And now the end... Continues?
A quick copypaste of the rules, and we're off.
Rules:
1. This will be judged by three people and have sixteen combatants. All round battles are in ONE TOPIC, such as “First Round” will be for the first set, and “Second Round” for the second, etc. This matches the most recent and also the most classic form for the NLBFT, as it was the first form used and also the most recent, as reinstated by SML.
2. This is for serious battlers only. I won’t restrict who joins and who doesn’t, but if you cannot write, do not join this very important event, for either judge or battler. By saying “Cannot Type”, I mean no spaces, punctuation, capitalization, etc. I would prefer that only seniors and vets join, but newbies of high skill level and regular members are just as welcome. It is a free forum, after all. Remember, this is a tournament of high pedigree, and you will likely be facing tough opponents, so do not expect to be baby treated. High quality posts will probably be a must from the judges, and you would do best to remember that. Judges must be older members with a healthy amount of experience and lack of bias. Please heavily consider the responsibilities, as any judge who does not post a judgment within a week of the round’s end (with only a few exceptions) will be replaced or confronted.
3. There is a strict time limit. I've reset this to 2 days before a full point is lost, and one more before you're up for either another deduction or possible elimination. I'll make exceptions where due, but we need to make this a little quicker than last time around. Remember this, as it is standard, and complaints will only be considered if not simply whining. Also, reasons to have been absent are to be discussed by the judges as acceptable or not. If your computer explodes and you had no access to another, fine, but if you simply were too bored to try, it is elimination. It sounds retarded, but it isn’t. Trust me.
4. The judges word is final. I want to see good sportsmanship from the loser, and likewise from winner. I will be honest and tell you that if I lose my battle, I will not complain. Simply put, it is un-sportsmanlike and very dishonorable.
5. The first to post has battlefield choice in their specific battle. Make it something past generic, and give it some specialty and pizzazz. Not to say having an interesting battlefield is a rule, it’s just kind of useful.
Matchups:
Alpha division:
Luigi 007 vs. Phenom
Sarai vs. Tazy
Beta division:
Galefore vs. Mushi
Wyborn vs. Vapor
Judges:
Seat 1: SD (Joined via PM)
Seat 2: Repster
Seat 3: Kargath
NLBFT 12: The Second Round Bellows
-
Galefore
- Member
- Posts: 9354
- Joined: Tue Jan 04, 2005 2:00 am
- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
-
The Willful Wanderer
- Member
- Posts: 2221
- Joined: Fri Mar 05, 2004 2:00 am
- Location: Aisle 12, between the kumquats and the radicchio.
Thought I was done with her? Not hardly.
It wasn’t, Fallen Star reflected, her style to worry. In fact she’d had few longer-term concerns for quite some time now. Gladiatorial days were behind her and though she’d not managed to make her way back home (where *were* the plains from here anyways? Hard to tell in the middle of the ocean.), she had reached a sort of accord with the situation.
The one-eyed tribal glanced down at her arms. More scars were collected there, as might be expected- the life of a privateer wasn’t a particularly safe one and she continued to go unarmored, despite the disbelief of her... compatriots. Most of her newer scars were hidden by her slightly expanded wardrobe. The cloak wasn’t much but it was a great comfort to her, as were the gloves and the brief skirt she’d created, the latter worn over her loincloth. Above all, though, it was the leggings made from the skin of a swift buck she'd felled herself.
The purple-haired woman had had to do the crafting and the stitching herself, lessons she’d never taken well to in the first place, so she wasn’t very happy with the patterns. Still, they had a sense of simple elegance, tied just below her knees and hanging down to hide the tops of her moccasins. Curls of embroidered ‘wind’ and the symbolic shapes of eagles in flight indicated her desire to move swiftly.
Swiftly as she was moving now. The landing party had been quite a horrific failure; the ‘abandoned’ tower not nearly so unoccupied as had been originally thought. To make things worse, the entire island was simply choked with a dull fog that made it nearly impossible to see beyond a few bodylengths in any direction.
With this in mind, Fallen Star jumped up, her still-cropped indigo hair stirring only slightly with her leap. Much like some sort of monkey or ape, the short woman used her arc to reach a lower branch, and that itself to swing and brachiate nearly straight up. Presently, she emerged from the top of the deep mist and clung to the tree near its top, peering around as best she could in the thinner cloudstuff.
Her choice of tree was good, an old sturdy spruce that reached startlingly high for its kind. The view was unfortunately less than spectactular, though. There was little local terrain to be seen, just the dark shapes of various trees protruding above the reach of the fog. The sting of one of her most recent wounds, a shallow but broad gash that looked like a strip torn out of her right cheek, reminded her of the need for caution- the other landers had fallen to a strange swirling thing all teeth, eyes, and black tentacles. She had survived that by sheer dexterity and perception, able to detect its blows even as it faded out of invisibility to deliver them.
A bit more peering with her dark green eye yielded a semi-solid shape on either side of the direction she had been heading; marking large hills. Those would be the struts of land that projected around the cove and an indication that she was nearing the ship.
Now, if she remembered correctly, there was only a brief plains studded with groves of shorter, gnarled trees between her and the landing. As she dropped towards the ground she sniffed the air, listening intently to all beyond the faint rustles of the limbs she caught herself on, one after the other. There didn’t seem to be anything nearby, carnivorous or otherwise.... but the fog might be drowning her perceptions.
Only time would tell for sure.
It wasn’t, Fallen Star reflected, her style to worry. In fact she’d had few longer-term concerns for quite some time now. Gladiatorial days were behind her and though she’d not managed to make her way back home (where *were* the plains from here anyways? Hard to tell in the middle of the ocean.), she had reached a sort of accord with the situation.
The one-eyed tribal glanced down at her arms. More scars were collected there, as might be expected- the life of a privateer wasn’t a particularly safe one and she continued to go unarmored, despite the disbelief of her... compatriots. Most of her newer scars were hidden by her slightly expanded wardrobe. The cloak wasn’t much but it was a great comfort to her, as were the gloves and the brief skirt she’d created, the latter worn over her loincloth. Above all, though, it was the leggings made from the skin of a swift buck she'd felled herself.
The purple-haired woman had had to do the crafting and the stitching herself, lessons she’d never taken well to in the first place, so she wasn’t very happy with the patterns. Still, they had a sense of simple elegance, tied just below her knees and hanging down to hide the tops of her moccasins. Curls of embroidered ‘wind’ and the symbolic shapes of eagles in flight indicated her desire to move swiftly.
Swiftly as she was moving now. The landing party had been quite a horrific failure; the ‘abandoned’ tower not nearly so unoccupied as had been originally thought. To make things worse, the entire island was simply choked with a dull fog that made it nearly impossible to see beyond a few bodylengths in any direction.
