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

[deathscythe]

ugh...???

[Scripture]

Isthmal gritted his teeth under the tearing agony. In some corner of his mind, he was genuinely impressed that Daren could actually produce so much pain and firepower in such a small amount of time, especially considering how he had performed prior to. But in most of his mind, he was thinking that he should take care of the black hand groping his intestines.

Isthmal flexed, and though the muscles sheathing his bones did not noticeably bulge, the air suddenly grew thick with his influence. The hand at his stomach hit the floor like a cannonball, digging a hole for itself under sheer force of impact before liquefying. Despite this, he was able to stand easily on one leg, as if his ruined right somehow still extended to the ground and bent in all the right directions, and the grievous wounds to his stomach, and lesser so to his jabbed arm, ceased to bleed, the blood that might’ve dripped out halting in the vein.

“You’re, “Isthmal said, “you’re insulting my technique?” He paused, and the air seemed to grow thicker with each syllable passing off his lips. “Man,” he laughed, half-mad with the pain of his stomach and leg, “You don’t even ****ing know technique—”

The weight of the world seemed to slam itself down on Daren’s shoulders as the gravity around him increased to pressure best measured in tons, shoving his shoulders to the floor and under with such force his collar bone cracked in three places and his face shattered into so much scar tissue and blood, his jaw bone compressed into his ruined nose and blood pumping from the bone-cut arteries in his face. Not only your face, Isthmal thought, and his arms worked in the mysterious webbing of gravity magic he weaved and Daren rose up again, like a ventriloquist’s puppet hanging useless on the rack.

“Blood of the Damned – it sounds like you got that **** from a card game, you, you--” At a loss for words and in an excess of curses in his agony, Isthmal simply dropped his arm, the veins popping out like pale worms, and so too did Daren drop, this time on his knees, shattering the knee caps and bending them obtusely, away from their natural angles.

Somehow, Daren touched a finger to the diseased blood, and towering fists came at Isthmal like a shower of sun-blotting arrows, all aiming to bruise him so deeply and tear him so savagely he would need body tea-bags to be reassembled.

And then they stopped.

And then, all the blood on the battlefield rose, by Isthmal, and so did Daren, hanging limp and dazed in the air as he rose into the air, collected with the means of his attack.

Isthmal decided against tossing Daren into space, and the dark magician dropped. He hit the ground and moaned, rolling.

“Sit tight. And, oh…” Isthmal said, something on the periphery of his mage’s sensory hitting him, a sort of split-second warning that something big was on the way. He acted with the most intimate speed, then, focusing on keeping aloft the collected blood and siphoning out of Daren his own from the wounds he had accumulated, trying to rid him of its influence. The imagery was worth a painting, as Daren’s wounds seeped gallons of blood upwards, his face a picture of agony with barely any recognizable features, and Isthmal’s face contorted as if caught in the throes of an instrument’s inspiration.

Just then, from above, the beginning wave of light of an explosion went off, and Isthmal used only his senses to send the conglomerated mass of blood above him into that corona created by the angel-thing above, vaporizing it by the star of dawn’s heart. He was as sure-footed as a floating mage with one leg might be as the explosion then rocked the entire statue, causing the creature itself pain and sending mountain-sized shrapnel to the world below. Isthmal, though, was intent, and again manipulated his hands in that odd, faintly gypsy-magic way, changing the gravity around Daren and making him rise until his feet dangled lightly off the ground.

Isthmal moved his hands and conducted the orchestra as Daren flipped upside down and nose-dived into the stone floor, embedding himself to the neck in the stone, splintering his spinal cord into a vague outline of what it once was. But Isthmal didn’t stop as his heart began to pump like a junkie’s and his wounds began to spit up blood – he was focused, in that zone those of magic were so fond of, and even Daren’s muffled screams couldn’t wrench him from it. Isthmal brought Daren out of the hole, up, and just as swiftly down again, on his back, the popping of discs and shattering of ribs from their main trunk clacking off like dry twigs popping in the fire. To top it off, Isthmal sent Daren skidding the remaining length of the platform, stripping of his clothes and flesh with the friction and force of it (he dug up stone with his own body, after all), before sending him bashing through the dancing statues, their stone chunks shearing his scalp off, and off the platform.

With one last exertion, Isthmal manipulated the gravity of Daren’s feet to act like stones, and he dropped as such, into the clouded abyss of the ruined world below.

[deathscythe]

The pain was more than one man could take, his legs were on the ground, weighed down by the extreme weight, the blood fell from his face, and most of his body as if it were stones. He coughed up some more blood, the blood hitting the ground, and not even bouncing. Isthmal started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Daren starred at the blood before him. That moment, the air seemed to lighten, and it had nothing to do with Isthmals force. Isthmal could only wonder what on gods Earth was going on now, of all times. At the moment, the gods heavens seemed to bow before him. The sky turned black, and all the clouds moved away quickly. Daren's eyes were black. Completely, his pupil had become engulfed, and the beat down face of his had become darker than ever.

The sky seemed fire struck, and Isthmal seemed shocked. Another of his spell broken? but how? Daren fought hard to stand up, the gravity still a bit heavy. Daren raised his hands to his face, the blood dripping from it because of his wounds, he raised the blood to his mouth and licked it off, the he than sprayed a load of black blood onto the ground. "You will die" said Daren. Isthmals eyes seemed to shrink, and the air turned cold, real cold. Snow flakes started to fall, and started hitting the ground hard, disinagrating to black blood. The whole platform was covered in it. Isthmal knew nothing of it.

The snow was getting heavy now, and blood even had to drip from the side of the platform. But than it stopped. "Blood of the damned, is the blood that you have taken from me, and the blood of those, who's life's have been taken from it". Isthmal knew what Daren was talking about. "Real life's go undefined" said Daren, confusing Istmal, who knew not what it meant, but Daren intended to show him. The black blood was covering everything on the platform. Darens messed up face, was clearly in pain, but not enough to kill him, he fell to his knees, and his blood sulked pants hit the blood covered ground, and Daren reached his hand into it. And reached it too his face.

