed into his esophagus, liquefying the monk’s lungs, and shredding his organs into pieces. Most frighteningly, each cut and slash by these tiny blades was infused with a mythical cold, freezing them solid, and to prevent them from healing. Lastly, they rent apart Aidan’s tongue, and pried out his teeth by the roots from his shredded gums. This last injury drew a laughing comment of "I am glad to no longer be the victim of your constant foolishness" from the god responsible.

The blades ravaged him, leaving with wounds he could not heal for their unyielding cold, and reducing his whole body to a cut, bleeding mass. As quickly as it had appeared, the cloud focused back into Odin’s hand, concentrating back into that gray swirling sphere. With a wave of his hand, the sphere disappeared, and Gungnir flew under its own power from the shadows. He caught it in his hand, and dashed towards his opponent, his joy in the bloodlust restored. As he reached the shredded man before him, he swung his spear horizontally, slashing it across the monk’s waist. Satisfaction painted his face as the torso flew from the legs and landed a dozen feet away, flecks of shredded organs trailing behind it.

[Erdawn Il Deus]

OoC: Oh yeah. I did have a mask. stupid post mix up.////

The time warrior's jaw was set hard on his skull and his eyes yielded nothing to the suffering of his opponent. His attention was actually fixated on something that seemed of less vital importance - the mask, of a silvery steel polished so thoroughly it seemed nothing more than eye of pearl, crystallinely opalescent against the coarse mockery of ground on which they stood (or knelt, as the case might be). It was elegantly simple, and its simplicity lent to itself a haunting, messianic quality. In effigy it represented the graven idol of Egyptian pharoah or Turkish warlord and neither smiled nor frowned, merely pondered, pursed brush-stroke of a lip unfeeling as the empty slits of its eyes.

Something about the mask was unsettling. Something about the quality of detail in its eyes, perhaps. Something. He turned again to his opponent, who insofar did nothing but bleed across the titan's Cyclopean hand, or into the torrent of the wind. Blood the nature of sweat, so thick it dribbled and leaked from his chin and matted in his hair-

The time warrior frowned. What... colour had his hair been? He could not accurately recall. In his mind he could think of white, or a brilliant blonde, gold and fiery as a thousand candle-wicks. But now hair down and thick from his brow in curls, but gave a nauseating impression of depth in their blackness, like it had been spirited into material existance through negative space - like someone had taken a pair of scissors to the fabric of reality and deflty snipped away a piece of it. Blood dripped. Slowly. Acradius could not remember attacking the face directly, only peeling the mask off with his boot.

Blood dripped.

Sanguine. Red. Dark as wine. Scattered in the breeze. Blood.

The angel jerked its head upwards. Every mental defense the time warrior had erected as to his emotional state was thrown down and broken like so much clay pottery. His heart spasmed in the cage of his chest, beat failingly against the walls and fell silent long enough that he felt it. Fear exploded from within his gut like a nest of cold wire and his blood ran frozen in his veins. There was nothing angelic about his opponent's face.

Of course there was blood. Why wouldn't there be? Where normal men - where perhaps seraphim would have had a pair of eyes, he had only wounds - there was no other word for it. They were caverns into his skull - narrow, frowned, and led into the same volcanic darkness, the same negative space of his hair. And from them he wept blood. Scarlet tears. Pouring down his face in such enormous quanities they twisted and ran in rivulets and spattered across the ground and caught and dissapated on the wind and stained his chest. His face - which was pristine and beautiful on the fallen mas - was split in half subject of a lecherous, mindless grin which gleamed with too many teeth packed to narrowly to be naturally, opened so wide the corners of his mouth had actually split and bled as well. His naked gums were open to the air, amnd it seemed for all purposes the grin would meet around the backside of his skull and lop off the top of his head.

The being-s arm snaked forward - had been the moment he looked up - and grasped the haft of his pilum (still stuck in Acradius), which was still of gloriously ochre steel and still shone bright as the Egyptian desert. As his unclean flesh touched the steel, however, it changed. In fact everything changed. ACradius was left only with the image and memory of clouds passing across a blue sky - leaving that moving darkness as they shrouded the sun. It was like a thunderhead had passed before him. It was like his body set with the significance of the very sun. All of the sudden it was dusk. The metal turned to hard, naked iron - coarse and tainted like ore raw from the earth - and the point branched inside the time warrior's body.

Branched is putting it mildly.

The single point erupted - into twenty more points, and these into twenty more points, and curled, and multiplied, and grew, until the bars were as thorns on a rose and coursed the pathways and highways of acradius's body in a single second of agony. A seizure of movement wracked him and all across the flesh tore open with barbed hooks of metal where the spear had branched, piercing bone to the marrow, sinking into muscle to the ligament like fishing hooks, slicing him open in so many ways and in so many places and on so many levels that the pain was actually too great for him to mentally grasp.

He blacked out. Blood splashed against the floor.