With this in mind, Fallen Star jumped up, her still-cropped indigo hair stirring only slightly with her leap. Much like some sort of monkey or ape, the short woman used her arc to reach a lower branch, and that itself to swing and brachiate nearly straight up. Presently, she emerged from the top of the deep mist and clung to the tree near its top, peering around as best she could in the thinner cloudstuff.
Her choice of tree was good, an old sturdy spruce that reached startlingly high for its kind. The view was unfortunately less than spectactular, though. There was little local terrain to be seen, just the dark shapes of various trees protruding above the reach of the fog. The sting of one of her most recent wounds, a shallow but broad gash that looked like a strip torn out of her right cheek, reminded her of the need for caution- the other landers had fallen to a strange swirling thing all teeth, eyes, and black tentacles. She had survived that by sheer dexterity and perception, able to detect its blows even as it faded out of invisibility to deliver them.
A bit more peering with her dark green eye yielded a semi-solid shape on either side of the direction she had been heading; marking large hills. Those would be the struts of land that projected around the cove and an indication that she was nearing the ship.
Now, if she remembered correctly, there was only a brief plains studded with groves of shorter, gnarled trees between her and the landing. As she dropped towards the ground she sniffed the air, listening intently to all beyond the faint rustles of the limbs she caught herself on, one after the other. There didn’t seem to be anything nearby, carnivorous or otherwise.... but the fog might be drowning her perceptions.
Only time would tell for sure.
\"What if nothing means anything? What if nothing really matters?.....
...Or suppose <b><i>EVERYTHING</b></i> matters. Which would be worse?\"
-Calvin
\"Joke \'em if they can\'t take a f$%k.\"
...Or suppose <b><i>EVERYTHING</b></i> matters. Which would be worse?\"
-Calvin
\"Joke \'em if they can\'t take a f$%k.\"
Also, I should mention two things:
- I will be judging using the same criteria as last time, except that Fuzz Point is removed and its point allocation is going to Technique.
- I will be judging use of repeat scenarios/characters as if I had never heard of them before. You will be expected to describe things anew.
Why is it drug addicts and computer afficionados are both called users?
-Clifford Stoll
-Clifford Stoll
-
Wyborn
- Member
- Posts: 12269
- Joined: Fri Jun 16, 2000 1:00 am
- Location: All over the place
Vapor, would you care to start things off?
Help me out with the best fanfiction ever, Ganondorf Beats Up EVERYONE! You decide who gets beaten!
For the battle-minded and mathematically inclined, there's the Hyrulian War, a revived time-honored tradition!
For the battle-minded and mathematically inclined, there's the Hyrulian War, a revived time-honored tradition!
-
Vapor
- Member
- Posts: 5156
- Joined: Tue Oct 25, 2005 1:00 am
- Location: WHERE IT'S AT
- Contact:
OH GOD
...
Sure. If there's no objection to me using my unused opening from round 1, with some edits. If there is, forget this post.
________________________
A shape was approaching from the void of space to a moon of Jupiter known to humans as Ganymede- a sphere of ice flying through the blackness in an orbit around that Gargantua of the planets, Jupiter. The shape seemed to be something like a light purple elf, with a white robe, blue triangles upon his shoulders, and three blades hanging from his waist. Two were ornate daggers, one an elegant sword with an orb of light on the end. He merely floated down from the blackness and landed lightly on the smooth frozen plane. It seemed most curious that a humanoid like this could travel through the void of space so easily and unharmed. But this was, after all, the Moon God, the Avatar of Earth's satellite so to speak.
Trevellyan landed upon the sphere. Like the Earth's moon, humans had also spoiled this- the clean, smooth, glittering beautiful ice littered with the refuse of probes and failed attempts at colonization. The Lunar Gaurdian removed from his home contemplated again how much he detested the human race for their despoiling of the cosmos- haven't they done enough with their own planet? Apparently not. The colonization attempts had even distorted the atmosphere to make it suitable for humans.
He gazed out into the sky with his burning eyes. He sensed something was coming. Nay, he knew- He sensed the mind of another coming. And one was. Another of the confounded ships landed, and someone stepped out. Trevellyan glared at the stranger with the purest of contempt. He wanted them out, and wanted them out Now.
...
Sure. If there's no objection to me using my unused opening from round 1, with some edits. If there is, forget this post.
________________________
A shape was approaching from the void of space to a moon of Jupiter known to humans as Ganymede- a sphere of ice flying through the blackness in an orbit around that Gargantua of the planets, Jupiter. The shape seemed to be something like a light purple elf, with a white robe, blue triangles upon his shoulders, and three blades hanging from his waist. Two were ornate daggers, one an elegant sword with an orb of light on the end. He merely floated down from the blackness and landed lightly on the smooth frozen plane. It seemed most curious that a humanoid like this could travel through the void of space so easily and unharmed. But this was, after all, the Moon God, the Avatar of Earth's satellite so to speak.
Trevellyan landed upon the sphere. Like the Earth's moon, humans had also spoiled this- the clean, smooth, glittering beautiful ice littered with the refuse of probes and failed attempts at colonization. The Lunar Gaurdian removed from his home contemplated again how much he detested the human race for their despoiling of the cosmos- haven't they done enough with their own planet? Apparently not. The colonization attempts had even distorted the atmosphere to make it suitable for humans.
He gazed out into the sky with his burning eyes. He sensed something was coming. Nay, he knew- He sensed the mind of another coming. And one was. Another of the confounded ships landed, and someone stepped out. Trevellyan glared at the stranger with the purest of contempt. He wanted them out, and wanted them out Now.
-
LOOT
- Banned
- Posts: 22937
- Joined: Mon May 28, 2001 1:00 am
- Location: full time jail
It certainly was a stunning image. The vast sea, a bright sky, no sign of storms, and all was quiet. Quiet being if a person took the roar of the engine as white noise. The purr of the ship wasn't loud, but wasn't silent either. Rather, it just seemed like another monster roaming the grand ocean. After all, a ship belonging to the marines had to be stealthy enough in order to ambush the enemy, snatching victory within seconds.
However, this wasn't a time of war. It was merely a time of peace. The only reason why this ship was even being used was due to a scouting mission in order to gather information on a nearby island rumored to be haunted with mutated animals. Even so, the grand ship, armed with side-mounted iron cannons and mounted rifle stations, wasn't prepared to do battle with much, if at all. The crew on the ship needed somebody experienced with close range battle, however, as the weaponry on the ship was meant for long range. The question is, who would want to escort a crew of marines to an island with the hopes of avoiding any battles?