Daren than smeared it allover his face. Leaving the blood to cover him, hide him, to hide him from the world, to hide his sorrows. Isthmal could now not see the facial expression now, it wouldn't do him any good anyway, because his face was so messed up. Daren stuck his hands down again, Isthmal tried to do something, but he couldn't move, the black blood was swarming around him. There was none of it below him, but concrete, than an inch away from him, was the blood, he was standing on the only concrete not covered by blood, and it was swarming around him

The speed, and intensity increased, the coldness even increased, and Daren started to sink, sink into what? was the only thing that Isthmal could wonder, it was concrete under the blood. He sank slowly, until his head was completely under. "But how?" Whispered Isthmal. He stood for a few seconds until a large black hand raised from the ground, and hit him. Hit him hard, his rib cage broke in several area's, and His arm was broken from the impact from the ground, making a loud cracking noise.

The hand went back under, and out came the body of Daren, this time covered in the black blood, now no one could tell how much blood he was losing. His hair, his arms, his legs, all covered in the black blood. Daren could barely stand up, but he was doing it. Isthmal lie on the ground, having trouble breathing. Daren fought to step forward, the blood oozing from his wounds, but he felt lucky that no one could see the large blood loss. He found him self, a few inches away from Isthmal.

The black covered Daren raised his hand, as high as he could get it, the dark sky, seemed to wander, and Daren was ready to do something big. Something unheard of in his eyes, but he knew he must do it. He lowered his arm, and kneed his opponent in the face, with his deformed, and almost dead knee. It seemed to hurt him, more than it had hurt his opponent. "My knees have come crashing" Whispered Daren, than after he let out a yelp. Isthmal found himself looking at Daren for a few moments, and than a second later he was gone, leaving nothing more than the streaks going across the pool of blood, apparently Daren had sunk yet again.

This time, Isthmal found himself waiting for more than a few minutes, maybe even five minutes, but it was a long wait. Isthmal fought his way up, and the wind picked up, blowing at least 20 miles an hour, as the giant beast ravaged his way thought the world, and the leg kept moving faster, and faster. Isthmal found his eye twitching, he knew not why. A few moments later, he looked down to the left of him, to see a the blood moving, as if something had dropped a rock in it, he looked to his right, to see the exact same thing. A moment later, the unthinkable happened. Two hands came from the ground, and and grasped the first thing they could feel. The two hands were long and black, the arm extending from the blood. The arms made there way all the way up to the arms of Isthmal, and the hands grasped. Both of the arms pulled hard. They were both pure black, and weren't from a human of any sort.

The hands pulled as hard as they could. Both of Isthmals arms popped out of there sockets, as the excruciating pain last a few good minutes. The arms kept pooling, until the right arm gave up. Isthmals right arm flew from his body, and the blood sprayed, you could here the blood pour, the bones pop, and the last bit of arm that was left give, the blood started mixing with all of the black blood. Isthmal had lost his right arm. The right arm went down into the black blood, and the left went under with no arm. Isthmal fail to the ground, in the most pain he had ever felt. Blood pouring just as fast as Daren was. Both fighters were now lowing a large amount of blood. Before Isthmal could do anything else Two more larger arms flew above him.

The two arms flew from in front of Isthmal who was conveniently laying exactly in the path. The arms flew high enough above him, and came down directly in the blood behind him, and the arms wrapped there way around him and began to squeeze. His only remaining arm shattered in many spaces, and he could not breath. This happened for a few moments until the dissapeered, leaving him with many broken ribs, many broken arm bones, and a missing arm.

Daren emerged from the ground, breathing deeply, he exhaled, and inhaled, he had to hold his breath the entire time to create something so perfect. "Did you like it?" Asked Daren, who could barely manage to smirk. Both of the fighters were now losing there fair share of blood. Daren fell to the ground, and took more deep breaths.

[Repster]

Aidan lied there and thought for a moment. His legs were way over there. His spine broken in half, yet he could still feel them. That was always an odd sensation. He knew why, and just how much his control over them suffered. With his entire body still steaming and fighting that bloody coat of ice he could not just pluck them on at the moment either. His severed spine waw most problematic. The glowing orb jumped in intensity as his "eyes" widened in shock as he realised exactly what his lower half being that far away meant. His flask was over there. That needed to be remedied.
"Yo, Odin." His voice called once again undisturbed by lack of jaw, tongue, teeth, or even his shredded vocal cords. He rose a battered arm up. Palm towards his divine opponent, thumb and ring finger were pressed to it. The phantom smirk was in full force as Aidan rose his head to see what was about to happen.

Odin looked down as he heard a shift in the blood. Aidan's legs jumped up, and without the top half, entrails still streaming behind the right left proceed to kick Odin straight in the groin. Odin roar of pain shook the shattered remain of the battlefield as he was lifted in the air from the raw force of said sick. Aidan's pinky folded with the thumb and the familiar quivering racked the All father. It was not, however, spread out. Oh no, it was concentrated straight on the god's testicles. They burst soaking the front on his clothing with blood and semen. Aidan's mad laugher filled his ears.

The one eyed god properly distracted Aidan grabbed his intestines and roped his legs. He proceeded to yank them back in one powerful heave. By the time Odin seething rage filled eye turn to Aidan, the monk had fused his spine back together, and was leaning on a strange staff. Odin's nature allowed him to know exactly what that staff was. Crystallized fire. The same stuff that now composed most of the monk skeletal structure. He had no time to wait for his bones. Flesh still bruised, cut, bruising over those cuts and cut again across his entire hide, the monk walked over to Odin. He tossed the staff aside no longer needing it's support. It flared up and was gone. Aidan still had that bloody confident smirky look all over his ruined face, an arrogant swagger, and that damned chuckle was really getting on the neutered god's nerves.

Aidan tore out the sun trapped within his skull. It grew, it's power no longer contained. By the time the madman reached the All Father it was the size of his skull. Aidan then proceed to fight. It started simply enough. A kick, a kick weakened by mass blood lose. A kick which Odin evaded with ease. A kick which left the monk unbalanced and wide open. Instincts of countless centuries of battle took over and Odin struck a mighty blow. He pieced the man chest's on the Gungnir and impaled him. Near enough anything else would have been dead having the left side of they're chest torn out in a bloody. Aidan's free hand grasped the haft and he yanked himself deeper on it, closer to Odin.
"Look, I'm tired of you doing this. My heart is on the bloody right, not the left. Not that it matters much, just letting ya know."
Then the sunk within the monk's palm connect with the very arm still extended and supporting the ruined chested monk. The arm never stood a chance and it was incinerated on contact. Aidan gave off a pained grunt even before he struck the ground.

