“Rat.”
Erasmus was dying,, as all whose bones are being reduced to powder usually are. His system, although completely unaffected, could not survive being pummeled, and even if he survived long enough to be bled to dryness, he would died as soon as the roots smashed his brain, just as any other being. So it was best that he got out of this.
“Rat.”
He couldn’t resist it now. The roots were squeezing until a sickly red foam had begun forming at his lips. Crimson, it flooded now, his throat collapsing even as the roots groped his flesh. He let the very outpour occur, knowing this a battle he had lost; after all, it wasn’t this battle he lost if he died here, it was the very goal he set when he decided his way was the only way. He knew he had to, had to, at least slay this singular entity, or else he would die a failure.
But color fled his face. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he sighed a terrible wheeze of a last breath.
As the blood slid down the burnt flesh on his laboratory-constructed skull, he let himself go. From every orifice of his body, scarlet leaked, as a final vomit of his ammunition in sheer ‘surrender’. Vengeance couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed. This man had spoken of so much, yet died so quickly. And this time, he knew this man to be dead. No man fakes his death twice, and nobody can survive being bled to death…
“…r”
Vengeance turned, leaving his gnarled tree there as a headstone for the fallen villain. The old sage’s lifeless, bloodied face showed no signs of movement as the stuffed being began his trek back to the church.
“a…”
As was natural, the blood began to harden and cake. As quickly as oxygen had taken effect and nature ran its course, such dangerous lifeblood had now been reduced to fresh paint.
“..t..”
But it was so much more. It was drying in sheets, thickening; it twisted and marbled, just as it had when he formed his death trap earlier. It was now so much more; it was a tree of ice. He wanted it that way. As the shriveled corpse slowly opened his colorless eyes, he pulled his arm, limp, from the ice, sliding it as easily as possible. With one deft movement of his mind, he flicked his index finger from his thumb, and just like that, the massive tree shattered with a mere thump.
Ven, of course, knew this was coming, but what he didn’t expect was a corpse of a man already fully shambled up to him, holding a shard of the ice-tree, to jab said dagger into his stuffed body and then jam his spotted fingers into the fiery jack-o-lantern, yanking upward and tearing the pumpkin’s eye-sockets into sickly tunnels of flame. Ven’s hat fluttered to the ground, alighting and almost being caught by the wind before Erasmus stomped on it, staggering as his limp, bloodless body recovered from the violent gesture.
“You insolent RAT,” shouted the old man, and he raised his arm for another stab.
NLBFT 12: The Third Round Calls
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Galefore
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The Willful Wanderer
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- Location: Aisle 12, between the kumquats and the radicchio.
Zero Temperature
((Open this one in another window or tab.
Woo electronica?))
*******
Rusty blade in hand, Hagen stalked forth across the valley, feet sinking into the fresh slide of snow. Weight had packed the mass fairly well into the valley and left it only compacting some under the mountain-man's weight. This was a small blessing for him, a sign in his eyes that of his deities' continuing favor. That he would still be able to follow this sinner was surely their will, worthy of a passing acknowledgement as he continued in his pursuit of the woman with hair of darkest indigo.
The tips of trees protruded from the heavy whiteness at an angle, showing the man, were he to have forgotten, from which direction he had come- and in which direction the scarred woman had fled.
That grated on him.
The look of the woman had been that of a warrior- and she had deemed him not worth fighting, instead dumping a mountainside atop him almost without stopping to actually engage him. Such was the arrogance of the sinner, and he would prove it in the wrong. The rusty edge swung idly a few times in the redheaded man's grip as he picked his way generally towards her through the slanting 'scrub' of treetops.
She was close now, Hagen could feel, the defiling soul nearing as he passed a smaller peak nestled within the valley. She was.... there!
*******
Grimacing, Fallen Star clung to the side of the smaller mountain, one arm wedged into a small fissure. She had been able to start the avalanche, yes. She had been able to outrun it as well, so long as she was heading downhill. The valley, however, had filled in much too quickly, forcing her to scramble up the lesser mountain in lieu of its full-sized cousin on the other end of the vale. While climbing she had been unable to fully appreciate the strange beauty of the falling avalanche, but now she took a few moments to simply look out over the fresh whiteness in awe.