One young man took the job. His name is Reid Hershel. A red haired youth with brilliant blade tactics and a heart of courage, he could fit the very definition of a hero. He could... if he would actually do something productive. The swordsman merely laid on his back, gazing at the blue sky and watching life pass by in a slow, steady stream. It wasn't a problem for him. Hell, this was the way he wanted to live life. Just to take life easy. His clothes certainly showed how laid back he was. Rather than traditional armor, the teenager wore a piece of thin blue armor that resembled a sports bra more than anything, keeping his lower torso exposed. His waist was covered only by a type of mythril kilt, underneath that being a pair of khaki pants. His boots were merely laced leather boots, and his gloves were just there to protect his hands while wielding his weapons.
Granted, his weapons weren't exactly normal either. In his sword sheath was the Eternal Sword, said to have once been used by a time traveling hero from another dimension. An absurd tale indeed. On his back laid the mighty Gaia Cleaver, an axe known for its destructive power. Did these weapons really have any mystic powers? Hell no, but they did look awesome! The Eternal Sword seems to glow with a purple aura, looking like a hero's blade. The Gaia Cleaver looked like it would murder somebody just from its look with its massive axe head forged from Mother Earth herself.
But, Reid didn't want to use them for anything but hunting. After all, he just wanted an easy job so he could pay for the food bills he keeps racking up during the cold seasons. Upon thinking about the expense of food these days, Reid let out a heavy sigh as he started to sit up on the wooden deck. "Man, how much longer could this trip go for? I'm starved, I really want to hunt something..."
---
OoC: Hope I'm not limiting you with a ship as an arena. If you want to land the ship at the island for your entrance, be my guest.
However, this wasn't a time of war. It was merely a time of peace. The only reason why this ship was even being used was due to a scouting mission in order to gather information on a nearby island rumored to be haunted with mutated animals. Even so, the grand ship, armed with side-mounted iron cannons and mounted rifle stations, wasn't prepared to do battle with much, if at all. The crew on the ship needed somebody experienced with close range battle, however, as the weaponry on the ship was meant for long range. The question is, who would want to escort a crew of marines to an island with the hopes of avoiding any battles?
One young man took the job. His name is Reid Hershel. A red haired youth with brilliant blade tactics and a heart of courage, he could fit the very definition of a hero. He could... if he would actually do something productive. The swordsman merely laid on his back, gazing at the blue sky and watching life pass by in a slow, steady stream. It wasn't a problem for him. Hell, this was the way he wanted to live life. Just to take life easy. His clothes certainly showed how laid back he was. Rather than traditional armor, the teenager wore a piece of thin blue armor that resembled a sports bra more than anything, keeping his lower torso exposed. His waist was covered only by a type of mythril kilt, underneath that being a pair of khaki pants. His boots were merely laced leather boots, and his gloves were just there to protect his hands while wielding his weapons.
Granted, his weapons weren't exactly normal either. In his sword sheath was the Eternal Sword, said to have once been used by a time traveling hero from another dimension. An absurd tale indeed. On his back laid the mighty Gaia Cleaver, an axe known for its destructive power. Did these weapons really have any mystic powers? Hell no, but they did look awesome! The Eternal Sword seems to glow with a purple aura, looking like a hero's blade. The Gaia Cleaver looked like it would murder somebody just from its look with its massive axe head forged from Mother Earth herself.
But, Reid didn't want to use them for anything but hunting. After all, he just wanted an easy job so he could pay for the food bills he keeps racking up during the cold seasons. Upon thinking about the expense of food these days, Reid let out a heavy sigh as he started to sit up on the wooden deck. "Man, how much longer could this trip go for? I'm starved, I really want to hunt something..."
---
OoC: Hope I'm not limiting you with a ship as an arena. If you want to land the ship at the island for your entrance, be my guest.
-
Apiary Tazy
- Member
- Posts: 29598
- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2000 1:00 am
- Location: Flipping a Switch
- Has thanked: 41 times
- Been thanked: 173 times
- Contact:
OoC: <_< I have no explanation.
From the fog this creature came. How it got here, or even how it is able to find people to fight is unknown. All that is known is that it comes from a world of pure weirdness as no living creature we know of can do such things as this creature.
The creature currently had the form of an Ice Cream Cone. It was peaceful Ice Cream Cone with the face only a Mother of all creatures could love. Its only tooth was the exact color as its skin, and in fact looked like it was part of his skin. In fact the entire creature was a misshaded blue, except for its red eyes and mouth. It glided (since it most certainly did not walk) to the tree Fallen was looking out from. From there his “tooth” extended outward, and with a strange noise that sounded like a fox got stuck in a cup of extremely hot coffee his tooth evaporates the entire tree, sending Fallen to the ground.
Fallen looked at this mysterious creature. She had never seen such a creepy creature in her life. Understandable, as even the most bloodthirsty animal would be confused by this creature.
However this creature would not fight her this way. Before Fallen’s eyes he becomes a “human”. No, Becomes is not a word for it, it is more like he was suddenly the human with no warning, morphing, or flashy lights, and if there was it went by too fast for Fallen to follow.
The Human now had Black Spiky Hair and wore a white gi, baggy pants, and bare feet. His skin was light yellowish-Green and his head did not change with the light as it was an ugly looking brown. The creature opened his mouth, and lightning shot out of it as he spoke.
“Mis cajas de la colisión son todas mal, soy una estafa de Ryu y tendré diversión el derrotar que de usted serpiente para mí soy YAMABIKI.” said the creature, which has called itself....Yamabiki.
Yamabiki continued to looks straight as Fallen, waiting for her to move.
=========================================
OoC: Yes, it is a he. It's not an error
From the fog this creature came. How it got here, or even how it is able to find people to fight is unknown. All that is known is that it comes from a world of pure weirdness as no living creature we know of can do such things as this creature.
The creature currently had the form of an Ice Cream Cone. It was peaceful Ice Cream Cone with the face only a Mother of all creatures could love. Its only tooth was the exact color as its skin, and in fact looked like it was part of his skin. In fact the entire creature was a misshaded blue, except for its red eyes and mouth. It glided (since it most certainly did not walk) to the tree Fallen was looking out from. From there his “tooth” extended outward, and with a strange noise that sounded like a fox got stuck in a cup of extremely hot coffee his tooth evaporates the entire tree, sending Fallen to the ground.
Fallen looked at this mysterious creature. She had never seen such a creepy creature in her life. Understandable, as even the most bloodthirsty animal would be confused by this creature.
However this creature would not fight her this way. Before Fallen’s eyes he becomes a “human”. No, Becomes is not a word for it, it is more like he was suddenly the human with no warning, morphing, or flashy lights, and if there was it went by too fast for Fallen to follow.
The Human now had Black Spiky Hair and wore a white gi, baggy pants, and bare feet. His skin was light yellowish-Green and his head did not change with the light as it was an ugly looking brown. The creature opened his mouth, and lightning shot out of it as he spoke.
