Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. MOVING TO NEW FORUM!

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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby vid20 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 12:51 am

ok... compiled it all.

holy crap. Guys your entries exceed the character limit.. for 2 posts! I have to split this across 3 posts. So you know what. I'm going to post them one round at a time.

without further adieu.

RW1: Quarter Finals.

Dusk9s Simon Emrys Lex’Ander vs RandomMercs Kane Selion
Fog banks
Dusk9 wrote:Finally.

Finally, he had got rid of all trace of that awful stench.
The stink of that damned wasteland had been sticking to him for days!
Not that this place was much better. Aesthetically, anyway. It certainly smelled nicer.

Thick, rolling clouds of fog, which went from lightly touching the sky to tightly hugging the earth, slowly crept over the landscape. Water splashed around his feet as Si jumped off of a medium-sized boulder - which looked uncannily like a sleeping bear - into another stream. They were so numerous here, that at times he felt more like he was in the middle of the sea, rather than the maze of rivers it was. Not that it was particularly dangerous; unlike in the sea, the water here had, so far, only reached up to his knees at most, and flowed much too slowly for water currents to be a problem.

Still, they were annoying. And boring.

What was he doing out here? When he’d started this journey, he’d expected to be travelling through exotic, fantastic places. Places filled to the brim with fun, and adventure.

But no.
No, what he’d got was a dead forest filled with puffy mushrooms. A wasteland with some sort of monstrous reptile living under it. And now? Now he was strolling between a serious of increasingly featureless, misty islands, trying not to slip in the mud that seemed to cover literally every surface. And while there was plenty of plant-life, it was hardly exotic - small bushes and trees that were so generic they wouldn't have looked out of place in someone's garden. He wasn't even sure if it was night yet, or if the fog was just so thick that all sunlight was being blocked.
For crying out loud, it was getting so damn impenetrable that he could barely even see where he was going!

Speaking of which.......where was he?

Scanning the area in front of him, Si searched for some sort of landmark. Eventually, he spotted a rock of some sort through the mist, and moved close enough to see what it was.

Heh, what a funny rock. It looks just like a sleeping..........

......

...shit.


---------------------------

The torch flickered. The flames weren’t coping well with the dense moisture of the fog. Still, it was certainly helping - Kane knew that it would be exceedingly difficult to find easy passage through the labyrinth of twisting streams and rivers without it.

Which is why he dropped it.
The light disappeared the moment the flames hit the water.

“No!”
“You half-witted oaf! Do you want us to get lost in here!”

Y.....yes. I must.....stop.....you.......

“You will cease this foolishness at once, Kane!”

N.....never. I......will not let......you....win.

“I have already won, soldier-boy. You are simply too dense to realise it. I should have left you to die in that worthless village!”

He had to fight her......
He couldn’t let her beat him.........

---------------------------

Si was confused.

There he’d been, minding his own business, wandering aimlessly through the fog, when he’d noticed a light. The thick mist had made it had been impossible to tell how close it was, but red and orange glow had plainly been moving; curious, Si had begun to follow it, creeping as quietly as possible through the shallow water.
As he’d got closer, the light had flickered. Then, it died. Switching terrain to a nearby island to better mask the sound of his footprints, Si had crept closer still. Until he heard voices.
While he couldn’t see them clearly through the fog, he could see the magical energy emanating from their shadowy, half-hidden form. And he could, just barely, here what they were saying.
So here he was, crouching behind the most pitiful excuse for a shrub he had ever seen, as he watched what was plainly one person arguing. With himself.

“.........cease this foolishness at once, Kane!”

“.........”

“I have already won, sol....................re simply too dense to realise it. I should have left you to die in th.....................”

Damn it. He was moving away. Si had already lost sight of him in the thick mist.
Frustrated, he began to move closer, no longer considering the need to stay quiet.

SNAP

Startled, Si glanced down.
A twig.
Shit.
Quickly, he looked back up, hoping his quarry hadn’t heard the noise.
He had.

Si leapt back, barely dodging the sword that swung through the mist towards his abdomen.
The second strike he was ready for, rolling under with ease.
The third he decided to parry, tensing the muscles in his right forearm to extend the metre long blade within. It deflected the weapon, which he now recognised as magical, with little difficulty.

Hah. This’ll be easy!

The reverberations caused by the clash of metal on metal had forced his opponent to take a step back - Si took this opportunity to stand up from his crouching position and evaluate his surroundings. His recent acrobatics had caused him to move from the relative stability of the small island onto the sandy banks of a shallow stream. The loose surface would make balancing difficult, but would affect the both of them equally, so Si wasn’t particularly worried.
Next, he turned his attention back to the sword-fighter before him. The fog was still preventing his eyes from picking out any details, but he could see more than he had whilst hidden behind those stunted bushes. The shadowy figure stood about two metres away - close enough to hit, but far enough to make such a manoeuvre very risky, leaving the attacker open to most forms of counterattack.
Si could now clearly see the magic emanating from the sword, and - rather peculiarly - heart, of his foe. It didn’t appear to be a type he had encountered before, but that didn’t really bother him - his resistance had never had much of a problem with any other magical energies, and he doubted this time would be particularly different.
Rather more worrying were what appeared to be claws on his left hand. A bladed-glove weapon of some sort, maybe? No way could nails that long be natural.

The pause in combat had only lasted a few seconds, but it had apparently been enough time for his mysterious enemy to regain his composure; charging forward, sword leaving little trails of moisture as it flew through the misty air, he seemed almost completely unperturbed by the ease with which Si had dodged his previous attacks, or the unevenness of the surface he was fighting on.

The first strike was deflected by Si’s blade.
As was the one after.
And the next.
Every time Si parried the sword, knocking it away into the fog, it reappeared almost instantly somewhere else. Not once did he have the time to strike back.
Of course, he was still confident of victory - he knew from first-hand experience how great his endurance could be, and his foe would, eventually, slow down. It was inevitable.

However, as the fight drew on, the sparks of metal hitting metal and clashes of blade vs blade both muffled by the ever-present mist, that confidence swiftly fell. Not only was the sword-fighter failing to slow, but he was also finding steady footholds on rocks, and in small, sandy crevices, while Si struggled to stay upright as he backed down the shore.
It wasn’t until first blood was drawn that he realised quite how much trouble he was in.

It was silly, really. A rookie mistake. But it cost him.
A feint. A simple feint. His blade twisted to meet the sword’s, but instead encountered air. As he struggled to maintain his balance on the uneven ground, the next strike hit home - a slash across his right bicep, digging deep into the flesh, and cracking the metal-covered bone beneath. Si inhaled sharply at the sensation it left behind; a numbing, yet somehow very painful feeling that spread from the wound down to his elbow and up to his shoulder. It was quickly followed by more strikes; first one to incapacitate his left arm, followed by multiple jabs directed at his chest and abdomen, each one deeper than the last. With both arms effectively paralysed, Si was helpless, completely unable to deflect the lightning fast attacks.

The final thrust brought his enemy close enough to see through the thick fog - a short, powerful jab, that went straight through Si’s stomach and barely missed his spine, put the two of them face to face.

It was.....nightmarish. More monster than human. Dark brown hair, matted with sweat, sat atop a face covered in scars. The burns on his right side, travelling from hairline to jaw, gave him the appearance of someone who’d once forgotten he was standing too close to a fire, and paid the price for it. Compared to them, the one on his left eye was practically neat - a single slash by some sort of bladed weapon. Working together, the scars twisted his ruined face into a disfigured mess of flesh and muscle.
The undamaged skin was no better - cold and clammy, it looked like what you would find on a fresh corpse, not a living human being. But it was the eyes that stood out the most - pure, blood red orbs that seemed to bore into the darkest, deepest recesses of your mind; though Si knew he was actually immune to such effects thanks to his resistance.

Not that he was really thinking about that at the moment - he was rather distracted by the clawed hand round his throat, lifting him clear off the ground, and the dull pain spreading out from the blade embedded in his abdomen.

“So, what do we have here? Another foolish traveller after my Stone?”

Si grimaced as the....thing, tightened its grip, digging its claws into his neck as the sword was twisted violently in his gut.

“W...what are you d-?”

Shhhhhh. Don’t speak. Soon, you will have all the time in the world to consider how you should never have left your piti-nnnnnnggghhh

Pain flashed across its face, eyes clamped tightly shut. Its fingers relaxed, dropping Si to his feet as the figure stumbled backwards into the mist. Suddenly, the eyelids flickered open, red replaced with auburn.

“Please....go.”
“She’s.........too strong.”
“I.....can’t......”

As the young fighter, briefly back in control of his own body, collapsed to his knees, Si, acting purely on instinct, turned and ran, as fast as he could in the shallow, slow-moving water. He didn’t notice the sword still buried in his stomach until he was deep within the fog-covered landscape. Gritting his teeth, he grasped the handle, and pulled, gasping in relief as the blade’s tip passed his skin, taking the numbing sensation with it.
As his wounds began to close, he examined the enchanted sword - now that he could see it clearly, he was able to properly register the glowing red runes that covered the metal. What sort of magic was this? Could he destroy it? It was as he contemplated the blade’s annihilation that he saw it. Heard it. Felt it.
The twisting, tortured anguish. The faint but eternal screams that resonated with his metallic skeleton. The Death.

The sword spun as it fell, its blade sliding into the ground until only the hilt sat above the water-level. With mounting horror, Si realised what the sword was, what it was capable of.....what it had been doing to him.
His heart hammered hard within his chest as he fled from the cursed blade, deep into the dark fog.

---------------------------

Very impressive, Kane. You’re stronger than I thought you would be.

Dark red eyes scanned the fog, searching.

You....cannot..........stop me......
I.....will fight........


There. That magic. She had found it.

I think you are overestimating yourself, Kane. Your will may be strong, but you are still just a man. And I have....ways....to make sure you stay in line.

Cold, muddy skin grasped the leather grip, drawing the sword from the earth. She felt a rush of power as the blade’s magic reconnected with her own, the souls of those stupid enough to get in her way forever giving her strength.

Don’t you remember what I said before - Goddesses are very powerful.

---------------------------

“Where are you, little human. Hiding? Please come out - my sword wishes for another taste of your flesh. Of your essence.”

Si’s muscles stiffened at the voice that floated hauntingly through the fog. At the mention of that blade. He hunkered down, hoping the mist would be thick enough to hide him from that creature.

He had taken refuge beneath an overhang - a small shelf of rock and earth jutting out from the tip of an island, providing a hiding place that left him up to his chest in almost placid cold water.

Fuck Shit Fuck! What am I going to do!?! I can’t fight that thing.....that weapon.....
I.....I need to run. To hide. I....I.....

What the hell am you doing? Since when did you run from a fight?

But, that sword, its......

Who cares about the bloody sword! You’re Simon Lex! The Mechman! You’ve defeated masters of the arcane, that could kill with but a thought. Torn through bandit hordes that have razed entire cities. Survived falls that would obliterate a bloody Dragon!
There is no, fucking, way, you’ll be taken down by some moron who got himself possessed, no matter how magical his freaking sword is!


Now stop acting like a cry-baby and think. Everyone has a weakness, even you. Find theirs. And exploit it.

---------------------------

It was quiet in the fog. Very quiet.
If she hadn’t known any better, she would have said she was completely alone, the only living thing for miles.
She did, however, know better. She could sense him. The fighter. Somewhere out there. It was.....peculiar. Normally, she would have been able to find him easily with her magic. But this one was.....different. She could certainly feel him out there, but she didn’t know exactly where.

She called out again. Taunting.
Silently, she urged him. To attack. To run. To do....something. Anything she could take advantage of......

At least Kane was no longer bothering her with his pathetic struggles.

The impact came from nowhere - bursting out of the river to hit her in the waist, throwing her backwards into the water.

--------------------------

The first rule of fighting a tougher opponent: Fight on your terms, not theirs.

If they want a gunfight, stab them in the back.
Too heavily armoured to fight directly? Hit-and-run tactics.
And if they’re a sword-fighter; give them a taste of some proper, bare-knuckle fighting.

Si rolled to his feet, then span round and punched Kane - or at least, the creature that had stolen his body - square in the jaw, sending teeth flying. Before the dazed swordsman could regain its senses, it was being lifted and thrown twenty feet through the fog, landing heavily on the muddy shore of a nearby island.
Scrambling to its feet, the monster in human guise turned to face the direction it had come from, sword at the ready. The muffling effect of the fog prevented it from hearing Si as he sprinted in from the left, barrelling into it with enough force to shatter the bones in its elbow.

As his foe dragged itself to its feet a few metres away, Si felt a burst of confidence. It was working! He was going to win! Now all he had to do was finish-

SSSHHHIIINNNGGGGGG

Si watched, in what felt like slow motion, as the sword sliced through his bicep. The swing connected with his metallic-bone, in exactly the same place it had earlier. The still weakened metal, unable to take the strain, shattered. As his arm flew backwards, into the fog, Si turned his attention back to his foe - its eyes were looked on his, the disfigured face twisted into something that vaguely resembled a smile.