The bit of method that Nature had provided to her did indeed bear a strangely serene beauty to it. All the moreso it was beautiful for the new stillness, the part of the forest within the lowest basin of valley obscured in favor of a broad sheet of white. White cloak trailing in a faint breeze, she extended her senses, eyes closing as she began to truly take in what was around her. Ideally, the avalanche had stopped the entire entourage, but the tribeswoman was much too cynical to believe that such had actually happened.
The crisp scent of snow blanketed all and made her ability to detect odor nearly useless with its ubiquity. However, she could rely upon more than that in such instances, and Fallen Star's hearing gradually began to pick it up- the soft crunch of snow underfoot, and the faint sound of low-toned mumbling. Judging her angles and turning her head, she slowly zeroed in on the source of sound. There, below her and off to one side a bit, walked the bearded mountain man. He was clearly still engaged in a search for her- and then he looked up.
The red-bearded face stared right back at her own scarred visage, the two somehow briefly sharing a moment of suspension- and then it broke.
With a howl of "SINNER!", Hagen charged for the miniature mountain that Fallen Star clung to, sword in hand as he made for her present niche. The plainswoman pulled herself up a bit, arm scraping slightly on the less than smooth edges of the crevice she'd wedged it into. She made a quick judgement as to how fast the tattoo-scalped man was traveling before turning her focus to the rock that she clung to. Eyes narrowed, silver and green filling the slits of eyelids in her cinnamon-colored face as Fallen Star examined the smaller cracks radiating out from her perch. Right.... there.
Hauling with her right arm, the white-cloaked woman firmed her left hand into a knife-edge shape, then brought it around and slammed the heel of her thumb into the rock face, her entire body swinging around and up with the force of the motion. A sharp cracking sounded as the stress-point in the granite gave way, even as the purplette's feet swung up over her head. Rock crunched, snapped, gave way, and a large, jagged boulder loosened itself from the slope, already starting to tumble. Fallen Star's moccasins swung up, leggings nearly inverting themselves over the garters below her knees as she gently touched feet to the chunk of rock. It began to fall and, bracing her striking hand against the cliff face, the scarred warrior shifted and surged her legs.
Not only knocked free, but forced away from the slope, a ten-foot boulder described an extremely brief arc before bouncing from the smaller mountain halfway down to the new snow level. Fallen Star could see as she remained braced out perpendicular to the cliff face that Hagen had caught on, turning aside and then running back a short ways. She would not have been eager to recieve that mass of granite herself, and had been counting on this as a momentary distraction.
The boulder plowed into the snow and disappeared entirely in a massive spume of white, cratering deeply. Obscured within instants behind a veil of snow and plunged into a strangely white darkness, Hagen found that while he had averted a swift crushing, he now had to deal with something nearly as fast and just as deadly- a sinkhole in the mass of snow that had blanketed the vale.
It was into this cloud that the indigo-haired woman plunged mere moments later, arrowing down the cliff at an angle, bleeding off her own momentum even as she moved to one side.
Towards Hagen.
((Open this one in another window or tab.
Woo electronica?))
*******
Rusty blade in hand, Hagen stalked forth across the valley, feet sinking into the fresh slide of snow. Weight had packed the mass fairly well into the valley and left it only compacting some under the mountain-man's weight. This was a small blessing for him, a sign in his eyes that of his deities' continuing favor. That he would still be able to follow this sinner was surely their will, worthy of a passing acknowledgement as he continued in his pursuit of the woman with hair of darkest indigo.
The tips of trees protruded from the heavy whiteness at an angle, showing the man, were he to have forgotten, from which direction he had come- and in which direction the scarred woman had fled.
That grated on him.
The look of the woman had been that of a warrior- and she had deemed him not worth fighting, instead dumping a mountainside atop him almost without stopping to actually engage him. Such was the arrogance of the sinner, and he would prove it in the wrong. The rusty edge swung idly a few times in the redheaded man's grip as he picked his way generally towards her through the slanting 'scrub' of treetops.
She was close now, Hagen could feel, the defiling soul nearing as he passed a smaller peak nestled within the valley. She was.... there!