“Mis cajas de la colisión son todas mal, soy una estafa de Ryu y tendré diversión el derrotar que de usted serpiente para mí soy YAMABIKI.” said the creature, which has called itself....Yamabiki.
Yamabiki continued to looks straight as Fallen, waiting for her to move.
=========================================
OoC: Yes, it is a he. It's not an error
-
Galefore
- Member
- Posts: 9354
- Joined: Tue Jan 04, 2005 2:00 am
- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
OoC: Note that I will be controlling the knight. I’m certain this post is going to be lame to the reader. Fortunately, I’ve a few tricks up my sleeve to improve this.
MUSHI: Log on to ****ing AIM. Now. I need to discuss what this post and battle amounts to and what we both need to know. Do not write anything until I’ve explained this.
-------------------------------------------------------
The paths were twisted. Not a single straight road in sight, and not a single twinkle of light. The stars hid themselves as if ashamed behind bilious clouds scattered only a small distance over the earth. And as if it couldn’t be any more daunting of a scene, there was a gate straight ahead whose gnarled posts bore signs reflecting the innards of the crossroads. Grass of a deceptively teal shade spread far, yet it was cut in an oddly neat manner. A damp, cool air filled the place, and for the sake of unholy satisfaction, a flare was ignited on each post to illuminate the unknown tongue written upon each. Some thought these signs were warnings, or perhaps some form of direction to those who spoke whatever broken language the architects of old used to etch their legacy. Either way, it was a hopeless labor to translate them, and most completely ignored their existence.
The crossroads, known so because no other name could so adequately or ironically describe the gnarled twisting of roads ahead. Each led to a unique place, but only one of those places was at all desirable; this land was home to a ruined kingdom, whose secrets, whose treasure, and whose legacy was left undiscovered. As such, men seeking knowledge, those seeking gold, and those seeking honor came about these lands, choosing one of the ten gnarled paths before them. None knew where each path led, only that the tales speak ill of the fates of those who were unfortunate enough to choose incorrectly.
And so it goes.
Yet there was one last thing keeping this stockpile of treasures safe. It has been said that even the ones who choose the correct path came face-to-hollowness with an enigmatic being. He was said to bear a mask of silver, which left no orifice or hint of what dwelled beneath. Fully armored in white, this “knight” of silver dwelled quietly until one whose luck led him to this path of righteousness. He was the final test; a warrior who attacked those nearby his lair with a supposedly unheard of ferocity.
Nonetheless, this legend did not at all phase travelers. After all, there was a gain to all of this; and mockery of man’s mind be barred here, for of course, somebody had decided to travel to the crossroads on this night.
For what better proof of nature than the natural occurring…
MUSHI: Log on to ****ing AIM. Now. I need to discuss what this post and battle amounts to and what we both need to know. Do not write anything until I’ve explained this.
-------------------------------------------------------
The paths were twisted. Not a single straight road in sight, and not a single twinkle of light. The stars hid themselves as if ashamed behind bilious clouds scattered only a small distance over the earth. And as if it couldn’t be any more daunting of a scene, there was a gate straight ahead whose gnarled posts bore signs reflecting the innards of the crossroads. Grass of a deceptively teal shade spread far, yet it was cut in an oddly neat manner. A damp, cool air filled the place, and for the sake of unholy satisfaction, a flare was ignited on each post to illuminate the unknown tongue written upon each. Some thought these signs were warnings, or perhaps some form of direction to those who spoke whatever broken language the architects of old used to etch their legacy. Either way, it was a hopeless labor to translate them, and most completely ignored their existence.
The crossroads, known so because no other name could so adequately or ironically describe the gnarled twisting of roads ahead. Each led to a unique place, but only one of those places was at all desirable; this land was home to a ruined kingdom, whose secrets, whose treasure, and whose legacy was left undiscovered. As such, men seeking knowledge, those seeking gold, and those seeking honor came about these lands, choosing one of the ten gnarled paths before them. None knew where each path led, only that the tales speak ill of the fates of those who were unfortunate enough to choose incorrectly.
And so it goes.
Yet there was one last thing keeping this stockpile of treasures safe. It has been said that even the ones who choose the correct path came face-to-hollowness with an enigmatic being. He was said to bear a mask of silver, which left no orifice or hint of what dwelled beneath. Fully armored in white, this “knight” of silver dwelled quietly until one whose luck led him to this path of righteousness. He was the final test; a warrior who attacked those nearby his lair with a supposedly unheard of ferocity.
Nonetheless, this legend did not at all phase travelers. After all, there was a gain to all of this; and mockery of man’s mind be barred here, for of course, somebody had decided to travel to the crossroads on this night.
For what better proof of nature than the natural occurring…
Because it's important (from the chat topic):
Kargath wrote:... I do not look fondly upon this. In fact I consider it a form of cheating the system.
Therefore:
From this point forth, if I see that you have edited a post in the battle topic, I will detract at minimum two points from the score I give you.
Why is it drug addicts and computer afficionados are both called users?
-Clifford Stoll
-Clifford Stoll
-
The Willful Wanderer
- Member
- Posts: 2221
- Joined: Fri Mar 05, 2004 2:00 am
- Location: Aisle 12, between the kumquats and the radicchio.
Detour.
As she brachiated downwards, Fallen Star suddenly winced, nearly losing her grip on one of the springy branches of the spruce. It sounded like someone- or something- was torturing a fox. Given what else she had encountered in the area, it wouldn’t be too surprising for the scarred young woman if there had been some unnatural creature-
And this was the point where the tree vanished.
Grip lost, Fallen Star tumbled the rest of the way more or less reflexively, her thoughts briefly shocked out of order. In the midst of her jumble of suddenly-flailing limbs, she caught a proper glimpse of just what had happened. The tree had vanished. Entirely. Just... gone. Sturdy but thin moccasins touched down on level ground where there ought to have at least been a pit from the tree’s root ball, and her one green eye glanced about with caution. This was... dangerous. To say the least. Something had removed the tree, and left her completely unscathed. Worse, she’d not noticed the tree going away, simply its being gone.
Presently, the short, scarred woman beheld a.... well, she didn’t know what it was. That was really saying something, since it appeared.... Mind, she was familiar with most forms of animal. She couldn’t help but be so, between her frequent scouting and her connection with the natural world. The problem was that whatever this was, it wasn’t an animal. It didn’t even have any features of an animal. The rounded top of the thing seemed to be melting slightly, and the blue cone at the bottom of it stopped slightly before the top of the grass. The two red eyes appeared to be matching the stare of her lone green one, and the bizarre mouth with its one fang hung slack at her.
This was about when her eye socket tingled.
The thin scar running vertically from just above her left eyebrow down to her left cheekbone, right through the middle of where her eye once was, had left her eyelids more or less intact. Still, it was rather disturbing, she was told, for an eye to open into simply a mass of scar. More importantly, for whatever reason that scar could feel magic. And as the bizarre thing turned into what looked like a startlingly nondescript man, bizarre coloration aside, Fallen Star felt magic. A lot of magic.