Time sped back up again as Si felt the foot on his chest, sending him flying. He landed, with an almighty crack, at the base of a tree five metres away, slouched against the trunk. Before he had a chance to stand, he felt it - the shard of pain that lanced into his chest, smoothly bypassing his ribs, and out of his back, impaling his heart along the way.

It was one of the worst feelings he had ever experienced. His blood, freezing in his veins. The cold metal, tugging at his very life-force. His soul.
He had survived similar injuries before, with his heart muscles always pulling themselves back together.
But this.......this was different. It didn’t matter how powerful his resistance, or how fast he healed - if he couldn’t pull that damned sword out, and soon, his soul would be ripped from his body. He could feel it.
And there was no way to heal that kind of injury.

Before he could lift his remaining hand and pull the cursed thing out, he felt a weight on his arm; a foot, pinning his left wrist to the ground.

“You’re......still alive? But.....how is that even possible!?!”
“.....I suppose it doesn’t really matter too much; either way, you will soon belong to me. Oh, and if you’re waiting for that imbecilic boy to save you again, allow me to disappoint you - Kane is currently preoccupied confronting his greatest nightmares, deep within his own mind. It was stupid of me not to force him down there immediately, but, I assumed he could be easily controlled. A foolish assumption, and a time-wasting one, but fortunately nothing more; after all, you’re still here, aren’t you. At my mercy, yet again.....”

“W......Who.....are you....?”

“Why my dear boy.....I am a Goddess.”
“The Goddess of Luck, specifically. Though I prefer the name Lady Luck.”
“‘The Lady’ - so formal, don’t you think?”

If Si’s his blood hadn’t already been well below zero, it would have ran cold at that moment.

A Goddess! What was I thinking! How the fuck could I have beaten the Goddess of freaking Luck!!!
She’s right, I’m at her mercy. And since when do the gods feel mercy!
I’m dead. There’s nothing I can do. It's hopeless.......

No! There must be something I can do! Something......anything.......

---------------------------

The iron great-sword, though worn down by years of combat, had little trouble cutting through the flesh and bone, severing the arm at the shoulder. As the young man collapsed on the ground, blood spewing from his wounds, the huge Orc slowly reached down and picked up his sword. With no mercy or remorse in his dark brown eyes, he drew back his arm, and thrust the boy’s own blade into his still beating heart. He died instantly.

Kane watched, paralysed, as the scene shifted. Now, he was watching as another Orc, somehow even bigger than the last, move between a group of chained humans. Systematically, he swung his axe, executing each and every single one - man, woman and child - without shred of guilt on his hard, monstrous face.

And there Kane lay, unable to act as the people he knew, the people he’d laughed and lived with, were slaughtered before his eyes.
The scene shifted again, back to Jacob, and his brother’s last moments facing the Orc Chieftain.

He had lost track of how many times he had watched it. Trapped within his own mind. Forced to view his failures.
His nightmares.

The sword flashed as it sliced through flesh and bone, blood spraying-

.......no......

The sword flashed as it sliced-

....No......

The sword-

NOOOOO!!!!

The illusion shattered. The burning village, and screaming children, were gone.
Replaced with plain white walls, and an empty, yet ever present silence.

Kane blinked, climbing to his feet. His body....there were no scars. No injuries. No......mutations.
He was also naked.
It was as he had this last thought that clothes began to appear on his body. His old army stuff. Odd.

Confused, he examined his surroundings. Not that there was much to see. Perfectly plain white walls. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then one wall flickered. The white nothingness was replaced by an image - a young man, with the most peculiar blue eyes, which shined through the fog. Realisation dawned on Kane as he took in the glowing, rune covered sword sticking out of the man’s chest. The pain etched on his face.

She was doing this. He had to stop her.
But.
How?
He was too deep to take control again. And, if she realised he was free from the nightmares, she would simply put him somewhere else. No, he would have to wait. Wait, and hope that she made a mistake he could take advantage of.

Wait, and hope that he got lucky. So he could do something......anything.......

---------------------------

The blade twisted in his chest, wood cracking behind him as it dug into the tree.

“You’re getting weaker.”
“I can feel it. Just.....relax. Give in.”
“Give. In. To. Me.”

She was right; he had been steadily weakening, his life-force draining away as seconds stretched into minutes. Now, he was close to losing himself completely. He felt his eyelids droop, the peace of sleep beckoning him.

Just a few minutes rest. Then I’ll fight back.
Just a few minutes. To gather......my strength.
Just....a few........minutes.................


NO!

Drawing on reserves of energy he hadn’t even known existed, Si fought. His legs, kicking up at the weight on top of them, attempting to throw it off. His hand, trying desperately to break free from its prison. Even his stump of an arm, waving violently in an effort to do something, even simply distract his captor.
Nothing worked.

“What are you doing! Cease this at one. GIVE. IN.”

The emphasis her point, she ignored the pain in her fractured elbow and thrust her grotesque left hand forward, digging the claws deep into his shoulder. As he gasped at the pain of the four inch long black nails cracking metal, and almost severing what was of his arm, she followed it up with another attack, this time focused on his hand.
Lifting her foot, she stamped down before he had a chance to do much more than twist his wrist. The impact shattered the bone and metal in his fingers, already weakened by the sword’s effects.

However, whether through luck, or something else, it also put her foot in the direct path of Si’s secondary blades, which had remained hidden within his forearm.
Until now.

With his last ounce of strength, Si tensed his muscles, flicking a number of hidden internal mechanisms that sent both blades slicing straight through the unprotected flesh and bone.

Surprised at the sudden loss of an extremity, the Lady relaxed her grip, opening herself up to a headbutt that sent her careening backwards uncontrollably.

Desperately Si snatched for the sword, still sticking out of his chest. His mangled hand tried ineffectually to pull the blade out, repeatedly failing to grip it with broken fingers.
Realising the futility of it, he quickly moved onto a new tactic; trying to force the blade out of the tree. Wood and bark split as he tried to pull himself up - it was working, but not fast enough.

Meanwhile, the Lady had managed to regain control after helplessly sliding down a slight muddy incline. Pulling Kane’s body upright, and careful not to put too much weight on the now almost unusable right foot, she began to hobble forward. Despite the scars, lost teeth, and the now broken nose, the rage on her face was evident.

“YOU WORTHLESS CRETIN! How can I use a body this damaged! HOW!”
“Maybe I should just take yours, since you seem so damn impossible to kill!”

Focused as she was on Si, she didn’t notice Kane making his move until it was too late. It wasn’t much - a small mental nudge, directed towards his left leg. It was enough, though.

The tree root caught the foot straight on, wrenching it back as the rest of his body continued moving. The damaged right leg flailed uselessly as the Lady lurched forward, far too enraged to pay attention to what was happening around her.

“JUST DIE ALREA-Glurk

---------------------------

The walls of the white room cracked. Before Kane could figure out what was happening, he was assaulted by one of the worst sounds he had ever heard - a great screeching that dug into his mind like billions of tiny, red hot knives. He felt the room break up, sucked down and swallowed by the void beneath him.

He watched, dumbfounded and amazed, as his tormenter, a Goddess, was pulled violently into the swirling expanse, her foothold within the physical world pulled out from under her. The force of her rage was immense, threatening to strip him away, to crush him into oblivion.

Strangely, though, he was unaffected. All of her attacks, all of the blasts of magic and pure energy she sent streaking towards him, were stopped; blocked, by an unseen force. Steadily, this force worked its way in, striping her power, diminishing her strength, until.........nothing.

There was nothing there. No presence, weighing on his thoughts, and pressuring his choices. No hidden being, manipulating his actions.
Nothing.

For the first time, in what felt like forever he was.........free.


Kane felt his current form disperse, his mind retaking control of his body. He was badly injured. Too badly to possibly hope to survive. But he couldn’t die. Not yet. There was still one thing left that he had to do. One thing, before he could relax.

Before he could let himself go, to the sweet peace, and sort touch, of Death.

---------------------------

Si, watched, amazed at his luck, as the red drained from Kane’s eyes, steadily being replaced by their natural auburn. He glanced down at his blades, buried deep in his foes chest. He could see the magic - the magic that had, for so long, gripped Kane’s heart, forcing his body to function long after he should have died - diminish, negated by the unique properties of the two blades that pierced the ruined organ.

Before his own body succumbed to its weariness, before he let himself fall into unconsciousness, Si pushed out, forcing the dying Kane off of him. The sword, its own magic fading as all traces of its owner disappeared, slid out of his chest, Kane’s hand tightly gripping the leather handle.

His final act of this life to free the one who had freed him.

As Si felt the fog of sleep close in on his exhausted mind and badly wounded body, slumped against the blood-stained tree trunk, a noise broke the silence of the mist covered islands.
Anywhere else, and the sound would have been drowned out, lost forever in the cacophony of life.
As it was, even with no other sounds to mask it, Si only just heard the two words as his mind fogged over:

“........thank...........you.........”


---------------------------


When Si woke up, it was brighter. Much brighter.
Pulling himself into a sitting position, he looked around. The fog had receded, improving visibility considerably. He could even see the occasional ray of sunlight flit through the mist, like a miniature shooting star.
The water flowing between the islands was clean and fresh. The grass and plants sprouting up out of the random spots of dry land were green and vibrant. There was even a small bird, hopping from tree to tree, as if searching for something.
He must have been unconscious for a few hours, at least - his wounds were almost completely healed. The only thing left to repair itself was his arm, which had already regenerated to mid-forearm.

Out of things to look at, Si, regretfully, turned his attention back to his island. And Kane.
The sword lay beside his limp hand. The runes had gone, replaced by cold, but normal, steel, stained with mud and blood. All traces of magic had also disappeared, along with Lady Luck’s presence. Si didn’t know how long it would take her to regain her strength, and return to this realm, but he hoped it would be a very, very long time.
Finally, Si brought himself to look at him; the body looked small, and frail, curled up on the sodden, cold mud. Injuries and deformities that had seemed grotesque and frightening the night before now looked......pitiful. Painful. Something you wouldn’t wish upon even your worst enemy.

He hadn’t wanted to kill him. No one deserved to die like that, forced to fight and die for such a vicious, remorseless creature. A so-called Goddess.
The other souls too. In the sword. Innocent bystanders? Or people like him, who’d underestimated her, accidentally getting in her way?
All of them dead, and for what. That monster's selfish desires. Nobody deserves that. To suffer because of someone, else’s....actions.........

Images rushed to the surface of Si’s mind; a horse-drawn carriage, the occupants screaming as it's forced off a cliff by bandits, Si raiding a chest of stolen weapons less than fifty metres away. A necromancer, killing indiscriminately and resurrecting the corpses to use as weapons against Si, who’s destroying them almost as fast as the sorcerer can create them. A wizard, hoping to kill Si by destroying the building he’s in - the people inside, burning to death, as Si, who snuck out the back, attacks the mage from behind.

How many have been hurt, or died, simply because I wanted a bit of excitement.
A bit of adventure.
How many innocent bystanders have had their homes destroyed, their families, and their lives, stolen from them?
Lost forever. Because of my actions.

Look at me now; chasing an artefact I probably can’t even use. And for what? Fun?

What......what have I become!?


Water splashed onto the ground beneath him. He looked up. Rain?
He then noticed his vision blurring. Felt the wetness round his eyes.
No. Not rain. Tears.

.........tears......
........heh.....

I haven’t cried in years......

.....didn’t think I still could................


Sighing, he stood, wiping away the tears and brushing down his ruined, blood-stained clothes.
He could leave now. Just walk away, through the mist - there was more than enough light to find his way out.
But that felt......wrong. Unfinished.

Turning, he set to work. It was hard, with only one usable arm, but he persevered. He owed it to him. To finish it.

As he worked, he thought. Of his life up to that point. Of the future.
Ever since he’d developed his abilities, he’d done everything for one person: himself.
That had to change.
He had the strength to help people, to save them, from injury and death; it was time he started using that strength.
And he knew just were to start.

Henasai.
And the Stone.

They were to blame for Kane’s death - without the desire for the Stone, the Lady wouldn’t have done what she did. To Kane. To those people’s souls.

And she wouldn’t be the only one. How many more of the beings after the Stone would be willing to kill others, even innocent bystanders, for a chance to have the Stone? Too many.

Finally he was finished. It had taken almost an hour, but, it had been worth it. Time well spent.

With one final glance back, Si turned and walked away, into the fog.
He felt....strange. Different.
It took him a couple of seconds to figure out what it was - finally, after all those years of wasting his life, he had a purpose.
A reason to live.

You do realise how dangerous this is going to be, right? I mean, you saw what taking on a god just did to us. And now you want to take on another one? We could seriously die here.

A grin broke over his face.

Oh, I know that. But ask yourself this; has that ever stopped us before?

---------------------------

The small brown bird blinked, watching the human as he disappeared into the fog. It swivelled its head, turning its beady black eyes onto the base of the tree. Jumping off of its branch, it flew down gracefully, landing on the highest point - a piece of leather, strapped to a metal blade. The steel had been thrust into the ground, point-first, next to a small mound of disturbed earth.

As the bird pecked at the leather, a ray of sunlight briefly broke through the fog, gleaming off the recently cleaned sword.