*******
Grimacing, Fallen Star clung to the side of the smaller mountain, one arm wedged into a small fissure. She had been able to start the avalanche, yes. She had been able to outrun it as well, so long as she was heading downhill. The valley, however, had filled in much too quickly, forcing her to scramble up the lesser mountain in lieu of its full-sized cousin on the other end of the vale. While climbing she had been unable to fully appreciate the strange beauty of the falling avalanche, but now she took a few moments to simply look out over the fresh whiteness in awe.
The bit of method that Nature had provided to her did indeed bear a strangely serene beauty to it. All the moreso it was beautiful for the new stillness, the part of the forest within the lowest basin of valley obscured in favor of a broad sheet of white. White cloak trailing in a faint breeze, she extended her senses, eyes closing as she began to truly take in what was around her. Ideally, the avalanche had stopped the entire entourage, but the tribeswoman was much too cynical to believe that such had actually happened.
The crisp scent of snow blanketed all and made her ability to detect odor nearly useless with its ubiquity. However, she could rely upon more than that in such instances, and Fallen Star's hearing gradually began to pick it up- the soft crunch of snow underfoot, and the faint sound of low-toned mumbling. Judging her angles and turning her head, she slowly zeroed in on the source of sound. There, below her and off to one side a bit, walked the bearded mountain man. He was clearly still engaged in a search for her- and then he looked up.
The red-bearded face stared right back at her own scarred visage, the two somehow briefly sharing a moment of suspension- and then it broke.
With a howl of "SINNER!", Hagen charged for the miniature mountain that Fallen Star clung to, sword in hand as he made for her present niche. The plainswoman pulled herself up a bit, arm scraping slightly on the less than smooth edges of the crevice she'd wedged it into. She made a quick judgement as to how fast the tattoo-scalped man was traveling before turning her focus to the rock that she clung to. Eyes narrowed, silver and green filling the slits of eyelids in her cinnamon-colored face as Fallen Star examined the smaller cracks radiating out from her perch. Right.... there.
Hauling with her right arm, the white-cloaked woman firmed her left hand into a knife-edge shape, then brought it around and slammed the heel of her thumb into the rock face, her entire body swinging around and up with the force of the motion. A sharp cracking sounded as the stress-point in the granite gave way, even as the purplette's feet swung up over her head. Rock crunched, snapped, gave way, and a large, jagged boulder loosened itself from the slope, already starting to tumble. Fallen Star's moccasins swung up, leggings nearly inverting themselves over the garters below her knees as she gently touched feet to the chunk of rock. It began to fall and, bracing her striking hand against the cliff face, the scarred warrior shifted and surged her legs.
Not only knocked free, but forced away from the slope, a ten-foot boulder described an extremely brief arc before bouncing from the smaller mountain halfway down to the new snow level. Fallen Star could see as she remained braced out perpendicular to the cliff face that Hagen had caught on, turning aside and then running back a short ways. She would not have been eager to recieve that mass of granite herself, and had been counting on this as a momentary distraction.
The boulder plowed into the snow and disappeared entirely in a massive spume of white, cratering deeply. Obscured within instants behind a veil of snow and plunged into a strangely white darkness, Hagen found that while he had averted a swift crushing, he now had to deal with something nearly as fast and just as deadly- a sinkhole in the mass of snow that had blanketed the vale.
It was into this cloud that the indigo-haired woman plunged mere moments later, arrowing down the cliff at an angle, bleeding off her own momentum even as she moved to one side.
Towards Hagen.
\"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.\"
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Phenom
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- Location: Canada
For the second time in a negligible amount of time, Hagen found himself amidst an intense shift in worldly matter, as the previously firm and solid winter landscape that spanned for miles around him was ruptured suddenly by the massive boulder and quickly morphing into the most unorthodox pit of quicksand ever seen on the fabled mountain range. Hagen had petty fragments of a second following his narrow evasion of the boulder itself to ready himself for another race against time as the previously hard packed snow underneath his fur boots seemed to melt away and sift incredibly rapidly behind him towards the chasm created by the dislodged granite boulder. The landscape from afar resembled paint running down a canvas on a humid day, swirling around and around the newly created pit like water circles violently around the perimeter of a whirlpool at sea before being sucked into its perilous depths. The startled chieftain had no time to appreciate any such beauty however, as once again his already worn out legs were called upon again, driving forth with all their might as the only hope against being pulled into the growing canyon a mere hundred yards behind.