Odin clutched the ruined stump of his arm that now ended before the elbow. Aidan on the other hand shoved the yellow sphere back in place, forcing it into it's socket. He tore out Gungnir and tossed it aside, and stared at the hole in his chest. A hole that was not regenerating. Well... That was a problem, the little blood he had left was leaking out... he was not quite at the point of drawing on his final reserves yet either. Soon, but not yet. He had another trick up his sleeve first. He laughed again. Why not? He was holding back his trump card against a god. That was reason enough to laugh.

[Wyborn]

OoC: I'm going to be extra violent now that I know you have healing abilities. Hope you don't mind, because if you do this post is going to bother you. -OoC

Cuchulainn hit the ground - but then he was up again, an animalistic roar escaping his lips, eyes aflame and his teeth bared to the gus. The hero light was not upon him, but he was angry, and he roared his fury as Raji attempted to block a swing from his sword - and failed pitifully.

The sword sheered through the first bone of Raji's forearm and sank into the second before stopping, and the warrior howled as he lost all control of his hand and his sword dropped to the ground. Cuchulainn' palm collided against his nose shattering it and smashing it into the bones of his face, and then again, breaking his cheeks and bones of his eye sockets, and again, and again, and agian, until it stopped meriting a crack and started producing a wet splat, and still he struck, until Raji's face was nothing but wet meat and red fluid and flecks of bone and eyes that were swollen shut, hands lashing out to protect it but Cuchulainn's palm had become Cuchulainn's fist, and the wet pounding grew louder and loduer until Raji's fist strukc his ribs - not once, not thrice, but seven times, until a rib cracked and Cuchulainn howled and thew him like a rag doll. Raji rolled and found his sword and got to his feet, cutting the flesh around his eyes so that the blood would rain and he could see again, but all he saw was Cuchulainn coming at him and he wanted to howl in terror.

His groin still howled with the pain of being struck by Raji, and thek ing of heroes returned the blow in kind and worse - when his boot came up and met Raji's crotch it was with enough force to pop his testicles like grapes, shattering his pelvis and tearing his intestines to shreds with suddenly intrusive chunks of bones. Raji howled like a dog being beaten and staggered, unwilling to even guess what was left of his manhood as blood flowed between his thighs in twin rivers, and he went blind from the pain and all he could do was scream and the Hound was still coming for him.

The hero-king took both of his opponents' arms in his own, placing the forearms under his own armpits and his forearms under his enemy's elbows and wrenching up, and Raji's howling grew louder as his arms hyper-extended and the bones of his elbows poked out the wrong way, breaking flesh as easily as they had been broken and bearing their bloody marrow to the air. Cuchulainn relished it, hungered for it, the bloodlust was on him and he was going to do more.

He let go of Raji's useless arms and stepped back and kicked his enemy in his left knee, and the leg bent backwards with another pop and Raji screamed as the colossus screamed, their tones matched and Cuchulainn kept his footing on the stone and roared in return, he was going to kil lthe one and then the other and the colossus knew fear because of him. Raji fell to one knee, unabl to do anything else, and Cuchulainn kicked him under the chin with such force that he was lifted bodily into the air and hit the stone some distance away, the trail that he slid over stained with his blood.

The Hound was still coming.

Hands like tree roots wrapped around Raji's shoulders and lifted him up into the air, and Cuchulainn held his face in front of the hamburger that Raji was forced to call his own and he roared, the sound only mad men could make, and it was greater than a thunderclap, it echoes throughout the atmosphere of the colossus, the giant itself paused wondering where a creature so great could be standing and the morning star was given pause at the distant echo of his own weapon given voice and hatred, and he smirked and Cuchulainn roared.

Blood ran from Raji's ears as Cuchulainn's forehead smashed into his, meriting one last spurt of blood before the Hound dropped him and kicked him at the same time, a bow that connected with his chest and shattered his sternum and sent flecks of bone into the walls of his lungs.

"UP!" the berserker hero screamed, "UP AND FACE ME AND DIE LIKE A MAN SHOULD DIE!"

And after all of that he waited.

[Galefore]

^My God, that was brilliant.

[Scripture]

Isthmal lay breathing for a split second, and then, my friends, a single word came from his mouth.

“No.”

Isthmal screamed, screamed for the pain and madness coursing through his veins, his mind, his nerves. His vocal cords cracked, then, and the scream died down wetly as he choked on something, but nonetheless he had gone from laying prostrate to hovering three yards in the air, giving off an aura that was not unlike a heat-wave.

But it’s cold, Daren thought, and then it plummeted far past cold, far past any type of cutting breeze the human mind could fathom and into something just above absolute zero. The blood that Daren had been so fond of stopped its writhing motions, stuck to him like war-paint and froze whole parts of him solid in its slithering embrace. The sweat on his few tatters of clothing froze them to his body. His head ended up stuck in one position due to the substance being on his neck, and then he heard a gentle tinkling turn to a chorused tinkling turn to a manic tinkling, and before he knew it Isthmal’s remaining chains had collected en-masse to skewer him from the back, outside of his magical reactions and too frozen to be turned into anything of use to Daren. Swords and spikes and pilums and arrowheads and just plain blunt chains punctured him from every conceivable angle, severing arties and punching bone into powdered sugar and splaying sinews and blood into the air in a fireworks show of red and meat and bone.

Isthmal’s constitution, so easy to perceive in the way he forced it outward, wobbled, but then the chains turned around and slammed Daren’s body into the stone battleground, pushing it with the force of gravity through the floor, pushing and pushing with Daren at the front, mashing him into the crater formed by his own body. Isthmal felt vomit bubbling up in his mouth, burning his throat, but he swallowed, so help him, he swallowed it and increased Daren’s weight to somewhere in the tons and his body punches through the platform with the sounds of stone breaking along with bones, still impaled on innumerable chains, his blood frozen to them, hopelessly frozen to them.

Daren fell parallel to the colossus, frozen chains and frozen entrails icily behind.