The sword which marked the final resting place of Kane Selion.


RandomMerc wrote:A soldier... god, I can't remember anymore. Anything I used to know has been taken by the goddess inside me. I have been...contaminated, and I am going to die. I need to... to stay awake, so that I can still stop her, if only a little bit. I just need to... to....

"GAHHHH!"

The moment the goddess left Kane's body, the wound on his heart reopened.

They were on a sunny, grassy hillside, an irony sent by mayhaps the goddess herself. The clear blue sky was pierced by the scream, and a deer, unknowing of death from a close behind wolf, scampered away at the noise. The oak trees swayed to the sound, the bushes rustling in the wake of a man's terror. Miles away, the village of Reish, while burying the body of the town guard, felt the terror in their bones, and felt sorrow for whatever man would feel such a thing.

The purple, warped spots on Kane's back had intensified. A potruding stump of what looked like wood extended from it, and similar, smaller stumps knotted around parts of his flesh. The rest of his back was tight, hard, and purple. His left hand had grown more grotesque, with sharp potrutions all across his hand. The nails had developed savage, sharp ends. All the while, the corruption had spread. The back of Kane's neck was savage, twisted and mutilated beyond belief, and from his wrist to the elbow the flesh was not of a human.

"You defied me, Kane. I help you, make you faster, stronger. And what do I ask in return? You help me. Then, you defy me with a help of a Genasi. So I take you and help you, even, making you twice as strong and fast as I even made you before! And what do you do? You stop me from getting what I wish!" the goddess roared the last in anger.

"The... the dragon... was..." Kane wheezed, clutching his chest. The blood flew fast, and the world was slowly fading.

"The dragon was a contender in the search for the wishing stone. Now that you let it live, it has a chance of getting in our way.

What do you want, Kane? Please, let me know. Because of your blessing you are the only human I can enter this plane through for long."

"To... to be... in control." Kane gasped, his heart racing, and sputtering out a river of red.

"You have minutes left... alright, you will have your control, but I will also have mine." the goddess flowed back into Kane, and he stopped bleeding.

"Yes, goddess."

Kane's body throbbed, and he convulsed, his eyes turning crimson. A scream tore out, and his body was lifted up in the air. A burst of light grew from the body, and he convulsed, shivering with the pain. When he settled down, the eyes played a dance of light settling down two different colors: the right one brown, the left red.

"We're coming for you, Inti

An hour later
Simon Emrys Lex'Ander was alone.

He had been trudging through the fog banks for days now. He knew where the end was, the enhancements in his mechanical eye marking magic signatures in that direction. Yet, it was too far away.

The place was nothing to look at, considering you could barely see in front of your face(and that is saying something, a regular human would literally be blind in this case). There were a few land spots here and there, but it was mostly a bunch of shallow water. Simon reached one of the former, and rested on the trunk of a palm true, when the strangest thing happened. A bright light ran towards him, then shifted to the side.

It was the largest influx of magical energy Si had ever seen. He turned and retracted his main blade to stop another from hitting his chest.

Too Late.

The sword impaled him. It was a flesh wound, but The Mechman felt horrified. He could feel it tugging at his insides. He grunted in pain, and threw his sword at the figure. The blade withdrew, and Simon fell to the floor as the figure darted away.

That... that actually hurt me! Dang it... if it weren't for my magic resistance that may have even killed me. Gotta be careful...
The figure darted around him as the cat to the mouse, playing with him. The second Simon realised this, the blade darted out again, and Si blocked it, retracting his claws and charging foward.

The sword, unbelievably fast, matched Si blow for blow, blocking his claws and the blows from his sword. It lunged forward again, and Si barely avoided it, gracefully weaving over and under the next few attacks.

One attack seemed like a light one, so The Mechman breathed in relief.

I block this one, knock it off balance, and stab it to death. Simple really.

The blade came, Si raised his sword.

He was wrong.

The force of the blow sent him flying, and his head smashed into the water.

He looked up, and saw the magic signature, yards away, paused for a moment.

I have time... okay, when it comes, I GAHHHH.

The blade stabbed him in the eye, and Simon Emrys Lex'Ander howled in pain. His body shook with it, and he felt his very soul was being ripped from his body.
The blade withdrew, and Si fell to the ground, silently bellowing with pain and terror.

The assaulter didn't strike again, and after a while Si raised his face .

His mechanical eyes still allowed him to see for a couple feet around him, but he couldn't see the magical signature anymore. In fact, he couldn't see any magic. The monster must've hurt the crystal in his eye.

A sword appeared, and, frightened, he dodged it, and a subsequent three strikes, before it faded away.

Si ran, the way to civilization he knew was still there, through the fog. His feet splashed through the water, and he turned around every few seconds, horrified of the monster following him.

On the way, he failed to notice the piece of wood on the floor. He tripped over it, and righted himself quickly. However, he saw a flicker of movement, and readied himself for the attack.

The sword came again, and Si twisted around, staying away from it. His mind was blank, with only the pure instinct of avoiding the sword and getting away left to keep him going. He retracted his main blade and wildly attacked, being parried easily despite his supernatural strength. However, adrenaline is a great thing. He ducked the swing of the blade,leaped over the next, and stabbed Kane Selion in the stomach.

The human glanced at the Mechman, and then at the blade.

"What was [i]that supposed to do to us?" [/i]

"Ummm... hurt?" once he saw that he had hit the human, confidence returned to the Mechman. Yet, as soon as the human grinned at him, the thoughts turned back to despair.

"Good idea. Wrong person!" Kane took his blade, twisted it in his hands, and lashed at the mechman, cutting through layers of mechanical bone as if it were butter.

A scream tore through the fog banks, and Si crumpled to the ground.

His left arm landed in a neat heap beside him, and the hilt of Kane's blade smashed into his face, sending him flying back several feet.

He landed in a heap, his cells regenerating the skin. His nose was bleeding profusely, and he glanced at his arm, hoping it would come back. Sadly however, there were not enough stem cells in his body to grow a new arm. Si shakily crawled to his feet, and swung half-heartedly at Kane. The blow was easily blocked, and Kane ran a hundred yards back.

The Mechman, unable to stay steady, was hopeless to move as the soldier ran at blindingly high speeds, leaping and forcing all of his momentum into a single stab, which went straight through Si's body. The runed sword caused Si to scream as it ripped as his insides, and Kane sent Si's way a backhand that threw him backwards into the same palm tree he was at a few minutes before.

The cells regenerated the wounded skin and organs, and Si looked around slowly, retracting his sword once more.

If I die, I'm taking that monster with me. he thought, and swung wildly at Kane, who sidestepped the attack with ease and lashed out at the Mechman. Si narrowly avoided the attack, and Kane disappeared into the fog.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" he yelled, his damaged eye sputtering, barely able to keep its vision. It was growing back, but he would need to survive for it to finish regenerating.

The sword came through the fog, cutting Si from his left shoulder to right hip. He grunted and ducked the next blow with ease, stabbing Kane in one shoulder, than the other. He gained the upper hand, battering Kane with adrenaline filled strikes.

He failed to notice Kane wasn't even trying to block the attacks. Or how his hand, the fingernails sharp as the sharpest blade, reached for him as he wailed on Kane's sword.

The left hand of the monster gripped the Mechman midstrike, and the nails dug into his flesh, appearing out the other side. Si, out of breath, could not scream.

Desperate to win, he headbutted the man, causing him to relinquish his hold. Simon swung his blade, the monster sidestepped, raised the cursed sword, and chopped that arm off, using the leverage to swing up, severing Si's legs as well.

The Mechman toppled, just a head and torso, to the ground. His hand began to regenerate, and the skin flapped over his legs. But the fight was over.
"Wh...why?"

There was no answer as the sword went through his neck.

His soul, injured and tortured beyond belief, began to leave for the glorious afterlife he deserved, when a force grabbed it, pulled it into the sword. To serve his killer forever, even in death.

Two minutes later

"I... I killed him."

"It was necessary to do so."

Kane Selion splashed through the water, his body wrecked after the fight.

"I... guess you are right. We must... seek the stone.

Seek the stone."
The Ratings War: Be Careful What You Wish For. A forum game that's a bit different.

Destiny of the Stonetear Clan
Wields-two-shields - Goblin maiden
HP 5/5
ATT: 3 (1 + 2 short blade)
DEF: 5 (2 + Frostward: +2 DEF Melee attacks made against the wearer have a 25% chance to freeze the attacker, making it inactive for the next turn. + 1 light wooden shield)
Back pack
skull - just be glade it's not you
Skeleton key
Leather Armor +1
Jar of Blue Energy

Escape from Brassmoon
Kritanta - kobold rogue. -died turn 135 RIP
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby vid20 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 12:52 am

Knucklekrakens ROY! vs M0rtimers SerV3
Lost valley
knucklekraken wrote:Look, Roy going to level with guy. Roy not who guy think Roy am.

Roy a big, smiling oaf. Roy a brawn-over-brains sort of guy. Roy not smart enough to grasp the concept of a pronoun. That's the kind of reception I get from everyone, because it's the kind of reputation I invite. I know how I look and I know how I sound, but I have my reasons. It's a cultural thing.

Now, I don't want to misrepresent myself here. I'm a happy guy. Maybe I'm a little drunk right now, too, because I normally don't have this conversation anymore. It gets old. No, the happy-go-lucky thing is all Roy. It's the apparent simple-mindedness that's misleading. I learned to speak this language from my elders when I was young. Maybe they didn't have a good grasp of it, but they were important to me and this is what I have left. They gave me the common tongue. It gets the job done, so I don't normally see any reason to change for the sake of being "correct."

For you? Sure. If it makes you happy, I'll finish my story like this.

****************************************

I made it back to the waiting place eventually. It's always been as much about the journey as the destination, you know that. I had fun with it. I always do. Getting there, though, I got the feeling I was in the minority. Whatever this stone-thing was we were all after, it was serious business. I didn't let it get to me, though. I was just there for the fighting.

I got there just as most of the other competitors did, which didn't really surprise me. Our host was Hanansi, after all. Even I knew who that was. As far as I was concerned, nothing he was capable of would surprise me.

I sat out the next two bouts while the rest of the competitors caught up. I knew my next fight would be the first of the really important fights, so I spent a lot of time training. I ran laps around the place. It was bigger inside than outside, so that's where I did all my running. They had a training area set up, so I practiced my axework against the dummies. Occasionally I would have a sparring match with one of the other residents. Most often, it was the metal guy.

One of the first things he asked me was, "Where did you get your axe?" I told him, "Roy's tribe get attacked by giant when Roy very small. Chief keep axe, but not use. Roy ask to take when Roy leave, so Chief give." He seemed pretty interested.

When the next match rolled around, I was set to fight him. I was excited, because he was a good fighter and I was ready to get out of that place again. I was a little disappointed by the location, though. Hanansi wouldn't mark it on my map like he had the previous rounds. He said it wasn't possible to get there without taking the portal. I was a little skeptical but too eager to get on with the fight to argue about it. I stepped through the portal.

The jungle was not really what I expected. It was hot and wet and I didn't know the trees there. My axe kept getting stuck between trees so often that I was forced to draw it to get anywhere. It was pretty dark there, even though the sun was out. The ground was covered in dead leaves that crunched under my feet if I wasn't very careful, which I needed to be. I didn't want to give myself away. I didn't know where the metal guy was going to come from, so I had to move. The trees were so thick I couldn't see more than twenty paces in any direction, so Roy l... Sorry. I looked for a tree to climb.

Most of the trees I could see had a cluster of long, thick thorns around the base of each branch. I didn't want to climb those, so I started walking. Eventually I found a tree that looked good for climbing. I looked around to make sure the metal guy wasn't nearby, then jumped up and grabbed the first branch.

I didn't really see the thing that attacked me before it died.

What? It scared me!

It was a kind of snaky thing, as big around as my leg. It was light brown with black markings, and I guess it was pressed up against the tree. Looked just like the tree bark, except with big, big teeth. It had six legs with big, nasty claws that scratched the bark when it jumped at me, which is how I knew it was there. It scared me enough that I went "Ah!" when I swung at it.

Of course Met... the metal guy heard me. I was sure he had, so I put my back to the tree and waited. Sure enough, I heard him coming before very long. I saw his eyes shining through the trees just in time to dive out of the way as a bullet struck the tree right where my head had been. I rolled behind another tree, then did my best to keep at least one tree between us as I made my way toward him.

It wasn't much use. He wasn't inclined to stand still and let me sneak up on him. He stalked forward, his eyes constantly moving, looking behind trees and generally keeping me busy just not being spotted. Between his unpredictable movement and the way his eyes lit up the jungle like a lantern, there was no way I could move on him without being seen.

So I cut my tree down. Roy pretty good at that.

He heard that, of course. He swung around and leveled his gun and went, "Ah!" and dove out from under the tree just before it... got stuck on another tree and didn't hit the ground at all.

I ran up the tree trunk, watching out for the thorns because they looked really spiky, and jumped down at him, swinging my axe. He brought his axe up to block me, but he missed, because I was aiming at the other snaky thing I knocked out of the second tree. Not sure if it could have hurt him, but didn't want the interference. I chopped it pretty good.