The ex-tribal warrior lowered herself into a more stable stance as the man-thing interposed himself between her and where she was heading. The odd results of its (his?) strange speech she ignored as colorful, but not particularly noteworthy. Not, she reflected, that paying attention to its speech did her any good. Whatever language the creature was speaking was not one she had ever heard, let alone learned.
And then... it just stood there.
For several seconds, she reciprocated, staring at it as steadily as it stared at her. What could the thing possibly want?
Before too long, she would have to keep going. The rest of the crew needed to know what she did, needed to leave the isle. And she couldn't fathom any reason for taking any more time with the odd creature. So, without further ado, she charged.
Opening its mouth to say something else (no doubt something incomprehensible as before) the creature was caught completely off-guard as one of Fallen Star’s arms hooked around, gray cloak swirling as she swiped a leg out from under it, sending it tumbling to the dirt and herself whirling through the air above it in a forwards flip. Both of her feet touched grass, and then she was off like a shot, speeding through the fog.
Maybe, she thought, she could lose the thing. Maybe.
As she brachiated downwards, Fallen Star suddenly winced, nearly losing her grip on one of the springy branches of the spruce. It sounded like someone- or something- was torturing a fox. Given what else she had encountered in the area, it wouldn’t be too surprising for the scarred young woman if there had been some unnatural creature-
And this was the point where the tree vanished.
Grip lost, Fallen Star tumbled the rest of the way more or less reflexively, her thoughts briefly shocked out of order. In the midst of her jumble of suddenly-flailing limbs, she caught a proper glimpse of just what had happened. The tree had vanished. Entirely. Just... gone. Sturdy but thin moccasins touched down on level ground where there ought to have at least been a pit from the tree’s root ball, and her one green eye glanced about with caution. This was... dangerous. To say the least. Something had removed the tree, and left her completely unscathed. Worse, she’d not noticed the tree going away, simply its being gone.
Presently, the short, scarred woman beheld a.... well, she didn’t know what it was. That was really saying something, since it appeared.... Mind, she was familiar with most forms of animal. She couldn’t help but be so, between her frequent scouting and her connection with the natural world. The problem was that whatever this was, it wasn’t an animal. It didn’t even have any features of an animal. The rounded top of the thing seemed to be melting slightly, and the blue cone at the bottom of it stopped slightly before the top of the grass. The two red eyes appeared to be matching the stare of her lone green one, and the bizarre mouth with its one fang hung slack at her.
This was about when her eye socket tingled.
The thin scar running vertically from just above her left eyebrow down to her left cheekbone, right through the middle of where her eye once was, had left her eyelids more or less intact. Still, it was rather disturbing, she was told, for an eye to open into simply a mass of scar. More importantly, for whatever reason that scar could feel magic. And as the bizarre thing turned into what looked like a startlingly nondescript man, bizarre coloration aside, Fallen Star felt magic. A lot of magic.
The ex-tribal warrior lowered herself into a more stable stance as the man-thing interposed himself between her and where she was heading. The odd results of its (his?) strange speech she ignored as colorful, but not particularly noteworthy. Not, she reflected, that paying attention to its speech did her any good. Whatever language the creature was speaking was not one she had ever heard, let alone learned.
And then... it just stood there.
For several seconds, she reciprocated, staring at it as steadily as it stared at her. What could the thing possibly want?
Before too long, she would have to keep going. The rest of the crew needed to know what she did, needed to leave the isle. And she couldn't fathom any reason for taking any more time with the odd creature. So, without further ado, she charged.
Opening its mouth to say something else (no doubt something incomprehensible as before) the creature was caught completely off-guard as one of Fallen Star’s arms hooked around, gray cloak swirling as she swiped a leg out from under it, sending it tumbling to the dirt and herself whirling through the air above it in a forwards flip. Both of her feet touched grass, and then she was off like a shot, speeding through the fog.
Maybe, she thought, she could lose the thing. Maybe.
\"What if nothing means anything? What if nothing really matters?.....
...Or suppose <b><i>EVERYTHING</b></i> matters. Which would be worse?\"
-Calvin
\"Joke \'em if they can\'t take a f$%k.\"
...Or suppose <b><i>EVERYTHING</b></i> matters. Which would be worse?\"
-Calvin
\"Joke \'em if they can\'t take a f$%k.\"
-
Vapor
- Member
- Posts: 5156
- Joined: Tue Oct 25, 2005 1:00 am
- Location: WHERE IT'S AT
- Contact:
-
Galefore
- Member
- Posts: 9354
- Joined: Tue Jan 04, 2005 2:00 am
- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
I can't allow this. I'll allow you to do that after the round has had time called, but people make blunders and can, as I openly stated last year, edit their posts. After time has been called, however, it's illegal. This rule has already been made, but 2 points is very extreme. If I were you, I'd do 1 or perhaps a half of a point for each edit you notice after time has been called. Otherwise, you've no reason to do something that ridiculous... I do not look fondly upon this. In fact I consider it a form of cheating the system.
Therefore:
From this point forth, if I see that you have edited a post in the battle topic, I will detract at minimum two points from the score I give you.
-
Mushi
- Member
- Posts: 6880
- Joined: Thu Apr 20, 2006 10:54 pm
- Location: In a van down by the river.
- Has thanked: 2 times
- Been thanked: 11 times
There he stood, a single man in this otherwise lonely scene. He stood perfectly still at the center of the crossroads, his eyes shut, his dark hair held up in flaky, drooping spikes from the gel he had applied some two days ago. What seemed to be scene from a tale of wonder and fantasy was completely shattered simply by his presence. He wore clothing of the completely average variety, a black t-shirt that bore the “Metallica” logo and pair of faded blue jeans were the only things that one would notice about this boy. The soles of his sneakers were worn thin by endless travel, his body covered in the dirt and grime of ceaseless toil.
Suddenly, he stirred, slowly trudging to one of the sign posts. When he came within two feet of it, he flung himself at the object, holding his ear close to its ancient surface, rubbing his index finger against the wording, like a blind man reading Brail. At length, he opened his eyes, his left burning a fiery red and his right a raging deep blue.
He stepped back, returning to the center of the place. He took a deep breath, and allowed his senses to be serenaded by the harmonious sounds of silence. He closed his mind to the world, and quietly began to introspect.
The sound started soft, like a light breeze, slowly rising in tone and assertiveness. “Have you found the way?” A woman’s voice cooed in his ear.
“I was unable to translate the language. I have no knowledge of this script.” He replied without making a sound. He heard a soft sigh.
“Then I suppose I shall have to take more drastic measures.” The voice said, a malicious tone to it.