Strong and agile as Hagen was however, his unparalleled hustle seemed nearly fruitless against the rush of snow swiftly sliding in the opposite direction. The total absence of traction created by the slick and constantly vanishing terrain made running against the relentless tide akin to running barefoot uphill on a sheet of pure ice. Lesser men would have sooner let nature take his course and succumbed to the incoming momentum, but the warrior Hagen was a physical specimen fuelled by what he knew could only be the will of those on high. Though he struggled to maintain his stride, though his massive torso heaved in and out more erratically with every passing second and his breath wheezed with exhaustion setting in an no oxygen to replenish his drive, the scarlet bearded man-beast pressed on with unprecedented will.
His eyes never averted from the violet breech amidst the mist and the snow, his only wish to turn its hue to deep red with its owner’s blood. In a moment of lucidity amongst the minor cataclysm, he began to realize how close he was to somehow escaping the maw of death yet again. His eyes widened to comical proportions, his green eyes dilated at the realization that the sturdy foot of the smaller mountain was with in his grasp. The gods willed him towards his goal, his rusty blade still somehow firmly clasped in a vice grip that turned his knuckles white. Not only survival awaited him seldom five feet away, but the glory of casting pious judgment on the scar-faced demoness that caused all this.
No sooner had Hagen concluded his faith-filled self-motivation than it was made all for naught as that same blur of purple he had obsessed with came spiraling down at him with precision and speed that even he could truly marvel at. The two powerful entities collided with the dull thud of humanity on humanity, for a moment the brilliant red of Hagen’s facial hair and Fallen Star’s violet mane entwined to concoct a hue that stood out for miles around amidst the pure white snow. Blink however, and the event would be gone forever, as Hagen’s momentum met the equal and opposite force, seemingly freezing for a millisecond in the embrace of inertia, before the gale force movement of snow hurdling towards the looming precipice carried the entangled duo to certain demise.
With their balance a thing of the past, Fallen Star and Hagen’s bodies convulsed out of control, each frantically attempting to free themselves from their entwinement with the other in time to escape. It was finally Hagen who was able to lift his feet up into the midsection of his formidable adversary, at once rolling backwards and vaulting her like a rag doll into the air and sailing towards ground zero where only the boulder at the bottom would accompany her as she was buried alive. However, he too was at the mercy of what was now essentially a rapid river of snow and in seconds would likely join her. Desperately looking for an escape, Hagen’s heart leapt at the sight of an unearthed tree scraping almost in life-like protest to the current within arms reach. In a body contorting act that defied both gravity and reason, Hagen willed himself to within range of the massive pines body, in the midst of the landslide somehow dragged himself on top of it. While still a paltry few hundred feet from being sucked down into the snowy abyss, he now at least would have a proper vantage point to see…
“You…”
As Hagen came to a standing position on what was essentially an ancient pine-turned-pontoon boat, the warrior saw a sight so improbable that he almost rubbed his tattooed third eye in utter disbelief. He was not alone on the makeshift raft bound for a cold hell, as amongst the green needles of the fallen pines upper reaches emerged the scarred face of the resilient Fallen Star. It was then that the battered and bruised chieftain questioned the powers above for the first time. They were surely laughing at the cruel joke they were playing on him. On a tree bound for a snowy grave, he would have to lay waste to this perplexing thorn in his side. Anger and denial gave way to an ear-to-ear grin on Hagen’s face. This final test before him would either build his stairway to Valhalla, or prove to be his descent to hell. His rusty blade long lost in the deteriorating landscape beneath him and the pine skidding precariously to and fro, Hagen reached both arms out towards Fallen Star, veins bulging as adrenaline surged through them. His palms open and upturned, he curled his fingers towards him, beckoning his opponent to approach him in what seemed to be their final dance. Save an immaculate scenario, their fate was already sealed. Their pride however, was up for grabs.