Then, as he was trying to right himself, I backhanded him in the head with the flat of my axe. His arms went right out from under him and his eyes went out.

"Roy win!" I said, and then another portal opened and I dragged him through it. He was heavy.

**************************************

So yes, I can "talk right." Now, it late. Leave Roy alone. Roy tell more story later.


m0rtimer wrote:The smith carefully examined the damage. It was bad, yet minimal at the same time: whilst the slash itself must have been huge, it was almost as if the weapon that had inflicted it had only been as thick as a sheet of paper. And his “patient” had at least one more of those scars. Still, the golem assured him that all he needed was some new plating to cover the wounds. “That would cost you 20 gold, I’d say,” the smith replied.

SerV3’s eyes turned a dull yellow. Anxiety.

“I… Could we strike some kind of deal?”
“Can’t do it, Patchy.”

SerV3 wisely decided not to get too mad about being called that hideous nickname again, though his eyes briefly took on a slightly more orange color. The smith had heard of him, and when people talked of him, they more often than not spread bad rumors. But the smith still seemed to be ready to name him a fair price – which was what SerV3 was looking for. He had nothing to bargain with, though...

“Listen, you don’t understand. I’m broke. I spent every single penny I have. I’m in a kind of race, and every second counts. So far, I’ve done all the travelling on foot. Some of the other participants out there are using portals!”
“Sorry, but I don’t do charity.”
“All I wish for is... well… well, I don’t know yet. The point is, whatever I use the stone for won’t have any adverse effects on you, your village, or the whole world for that matter. In contrast, I think some of the others out there heading for the stone would love to see this whole world burn.”

The smith briefly pondered the golem’s words. Of course he knew about the stone, everyone did.
Then again, he was one of the few people alive who knew about its past. And all things considered, he had been surprisingly friendly so far.

“Sorry kid. I guess it’ll just have to be someone else who saves the world.”

SerV3 stood there for a moment without moving, and the smith began to fear that he would actually have to find a way to get rid of him peacefully. But SerV3 needed those repairs, and to be entirely honest, he could use some gold as well.

The golem’s right hand grasped the compact gun bolted onto his left arm and pulled. Several pieces of machinery came loose with it, but he knew he would not need them anymore. SerV3 put the gun on the table.

“Wha-“
“I’m a desperate man, sir. And if you’re any of a salesman I think you are, then you know that desperate men resort to desperate measures. This gun fires compact, high velocity cannonballs at a moderate rate of fire, no gunpowder required. I have a good ten of these cannonballs to spare, and creating more is easy. All I ask for this beauty is a repair and 50 gold.”
“...30”
“Being desperate does not make me a fool. This gun is worth far more than what I ask. 50 gold, or I will find someone else to buy it instead.”
“How about this then. You are in a race for that stone, aren’t you? Tell you what. If you keep heading north, you will reach Mount Pulcher. It’s a volcano that’s been active for years, and so they say it’s impossible to cross. It takes a good two or even three days to go around it. What if I tell you that there’s a path across? Somewhat risky, but it’ll save you those two to three days. Thirty gold, a repair, and I’ll also tell you how you can find that path. Do we have a deal?”
“…”
“Deal.”

Later that day, SerV3 stood at the base of Mount Pulcher. A volcano that seemed to be truly impassable. It had been active for longer than anyone could remember, and never lain dormant. It was virtually surrounded by a moat of lava several miles wide. Any sane person would have preferred going around it. Yet the smith had claimed that there was a path consisting of a series of small, hardened rock bridges spanning the fiery streams of lava flowing down the mountainside and eventually slowly clotting into solid black rock of which the entire volcano was made. A scar of black in an otherwise rather nice landscape.
SerV3 only hoped that the man had been honest and had given him the right instructions. The golem wouldn’t have any time to go back if he hadn’t…


Roy bored. Roy not have fight for long time. Visit village, have fun. But no fight. Less fun.
See guy with shooty thing. Think I know shooty thing. I ask about shooty thing. Guy tells me about metal guy.

Fight! This be fun.

“Metal guy! Metal guy, Roy here!”

SerV3 stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned. He had expected somebody to challenge him sooner or later. Still, he had hoped it would only be after he had crossed the volcano. He grasped his axe, now his only weapon, and turned to face his foe. Then, seeing Roy, he grinned.

“Roy want fight! Metal guy come over?”

SerV3 had been following one of the small streams of lava upwards, and Roy was standing on the other side. What a shame he had been forced to sell his gun, the golem thought, else this would have been easy. Then again, it probably would not be right to shoot a defenseless foe.

“Sorry Roy. You’re on the wrong side of the river. Good day!”

Roy not like this. Roy look forward to fight. Roy not let metal guy get away that easily.

Roy carefully go few steps back.

“What are you do-“

Roy charge. Roy jump.

Roy land. Roy strike.

SerV3 barely dodged the sudden attack, taking a few steps back himself while regaining a firm grip on his axe.

The ground beneath them began to crack, but both fighters were too focused on each other to notice.

SerV3 suddenly lunged, swinging his axe in a horizontal arc, missing as Roy nimbly jumped back.

“Metal guy use axe! Roy use axe too!”

“Good for you.”

As SerV3 stepped forward for another swing, he finally became aware of the widening crack below him.

“Wait!”

Roy charge. Roy strike.

Roy miss. Roy hit floor. Suddenly, no floor.

The black ground crumbled, the two warriors crashing down into the depths. After a few seconds, SerV3 landed with a crash, softer than was to be expected on hard rock – or lava, for that matter – which he was expecting to find down here. He quickly scanned his surroundings for Roy, but was unable to find him. Slowly, the oddness of the place he was in began to dawn on the golem.

He had crash-landed on some very large red flowers that had broken his fall, at the cost of being squished themselves. There were plants here?

Only now did SerV3 register the vastness of the place he had entered.

Here, beneath the volcano, hidden from the face of the earth for who knows how long – possibly millennia – lay one of the most beautiful sights one could possibly have ever seen. Everything was covered in strange plants and trees, all growing along a downward slope from the wall behind him that was hiding the valley from view. Towards the center of the volcano, where the valley reached its greatest depths, SerV3 could vaguely make out a lake, and a steep, glowing wall. Made of some strange metal, the core of the volcano lay right behind it: heating up the wall, making it provide light and heat for this small valley.

It was beautiful. SerV3’s eyes turned white – this surreal place, the beautiful flowers, that lake, that glow, were all too much for him to register at the same time.

“This nice place.”
SerV3 snapped back to reality. Roy was admiring the landscape as well, standing next to him.
“We fight now?”

SerV3 sighed, and then nodded, taking a few steps back and bracing himself, as if it was a duel, just with axes instead of the more elegant weapons such as a rapier or sword.

If he lost, he could not imagine a more beautiful place to die.
Roy lunged. SerV3 willingly took a small hit, for it enabled him to get his own attack in on Roy, who would otherwise always manage to dodge back far enough that the golem’s attack would miss.

“Ah!”

Roy’s arm bleed. Will become scar. Only bother a bit. Roy smile again. Roy strike himself. This is battle. Scar is battle trophy.

Roy strike. Small hit again.

This exchange of blows continued, the two fighters slowly wearing each other down.

“You’re a good fighter, Roy.”
“You too, metal man!”

Sadly for SerV3, he meant it. Roy was a good fighter. He suddenly regretted selling his gun.

Roy had gained the advantage of height, and SerV3 was slowly being forced to back down the slope, towards the lake and end of the valley. His armor was beginning to show wear and tear, and whilst Roy was bleeding, he did not stop. It would take a lot more to stop him.

The surroundings began to blur. The lake, being so close to the core of the volcano, was creating a thick, misty veil of steam. Luckily, SerV3 couldn’t be bothered by heat, at least something that was playing on his side! He would need that, as everything else was against him.

One of the valley creatures, vaguely resembling a turtle, lay burrowed partly underground. It was sleeping until a colossus of a golem stepped on it. The startled animal struggled to get away, and
SerV3, surprised by the creature, almost lost his balance.

Roy took the opportunity to strike out, making SerV3 loose his balance completely and tumble down the hill. The turtle-like creature fled as well, as fast as it’s stubby legs would take it, to create a new burrow elsewhere.

Roy began his descent as well. He was mostly interested to see if the metal guy was still alive. If he was, they had a fight to finish! If not, well... he would go find that turtle and give it a smack for stealing his fight.

As Roy came closer to the water, the steam slowly became too thick to properly see. The only reason he knew he was close was because he could hear the water boiling and turning into steam, then hissing as it was cooled back down. Was it possible that it could rain in this place because of this cycle?
Obviously, that was not what Roy’s mind was set on, but rather on finding that golem.
“Metal guy! Metal guy, where are you?!”

Roy got his reply as a blunt object hit him in the back of his head, hurling him down the hill. His head struck a rock, after which he crashed down into the steaming water, unconscious.
The surprisingly abundant water creatures immediately came towards this easy prey: a few smaller fish even daring to take a nibble. But all fled as a large fish, a brawny, carapace-plated predator, decided that it would claim this prize.

An axe thumped down on the fish’s hard plating, and it instinctively backed off. As soon as the large fish fled, SerV3 lost no time in dragging Roy onto dry land. The golem was relieved to see that the man was still breathing.

“I’m sorry for that… cowardly move. But to be entirely honest, I’m no fighter. It’s what I’ve been designed for, to fight, and I’m good at it but…”
“But…”
“…You’re a good guy, Roy. Maybe you should stop thinking about fighting all the time. Or maybe try to direct it at a better target, at least...” SerV3 sighed. “I’m no good at this. Goodbye, Roy.”

SerV3 turned back, climbing back to the top of the valley, where he found a weak spot in the wall that he used as an exit, and continued his journey towards the stone.
The Ratings War: Be Careful What You Wish For. A forum game that's a bit different.

Destiny of the Stonetear Clan
Wields-two-shields - Goblin maiden
HP 5/5
ATT: 3 (1 + 2 short blade)
DEF: 5 (2 + Frostward: +2 DEF Melee attacks made against the wearer have a 25% chance to freeze the attacker, making it inactive for the next turn. + 1 light wooden shield)
Back pack
skull - just be glade it's not you
Skeleton key
Leather Armor +1
Jar of Blue Energy

Escape from Brassmoon
Kritanta - kobold rogue. -died turn 135 RIP
User avatar
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby vid20 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 12:53 am

ArcticTornados Inti vs SilverMK2s Vrita
Weeping Wall
Arctic Tornado wrote:Seven great rivers converged in this place. Three different nations marked it as the end of their territory, eight gods were said to have arisen here. Fourteen explorers had claimed its discovery, and half of all drunken sailors claim to have navigated it. This place was, for many people, the ultimate geographical barrier. The edge of the world was as much a practical name as a fanciful one, as for many years maps had simply ended at the top of these cliffs. It would be impossible to name these rivers, as many civilisations had given them names over the years. One river, broad and blue, crossed thousands of miles of peaceful plains, its lazy road coming to a roaring conclusion as it plummeted into the fog banks below. Another came from the land of the frost giants, and huge chunks of ice would sometimes crash over the wall, even in the height of summer. The next came from a city of wizards and sorceries, and its water glowed in gently changing colours in the night. Another flowed through a great cathedral-city, and its waters were the palest of blue and were said to have great healing powers.

It was a beautiful, and fitting, place to rest. Inti lay on his back in lush, green grass, strong from the plentiful sunlight and water. Beside him a great river roared out into the void, crashing down onto the rocks so far below. The sunlight warmed his aching joints as Inti relaxed for the first time since his meeting with Kane. Two weeks ago he would have never risked pausing in such an open place, but such a long journey was taking its toll even on such a seasoned survivalist as Inti. The cuts and bruises he had sustained early on were long-faded by now, his troubles were more subtle than that. It had been far too long since he had seen his home, the most precious thing in the world behind him. It seemed madness to be walking in the other direction, into danger and death. But then, that was precisely the point, wasn’t it? Lost in his thoughts, Inti slipped into dozing, while around him water cascaded in great sheets down the weeping wall.

A dragon’s eye is a wondrous thing. Eight different lenses are precisely controlled by muscles that contort to allow a dragon crystal-clear focus on pretty much anything it chooses, regardless of distance or light. A thin, invisible lid lies on the eye, protecting it from the heat a full-grown dragon’s breath can produce. The eyes are coloured by the dragon’s own magical energy, their hue representing the form of magic they are most in tune with. A dragon’s eyes are the window to its soul.

Vrita’s eyes were not so wonderful. Most of the muscles that held the lenses were dead or useless. The protective lid was patchy and delicate. The eyes were predominantly orange, and stranger still, they flickered. An orange eye meant the dragon was most in tune with rage, destruction, and pain. Gold flecks were unheard of, though a dragon with gold eyes would be compassionate and strong.