The boy looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He fell sputtering to the ground, his eyes rolling back into his skull, his arms and legs flailing. After several seconds, he ceased all movements, the peaceful silence returning to the crossroads. A devilish grin spread across his face as he slowly stood up. His head swiveled from left to right, catching a glimpse of all ten paths.
“Eeny… meeny… miney…” His head jerked to the right, and he stared down one of the gnarled paths, there was no obvious difference between it and the other paths, except, of course, where it lead. “Moe.” With a smirk on his face, he dashed down the path.
But would it lead him to his sought prize?
Suddenly, he stirred, slowly trudging to one of the sign posts. When he came within two feet of it, he flung himself at the object, holding his ear close to its ancient surface, rubbing his index finger against the wording, like a blind man reading Brail. At length, he opened his eyes, his left burning a fiery red and his right a raging deep blue.
He stepped back, returning to the center of the place. He took a deep breath, and allowed his senses to be serenaded by the harmonious sounds of silence. He closed his mind to the world, and quietly began to introspect.
The sound started soft, like a light breeze, slowly rising in tone and assertiveness. “Have you found the way?” A woman’s voice cooed in his ear.
“I was unable to translate the language. I have no knowledge of this script.” He replied without making a sound. He heard a soft sigh.
“Then I suppose I shall have to take more drastic measures.” The voice said, a malicious tone to it.
The boy looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He fell sputtering to the ground, his eyes rolling back into his skull, his arms and legs flailing. After several seconds, he ceased all movements, the peaceful silence returning to the crossroads. A devilish grin spread across his face as he slowly stood up. His head swiveled from left to right, catching a glimpse of all ten paths.
“Eeny… meeny… miney…” His head jerked to the right, and he stared down one of the gnarled paths, there was no obvious difference between it and the other paths, except, of course, where it lead. “Moe.” With a smirk on his face, he dashed down the path.
But would it lead him to his sought prize?
-
Apiary Tazy
- Member
- Posts: 29598
- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2000 1:00 am
- Location: Flipping a Switch
- Has thanked: 41 times
- Been thanked: 173 times
- Contact:
The Creature stood there looking straight at Fallen as she analyzed the creature. He never moved, except only to breathe, and if Fallen were to never move, so would this mysterious creature. However, since Fallen is incapable of not moving for all eternity, and also since she would have to get back to her comrades, she decided to attempt losing this "Thing".
She charged at full speed towards the strange creature and knocked it off its feet, then ran in the opposite direction in an attempt to get away from this strange "thing". Yamabiki fell to the ground and seemed lifeless sitting against the grass. His eyes stayed open and he seemed to half-enjoy being forced to the ground. Suddenly, his body followed Fallen, as if it were being pushed in her direction.
Fallen put all of her focus into running to the shore, hoping that she could either find a boat, or find land near this island of fog. If worse came to worse she may even have to swim in order to get back to where she left the "crew" or what ever it was she was trying to get to.
Finally she reached the shore, only to find that no boats, or people waited at the shore, and the fog kept her from seeing any trace of land that wouldn't be about a mile off. She turned back, only to see the same creature she lost, still laying from where she left him, only farther from her. She had no choice, but to get into the water, thinking that maybe, it wouldn't be able to survive in water. She turned towards the water and ran for it, only to meet a "wall" of.....something. She tried to push against it, thinking she could knock it down, but instead it seemed to be pushing her back. She looked back to see that Yamabiki was back on his feet, and walking backwards forcing her back with him. Maybe he was showing that he was in control of the invisible walls. Yamabiki opened his mouth yet again and the lightning was even brighter than before.
"¡Ku Ku Ku Ku! Usted es incapaz de escapar el intento malévolo del programador del juego. ¡Usted y yo ahora lucharemos, y ganaré!!" Bellowed the Light Green Monster as he spread his legs out and put his hands behind him. Fallen was too exhausted to see exactly what he doing, but she could plainly see he had his hands forming a Flame of sorts. As he formed this flame, the creature yelled "SHANKIN' TURDUCKEN!" in a voice completely different from the tone he had spoken to her before in. He threw the fire at Fallen, allowing her to take a good look at what was now a bird on fire. The only thing she could thing she could think of was to duck and hope it would not hit her or explode or even shoot something at her. She was unable to see what it did, but Fallen was able to tell it was coming back to Yamabiki. Yamabiki's Eyes became wide as the bird flew at top speed into his face.
Fallen attempted to get up, but as she did, her entire body got hit by a strange force, knocking her to the ground. She tried to see what hit her, but all she saw was Yamabiki on the ground, and felt the wall was still at her back. Yamabiki stood up faster than Fallen's eyes could follow and went back to staring at her.
She charged at full speed towards the strange creature and knocked it off its feet, then ran in the opposite direction in an attempt to get away from this strange "thing". Yamabiki fell to the ground and seemed lifeless sitting against the grass. His eyes stayed open and he seemed to half-enjoy being forced to the ground. Suddenly, his body followed Fallen, as if it were being pushed in her direction.
Fallen put all of her focus into running to the shore, hoping that she could either find a boat, or find land near this island of fog. If worse came to worse she may even have to swim in order to get back to where she left the "crew" or what ever it was she was trying to get to.
Finally she reached the shore, only to find that no boats, or people waited at the shore, and the fog kept her from seeing any trace of land that wouldn't be about a mile off. She turned back, only to see the same creature she lost, still laying from where she left him, only farther from her. She had no choice, but to get into the water, thinking that maybe, it wouldn't be able to survive in water. She turned towards the water and ran for it, only to meet a "wall" of.....something. She tried to push against it, thinking she could knock it down, but instead it seemed to be pushing her back. She looked back to see that Yamabiki was back on his feet, and walking backwards forcing her back with him. Maybe he was showing that he was in control of the invisible walls. Yamabiki opened his mouth yet again and the lightning was even brighter than before.
"¡Ku Ku Ku Ku! Usted es incapaz de escapar el intento malévolo del programador del juego. ¡Usted y yo ahora lucharemos, y ganaré!!" Bellowed the Light Green Monster as he spread his legs out and put his hands behind him. Fallen was too exhausted to see exactly what he doing, but she could plainly see he had his hands forming a Flame of sorts. As he formed this flame, the creature yelled "SHANKIN' TURDUCKEN!" in a voice completely different from the tone he had spoken to her before in. He threw the fire at Fallen, allowing her to take a good look at what was now a bird on fire. The only thing she could thing she could think of was to duck and hope it would not hit her or explode or even shoot something at her. She was unable to see what it did, but Fallen was able to tell it was coming back to Yamabiki. Yamabiki's Eyes became wide as the bird flew at top speed into his face.