Strong and agile as Hagen was however, his unparalleled hustle seemed nearly fruitless against the rush of snow swiftly sliding in the opposite direction. The total absence of traction created by the slick and constantly vanishing terrain made running against the relentless tide akin to running barefoot uphill on a sheet of pure ice. Lesser men would have sooner let nature take his course and succumbed to the incoming momentum, but the warrior Hagen was a physical specimen fuelled by what he knew could only be the will of those on high. Though he struggled to maintain his stride, though his massive torso heaved in and out more erratically with every passing second and his breath wheezed with exhaustion setting in an no oxygen to replenish his drive, the scarlet bearded man-beast pressed on with unprecedented will.
His eyes never averted from the violet breech amidst the mist and the snow, his only wish to turn its hue to deep red with its owner’s blood. In a moment of lucidity amongst the minor cataclysm, he began to realize how close he was to somehow escaping the maw of death yet again. His eyes widened to comical proportions, his green eyes dilated at the realization that the sturdy foot of the smaller mountain was with in his grasp. The gods willed him towards his goal, his rusty blade still somehow firmly clasped in a vice grip that turned his knuckles white. Not only survival awaited him seldom five feet away, but the glory of casting pious judgment on the scar-faced demoness that caused all this.
No sooner had Hagen concluded his faith-filled self-motivation than it was made all for naught as that same blur of purple he had obsessed with came spiraling down at him with precision and speed that even he could truly marvel at. The two powerful entities collided with the dull thud of humanity on humanity, for a moment the brilliant red of Hagen’s facial hair and Fallen Star’s violet mane entwined to concoct a hue that stood out for miles around amidst the pure white snow. Blink however, and the event would be gone forever, as Hagen’s momentum met the equal and opposite force, seemingly freezing for a millisecond in the embrace of inertia, before the gale force movement of snow hurdling towards the looming precipice carried the entangled duo to certain demise.
With their balance a thing of the past, Fallen Star and Hagen’s bodies convulsed out of control, each frantically attempting to free themselves from their entwinement with the other in time to escape. It was finally Hagen who was able to lift his feet up into the midsection of his formidable adversary, at once rolling backwards and vaulting her like a rag doll into the air and sailing towards ground zero where only the boulder at the bottom would accompany her as she was buried alive. However, he too was at the mercy of what was now essentially a rapid river of snow and in seconds would likely join her. Desperately looking for an escape, Hagen’s heart leapt at the sight of an unearthed tree scraping almost in life-like protest to the current within arms reach. In a body contorting act that defied both gravity and reason, Hagen willed himself to within range of the massive pines body, in the midst of the landslide somehow dragged himself on top of it. While still a paltry few hundred feet from being sucked down into the snowy abyss, he now at least would have a proper vantage point to see…
“You…”
As Hagen came to a standing position on what was essentially an ancient pine-turned-pontoon boat, the warrior saw a sight so improbable that he almost rubbed his tattooed third eye in utter disbelief. He was not alone on the makeshift raft bound for a cold hell, as amongst the green needles of the fallen pines upper reaches emerged the scarred face of the resilient Fallen Star. It was then that the battered and bruised chieftain questioned the powers above for the first time. They were surely laughing at the cruel joke they were playing on him. On a tree bound for a snowy grave, he would have to lay waste to this perplexing thorn in his side. Anger and denial gave way to an ear-to-ear grin on Hagen’s face. This final test before him would either build his stairway to Valhalla, or prove to be his descent to hell. His rusty blade long lost in the deteriorating landscape beneath him and the pine skidding precariously to and fro, Hagen reached both arms out towards Fallen Star, veins bulging as adrenaline surged through them. His palms open and upturned, he curled his fingers towards him, beckoning his opponent to approach him in what seemed to be their final dance. Save an immaculate scenario, their fate was already sealed. Their pride however, was up for grabs.
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Galefore
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Saria Dragon of the Rain Wilds
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Galefore
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Phenom
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Hey Galefore, I know the round has been long-ish and you're looking for it to be judged, but the interim time would likely span several days. As far as I've seen both our battles have left us wanting a little more closure, and as such I think each of us would beneift from one last post each to round out our tales. Obviously you're the judge and whatnot, but I think it wouldn't hurt to have one more post for the judges' reference.