Vrita moved in great leaping bounds, her withered wing struggling to hold her weight , succeeding in only delaying her return to ground. She was making good, if unsubtle progress. Her claws cut gouges in the road, the crash as she returned to the ground surely alerting any nearby watchers. Her cover already blown, Vrita was casting her mind far around, not so much sensing as invading the minds of anything nearby. So it was that she easily found the mind of her next target, and was shocked to find him not in wary readiness, but fast asleep. Was it her lot to fight nothing but weaklings and monstrosities? Still, if her last encounter had taught her anything, it was that mercy had no place in a struggle such as this. Vrita surged on.

Inti’s dreams changed. The familiar faces from his clan were gone. Now there was a towering monstrosity, all steel-plated and scorched, chasing him as he ran through a forest of shadows and twisted roots. Then an apparition with red eyes clutched at his heel, blood dribbling from the mouth and chest as he turned to look at it. “Inti... you are mine, Inti. I will not have your soul escape me so easily... Wake up, Inti.” A barklike stump of a hand struck at the ground with a crash. “Wake up, Inti!” Crash. “Wake!” A thunderous crash, and Inti’s eyes flew open, his hand flying to his sword faster than thought.

Vrita made one last leap for the golden sleeping figure, only to find her claws sparking off a blade pulled from nowhere in a hasty guard. The unexpected resistance tripped her, and she staggered. Without the wing’s balancing effect, she failed to recover, and sprawled in the grass on her right side. Inti wasted no time. He leapt to his feet and ran for the recumbent lizard, thinking Flacks had found him. The tangle of limbs writhed and a gaping maw appeared, from which a brief glow was all the warning Inti was given. He dove to one side, throwing his free hand out at the oncoming inferno, a ward just barely deflecting the blast so that it missed him, but still caught the trailing edge of his tunic. Inti continued his dive into a roll on the floor, springing to his feet on the very edge of the turf. A few feet of bare rock was now that all separated him from a precipitous drop over the wall.

His would-be assassin had recovered too, and now perched just out of striking distance, right on the edge of the cliff. The two eyed each other warily, waiting for the other to break guard first. Inti took in the narrow, ridged head, the gaping, beak-like maw lined with teeth. He noticed the ridge of horns, the four sinewy legs, the damaged wings. “Dragon?” He said, confused. Vrita took advantage of this confusion, and lunged forwards, feinting with a vicious claw, only to follow it up with a vicious backhanded swing that Inti failed to block, sending him sprawling towards the edge. A follow-up from the tail, and Inti found himself falling into open air.

He twisted desperately, and plunged his sword into the cliff face, the enchanted blade cutting easily through the rock. He came to a stomach-lurching stop just above an overhang, over twenty feet from the top of the cliff. Inti clung desperately to the hilt with both hands, while above him Vrita searched for a way down. He looked down, and saw his feet dangling over a precipitous drop into mist. Whether sharp rocks or water lay below he couldn’t tell, but something told him today would not be his lucky day.

Count yourself lucky I cannot fly, Genasi. I shall be back with something to dislodge you. I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere soon.

Shit. Inti’s position had just gone from bad to worse. Above him came the grinding sound of a rock being ripped up out of the ground. He drew one of his spare swords from its sheath with one hand, and began pouring flame into it, magically heating it until it was white hot. The air rippled with the heat, unnoticed by the Genasi who was all but immune to such things. Inti swung on his sword one-handed, and plunged the burning sword into the rock on the very lip of the overhang beneath him. The rock hissed and steamed, and Inti began to pour cold into the sword, re-solidifying the molten rock to hold his weight.

An ominous creak made Inti look up. A large rock was appearing over the edge of the cliff, directly above him. He wrenched the first sword from the rock, dropping painfully down to dangle from the one below. Now he began to swing back and forth, getting a little closer to the rock face each time. He glanced up one last time and saw the rock tipping over the edge. Desperately, he swung forward, and stabbed his first sword into the rock below the overhang. The boulder hurtled past him, but he was sheltered safely beneath the rocky outcrop now. Well, safer. He was still dangling from a sword hilt above almost certain death, after all.

Hmm. You have dodged my boulder, little one, but it makes no difference. Sooner or later your grip will break, and I will be one step closer to the stone I seek.

The gold of Inti’s skin began to fade, becoming more rough and brown. “Well, how about a chat in the meantime? You look a lot like a dragon to me... But from what I’ve heard they’re all but extinct, and you don’t feel like a dragon – us creatures of magic have a certain knack for recognising one another.”

Why should I indulge your pointless questioning?

“Well,” broadcasted Inti, while his left hand fumbled in the bag at his side “I might be inclined to say something helpful if you indulge me, certainly I’ll have something of interest to you. Now, I have a pretty good understanding of dragons, certainly better than what some scribe could tell you.” Inti produced a rope and lashed his hand to the sword hilt, allowing him to relax his grip. “The most obvious thing is your shrivelled wing. Adult dragons are all but incorruptible in body, but your balance suggests that it’s a fresh injury.”

You know nothing of me.

“Don’t I? Your breath is strange too, a mix of destructive and necrotic energy, not a single form of energy like a... healthy dragon.

Healthy??? I am a dragon! I have cast you to your certain doom without a second thought! Who are you to question my fitness?

“My kind are experts on these energies, scale-kin, they are in our very blood. I would guess that you are under the sway of some great sickness, that has masked your true nature. Ask yourself. Have you ever shown a speck of mercy, or compasison, or empathy? These are things a true Black Dragon would find all but incomprehensible!”

Vrita was silent, remembering how she had spared the dog, felt a... kinship with it, even. She had even contemplated using a fraction of the stone’s power for it! And then there was the monstrosity she had faced. It was not right for one like her to fear such an abomination, when she should be commanding its fealty instead. And years ago, in her moment of greatest rage, she had let a horse live. She could have killed it, slowly even, but she had not. The creature’s fear had... touched her.

Inti took Vrita’s silence as assent and continued “You know, I did hear tales of a dragon residing in the magewastes. Most dragons are accounted for, after all, and the magewastes would certainly be powerful enough to corrupt a young dragon. I guess that is your origin.”

You may be insightful now, but you were a fool to come here, to think you stood a chance against such a mighty creature as myself, to lower your guard, even for an instant.

“Perhaps. But there are more ways to defeat an opponent than simply fighting them. I would ask why you are hunting the stone, but I doubt you can even justify it to yourself. It is power, raw and corruptible, and that is all that your sickness desires. Perhaps your corruption will transcend you, moving on to greater destruction. Maybe this is why your true nature is not holding you back in your search, as it did when you showed mercy.”

You are nothing but a fool. The magewastes have opened my eyes to a power other dragons cannot begin to understand. The price was steep, but the lessons learned will ensure my greatest desires will all be mine.

“I cannot make any promises, scale-kin, but I shall do my best to heal your sickness, and if I cannot, I know that the stone will be able to do it for me.”

Grand talk for a man dangling from a cliff. We sha-

Vrita blinked. The mind she had been sending to was gone. Had he fallen? She peered over the edge, hoping to see a falling silhouette. Her eyes strained at the cliffs, but nothing was visible. The she felt a growing sentience in the ground, and she looked at her feet in confusion.

Sand shot up from the ground beneath her feet, scouring the skin on Vrita’s feet. It tore through the old scars in her hide, opening up raw flesh below, which was grated on by a thousand grains of sand. The sand began eating away at the midnight blue scales, stripping off the toughest layer and leaving soft colourless scales below. Only the rare silver scales were spared. Vrita roared in pain and sprang forwards out of the cloud of stinging sand. Remembering too late that her wings no longer supported her, Vrita twisted in midair and strained to reach the cliff, flying towards it at an angle.

Back on the cliff edge, the cloud of sand formed a humanoid shape, then features and clothing began to form in it. Before long, Inti was re-formed, watching as Vrita hit the cliff a few feet too low, and started to claw her way back up the side. “Right where I want you.” He reached for the newest sheath at his side. It was a curious black leather, encircled with glyphs of binding, and buckles. He flicked the catches holding the sword in to the side, and delicately pulled on the hilt. The blade itself was not exactly visible, but a faint red glow where the sword’s wards came into contact with the air, and a dark line in the air when it moved showed its position clearly enough. Flack’s sword was a wicked weapon, able to cut through just about anything with almost no resistance – as long as it wasn’t warded.

Inti ran to where Vrita was trying to climb her way up, and jabbed the sword at her, like a flaming brand. She recoiled, and retreated down the cliff, and began working her way around the cliff, Inti following her crabwise and keeping her from climbing up. She fired a blast of breath at him, but he was prepared, and a ward harmlessly deflected the attack.

Well, I’m certainly feeling healed. Are you actually planning on fighting me any time soon?

“Slow down and I’ll cut a rock down onto you. Is that fighting enough for you?”

Vrita snarled and kept moving, looking furiously for a chance to get the drop on Inti as she gradually approached the next major waterfall. So what, you’re planning to drown me? I’ve never seen a worse plan. She taunted, hoping he would take the bait.

“No, I plan to fulfil my promise. Surely you recognise that river?”

Sure enough, Vrita recognised the pale blue waters cascading down the rock. The godspring? Surely you don’t really believe that my power is a sickness?

“The question is, do you? If you do not, then you have nothing to fear from its waters. In fact, they would only heal your wounds.”

Vrita saw her chance: an outcrop of rock like a platform, just ahead of the waterfall. She leapt for it, leaving Inti behind. Now she was back on an equal footing, prepared to fight. Listen, dustwalker. My power is who I am. It defines me, and I will not let you take it away from me through some misguided idea of what is natural or not. Vrita focused her will on her claws, warding them against the strange blade Inti bore. In response, Inti sheathed Flack’s sword, and summoned his own to his hand, preferring its balance and familiarity.

Inti and Vrita stared each other down for a second, then both charged at once. Inti covered the distance in three steps. He parried a vicious swipe of a claw, dove under a snap of the jaws, and blocked the other leg with a ward. Now he was inside Vrita’s guard, and he swung backhanded at her neck, striking hard with the pommel of his sword. There was a momentary absence of sound as he struck, then Vrita was thrown backwards by a blast of air, and Inti was forced to his knees. She twisted in midair and landed on her feet, her claws cutting gouges in the turf as she slid to a halt, wheezing for breath.
Vrita looked at the river a few feet behind her and smirked. Well fought, Genasi. But not well enough. Her eyes narrowed at his leg, and Inti looked down. Vrita’s claw had reached his leg just as he had hit her, and now an enormous gash was ripped open, running from knee to stomach. Sand was pouring from it, cascading down his leg onto the floor.

“Oh.” The wound was clearly a fatal one.

Vrita began to chuckle. Powers such as the stone are for the taking of dragons, gods, and such creatures as would make your blood boil. Mortals such as you have no place in the grand scheme of things. You are tiny. Beneath me. Perhaps you will make it to the river. Perhaps not. You are broken, Genasi. This struggle never concerned you. Go home, if you can.

Home... Inti remembered his home. He thought of the faces of the people there, the occasional traveller, the good, simple life they lived. He thought of Quilla’s face, and he knew he could not give up. He would not die here. He could not die here. He struggled to summon every last drop of his power from his fading body, his one chance to triumph.

Vrita turned away from Inti, who had begun to shake and shiver. She launched herself over the river, aiming for a small island in the centre. She was halfway there, when there was a great burst of lightning to her left, and a blazing sword tip shot through her eye, down her neck, and across her leg. Inti had, with the last of his power, teleported to beside her, and made a crippling strike, before falling, only saving himself by grabbing Vrita’s leg.

The weight, the surprise, and the damage, were too much. Vrita fell short, and both she and Inti were dropped into the river, just barely ahead of the enormous waterfall. Inti’s leg began knitting together under the healing powers of the river, and he started to swim for the island ahead of him, his strength returning. Something far stranger was happening to Vrita. Where her scales had been damaged by Inti, they were growing back silver, then turning black, then silver, as Vrita’s corruption and the river’s power struggled for control. Vrita’s damaged eye was turning gold, then orange would bloom and fade in it, over again. Vrita too, swam for the island, roaring in pain.

Inti reached the island first, and stood on the bank as Vrita approached. He eyed the changing patterns with concern. It was impossible to tell which was winning out, but if Vrita got out now, there would only be one outcome. “Sorry Vrita!” He yelled over the roar of the waterfall “But I hope someday you’ll thank me for this!” Electricity began to crackle in his sword, and as Vrita’s soaking claw reached for the bank, he hit her away with it, sending the electricity coursing through her, burning her skin and making her convulse horribly. The attack had stunned her, and the current gently tugged her away, sending her almost gracefully over the falls and out of sight.

If she survived the fall, it would be some time before she would be able to leave the river... hopefully long enough for the river’s magic to repair the damage to her, but it was impossible to be sure. Inti would just have to continue his journey, and hope for the best.


SilverMK2 wrote:The waters tumble downwards; the crashing roar almost defying thought and driving all other sound before it. Spilling down the immense cliff face the torrents of water are caught by the sunlight, brilliant rainbows without number leaping through the spray between the myriad of falls as they split, merge and run their course, eventually disappearing into the cloud like formation of spray far below.

Almost impossibly small amid this giant formation of nature, a protuberance of rock – itself a massive structure that anywhere else would be considered a wonder, is utterly dwarfed by the falls that crash and flow around it. A thin path winds back between the raging curtains of water into the warren of caves and paths that has been eroded into the cliff face over countless aeons.