Meanwhile, Isthmal hovered, vomit peeking its way through his clenched teeth and onto his stomach. He didn't know whether to cry or laugh.

[Wyborn]

Gale, check your PMs and destroy this message; damn my lack of shoutbox access.

[deathscythe]

Daren let out the only yelp he could that he could. The ground seemed to be thimbling. There was something the levitating Isthmal forgot. Fire melts ice. The swords, spheres, you name it, puncturing his back, only added insult to injury, and Daren was pissed, his black eyes tilted, and he managed to look down into the cold ice. He raise his hand an inch off the ground, and a bright flashing light came from it, fire engulfed the area, heating it, the gravity seemed to lighten, as Isthma was blinded by the great flash.

The area was covered in fire, the blood melted, and Daren was ready to cause his pain once more. The entire platform was raging in fire, Daren reached down and grabbed some of the little black blood that was left, as most of it had seeped off the side when it had frozen. He than tossed it into the air, causing all of the flames to turn black, the area become hot, hotter than before. It heated up highly, and went up to about ninety in a few mere seconds.

Isthmal was shocked, how could he have forgotten such a great detail, fire always melts ice! Daren started to cough up more blood, but this time, his own blood was now black. He could use it, this was kind of fortunate for the fighter who was losing a ton of blood each second. Daren was not effected by the fire, it was of his own creation. He reached behind his backs, and touched all the wobbling chains, the last that Isthmal had thrown at him, he touched them with the tip of his fingers, and they turned to ice, shattered, turned to snow, and than too black blood. "More fuel for the tank" Though Daren.

The black blood was oozing from his back, he had lossed alot more blood than he had expected, and the chains had even went through his body, causing more and more pain, but the chains were gone now, they could be of no more use, thought Daren. The continued to pour from his black, the dark magic was making Daren something he could have never dreamed. Daren walked up too the stunned levitating Isthmal. Daren raised his hand up with all of his strength. The only strength he had left was magical. He grabed his face, and laughed, he pulled him back down to the ground.

Daren looked around for a small trace of black blood, and found a nice puddle to the left of him, he let go of the some what stunned Isthmal, and fell to the ground, and stuck his hand on to it. He was sucked into the puddle, and Isthmal realized he gave Daren another opportunity to take the fight into is own hands. The small puddle of black blood started to grow, after a few seconds it had doubled in side, and another few tripled. A whole minute later, the entire platform, had blood driping from it yet again. A small arm came from the oozing blood, and grabbed Isthmals back of the head. He swung him to the ground, and pushed his face in to a black flame, the flame started to burn his face, with major pain. Blood came pouring from it, the flames all around, making a crackling noise.

The arm disappeared, leaving Isthmal with a burnt face, with little skin left around his eyes, and mouth. Blood poured more, and more from the burnt battler, and Daren came back up, and most of the black blood disappeared, leaving a few small puddles, Daren lied on the ground, gasping for more air, and bleeding from his mouth more than ever, he coughed, and blood sprayed onto the concrete, and kept coughing up blood for 1 long minute.

Isthmal fought his way up using only one arm, and a mere one leg. He stood up, having trouble balancing himself, and started coughing up blood of his own. Daren than fought his way up. He raise his arm, and a small dark shadow engulfed it. Isthmal had no idea what he was seeing, but something had taken over his hand. The hand than turned back to his normal color, as the dark shade climbed down from his body, and too his feet, than of of him, onto the concrete, than too Isthmal, as Ishmal could only watch.

The dark shadow took its place on the remaining good foot of Isthmal, and stayed for a second, he looked down and stared. A few seconds later, something happened. It moved up to his knew, and seeped into his skin. Than Isthmal started to scream rapidly, he couldnt take the pain, no man could. He grabed his stomach, and started yelping out with pain, more pain, and more pain. His legs started to wobble, and his arms trembled. Than out from his last good wrist, blood started to pour, as his wrist vain popped open, and black blood started to pour from Isthmals arms, some of Isthmals blood was now, black.

Daren than stumbled back on to, his bloody knees.

[UltimateGamer178]

Raji again was in a lot of pain. He was not going to give up, not now. Raji then healed himself again. The young warrior stood up. "I've never face an opponent quite like you" Raji said to the redheaded warrior. "Prepare to die!" the young warrior shouted. Again taking out his gauntlet and putting it on his left hand, the young warrior punched Cuchalainn hard into the redheaded warrior's ribs, instantly shattering them into sawdust. Raji then took out an iron hammer and slammed it straight into Cuchalainn's face. The second the young warrior's hammer slammed into the redheaded warrior's face, it shattered the bones in his face into pieces. Cuchalainn let out a mighty howl of pain.


"Is that all you've got?" scoffed Cuchalainn. "I'm just getting started." Raji said with a malicous grin. Raji took out a steel mace. "You haven't felt true pain until you've been hit by this!" Raji growled as he swung the heavy mace around until it ran so fast, a loud "whoosh" sound could be heard. Raji finally threw the ball, hitting his opponent right in the redheaded warrior's already sore groin, instantly squashing his privates and shattering any hope of Cuchalainn having children. Cuchalainn again let out a mighty cry of pain as he grabbed his private area, wincing from the intense pain. "That's just the least of your worries" Raji said with a devilish grin. Raji again swung the mighty ball for several moments until he finally let go, this time the ball hit Cuchalainn right in the gut. The young warrior hit the redheaded warrior with such force that Cuchalainn was sent flying into the other side of the battlefield.

[Asnabel]

Odin raged, the bleeding stump of his arm grasped in his hand. He turned a furious look towards the mad monk who had so injured him, and a cold fury burned behind his one eye. The god turned his face and bleeding stump up to the heavens, and his plea to the sky boomed across the battlefield: “I am the All father! I relinquished my eye long before the man before me ever knew the ways of battle!” He voiced sounded as thunder throughout the battlefield, and the skies churned violently above him, blowing hard enough to move even the colossus’ mighty strands. “And now, as I sacrificed my own eye at that time, he has taken my arm!” The ashes of his arm floated from the ground, and gathered in front of him. They gathered as a gray ball, and the sky god continued, “Now to those that gave me my strength, I dedicate this sacrifice to you! In return for my offering, I ask a boon! This time, one of power, rather than wisdom! I demand, give me my right!”