The archon hefted upwards on his greek lance, tipping back, and lifted the time warrior's shuddering body off his feet until the legs kicked like string puppets and blood hit the rude earth of the titan's palm like scarlet rain. The multitude of barbs were now pulling upwards on muscle, sewn through and through bones like the spiral notebooks, unhooking from his skin to gnash at the air, and still growing, Rapunzel curls of steel vines beneath his flesh. His muscle quivered and spasmed in agony, gelatinous, and inner cavities of his body began to flood with fluid. At some point he regained consciousness.

He regained consciousness because he couldn't, conscious or not, ignore the feeling as those barbs moved... up his nasal canal... and uncoiled... behind his eyeballs. He choked on what might have been a scream. His nose bled in torrents, gore splashing his collar. they had tangled about the ropework of his intestinal tract like lenghts of razor wire. It was like someone was lighting matches inside his abdomen.

His adversary's forearm tore open as suddenly, raw meat exposed, nerve-endings uncoiled to air from their fleshy wombs, the same thorn-lay coursing down the haft and spreading up his own arm. He greeted the pain with the same, fierce insanity of pleasure. With his other hand, he reached inside the tea-dish sized hole blown through his chest cavity. His fingers closed on something. He ripped it out like an unearthed potato. It was golden and very bright and bled gold. It gave off a timely, muscular beat. The rest of his blood flashed to a fiery, ichor-gold, and suddenly he was like a walking torch.

For the first time, he spoke, and his voice was like three voices - three sets of six voices - and each was like the groaning and grinding of corpse throats, the speech organs long decayed to things past their uselessness. And as he did, the misshappen husks of his once-beautiful wings had blackened to char, to what resembled heaps of tossed soot in their blackness, and took flight, and wrapped themselves around the pallour of his flesh like a robe.

"For in the western deserts HE finds a form,
HE is the child with the mouth of blood,
The bleakness before the beginning of time,
HE is the glint of ice in a murder's eye,
The savage heart of every crime.
FOR WE ARE MANY."

He paused, and the wounds where his eyes should have been seemed to pulse from their fashioned sockets like the beating of onyx hearts. "For I... am many. The betrayer of hope, and the father of lies. I come to you, beautiful, do I not?" And his beauty was still present - dark and secretive and poisonous and so ancient. His blood course down his arm, bright and aureate and fiery. In his hand he held his heart, and it beat still, and with each beat the air seemed to shimmer and the sound grew louder and slower and more deafening, like depth charges heard underwater.

Acradius's eyes had rolled back in his skull, showing only there whites (or their blue as the case might have been), but they jerked forward madly, rolling about, trying to draw a bead on the enemy which inflicted upon him such saccharin suffering. His mouth gagged something. drool and blood flecked from his lips. After much stuttering, and muted choking, it came out.

One word.

"...who."

And the angel's grin faltered to a creeping smile.

"I am but the star of morning, Time Warrior." And with that he released his heart, and it floated out towards Acradius like a butterfly, beating louder, and brightening, until it became a focal point of brightness across the entire sky and all other light was meek and dark by comparson and was drawn in and condensed and packaged into that singular space.

And it hung, beating, before Acradius's eyes, no bigger than a man's fist. It pulsed, but no longer gave off light. It hung like a miniature sun.

The star of morning grinned.

The expected happened.

It was not so much a boom as WHAM-WHAM!, just too loud to reproduce phonetically. The light was extraordinary. it blotted out the sun. Dawn erupted off the colossi's hand. The shock of it blasted its five digits from their gargantuan sockets, tearing them loose into the atmosphere smoking and charred. A shudder racked the colossus, and his head tilted back (not enough to throw Cuchulainn and Raji from its brow but enough to scare the **** out of them for sure) and its mouth opened wide enough to eat a moon and it howled, and the sound could only be associated with natural disasters on a global scale.

Vertical miles below them, its fingers broke against mountains and parted oceans and sank continents.

Somewhere was acradius. and somewhere else floated morning, who smiled, as the blast wave coursed around him but did not touch him.

OoC: Well that was longer than expected. Problem - I am officially gone until sunday. This is not a "I might post" basis. This is an "I am undergoing basic training" situation. Also everybody - that colossus is shaking!

[deathscythe]

He could feel it. The pain. The Cold Iron, how was he not dieing? Most humans could not live this long, but was he meant for something else too? The chains in his stomach was bothering him the most. It was cold and swarming all around. Tearing his insides. The tips of his fingers were feeling, really hot, and really cold at the same time. Something seemed to happen to him, something he had become inside was raging. Without thinking he grabbed the chain that went into his mouth. And pulled, and kept pulling with every thing he had. The pain was great, but the determination was greater. Eventually more, and more of the chain was out, as he pulled and pulled, in great agony. Leaning down, pulling the end came out, and blood spewed out, coughing, and laughing, he knew not why. His eyes were glaring as so. "Don't you freaking underestimate me." he said. His eyes narrowed further than they had ever before, and he raised his finger tips, all the warmth inside them was gone, and cold was all that could be felt.