At the very tip of the spur Inti kneels, surrounded by a ring of protective magic etched into the slippery rock itself. The soaking mists mysteriously part around him and the treacherous wind calmed in his presence. Within this bubble of serenity Inti meditates; thinking on the path that led him to this place, on the loss of his swords and on the gaining of another. But most of all he meditated on the new and tumultuous power that boiled within him; the power of the storm. Such a power was almost unthinkable to one such as he, born as he was in the dry lands far to the south where water’s power held little sway. He struggled to harmonise this powerful and destructive new force with the powers of the sun and the earth that were already his but the storm threatened to scatter or turn the sand to dust, and blot out the sun. His skin phased through the three states of power as the battle raged inside.

A shadow fluttered across his eyelids. It took several seconds for the disturbance to filter through to Inti’s conscious mind. His eyes flashed open, scanning the sky around him. Nothing.

Suddenly Vritra erupted into the sky before him, darting up from under the rock, blue warping flame shooting from her open maw, spilling across the protective runes which burned white hot as they fought to dispel the corrupting power that washed over them. Inti instantly sprung to his feet, the foreign blade of Flacks in his hand, watching as Vritra sped through the shifting maze of falling columns of water and out of sight. Outside the protective ring of seals the rock plateau had suffered the full mutable power of Vritra’s searing blue flame. One by one the burning runes started to fail, the heat coming from them cracking the cool rock. Taking a running leap, Inti sprung free of his sorcerous pool of calm and sailed over to the rock untouched by Vritra’s flame, barely kept his footing as his feet skidded on the slippery rock.

He could feel the touch of the dragon’s mind on his own, as well as its eyes, watching from somewhere amid the gargantuan maze of water, rock and air. With his free hand he reached into his bag of holding, the magical properties of the bag summoning forth the item he desired; a plain and battered silver ring – of no visible power or use, but one of the most powerful and valuable relics Inti had ever been able to recover. He slipped the ring onto his finger and took up his guard, planting his feet as firmly as he could on the treacherous rock. The transformation running through him began to speed up as his concentration broke; the sand and sun phases becoming fleeting ghosts across the rolling black storm that darkened his form.

His eyes scanned the surface of the cliff above and to the sides but all he could see was the spilling mist and the echoing falls, here and there broken by ancient, jagged rocks. He looked out into the open sky, shading his eyes against the sun but again could not see anything.

The minutes passed, and still there was no sign of the dragon.

A dark flicking caught out of the side of his eye made him turn; screaming towards him was the midnight black dragon. Scant moments later the blue fire washed around him as Vritra shot past, playing the deadly flame over his flesh. Inti screamed as the band around his finger glowed hotter than the sun as it absorbed and dissipated the energy of a hundred half woven spells all fighting to consume his flesh. His body tried to shift into his sun form to protect him from the heat, but the rebellious storm form fought to break free, fuelled by the power of the ring. Unable to protect himself, the ring’s power coursed through him and in agony he struck out with the force of a tropical hurricane.

The waterfall for a hundred metres around him exploded out from the cliff, shot through with bolts of lightning. Through the pain he heard a scream of rage rip through his mind as Vritra was caught in the blast of water and was thrown out from the cliff face, surrounded by hundreds of tonnes of water and unable to fight free – she plunged into the mists below.

Inti was aware of nothing but the pain. Lightning flashed from his limbs, scarring the rock as it struck and peels of thunder rang out in time with the beautiful but deadly arcs of light. Unable to balance the powers within him, the storm tried to break him apart; smothering the sunfire of his heart with the darkness of the clouds, and scattering the earth of his body to the four raging winds.

The sun darkened as banks of thunderheads rolled across the sky, a freezing rain pelted down, cutting through the gentle mist and merging with the rivers; swelling their flow until the entirety of the Weeping Wall was a single torrent of unending water. The rainbows dancing playfully though the mists died as they were cut off from the light.

Designed to protect the wearer from magics outside of the body, the unassuming silver ring was of little use to him now as the magics within his blood and soul literally began to rip him apart: Rents appeared in his skin and blood pooled about his feet before mingling with and being washed away by the water of the falls. His flesh began to melt and slough, his screaming lost amid the noise of the water thundering down around him.

His now lidless eyes gazed out at the point of rock, the ruined area around his protective circle clearly visible even as his retinas slowly dissolved. He tried to draw breath into his ruined lungs.

He blacked out for a moment.

A dark form crouched before him, long, taloned claws holding his head gently, forcing what was left of his eyes to gaze into the depths of the burning orange eyes of the dragon. Crystal white teeth the size of his fingers flashed before him as the dragon snarled; face just inches from his own. Small sparks of lightning flickered over its scales as the power of the storm raging inside him tried to earth itself through her. Vritra gently shivered as the ice cold water rained down upon her, jagged holes had been ripped through her wings and many of her scales had fresh scars scored along them from her fall down the cliff. The ring on Inti’s finger glowed a dull silver as the latent magic inherent in any dragon washed through Inti. His destroyed throat tried to form a scream as this extra power fuelled the storm within, but only managed a wet gurgle which was lost amid the roar of falling water.

Vritra turned Inti’s head left and right, examining the bone gleaming through the ruined flesh. With an effortless movement her claw sliced through the finger bearing the silver ring; it spun through the air and was lost to the endless falls. What remained of Inti’s face tried to make an expression of pain, both at the loss of his finger and the loss of a priceless and powerful artefact. A soft mewling came unbidden to his blood stained lips.

A dark chuckle filled what was left of his mind. “We can’t have such a powerful trinket in the hands of one such as you – especially when you would use it against me.” She squinted into his one remaining eye as his face melted around it “Besides which, from the looks of you, you do not have long for this world anyway.”

She shifted her weight painfully as broken bones within her flesh ground together. “And so the question comes to me; do I end your existence, granting you release from your pain, or do I leave you to be consumed by those powers which you accepted into yourself without understanding their true nature?”

She gazed into his eye, pondering this quandary as Inti hung helplessly suspended from the claws wrapped around his neck in a vice like grip. He struggled weakly, the last of his strength quickly failing as the storm slowly blasted his body and spirit apart.

Long moments passed, lightning flashed continuously across the skies and thick torrents of rain lashed down.

Vritra’s eyes closed to slits as she reached her decision “I shall leave you here to your fate, mortal. There are some paths that, though unlikely, deserve the chance to be trod.”

With that, she cast him aside; his passage across the rock marked by a trail of flesh which quickly disintegrated to dust, quickly caught up in the wind and scattered.

The last thing he saw was the dragon turn sinuously and launch itself into the dark and stormy sky.
Last edited by vid20 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 12:58 am, edited 1 time in total.
The Ratings War: Be Careful What You Wish For. A forum game that's a bit different.

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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby vid20 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 12:55 am

PicksUpSticks Jimmy one arm vs ReadsVoraciouslys Aloysius Aduviri
Mountain Monastery
PicksUpSticks wrote:The Choice

Aloysius exhaustively trudged his way up the final steps to the temple door. He lowered his hood as entered the hall, taking a moment to bask in the warmth and safety from the harsh mountain winds as the door closed itself behind him. He tried desperately to remember the last time he had a roof to sleep under that he did not conjure up himself; ultimately deciding that contemplating such matters was too depressing.

He slowly scanned the empty hall; large pillars shed much of the room in complete darkness. If it were not for the fire burning to inform him of inhabitants, Aloysius would have figured the temple to be deserted. He removed his book as he sat down next to the fire, taking his time as he carefully crafted himself a hearty meal.

As a table filled with warm plates warped themselves into reality, Aloysius carefully selected a small saucepan filled with milk and placed on the floor by his side. He was not even finished preparing the table before he saw the cat emerge from the shadows, indulging itself in his offering.

You can come out whenever you wish, thief. I prepared an extra spot at this table and it would be a shame to see it wasted.

A few moments of silence passed until Jimmy One Arm emerged from the shadows.

And here I was figuring myself rather clever; don’t suppose you are going to tell me how you knew?


My apologies, but that will have to remain a mystery. I will confess you had an opportunity when I entered, but you didn’t act on it.


So I figured we stop the charade and handle this like gentlemen. You are Jimmy the thief with one arm, correct? Do you know who I am?

Jimmy dropped his guard and approached the table, and gave the food a cautious glance.

Well, you’re right about the thief part, but how did you know I only had one arm? You are Aloysius, the “book guy”, last I heard you were in a snowball fight.


Aloysius reacted to the title with a soft chuckle; he took a bite from a loaf of bread and tossed the remainder to Jimmy.

Yes, I am that “Book Guy”, you do seem much more willing to converse, rather than fight. However, we are still dealing with a difficult situation, as we are both seeking a unique prize.

And neither of us will quit, so at some point will probably have to fight.

Precisely. So the question arises… How do we decide who moves on; can we come to an agreement that doesn’t end with us brawling like mindless barbarians?

Jimmy sat for a moment in contemplation; noticing that Pooches had wandered closer to the fire and fallen asleep.

No, the monks gave us shelter, and a battle would be disrespectful. While we both rely on the tricks and cunning to accomplish our goals, we do it in very different ways. I am sure we can agree on terms that put us on equal ground.

I must concur on that point. You appear to articulate in a mellifluous way, one that veils a desire to discern your true trenchant style. Where as I rely on being the astute erudite, perceptive to the situation instead of the individual.


An awkward silence filled the room as Jimmy tried to figure out whether he was just insulted.

… Did you just say I talk like a tree?


No, but you just exemplified my point. I was simply stating that our difference is you manipulate the person, while I manipulate the situation. Think of it as the difference between wisdom and knowledge.


Ok, now what was the deal with all the words?


They are just words, with no malice intended.


The two spent the next few minutes eating in silence, both perplexed by the idea of what would constitute fair competition. It was Aloysius who jokingly broke the silence.

Amazing the concept of fairness can leave us both so perplexed, perhaps we can let fate decide on a coin flip.


Jimmy paused for a moment as the wheels in his head started turning, a sly smile crossed his face as he stood up from the table.

That is a perfect idea. Can you clear the table of everything but three identical copper cups filled with wine?


Aloysius obliged and began writing in his book, Jimmy started digging through his backpack as the food reshaped and transformed into three ordinary cups. He produced a small vial of red liquid and hid the cups from Aloysius' view.

After a second bit of awkward shuffling on the thief’s part, he placed all three cups on the table.

What I just put in is a very potent poison, now I want you to select two cups and I will drink one of the two you selected. Then you must drink from one of the remaining two---


Out of nowhere Aloysius reached over and knocked all three glasses over.

Do you take me for a fool? You could have easily of poisoned all three cups and have the antidote in your bag. I will not fall for your tricks that easy.


The admission in Jimmy’s face was more than enough of a conformation for Aloysius, he began to stand up before Jimmy stopped him.

Wait, there was no trick to be had here. If there is a lack of trust, write up two bottles, one with poison… Anything of your choosing, give me one second. No tricks.


Aloysius conjured up the bottles of wine as jimmy quickly produced three large mugs with copper tops.

Just so you cant see what you are drinking, which bottle is the poison so I make sure I don't put it in twice.

Jimmy threw his backpack to the side to eliminate suspicion, it took him a few minutes to produce the three mugs all full of wine.

Now, choose two

Aloysius picked up the mug closest to himself and watched as Jimmy grabbed one and quickly drank from it. He set it down and looked at Aloysius.

Wrong choice... It is now... wait... That's not right...

Jimmy slumped over a bit, and an immediate smile broke from Aloysius as he burst into laughter.

I can't believe you fell for that, they were all poison you damn fool! I knew you were to drink first, so why would I even bother making any of them safe.


Aloysius' laughter was cut short when he noticed that Jimmy was no longer slumping.

I know, these are anymugs, and I filled them with regular wine. I knew you wouldn't pass up an opportunity like that.

Aloysius, realizing he had been tricked, moved to grab his book. Finding himself unable to move his arm.

They are also coated in a special kind of poison that leaves its victims unable to move. As you probably figured out, and mentioned earlier, I am immune to it.

The room was silent as Jimmy rose and picked up Aloysius' book, carefully putting it in his backpack.

Common Pooches its time to go, the monks can deal with him in the morning. He is no longer a threat.

Aloysius could do nothing but watch as Jimmy picked up Pooches and left, taking his book... But forgetting the pen.


ReadsVoraciously wrote:Peaceful. It’s been far too long since Aloysius had an occasion to use the word. Although, for this secluded mountain monastery, the word seemed insufficient. What was a better word? Tranquil? Irenic? No, there was only one word for the calming, blissful effect that permeated this community so fully. Serene. Aloysius tried to lose himself in the moment, basking in the healing atmosphere of the friary. A crisp mountain breeze rolled through the meditation garden, stirring the petals of the wildflowers. Their delicate scent wafted towards Aloysius. He savoured the fragrance of the mountain laurels and was transported to someplace else, somewhen else.