Fallen attempted to get up, but as she did, her entire body got hit by a strange force, knocking her to the ground. She tried to see what hit her, but all she saw was Yamabiki on the ground, and felt the wall was still at her back. Yamabiki stood up faster than Fallen's eyes could follow and went back to staring at her.
-
The Willful Wanderer
- Member
- Posts: 2221
- Joined: Fri Mar 05, 2004 2:00 am
- Location: Aisle 12, between the kumquats and the radicchio.
Barbecued Iguana, huh?
Pressed once more prone thanks to the odd, unidentifiable force, Fallen Star could not help staring at the strange green man. He had moved faster than she could watch. He had moved faster than she could watch.
The short woman frowned at that, both eyebrows and thus part of the scar drawing nearer the bridge of her nose incrimentally. That was not possible. he must have broken her tempo. Excusable, given the constant shouting in strange languages, and the rebounding flaming bird attack. She'd heard of phoenix before, but this was clearly not a thing to do with it.
Carefully, slowly lest she be slapped once more to earth, the unarmed woman drew herself up from the ground. The tassels on the bands of her leggings brushed one another gently as her hand felt along the invisible surface behind her. So. There was no returning to the ship and crew right now. It was fairly clear that who or whatever this was, it was responsible.
A quick glance with her eye, a faint flaring of her nostrils, and a brief focus on sound yielded that no, there did not seem to be any other agent of this impedence in the area. She could not go past this obstacle- so she would go over. One reasonably sure she would not be flattened once more, the indigo-haired woman gave the stranger a brief irritated look, and then once more charged.
Her low stance left her well-set to dodge what appeared to be a duck-headed snake flying at her, accompanied by a cry of 'SPATULAR RECONNAISANCE!' Her chin nearly brushed the ground as she half-ducked, half-juked to her right, recovering near-instantly from the intentional fall. With a smooth bounce over the steady motion of her feet, she crouched and pounced upon the bizarre being.
A swift spin brought Fallen Star's arms around such that the fingers of her right hand dug shallow furrows across the being's face. Even as she left those scoremarks she continued the motion, bringing the back of the opposed fist around and slamming it into the man-thing's shoulder.
"¡Ay!" It exclaimed, turning from the blow even as whatever passed for its blood began to flow from its face. Still the tribal woman continued her motion, and her left heel met the back of his head with the resounding ring of a large brass gong. The warrior's heel swept over her adversary's head thanks to his doubling over and she landed on the foot that had struck him.
Green arms began to wheel, crumpling the formerly-pristine white gi-sleeves as whatever-it-was attempted to regain its balance, but Fallen Star was a warrior trained, and not one to let up. Her left moccasin dug a furrow in the sandy beach that quickly filled, a vague line amongst the many dunes of the cove's rim. Then, a burst of silicate as she sprang back the way she came. Rebounding over the black-haired one, she lashed one hand down, digging her fingers and fingernails viciously into its neck before yanking- hard.
A quick, bursting spray of sand and Fallen Star was once more on her feet, while the strange being was careening back to terra firma in a shallow arc. Perhaps the air was knocked out of it, perhaps not, but it was given no time to recover from impact before a flying kick landed in its belly, digging it into the soft, cushioning turf.
The fight, as they might say, was on.
Pressed once more prone thanks to the odd, unidentifiable force, Fallen Star could not help staring at the strange green man. He had moved faster than she could watch. He had moved faster than she could watch.
The short woman frowned at that, both eyebrows and thus part of the scar drawing nearer the bridge of her nose incrimentally. That was not possible. he must have broken her tempo. Excusable, given the constant shouting in strange languages, and the rebounding flaming bird attack. She'd heard of phoenix before, but this was clearly not a thing to do with it.
Carefully, slowly lest she be slapped once more to earth, the unarmed woman drew herself up from the ground. The tassels on the bands of her leggings brushed one another gently as her hand felt along the invisible surface behind her. So. There was no returning to the ship and crew right now. It was fairly clear that who or whatever this was, it was responsible.
A quick glance with her eye, a faint flaring of her nostrils, and a brief focus on sound yielded that no, there did not seem to be any other agent of this impedence in the area. She could not go past this obstacle- so she would go over. One reasonably sure she would not be flattened once more, the indigo-haired woman gave the stranger a brief irritated look, and then once more charged.
Her low stance left her well-set to dodge what appeared to be a duck-headed snake flying at her, accompanied by a cry of 'SPATULAR RECONNAISANCE!' Her chin nearly brushed the ground as she half-ducked, half-juked to her right, recovering near-instantly from the intentional fall. With a smooth bounce over the steady motion of her feet, she crouched and pounced upon the bizarre being.
A swift spin brought Fallen Star's arms around such that the fingers of her right hand dug shallow furrows across the being's face. Even as she left those scoremarks she continued the motion, bringing the back of the opposed fist around and slamming it into the man-thing's shoulder.
"¡Ay!" It exclaimed, turning from the blow even as whatever passed for its blood began to flow from its face. Still the tribal woman continued her motion, and her left heel met the back of his head with the resounding ring of a large brass gong. The warrior's heel swept over her adversary's head thanks to his doubling over and she landed on the foot that had struck him.
Green arms began to wheel, crumpling the formerly-pristine white gi-sleeves as whatever-it-was attempted to regain its balance, but Fallen Star was a warrior trained, and not one to let up. Her left moccasin dug a furrow in the sandy beach that quickly filled, a vague line amongst the many dunes of the cove's rim. Then, a burst of silicate as she sprang back the way she came. Rebounding over the black-haired one, she lashed one hand down, digging her fingers and fingernails viciously into its neck before yanking- hard.
A quick, bursting spray of sand and Fallen Star was once more on her feet, while the strange being was careening back to terra firma in a shallow arc. Perhaps the air was knocked out of it, perhaps not, but it was given no time to recover from impact before a flying kick landed in its belly, digging it into the soft, cushioning turf.
The fight, as they might say, was on.
\"What if nothing means anything? What if nothing really matters?.....
...Or suppose <b><i>EVERYTHING</b></i> matters. Which would be worse?\"
-Calvin
\"Joke \'em if they can\'t take a f$%k.\"
...Or suppose <b><i>EVERYTHING</b></i> matters. Which would be worse?\"
-Calvin
\"Joke \'em if they can\'t take a f$%k.\"
-
Galefore
- Member
- Posts: 9354
- Joined: Tue Jan 04, 2005 2:00 am
- Location: ur wildest dreems lol
-
Phenom
- Member
- Posts: 7914
- Joined: Fri Apr 20, 2001 1:00 am
- Location: Canada
As if on cue with Reid's profession of boredom, an unprecedented and profound force made its collision with the battleship’s port side, bringing an effective end to the young adventurer’s thought of hunger and hunting. The impact was such that the entire vessel lurched starboard, sending several marines careening into the guardrails as the boat paused at nearly a forty-five degree angle before swinging back the other direction, tilting to and fro several more nauseating times before finally coming to a relative standstill again.