The skies parted, and the sun shined brighter than ever, casting the colossus’ great shadow for distances far beyond the realm of sight. The light framed a great tree, a tree of such terrible, mind boggling proportions that the colossus itself, no larger than an acorn to the Tree of Life before it, turned to gaze in shock. The god seemed to bathe in this brilliant light, drinking it in with great shudders of ecstasy. Odin glowed, drawing it into himself, and miraculously healed the damage to his groin. Aidan’s senses screamed, paining him greatly through the light and force pouring onto the battleground, blinding him to the actions of the mighty god.

Odin's strength was renewed, and as the vision of the tree faded, he held reign over the power of the Tree of Life itself. The colossus turned back to its trudging, and Odin turned back one-armed to his opponent. Aidan’s senses still screamed warnings as the magic raged within the angry deity, but the monk held strong. With a speed unseen, Odin called his spear to him again, and threw it before Aidan could even sense his movement. It struck him in the throat, and propelled him backwards towards the colossus’ braided hair. It buried itself into the massive strand up to all but a foot of its length, holding the monk with it by his own severed spinal cord. Odin was upon him again before Aidan could lift his head, axe heaving down into the monk’s open chest. It came down again, severing bone and rending flesh with a spurt of fire. And again. And again. And again. Odin’s strokes became less and less like a finely trained warrior and more like a butcher having a bad morning.

When the hacking was done, the crippled monk’s chest lay open before Odin, filled with fire and blood. The fire caused the god no pause as he reached in with his remaining hand, and began to grab at the bones within. His hand steamed slightly as it wrapped around the glowing sternum, and pulled with all his might. The bone gave way with a sound like the popping of firewood, and the ribs came with it. Along with them came spilling out the liquid mess of his lungs. The sky god casually tossed these bones off the platform, ejecting them from the battle for the hours, if not days it would take to reach the ground. He then shoved his hand within again, taking hold of the glowing spine with his massive palm. A quick wrench, and the vertebrate quickly snapped, tearing nerves along with it, and was yanked out with little in the way of ceremony. He chunked it nonchalantly over the side, and turned to continue his handiwork.

Odin laughed a rasping sort of chuckle, and took the axe into his hand again. He looked into the eyes of his opponent, and said softly “By my curse, you shall not heal from thiswound.” And he drove the axe upwards into the monk’s groin, and shoved it up through to the belly button. It shattered his pelvis, severed his testicles, and plowed through several feet of intestines. A terrible burning sensation flowed through the monk’s body, showing him the threat of a curse was no empty one, and had he been able to, his screams would have been earsplitting. Odin pulled his axe out, and stalked away, still reeling from the flow of his newfound might. The world was at his fingertips, and he had only to kill this man before him.

OoC: To clarify, he only healed his testicles, and no other injuries. I figured he deserved his manhood.

[Erdawn Il Deus]

OoC: ^Woah. There's the Orchis I remember.

[Repster]

Ooc: Sure, go ahead and fix em. But you see... that just means I get to murder death kill his manhood again. Twice.

Aidan laughed. And they're was a sound that chilled Odin's soul, a sound that struck him deep enough that he turned, the overwhelming power withing him no longer of any effect on his mind.

SNAP!

Then they was a clatter as Aidan tossed the bloody broken haft of Gungnir aside.
"Such a silly thing weapons."
Aidan tore out the remaining chunk of spear aside. Down it went clattering along the colossus's back and down and down until it went unheard, joining the monk's still missing rib cage.
"You just have to know how and snap no more."
Aidan slid down and sat there a bloody ruined mess.
"You know, normally, I'd be cool with just ending it here. But you see, it wasn't just a normal little dance we just had here."
The monk grasped his flask and pored the liquor down his throat. Some of it dripped out of the visible hole in that very nearly severed his head from his body, the rest leaked out of the random holes and wounds that littered the rest of his body. He chuckled.
"First ya took power from this bugger."
Aidan's bloody hand slapped the bloody hide behind him covered in blood.
"Then you went ahead and demanded strength from that big ol tree. You see... myself I've been using nothin but what I gots. Not no more. So now, you very well got me stuck here all danglely legged, big ol hole threw mah chest. I'm a spineless balless man. How am I supposed to smack you around from here? Hrm?"
The monk laughed again.
"I don't needs to move punk. You is standing on me blood. You looking at me blood. You covered in me blood. Your skin's been drenched and absorbing my blood for quite some time. And you know what? Like I said. I use what I got, and I got me, and me blood. You cut the burn from it. That's coo', there more to it. So have a little taste of what I spend my life with. And let's see that power you can call upon help you with this bitch. Let the chaos flow little man, let the chaos flow."
Aidan laughed again as Odin stared at him. The madman traced a pattern in his blood next to him It looked rather much like this.

2-_=_\_|_-
(>0_o)>#
$[__@!M/

Now what the hell was that Odin had no idea. For that matter, neither did Aidan. The insane one just laughed at it and slapped his palm over it, and his every drop of his blood strewn across the field of battle reacted and the potent magic erupted, nothing Odin could do would stop it. With that **** hit the fan.

Now said **** hitting the fan was not in any sort of way a metaphor or saying or what not. There was quite literally bull excrements flung at a rather large fan next to Odin. Bull poop that sprayed over Odin. Odin that realised what Aidan had just done as the manure he was now covered in turned into leeches, leeches with rather bigger then normal teeth as they sunk said teeth into the god. The monk had taken the raw chaos contained in his blood, and uncontained it. And it spread like molasses on a whore. Odin blinked at his own thoughts. It would seem the purple goo of French origins was mixing in with Italian hot sauce.

Now while Odin could no longer properly think a little green man came up from the ground below. Upside down. It walked, still upside down, toward him. With his cousins, Joe, Jim, Jerry, George, Jenkins, Jeff, Jeb, Gerald, Jack, and Frank. But nobody cares about Frank. He's weird. Likes his peanut butter a little to much. I mean come on? Who puts peanut butter on they're babies? It ruins the flavor. He cooks em to. Babies are totally better live, squealing as you shove em in your jaw. I mean look at him. He's doing it again.