The fire blazed in the hearth of the family den, bathing everything in a soft, warm glow. The crackling of the dry wood combined with the soft patter of rain upon the roof, a rich symphony of comforting sound that soothed Aloysius. The sounds of his family’s movements punctuated the natural melody with complementary notes; the scrabbling of his brother’s pen across paper, the turning of a page in his father’s favourite book, the metallic clink of his mother’s knitting needles. Aloysius casually stroked the arms of his chair, running his fingers along the cracked leather. He breathed deeply, luxuriating in the complex mixture of aromas; the aged leather of his chair, the strong cedar smoke, and lastly, the subtle hint of mountain laurels from the vase in the centre of the room. His loving gaze fixated on each member of his family in kind; his brother sprawled lazily upon the rug, his mother absentmindedly rocking in her chair, and his father stretched out fully, feet resting on the ottoman.

Aloysius shook his head angrily, snapping back to reality. The memory of his family caused him to cringe, experiencing an ache more intense and far deeper than the pain caused by his recently mended bones. Reflecting on the times with them only served to remind him of the setbacks he had endured against Roy. He could not afford to hold back this time. He would not fail again.

********************************************************************************************

Jimmy strode swiftly across the grass. Pooches' padded paws pattered softly behind him. The sound still brought a smile to his face. Repeating himself for what seemed like the hundredth time, he grinned at his feline friend.

"It's good to have you back, Pooches."
"Mreowwr?"
"I couldn't have said it better myself, pal."

Up ahead, they could clearly see Aloysius sitting cross-legged on the ground, deep in meditation. Jimmy made no effort to disguise the sounds of his approach, merely giving a friendly wave as Aloysius looked up at the sound of his steps.

"Hello, Aloysius.” Jimmy nonchalantly shrugged his backpack off, rummaging about inside before withdrawing a flask and taking a quick drink.

“Hello, Jimmy.” Aloysius kept a suspicious eye upon the thief as he reached behind him for his cloak, wrapping it about him and checking the pockets for the reassuring weight of his tools. After a relieved sigh, he removed his newly prepared book, inkwell, and pen. “Forgive me for eschewing any pleasantries, but I would rather get this over with quickly.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick.” Jimmy smirked knowingly at Aloysius as he shook his inkwell to stir its contents. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Aloysius finished mixing the contents of his inkwell, then removed the cap.
*BANG*

********************************************************************************************

One Hour Ago

Expect the unexpected. More importantly, do the unexpected.

Getting in undetected had been easier than he thought. Not easy, just easier. Nothing was easy with one arm. The Invisibility potion didn’t hurt, though. Aloysius was oblivious to his presence as he silently picked through the pockets of Aloysius’ cloak on the ground behind him.

Disabling your opponent during a fight is good. Having your opponent disable themselves before the fight begins is better.

So simple. Just a pinch of the powder was all it took. Harmless in its present state. That would all change from such a simple action. A simple action, and a rare explosive, only activated by oscillation, then exposure to oxygen. Perfect for this situation.

Jimmy replaced the inkwell in its pocket, made one or two other changes, and then returned to Pooches. “Come on, Pooches. It’s time.”

********************************************************************************************

Aloysius stared at his hand in horror. Half of his hand was gone, obliterated by the explosion. On his right hand, only the thumb and two fingers remained. A sudden movement brought Aloysius back to the harsh reality. He barely twisted out of the way as Jimmy lunged forward with his red dagger, slicing at the empty air his torso had just occupied. Aloysius continued his frantic backwards retreat, reaching into his cloak at the same time. When he removed his hand, a round object was clutched firmly in its grasp. A quick flick of his fingers, and the fuse was burning. He flung the object towards Jimmy’s face, turning his eyes away to protect them from the coming flash. Instead of the sound of the flash, Aloysius felt a searing pain in his stomach. Jimmy had ignored the thrown dud and instead darted forward, sinking his blade into the scribe’s abdomen. Aloysius cried out in pain and frustration, blindly swinging his fist towards Jimmy’s face. The blow connected causing Jimmy to stagger backwards in a daze.

“I’ve only got one chance.” Aloysius thought to himself, reaching into his inside shirt pocket where he concealed an emergency pen filled with the ink. With all the haste he could muster, he scrawled upon the page of his book.

Suddenly, Pooches leaped upon the injured man, scratching furiously. Aloysius grabbed hold of the feline and tossed it away from him. Pooches struck the nearby wall and fell to the ground, deathly still.

“Pooches!” Jimmy leaped at Aloysius as he tried to complete his writing. Jimmy gripped the dagger in his belly, twisting it, causing Aloysius to drop his tools in excruciating pain. Jimmy pulled the dagger slowly from Aloysius’ body, glaring down at him. “This is for Pooches.” The dagger flashed forward, a thin red line following its path across Aloysius’ throat. Aloysius’ eyes opened wide in surprise. He coughed once, blood pouring from both his lips and his neck. He fell forward onto the cold earth, eyes still staring into nothingness.
Jimmy rushed to Pooches’ side, gasping in relief as he saw Pooches’ chest rising and falling. “Good. Just knocked unconscious. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you again buddy. Don’t scare me like that.” Jimmy grinned widely at his friend. “Tomorrow, we’ll continue our journey. You and me, pal. To the end.”

********************************************************************************************

Aloysius stared down at the unconscious Jimmy. The sleeping man’s eyes flickered as he dreamed. Aloysius sighed, thinking to himself. “That was a close one. I wish it hadn’t come to this. Although, I suppose there are worse fates than an eternal coma. I only hope his mind creates a happy future.” Aloysius pulled the dagger from his stomach, using his Scribery to heal the wound. He unfortunately would be unable to restore his hand, as he couldn’t grow new fingers, and his had been destroyed in the blast. His ruined hand would serve as a constant reminder to be more vigilant in the future.

Aloysius stopped only to tell the monks of Jimmy’s fate. They promised to care for his sleeping form, in case he should ever awaken. Aloysius neglected to mention that Jimmy’s awakening would depend entirely on Aloysius. He gathered his things, and continued his journey in pursuit of the Stone.


SPOILERS:And that's all of them. 40 pages of A4 txt all up. Seriously. Thank god only 4 of you will be writing next round!

But seriously, I love the enthusiasm.
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby m0rtimer on Thu Dec 15, 2011 1:46 am

Allright, I'll read all of these in due time. For now, all I read is knuckle's (which I allready read jesterday to be truthful, but at an holy crap, this late already? time so I didn't have time to say anything properly about it.)

In each case, I really like Knuckle's entry. If anything, the two of us will have a close call.
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby knucklekraken on Thu Dec 15, 2011 2:26 am

So... I read them all. I vote for Simon Lex, Inti, and Aloysius.

Uh, a vote for Roy is a vote for puppies. Yeah. Everybody likes puppies.
Avatar by arles.

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Here are stats for a player race I created, compatible with 3.5 D&D. Please steal.

SPOILERS:Tasty People
+2 Charisma: Tasty People have strong natural pheromones.
-2 Wisdom: Tasty People have a racial predisposition for making bad decisions.
When faced with an encounter involving a predatory creature, a Tasty Person must make a Charisma Check. If the DC (15) is met, the creature will attack the Tasty Person to the exclusion of other targets who are not also Tasty People who have met this DC. The DC should be modified for monsters with a strong sense of smell, I leave this to your discretion as a DM. The monster is not forced to attack the Tasty Person if doing so would cause it to take an attack of opportunity.
A Tasty Person's starting class should be treated as his favored class.

Tasty People speak Common.
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby m0rtimer on Thu Dec 15, 2011 3:06 am

knucklekraken wrote:Uh, a vote for Roy is a vote for puppies. Yeah. Everybody likes puppies.


How am I supposed to go up against that? :lol:
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby SilverMK2 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 3:51 am

So... many... words...

It has taken me all morning at work to read just the first entry :P
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby RandomMerc on Thu Dec 15, 2011 6:20 am

... Crap, theres a typo in mine I didn't notice while pasting it (If you draw your attention to the [I] in the middle of the sentence.

Not that it matters anyway. Just finished Dusk's, and it is way better than I could ever even attempt to write. Thank you for allowing Kane to be beaten honorably, and for the wonderul ending you gave him.

Read others later. Woke up an hour early, and need sleep for finals.
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby m0rtimer on Thu Dec 15, 2011 8:10 am

Okay, I read all of them. All I can say is this:

Image

That, and I'm feeling sorry for the judges.

In each case, my votes... Hard ones. The first one, I'll have to go with Dusk. His text was massive, but it managed to keep exciting.

Me vs Knuckle: Can't really comment on that eh? :)

Arctic vs silver: Hard. I like both of them, and it'd be hard to pick a definitive favorite. Though, I'd go for Arctic

Picks vs reads: Also hard. In the end though, I think my personal opinion goes out to Picks.
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby knucklekraken on Thu Dec 15, 2011 8:20 am

Yeah, I'm really feeling Karkat's pain. I tell you what, it's time to pose as a team or something, because... well, you know.

SPOILERS:(DAMN, that's a terrible idea. If anybody with some artistic talent wants to... naaaaaaaaah.)
Avatar by arles.

Member of the Irregulators. Reticulating splines since 2011.

Here are stats for a player race I created, compatible with 3.5 D&D. Please steal.

SPOILERS:Tasty People
+2 Charisma: Tasty People have strong natural pheromones.
-2 Wisdom: Tasty People have a racial predisposition for making bad decisions.
When faced with an encounter involving a predatory creature, a Tasty Person must make a Charisma Check. If the DC (15) is met, the creature will attack the Tasty Person to the exclusion of other targets who are not also Tasty People who have met this DC. The DC should be modified for monsters with a strong sense of smell, I leave this to your discretion as a DM. The monster is not forced to attack the Tasty Person if doing so would cause it to take an attack of opportunity.
A Tasty Person's starting class should be treated as his favored class.

Tasty People speak Common.
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby Dusk9 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 8:27 am

SilverMK2 wrote:So... many... words...

It has taken me all morning at work to read just the first entry :P


Yeeeeaaaaah :shifty: .......sorry 'bout that :nervous:

RandomMerc wrote:... Crap, theres a typo in mine I didn't notice while pasting it (If you draw your attention to the [i] in the middle of the sentence.


Heh, yeah, I proof-read mine about three or four times, and I just now noticed a bit where I missed out a word and added a couple that the sentence didn't need.

RandomMerc wrote:Not that it matters anyway. Just finished Dusk's, and it is way better than I could ever even attempt to write. Thank you for allowing Kane to be beaten honorably, and for the wonderul ending you gave him.


Thanks for the compliments.I thought Kane would like a herioc, warriors death :D
I was surprised at how many seemingly minor similarities we had in the fighting (Si hurt by and scared of sword, Kane's attacks very fast and block/blocked by Si's, Si loses an arm, Si headbutts Kane, Kane stabs Si with his claws, etc.....). And I thought the way you wrote Si was extremely good - his initial overconfidence, and the way he talked/thought, was a very accurate pictures of his personality.

Onto the rest of them, and I've got to say, I liked every single one. If I could, I'd vote for all of them; sadly, I've got to choose, so:

Vote summary at the bottom of the post if you'd rather not read through all this.

Roy vs Sen -> I loved the way Knuckle's started, with Roy's narration and the depth it added to him :D
I also liked the way he kept 'forgetting' not to use Roy instead of I, and the way he used the trees to hide and eventually win the fight. But, I thought the fight could have been a bit longer and more developed - Roy knocked Sen out suprisingly easily. Also, Sen only had one spoken line in the entire thing, and Roy had two - I know Roy isn't really I talker, but Sen is, and I felt that it could have used a bit more dialogue.
M0rt's had much more depth to the setting, and the build up to the fight, which I liked. And the loss of his gun early on was an interesting way of balancing the playing field. Like Knuckle's though, I thought Roy got knocked out far too easily.
Even though I liked the start of Knuckle's, I'm going to have to go with M0rt on this one.

Inti vs Vritra -> I thought you both did a great job of scene setting and description, as usual. There's too much to say in terms of what I liked about them, so I'll stick to the negative's, which are much smaller and fewer. I didn't like the way Inti effectively beat himself in Silver's with that ring. I didn't like the way that mental conversations in Arctic's were perfectly normal text, since it made it quite hard to tell what was being (mentally) said, and what was narration.
Of the two, I'm afraid I liked Arctic's the best, simply because of the implications of Vritra being healed of her corruption by the river's waters.

Aloysius vs Jimmy -> I really liked the way both fights developed - the lack of actual combat in Picks', and the pre-fight trick by Jimmy in Reads'. If Picks' had benefitted from a bit more time and length being put into it, I could see it being my favourite of the two. Sadly, Picks didn't have the time to make it better, so my last vote has the go to Reads.