Having been tossed about the deck like a rag doll from the sudden and mind-boggling assault, Reid finally regained his balance after several moments of failed attempts and wasted no time in sprinting to the port side of the ship to survey what had to be massive damage to the cruiser. Had they been attacked by an enemy ship? Collided with an unseen obstruction in the water? These questions rifled through the young man’s mind while in mid-stride he opted to unsheathe his Eternal Sword in the now likely event of some form of physical encounter.
As he hustled around the bow of the ship, Reid heard the distinctive howls of the crewmates he was assigned to escort on the mission. As he drew closer to the relative site of all the commotion, he became all the more unnerved that the shouts he had previously heard so clearly had abruptly been replaced by complete silence. As he peeled around the final corner to the boat’s port side, the scene that he had chanced upon was one he had never expected to see in his lifetime. There was no indication of any substantial damage to the ships side. There was neither sound of water pouring in to a gaping hole in the hull nor the smell of site of thick black smoke denoting a fire in the engine room. However, the scene on the deck was enough to make the weak of heart vomit in revulsion if they had not been overcome with sheer bewilderment first.
The river of black blood hit Reid’s boots before he could discern what his eyes beheld. As the warm liquid soaked his soles, Reid snapped out of his surprised daze and surveyed the slaughter that he had come upon. A dozen marines lay motionless before him, slain with cold precision. The majority of them had been decapitated, their heads rolling slightly in unison with the boats melody, dictated by the sea. The rest had been run through their hearts, as they lay with vacant gazes directed skyward as blood gushed from their torso wounds. Amongst the sadistic carnage was the most surprising site of all. An ancient-looking man whose eyes held about as much life in them as did the eyes of the men he had murdered mere moments before. In his left hand he grasped the evident tool of destruction; a hefty-looking meat cleaver, no different than one would see in any butcher shop.
The site of the elderly assailant was made all the more bizarre by his form of dress. From head to toe, his stick-thin frame was immersed in formal wear befitting of a butler. His black coat was complemented by a matching pair of lacks and dress shoes shined to the nth degree. His white dress shirt, still firmly pressed, was besmirched in its radiance by splotches of blood that no-doubt came from his recent killing spree. The long, thin strands of his snow-white hair were slicked back and did little to cover his pale head adorned with patches of lover spots. A pencil-thin mustache hugged his upper lip, barely noticeable on his colorless face.
But most striking about this elderly assassin were his aforementioned eyes. As Reid gazed into the eyes of the killer, he was certain that no soul rested behind them. They were clouded substantially and gave only the faintest hint of blue. The pupils were small, cold and calculating; and now they turned to meet Reid’s.
“Good afternoon, sir.” The old man wheezed, removing a white handkerchief and wiping the gore off of his weapon. He gave an inexplicably polite that revealed teeth that had yellowed with age.
“So sorry to make a mess of things, but it is my masters will. Bound by an oath of servitude, there wasn’t any alternative I’m afraid!” He chuckled as if his murderous rampage was the punch line to a sadistic joke.
“I’m afraid I have strict orders to put an end to your little study of our island. Master enjoys his solitude from the world and won’t have you muddying it up.” The man threw his bloodied handkerchief atop a mound of dead marines and slowly began to approach Reid with his meat cleaver held firmly at his side.
“When you meet your maker, tell them the butler Grimson sent you. They’ll understand, I’ve long done these deeds for master.”
Having been tossed about the deck like a rag doll from the sudden and mind-boggling assault, Reid finally regained his balance after several moments of failed attempts and wasted no time in sprinting to the port side of the ship to survey what had to be massive damage to the cruiser. Had they been attacked by an enemy ship? Collided with an unseen obstruction in the water? These questions rifled through the young man’s mind while in mid-stride he opted to unsheathe his Eternal Sword in the now likely event of some form of physical encounter.
As he hustled around the bow of the ship, Reid heard the distinctive howls of the crewmates he was assigned to escort on the mission. As he drew closer to the relative site of all the commotion, he became all the more unnerved that the shouts he had previously heard so clearly had abruptly been replaced by complete silence. As he peeled around the final corner to the boat’s port side, the scene that he had chanced upon was one he had never expected to see in his lifetime. There was no indication of any substantial damage to the ships side. There was neither sound of water pouring in to a gaping hole in the hull nor the smell of site of thick black smoke denoting a fire in the engine room. However, the scene on the deck was enough to make the weak of heart vomit in revulsion if they had not been overcome with sheer bewilderment first.
The river of black blood hit Reid’s boots before he could discern what his eyes beheld. As the warm liquid soaked his soles, Reid snapped out of his surprised daze and surveyed the slaughter that he had come upon. A dozen marines lay motionless before him, slain with cold precision. The majority of them had been decapitated, their heads rolling slightly in unison with the boats melody, dictated by the sea. The rest had been run through their hearts, as they lay with vacant gazes directed skyward as blood gushed from their torso wounds. Amongst the sadistic carnage was the most surprising site of all. An ancient-looking man whose eyes held about as much life in them as did the eyes of the men he had murdered mere moments before. In his left hand he grasped the evident tool of destruction; a hefty-looking meat cleaver, no different than one would see in any butcher shop.
The site of the elderly assailant was made all the more bizarre by his form of dress. From head to toe, his stick-thin frame was immersed in formal wear befitting of a butler. His black coat was complemented by a matching pair of lacks and dress shoes shined to the nth degree. His white dress shirt, still firmly pressed, was besmirched in its radiance by splotches of blood that no-doubt came from his recent killing spree. The long, thin strands of his snow-white hair were slicked back and did little to cover his pale head adorned with patches of lover spots. A pencil-thin mustache hugged his upper lip, barely noticeable on his colorless face.
But most striking about this elderly assassin were his aforementioned eyes. As Reid gazed into the eyes of the killer, he was certain that no soul rested behind them. They were clouded substantially and gave only the faintest hint of blue. The pupils were small, cold and calculating; and now they turned to meet Reid’s.
“Good afternoon, sir.” The old man wheezed, removing a white handkerchief and wiping the gore off of his weapon. He gave an inexplicably polite that revealed teeth that had yellowed with age.
“So sorry to make a mess of things, but it is my masters will. Bound by an oath of servitude, there wasn’t any alternative I’m afraid!” He chuckled as if his murderous rampage was the punch line to a sadistic joke.
“I’m afraid I have strict orders to put an end to your little study of our island. Master enjoys his solitude from the world and won’t have you muddying it up.” The man threw his bloodied handkerchief atop a mound of dead marines and slowly began to approach Reid with his meat cleaver held firmly at his side.
“When you meet your maker, tell them the butler Grimson sent you. They’ll understand, I’ve long done these deeds for master.”