Odin watched, transfixed by these tiny green men, wearing yellow jumpsuits, partaking in the devouring of what seemed to be miniature human babies. Babies who's howl suddenly jumped from a low almost inaudible from that size, to a roar of the such magnitude that Odin was knocked back into the pit of lime purple jell-o. It felt like acid. Burned like acid. Yet left him refreshed as he hoisted himself away from the jelly of pain. He stared straight into the eyes of a mutant do. Not the female dear, the note. It was there, with a baseball bat. Next to it was the chain wielding fa, the beefy brass knuckled re, sol with it's crowbar fetish, and mi just shot him in the left testicle. Then the others proceeded to beat him up like a cheap whore. How such abominations managed to pain him was as confusing as everything else that was happening.

Odin raged as his axe cleaved apart the damned musical notes, he was especially vicious to mi for harming his freshly healed manhood. Then the beaver he almost stepped on jumped up and bite of his right nut. Did not just bite it, it bit it right off. Then it slapped him in the face with it's tail. It to fell to Odin's mighty leg of meat. Which gave the all father pause for a moment. Then the cow jumped over the moon and body slammed Odin. The spork mated with the foon, while the plate watched, that dirty little pervert.

A land shark raced by and tripped him as a flying pig with bigger teeth then any great white chase it. A frog, or maybe a toad, jumped up next to Odin. It croaked.

Faeries, pixies to be exact, sprang from the rainbow grass at his feet and they laugh and played as the flew around him. He felt calm, and peaceful, and his groin was repaired. The tingle in his arm stump told him, it to would be healed in a moment. A werewolf leapt up and kicked His square in the jewels once again, and they exploded in a shower of pixie dust and entrails as two were caught between spiked booted half wolf and remurdered mommy and daddy pills. They other ran away from they're natural predator. It took a bite of the leg oh meat that once was an axe and was promptly slain by the pygmies of north upper lower meatville Antarctica. Then they proceeded to spear the sky god with they're shapened plungers while screaming out random vegetables. Rutabaga was particularly vehement. Not such much for the lesser tubers.

The frog toad croaked again. Killer bees bust from it's belly, a swarm of them, thousands upon thousand of them. All wearing a top hat and pink tuxedo with various ties. From solid colors, to silly designs those ties where. They stung no weaker then they're common counter part. If they had been stinging a man it would have been so, but to inflict they're light pain on a god, those stingers where powerful indeed. A tutu wearing panda shoved a rather large olive in Odin's empty socket.

Odin turned towards where Aidan was, where Aidan should be, the monk's death would end this insanity. The All father stared at what he saw there was no end to this. As far as he could see, the same crazed sight were happening. Murderous underpants attack a little old lady and she was save by Mr. potato head. The legendary cardboard tube samurai played checkers with a shakespear speaking sandwich. So on, and so forth it went.

The monk's laugher filled the god's ears as all around them chaos flowed, and Aidan was no better off then he. Yet the monk seemed to thrive in the chaos. He let it consume him, and was undisturbed, he simply sat as he was, and laughed. The curse was lifted, yet instead of regenerating, little lawn gnomes duct tapped him back together, shoving a rather large champaign cork inside his chest cavity. Still the monk laughed as everything settle back to the semlance of normalcy the colossus's hide was.

[Asnabel]

OoC: What? What?

No offense, but that may very well have been the most ridiculous thing I've read in my entire life, and not in a good way. Could you maybe summarize what was supposed to have happened, there?

And what was up with just ignoring the curse?

[Scripture]

Isthmal’s eyes shot open, the scar tissue tearing in a gravitational splitting that was like walking to the mage. His mouth tore into a grin, and then a wet laughing cackled into the air, cackling despite Daren’s bloody blood, all his exercises in manipulating life into something terrible. That grin wasn’t natural, and the way Isthmal’s face was, it seemed more of a mask of burnt flesh and scar tissue than an actual face.

Isthmal flash-froze his arm, killing the black blood Daren had dared touch him with in the vein, and at the same moment the gravity on this huger than huge platform ceased to exist. Isthmal had negated it, sending himself deftly floating into the air, but more importantly, sending Daren and all his bloody blood into the air, without a means of propulsion.

Isthmal took a sampling of the liquid, and due to a lack of proper vocal cords, or perhaps at a loss of words in the maddening pain, spelled out in the air: “You’ve got pretty big balls.” Daren didn’t understand the implications of this statement, really, until he felt himself being tugged downward from his groin, something weighing him down like an anchor. He lightly touched down, and then let out a sick gasp of panic and disgust as his genitalia suddenly weighed somewhere in the tons. Attached only by light layers of skin, it tore itself free and dropped from his jeans, but never hit the ground. Instead of just parting kindly with Daren, his genitalia decided – or, Isthmal decided – that it would leave Daren with a number of parting gifts. So, with his own flesh flying about at speeds unfit for humans, he was bashed about repeatedly in a zigzagging, straight-line pattern of halting and then taking off in a new direction. The master of diseased blood found himself bludgeoned and humiliated as he raged at the pain and numbness between his legs, the severed nerve endings locking up his already broken knees.

Finally, thankfully, they stopped, bloodied, and hovered in front of his face. Daren wanted to vomit more blood, as he had already taken up minutes bathing with the stuff and otherwise regurgitating it prior to, but luckily for him, his jaw bone broke free from his skull and opened a gaping hole for his severed and not-so-privates to dive into, ramming themselves down his windpipe until they were too far down for him to reach, if he dared, and just far enough down to make sure he choked on them.

Meanwhile, Isthmal couldn’t stop laughing.

The gravity mage then allowed his gagging opponent to loft into the air, to be among the spider webs of his blood. This time, Isthmal thought in some sane part of his mind, he would take care of the stuff, and then insure he painted the side of the colossus with the dry husk of Daren’s desiccated corpse. Isthmal floated away from the blood, focusing on Daren’s wounds despite his blurring vision, and willed the gravity there to cycle outward, to pump away from Daren. The gravity mage tore the very air away from the wounds, creating a voracious vacuum, and as his eyes narrowed to grim, bloody slivers, he found himself diving into Daren’s veins, swimming and swooping through blood red and black, sniffing out every drop of the stuff and ushering it along into the daylight. Indeed, first small rivulets and then rivers of blood pumped from Daren, comical in its Kill Bill proportions. Even his genitals were picked clean of the substance, drawn into the air. While the sky filled with the red-and-black contents of Daren’s body, Isthmal made a point of relegating him to a normal gravity, sending him tens of yards downward to a resting place even while his arteries ran dry and his heart choked.