But in all seriousness, Ffeel better Kargath, I know how ****ty hospital visits can be and I hope a clean bill of health is in your near future.
But in all seriousness, Ffeel better Kargath, I know how ****ty hospital visits can be and I hope a clean bill of health is in your near future.
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Vapor
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Repster
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Vapor
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Galefore
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Mmm, a difficult decision. My co-mod has pretty much summed it up, though; all posts beyond time are to be ignored. If you desire to finish these battles, you'd probably want to just make a separate topic, or feel free to post your final posts here; just don't expect the judges to judge based on your performance therein.
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Vapor
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Alright, I'm gonna make my final post anyway:
<<<>>>
"WHOOOAAA what the F*******CK!" Ven exclaimed while Erasmus attacked him. He did not expect his face caving in. not at all.
Erasmus' next stab landed in Ven's body right next to where the other one did, and he proceeded to land another stab in there. Ven tried to hit Erasmus with the scythe, but was still so disorientated that he grabbed it by the blade and hit him with the handle. That blow would normally not do much, but it did affect the near-dead man enough to let Vengeance get himself somewhat together again.
"DUDE!.......... F*ck! Damn! what the HELL was that? Like...you should be dead now! You don't have any blood! And..... F*ck! I don't have any eyes! MOTHERF***ER!! What the HELL!!"
There was very little of Ven's carven menacing grin left, so the words were quite half-formed.
Then the entire pumpkin collapsed, save the base. Ven was now just a ball of fire on a scarecrow body. A shocked and confused ball of fire on a scarecrow body. It seemed that he could still make strange vague sounds come forth from the blaze on his neck- Demonstrated by him making a sound that sounded something like a strange, ethereal "HHHHWWWWUUUUUUUUuuuuu! hhhWUUUUuuu....."
He stopped and tilted his flaming orb of a head down, seeming to look at the old man on the ground.
"Insolent...." The Bloodcrafter gasped in his dying breaths.
Ven waited for any more sounds to issue forth.
He didn't hear a lot.
He then started to leave the catacombs to find a new pumpkin.
<<<>>>
"WHOOOAAA what the F*******CK!" Ven exclaimed while Erasmus attacked him. He did not expect his face caving in. not at all.
Erasmus' next stab landed in Ven's body right next to where the other one did, and he proceeded to land another stab in there. Ven tried to hit Erasmus with the scythe, but was still so disorientated that he grabbed it by the blade and hit him with the handle. That blow would normally not do much, but it did affect the near-dead man enough to let Vengeance get himself somewhat together again.
"DUDE!.......... F*ck! Damn! what the HELL was that? Like...you should be dead now! You don't have any blood! And..... F*ck! I don't have any eyes! MOTHERF***ER!! What the HELL!!"
There was very little of Ven's carven menacing grin left, so the words were quite half-formed.
Then the entire pumpkin collapsed, save the base. Ven was now just a ball of fire on a scarecrow body. A shocked and confused ball of fire on a scarecrow body. It seemed that he could still make strange vague sounds come forth from the blaze on his neck- Demonstrated by him making a sound that sounded something like a strange, ethereal "HHHHWWWWUUUUUUUUuuuuu! hhhWUUUUuuu....."
He stopped and tilted his flaming orb of a head down, seeming to look at the old man on the ground.
"Insolent...." The Bloodcrafter gasped in his dying breaths.
Ven waited for any more sounds to issue forth.
He didn't hear a lot.
He then started to leave the catacombs to find a new pumpkin.
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Repster
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Galefore
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Phenom
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Repster
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Vapor 5
Galefore 6
Sarai 7
Phenom 6
Happy?
I agreed that the tourney is swirling... It's the timing really. June... Horrid month June. Good things in June... but still a vile month.
Galefore 6
Sarai 7
Phenom 6
Happy?
I agreed that the tourney is swirling... It's the timing really. June... Horrid month June. Good things in June... but still a vile month.
When our world is burning.
When all run like the cowards they are.
I shall stand in the inferno, and fight until I am consumed
When all run like the cowards they are.
I shall stand in the inferno, and fight until I am consumed