Isthmal could only watch, intrigued, no one had pulled the chain out before. The finger tips of Daren touched the chain and it shattered, going from his hand all the way back to Isthmal. The chain literary seemed to disappear, but the only trace of it that was left was the small bit of snow that fell from where the chain used to be. Isthmals eyes could only stair, as he knew not of what was happening. Daren lowered himself to the ground, and used his fingertips to touched the chains in his calves, the same thing happened. Daren had something in him. He knew not what it was. He couldn't think of how he had this powers, but something was in him, maybe from a past life, and it would surely have to help him now, more than ever. He than raised his hands back to his shoulders, and destroyed those chains as well. His cold palms touched it, his eyes seemed darker, and the snow that hit the ground turned into a black puddle of blood. "You have no idea" Said Daren.

"No, I think I do" said Isthma in return, and he waved on another chain to fly at Daren, as blood poured from Darens mouth, the chain moved in close in a matter of seconds, and managed to get an inch to his face, until a cold hand grasped it. The chain did the same as the other chains, and turned to black blood lying on the ground, now beginning to mix with Darens blood, which was coming from his arms, legs, mouth you name it. "IT is clear that I am no ordinary human, is it?" Daren said Laughing. Isthmal could only watch as his eyes turned a bit darker inside. Something was happening to Daren. The dark magic was taking over. but was this a good thing?

"Pitiful Human" Said Ithmal. Daren coughed, and a very dark red stream of blood came from his lips, his wounds seemed darker too. A drop of blood came from his eye, where tears had been earlier. "You will die tonight" Said Daren. Istmal laughed in return. Daren took a step forward, and another chain came to his body, piercing the skin, and went about a cm in until it too became blood, blood of the damned, he would soon later find out. Daren was stepping in it. The black blood was all over his shoe, and would prove rather hard to rid of. The pain was still there, as Daren could still feel the extreme pain in his stomach, but it seemed more far off now, as if he were on drugs some something like that. But he would need more than that faint feeling to win this fight.

Stopping in his tracks, Daren could not help but speak out his mind. "Oh, and never call me a pitiful human again. The warmth returned to his palms, and he lunged forward, and fire came from his hand, this time the fire felt as ice, extremely cold ice, that no one on Earth could live through. The flames took shape of a giant demon, and left his hand, with the last part made being the tail, the large fire demon, that was not a demon at all, just a fire ball formed into the shape of a demon, by Daren of course, and being controlled by Daren. The fire lunged forward, not stopping for anything, and Isthmal dodged, rolling to avoid, a few chains flew at Daren again, but were reflected by the two fingers, that were cold once more. The dark blood fell to the ground, only a few feet away from Isthmal staring at it, as if it had some unknown disease.

"The disease is spreading" said Daren, with a smirk. He could only laugh at the confuse Isthmal. He bent down, another chain flew to his face, and another chain turned to blood. "Your going to need more tricks than a few chains" Said Daren. He reached his finger into the blood, raised it to his face, and licked it off, clean. The black around his eyes started to grow more rapidly, and grew darker. Nothing happened for a few seconds until something strange, and ordinary happened. A black chain came from the ground, and pierced into Isthmals leg, just one, thick, black chain. Istmal gasped.

The Black chain was tearing through his leg, and twisting. The leg was as good as dead, as Isthmal fell to the ground. "What on Gods Earth!" He shouted. "Your own chain, has been turned against you." replied Daren, and Istmal looked at the chain really closely. It was indeed lots of really small chains, not just one. They were now spreading all around, tearing it form inside to out. "Your own technique, has now against you, thanks to the blood of the damned" Daren had no clue how he knew this, but something in his memory had triggered something, it appeared to happen a long time ago, when man was barely alive. Something evil was lurking, but he knew nothing of it. And that was ll he could tell.

"Blood of the Damned can do much more" said Daren. Smirking. Isthmals leg was gone, he could not use it, and all that was left was the pain, and agony of what he leg would become. "Though you would have at least a little more control of your technique" Said Daren. But there was nothing that Isthmal could do to change the chains. He reached in again, and this time only one small chain came out, and went into his arm, and Isthmal broke that one with ease, but now his arm was losing blood magerly. Daren could only whisper something, as blood started to pour from his mouth. "Crap, not a enough fuel for now, but that can change." Isthmal knew not what to do, his arm, and leg could not be felt. He raised his arm, his eyes seemed to be glowing.

He snapped his fingers, and a black hand extended form his arm, unto his stomach, grabbing it, causing blood to poor from the wound, and the fingers went deeper, and deeper in, by each second. The fingers rapped there way around his internal organs and blood seeped from the wound, and unto the black blood. The pain was more than most people could bare, but Isthmal could bare it. The hand squeezed his organs, and caused more pain that imaginable. More, and more blood seeped out. More than any normal human could handle, but as said before, Istmal was not a normal human. The hand returned, and a little of its color returned, becoming a very darkish pale hand. He reached down into the Blood of the Damned again. And a black hand came out, flying faster than anything has in this fight before. It flew into his Isthmals stomach. and Squeezed, harder than ever.

Edit:
OoC: Blood of the Damned will be explained more in further post, I know, that is not an original name, but its all i could think of, this is classified as black magic.

[Scripture]

Nevuhmind.