The blood from Daren’s body was immense, coupled with all his blood-magic that had multiplied the makings of his marrow into something huge and terrible. Isthmal worked quickly, for all he was worth, making sure to keep his wounds on ice should Daren get the smart idea to use them for his own ends. Even so, he was too high up to allow such things – and at his altitude, he had a perfect view as a chute of gravity, invisible to the naked eye, formed, and shot the entirety of Daren’s blood into the atmosphere, in the general direction of the sun, in the space of a split-second.

All that was left was Daren’s body, chemical processes stumbling over one another, wanting to know just where all the blood went.

And there Daren lay inexorably, secured by gravity he didn’t remotely care about – he had no blood, gone gone all gone – as the platform itself broke off of the titan’s leg and defied gravity, slamming itself upward with him at its fore. Like a ship running aground, he was smashed under its immense mass against the leg of the titan, his body unrecognizable as the platform descended, clinging to the leg momentarily, leaving in its wake a tapestry of flesh and bone and dried entrails as it descended.

Isthmal shot over to the Titan and rested on solid ground, leaning on his one good leg, relishing the feeling of his frozen wounds, and hopefully, the end of the blood mage.

[Repster]

It was supposed to be ridiculous.

Pure unrestricted chaos was unleashed. Messed with reality. 's over now.

Brok Gungnir, Odin's Manhood got remurdered, fix, killed again, was the victim of a mugging, fell in a vat of acid, got attacked by killer bees, covered in dung, leeches and then pixie dust, got a cow dropped on you, got attacked by pygmies, replaced the axe with a large drumstick with a missing bit, and shoved a big olive in the empty socket. Oh yeah, got slapped in the face by a beavers tail.

Aidan basin and hips are now duct taped together, and has a champaign cork in his chest. Still laughing.

Not so much ignoring as lifting it possibly temporay, not that it matters really. Aidan does not really have enough left to regenerate.

[deathscythe]

He lie, not even breathing anymore. Daren was almost dead for a few seconds. But as soon as he was just about to be gone, something happened, Exsanguination happened. "I would gladly bet my life upon it" gasped out Daren. Isthmals stopped laughing, because he could not. There was a sudden pain from inside his stomach. The dark shadow reappeared, over his stomach, the burnt face of Isthmal looked down, and saw it, his face turned stern as soon as he saw it. There was something about it. The pain grew, until.... his stomach blew up, that's the only way to describe it, the blood flew everywhere, all over the platform, and Isthmal had a gaping whole in his stomach, as his small intestines hang out, dripping more blood onto the even bloodier platform.

Isthmal bent down, and than fell onto his face, the pain was just too much to bear, for any man. Daren opened his mouth, and spat out the onlything in his mouth... and moved his finger, just an inch, the finger turned black once more, and than the blood all over the platform turned black. The blood slowly started to creep towards him, Isthmal lie on the ground, face first. Darens face was bony, very bony due to the lack of blood, his eyes moved around, as they were the only part of his body now that could move, now it was up to the blood. The blood crawled up his arms, and into his wounds, and some crawled into other wounds, he was steeling blood, so that he would not die. While Daren was gaining blood, Ithmal was losing it. Isthmal stuck his hand unto the platform that lay on him, crushing every bone in his body, and the platform turned to ice, Daren raised his hand again, and a large flame, the size of a nuclear explosion erupted from his hands, and the ice melted turning the platform into black blood, all of the blood entering Darens wounds, so that he was able to live again.

The dark heart with in Daren started to beat again, soon he was able to gasp, and breath again. And five minutes later, he found himself able to talk. Isthmal found himself looking through the gaping hole in his stomach. "Damn you" he whispered, staring through it. A few seconds later all the blood on the ground was gone, as Isthmal froze up his stomach wound, so that it would slow down the bleeding, not stop it, and Daren could not find himself to get up, his entire body hurt, mainly the downstairs. The pain for him, was just as unbearable, a man shouldn't ever have to go through that, but he was.

Both fighters were fighting to get up, Daren was the first to do so, because Isthmal was struggling with only one arm, and one useful leg. The joints of his body were so damage that it felt as if the Earth itself was strapped to his back. "I'll burn as I fall" Whispered out Daren, whose pain had exceeded its limit, as he yelped and fell back down, how he was able to get up was something he even did not know, as most of his bones in his body were broken, the blood, and some bone carnage, creeping out of his body. The blood was not of his own, but of the Isthmal who lay before him.

Daren vomited some bad blood, spoiled as he liked to call it, and Isthmal didn't have any tricks up his sleeve at the moment, he could barely manage to move, let alone change gravity. Daren suddenly noticed something, by his hand on the cold green grass, lay the green sword, that he had used, and had been used against him. He reached for it, and grasped it unto his bloody palm, and laughed, blood pouring out of his mouth, but he could not raise the sword completely, so he decided to give up on that.

Isthmal started to vomit, more and more blood up at a time. "I wouldn't try to freeze your mouth, when your blood cant find a place to go, it has to go out, and you my find your head gone if you do so, not to mention, you would surely die from lack of air, considering you noise is burnt off." Said Daren, who chuckled a little, and blood fell out. Daren raised his hand, and the black formed on it once more. He let if off his finger tips, to let it crawl back unto Isthmal, who tried to crawl away from it, but it was too quick. It crawled on to his back, than down to his leg, than made its way back up to his head. Isthmal rubbed his head, but was unable to do anything at all, the thing wouldn't budge, a minute later, as Daren lie watching, trying to gain some breath, and taking blood form each blood drop that Isthmal let out, The shadow found is way onto the ground again, and crawled off the age. "Why?" thought Isthmal.

Daren was not ready to answer that though, as he knew what he was thinking, the thing would surely come back, just the matter of what with. Daren fought his way back up to his feet, he grabbed the sword, barely getting enough strength to lift the heavy sword, and he used it as a cane, he bent down, to some crawling blood, and touched it with his hand. The entire area started to shake, the world was shaking, and the colossus, was building in strength. "Do you find me dreadful?" Asked Daren with laughter, more blood spewed from his lips, but he wasn't gaining it as fast as he as losing it. His hand started to glow a dark glow, how does black glow, it is hard to tell, but for some reason it was standing out. He reached his other hand in, and it too started to give a tent of glow.

"Its killing time again" Spoke Daren, it came back to him, his past, he was of nothing ordinary. A small memory of when he was a kid, came too him, he was training, it was ordinary for a kid of his age, of his time to train, he had trained for this moment, he had to do this, this for the sake of what would live, and what would die. He raised his hands, and blood drops started to pour from the sky as rain, the blood would not dare enter Darens wounds, but now, black blood was every where, the last of the battle would surely happen in the next few minutes, hours. This blood was different, it was giving a burn sensation on the body of Isthmal, his skin was starting to peel more than ever, and his blood was pouring from just about every aspect.

Isthmals skin, almost all of it was gone, He had taken Darens blood, but Daren had taken some of his back, and than taken his skin. Daren reached down into more blood, and a large hand erupted from the small pool of blood, it erupted 20 feet in the air. The fist it formed, was about the size of a mini van, the arm was taller, than two pools, the fist streamed high in the air, leaving behind a trail of blood. The fist came down upon Isthmal, pounding him into the ground, the sound of cracking in his one arm, the sound of breaking in the remaining ribs, the sound of skin tearing where it still remained, and the sound of his skull cracking, and even more so, the sound of his legs being pushed into Oblivion, as the blood splattered into the ground.

The hand dissevered, leaving a super torn up version of what was left of Isthmal. "This is what I brought you, this you can keep" joked Daren. Daren looked at the damage he had done to his opponent, two missing legs, an arm that might as well be gone, and another missing arm. Barely any skin left, as he lost blood by the moment, and a cracked skull. Daren slumped down, he had now used most of his magical abilities, and grew very, very tired, he stared to gasp for air from here, as the blood continued to drip from his mouth.

He moved his hand unto more blood, and raised it to his lips once again. He brought it in, and licked it up. The pain dimmed a little, but not much. He raised is hand, and erupted a fire ball unto Isthmals body, the fire raged over his head, burning what was left of the scar tissue on his face. Darens body had started to swell, swell to much bigger sizes than they should have been. They were in pain, but Daren took his hand and raised it once again, this time for the shadow that came back, it found its way onto what was left of his arm of Isthmals arm, it absorbed itself into his arm, and it started to swell more than it already had, the kept swelling until it was about the size of his body, and now Isthmal had no moving ability at all, pretty much the same as Daren.

OoC: wooh, were destroying each others characters. anyway, I hope you dont mind some of the random AFI Quotes I like to squeeze in.

[Scripture]

"...as the platform itself broke off of the titan’s leg and defied gravity, slamming itself upward with him at its fore. Like a ship running aground, he was smashed under its immense mass against the leg of the titan, his body unrecognizable as the platform descended, clinging to the leg momentarily, leaving in its wake a tapestry of flesh and bone and dried entrails as it descended."

We weren't even fighting on the platform anymore, man. You were crushed under it, and Isthmal was high above you. He went to rest on one of the contours of the giant or whatever.

Oh, and unless you removed your manhood from your throat, when you got all your blood back you shouldn't have been breathing. Whatever, though, I'm going skiing. EDIT: Skiing rocked, and apparently did you choke 'em up. Huh.

[deathscythe]

We weren't even fighting on the platform anymore, man. You were crushed under it, and Isthmal was high above you. He went to rest on one of the contours of the giant or whatever.

oh sorry, I though you meant that it was just floating...

I'll fix it.

[Scripture]

Isthma’’s body was ruined, but oh, how his mind raged.

Stupid ****ing idiot cock sucking ****ing piece of useless good for nothing— was but a sampling of the diverse, maddening thoughts shooting through his mind. His anger was like a drug, he was so tightly woven in its grasp it was painful, even worse than the ruins of his body. But had he not sacrificed his flesh time and time again before? Had he not paid the price of beauty to have the command of gravity? Had he not been a prisoner of the white walls. Oh, the whitewashed walls…

Suddenly, Isthmal’s mind wasn’t in his skull anymore – in all its turmoil, it burst forth from the splintered remains of his head, the chunky pieces of scalp mixing with the stew of his brains.

But Isthmal’s mind was everywhere. In its few moments of power, it took from Daren what it rightfully deserved – not his own sanity or a simple sampling of flesh, but the blood he had stolen from Isthmal and corrupted, poisoned with black, painted with black. Again the blood rushed from his veins, but this time it wasn’t so discreet as to just take it from wounds. Oh no, it tore the substance from the vein, from the heart and every vital organ that it coursed through. In one, terrible moment, there was pressure all over Daren’s body, some restless feeling, and then his flesh bulged and the blood exploded out of him and hung, mocking, as he felt his body stopping, his heart was exposed and shredded and it didn’t feel pain like his skin but gods it hurt, everything hurt--

The blood spun for a moment, and turned itself into an image Isthmal, hovering above Daren, or what was Daren by process of elimination, for the thing over on one side of the platform was Isthmal, laying soaked in its own leaking everything, and this ruined husk of man simply had to be Daren. The hovering blood-thing smirked, in the smooth, silky contours of its smooth, silky face, before smoothly, and silkily, shooting downward, out or reach, and then Daren’s skeleton—ruined in every place imaginable, just outright grisly and unrecognizable as even human save for its silhouette – went from falling backward to shooting forward at speeds that were entirely unsafe for any human, ragged strips of flesh hanging about or otherwise.

Daren hit the colossus’s stone side head-first, and kept-going until he had pierced its leg to where the tendon might be. The journey might’ve taken fifteen seconds, though he traveled nearly a mile. Isthmal’s presence suddenly dimmed, and he came back to himself, much to his dismay. He couldn’t vocalize his pain, there simply weren’t any words, but his madness did peek out from moment to moment, crushing potholes in the platform and layering them with frost.

OoC: The platform’s back because it not being there would radically change the entire basis of your post. God, this is probably so confusing for the judges, who have finally reached the end of this. Good job, guys.