Vote summary:
M0rtimer
ArcticTornado
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Hears-Disembodied-Voices
Lvl 1 Berserker ~ Exp: 9/10 ~ HP: 6/6 ~ Atk: 4 (+1~Rage) ~ Def: 4 (+1~50%) (+1~Rage)
Traits: Automatic Combat Rage; Jekyll and Hyde
Tower Game
Dusk ~ Lvl 2 Wraith Rogue ~ Exp: 2/3 ~ Atk: 2 ~ DEX: 1/4 ~ CON 6 ~ HP: 2/8
Skills: Stealth (1DEX/turn); Sneak Attack; Detect Trap (1DEX, R2)
Lair of the Mountain King
Eaten-By-Rabbits ~ HP: 3/5 ~ Atk: 1 ~ Def: 1
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Feats: Sprint Awareness 3; Improved Dodge 2; Nimble 1; Sprint Endurance 1
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby knucklekraken on Thu Dec 15, 2011 8:41 am

I understand your stance on the thing about the fights being too short, but I'd like to put some words in in our mutual defense.

Roy and Sen, we're pretty evenly matched. I feel like it fits that if either of us lands a blow it should end the fight. I mean, how is Roy going to hit somebody with an axe with five-foot blades without, well, stopping him? M0rts's character uses a slightly smaller axe... and a gun. Since reading about two guys missing each other a whole bunch for half an hour doesn't exactly sound compelling, I think we both did the best we could.

Roy doesn't lend himself well to the novelettes everyone else seems to be writing now. That's all.
Avatar by arles.

Member of the Irregulators. Reticulating splines since 2011.

Here are stats for a player race I created, compatible with 3.5 D&D. Please steal.

SPOILERS:Tasty People
+2 Charisma: Tasty People have strong natural pheromones.
-2 Wisdom: Tasty People have a racial predisposition for making bad decisions.
When faced with an encounter involving a predatory creature, a Tasty Person must make a Charisma Check. If the DC (15) is met, the creature will attack the Tasty Person to the exclusion of other targets who are not also Tasty People who have met this DC. The DC should be modified for monsters with a strong sense of smell, I leave this to your discretion as a DM. The monster is not forced to attack the Tasty Person if doing so would cause it to take an attack of opportunity.
A Tasty Person's starting class should be treated as his favored class.

Tasty People speak Common.
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby Dusk9 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 9:01 am

knucklekraken wrote:I understand your stance on the thing about the fights being too short, but I'd like to put some words in in our mutual defense.

Roy and Sen, we're pretty evenly matched. I feel like it fits that if either of us lands a blow it should end the fight. I mean, how is Roy going to hit somebody with an axe with five-foot blades without, well, stopping him? M0rts's character uses a slightly smaller axe... and a gun. Since reading about two guys missing each other a whole bunch for half an hour doesn't exactly sound compelling, I think we both did the best we could.

Roy doesn't lend himself well to the novelettes everyone else seems to be writing now. That's all.


Yeah, those are some pretty good points.

As I showed though, there are ways to extend these things even when the fight could be ended very rapidly (not that any of these need to be anywhere near as excessively long as mine was :shifty: ).
M0rt managed this by removing Sen's gun and having neither fighter capable of hurting each other until something in the environment intervened. He also put more emphasis into the environment and description, though I realise that a narration from Roy's point of view isn't really suited to that sorts of thing.
Roy's unique style is very, very fun to read, and was obviously good enough to beat Zaltin and Aloysius before. But, in this case, I honestly think M0rt's is a better story.
Sorry :nervous:
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Lvl 1 Berserker ~ Exp: 9/10 ~ HP: 6/6 ~ Atk: 4 (+1~Rage) ~ Def: 4 (+1~50%) (+1~Rage)
Traits: Automatic Combat Rage; Jekyll and Hyde
Tower Game
Dusk ~ Lvl 2 Wraith Rogue ~ Exp: 2/3 ~ Atk: 2 ~ DEX: 1/4 ~ CON 6 ~ HP: 2/8
Skills: Stealth (1DEX/turn); Sneak Attack; Detect Trap (1DEX, R2)
Lair of the Mountain King
Eaten-By-Rabbits ~ HP: 3/5 ~ Atk: 1 ~ Def: 1
Capture the Flag (CTF) ~ on hiatus
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Feats: Sprint Awareness 3; Improved Dodge 2; Nimble 1; Sprint Endurance 1
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby ArcticTornado on Thu Dec 15, 2011 9:11 am

Dusk9 wrote: I didn't like the way that mental conversations in Arctic's were perfectly normal text, since it made it quite hard to tell what was being (mentally) said, and what was narration.


They should be in italics... I guess when you're copying across several thousand words of text, some errors will creep in.

I thought Silver's entry started off really well, but didn't continue as well. *starts reading the others*

Dusk's entry is amazing. Random's was good, but... wow. I have no idea how I can compete with that kind of entry.

M0rt's entry is just a bit better fleshed-out than Knuckle's. Arctic tired. Well-thought out commentary too difficult.
Last edited by ArcticTornado on Thu Dec 15, 2011 11:08 am, edited 2 times in total.
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DEF: 6-7(+1 Goblin, +1 Thief Armor, +1 Thick Skin, +0/+1 Leather Helm (50%), +1 Iron Bracer, +1 Iron Bracer)
HP: 5/5
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby ReadsVoraciously on Thu Dec 15, 2011 12:02 pm

Dusk9 V RandomMerc
Winner: Dusk9
Reasons: Dusk's entry was phenomenal. He did a great job of setting the scene, and the pace of the action was terrific, keeping my whole attention all the way through.

knucklekraken V m0rtimer
Winner: m0rtimer
Reasons: This was the hardest decision for me. I always enjoy the charm of Roy's stories, but in this case, I found the description and creativity of m0rt's story to be more enjoyable.

ArcticTornado v SilverMK2
Winner: ArcticTornado
Reasons: I thought that Arctic's story was easier to follow than Silver's. I also enjoyed the opening description/narration in Arctic's very much.
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby Dusk9 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 1:11 pm

ArcticTornado wrote:
Dusk9 wrote: I didn't like the way that mental conversations in Arctic's were perfectly normal text, since it made it quite hard to tell what was being (mentally) said, and what was narration.


They should be in italics... I guess when you're copying across several thousand words of text, some errors will creep in.


Ah, that explains it. I was wondering why you wouldn't include such an obvious fix. A slightly less obvious problem, however, is the fact that you appear to have mispelled Vritra's name as 'Vrita' (Note: I only noticed this because I was cheking the entries to remind myself how it was spelled, when I noticed that your spelling was different from Silver's, which I'm assuming is the correct version of the two.)
Threads of Reality
Hears-Disembodied-Voices
Lvl 1 Berserker ~ Exp: 9/10 ~ HP: 6/6 ~ Atk: 4 (+1~Rage) ~ Def: 4 (+1~50%) (+1~Rage)
Traits: Automatic Combat Rage; Jekyll and Hyde
Tower Game
Dusk ~ Lvl 2 Wraith Rogue ~ Exp: 2/3 ~ Atk: 2 ~ DEX: 1/4 ~ CON 6 ~ HP: 2/8
Skills: Stealth (1DEX/turn); Sneak Attack; Detect Trap (1DEX, R2)
Lair of the Mountain King
Eaten-By-Rabbits ~ HP: 3/5 ~ Atk: 1 ~ Def: 1
Capture the Flag (CTF) ~ on hiatus
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby ArcticTornado on Thu Dec 15, 2011 1:20 pm

Dusk9 wrote:
ArcticTornado wrote:
Dusk9 wrote: I didn't like the way that mental conversations in Arctic's were perfectly normal text, since it made it quite hard to tell what was being (mentally) said, and what was narration.


They should be in italics... I guess when you're copying across several thousand words of text, some errors will creep in.


Ah, that explains it. I was wondering why you wouldn't include such an obvious fix. A slightly less obvious problem, however, is the fact that you appear to have mispelled Vritra's name as 'Vrita' (Note: I only noticed this because I was cheking the entries to remind myself how it was spelled, when I noticed that your spelling was different from Silver's, which I'm assuming is the correct version of the two.)


Again, I have an excuse! I got my spelling of - her name - from the front page, where all the contestants are listed.
Chief Gets to the Chopper
2/6 HP :: 0/12 Inf
4 Atk :: 5 Def


Inverted Luck
ATK: 4-6 (+2 Brakeblade, +1 Thief Blade, +0/+1 Thief Armor (25%), +0/+1 Short Blade Specialty (50%))
DEF: 6-7(+1 Goblin, +1 Thief Armor, +1 Thick Skin, +0/+1 Leather Helm (50%), +1 Iron Bracer, +1 Iron Bracer)
HP: 5/5
Pack: Very Pointy Pencil, 78 gold pieces, Leather Armor, Dagger, Challenge Note, Random Book, Short Rope
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Re: Ratings War. Be Careful What You Wish For. Rules + Sign

Postby Dusk9 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 1:25 pm

On Thursday the 15th of September, vid20 wrote:
Oh, for the judges sanity sake I wouldn't run 5 battles in a single round either.. that is 10 entries to read and mark in a week. I'd run no more then 3 battles in any one week ever. Otherwise judging becomes a serious ordeal.


Was just re-reading the start of the thread, and thought I'd re-post and highlight this :D
Judging from how much we've written together (40 pages!), you certainly picked a bad round to break this rule vid :lol: :P

ArcticTornado wrote:Again, I have an excuse! I got my spelling of - her name - from the front page, where all the contestants are listed.


Well then, it appears to be (another) previously unnoticed spelling error from our host :shifty: :nervous:
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Hears-Disembodied-Voices
Lvl 1 Berserker ~ Exp: 9/10 ~ HP: 6/6 ~ Atk: 4 (+1~Rage) ~ Def: 4 (+1~50%) (+1~Rage)
Traits: Automatic Combat Rage; Jekyll and Hyde
Tower Game
Dusk ~ Lvl 2 Wraith Rogue ~ Exp: 2/3 ~ Atk: 2 ~ DEX: 1/4 ~ CON 6 ~ HP: 2/8
Skills: Stealth (1DEX/turn); Sneak Attack; Detect Trap (1DEX, R2)
Lair of the Mountain King
Eaten-By-Rabbits ~ HP: 3/5 ~ Atk: 1 ~ Def: 1
Capture the Flag (CTF) ~ on hiatus
Runs-into-Hard-Surfaces ~ Lvl 8 Trainee Attacker ~ Exp: 46/52
Feats: Sprint Awareness 3; Improved Dodge 2; Nimble 1; Sprint Endurance 1
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby vid20 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 3:21 pm

Dusk9 wrote:As I showed though, there are ways to extend these things even when the fight could be ended very rapidly


Just thought you'd like to know Dusk, your entry is almost as long as every single other contestants entries put together.

Dusk9 wrote:
On Thursday the 15th of September, vid20 wrote:
Oh, for the judges sanity sake I wouldn't run 5 battles in a single round either.. that is 10 entries to read and mark in a week. I'd run no more then 3 battles in any one week ever. Otherwise judging becomes a serious ordeal.


Was just re-reading the start of the thread, and thought I'd re-post and highlight this :D
Judging from how much we've written together (40 pages!), you certainly picked a bad round to break this rule vid :lol: :P


Yeah... I should have run it in two bouts..

Dusk9 wrote:Well then, it appears to be (another) previously unnoticed spelling error from our host :shifty: :nervous:

fixed :grumble:
The Ratings War: Be Careful What You Wish For. A forum game that's a bit different.

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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby ArcticTornado on Thu Dec 15, 2011 3:36 pm

Vid, if you have the time, can you pretty please put the italics back into my piece? I checked the document I gave you, and they're in there.
Chief Gets to the Chopper
2/6 HP :: 0/12 Inf
4 Atk :: 5 Def


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ATK: 4-6 (+2 Brakeblade, +1 Thief Blade, +0/+1 Thief Armor (25%), +0/+1 Short Blade Specialty (50%))
DEF: 6-7(+1 Goblin, +1 Thief Armor, +1 Thick Skin, +0/+1 Leather Helm (50%), +1 Iron Bracer, +1 Iron Bracer)
HP: 5/5
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby vid20 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 5:18 pm

ArcticTornado wrote:Vid, if you have the time, can you pretty please put the italics back into my piece? I checked the document I gave you, and they're in there.


that would mean finding each and every single italics line and putting brackets around it.. if you do that to your piece for me and resubmit it (with formatting around all the italics lines) then I'll re upload it.
The Ratings War: Be Careful What You Wish For. A forum game that's a bit different.

Destiny of the Stonetear Clan
Wields-two-shields - Goblin maiden
HP 5/5
ATT: 3 (1 + 2 short blade)
DEF: 5 (2 + Frostward: +2 DEF Melee attacks made against the wearer have a 25% chance to freeze the attacker, making it inactive for the next turn. + 1 light wooden shield)
Back pack
skull - just be glade it's not you
Skeleton key
Leather Armor +1
Jar of Blue Energy

Escape from Brassmoon
Kritanta - kobold rogue. -died turn 135 RIP
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby Dusk9 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 8:38 pm

vid20 wrote:
Dusk9 wrote:As I showed though, there are ways to extend these things even when the fight could be ended very rapidly


Just thought you'd like to know Dusk, your entry is almost as long as every single other contestants entries put together.


:o :shifty:

...

:nervous:
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Lvl 1 Berserker ~ Exp: 9/10 ~ HP: 6/6 ~ Atk: 4 (+1~Rage) ~ Def: 4 (+1~50%) (+1~Rage)
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Dusk ~ Lvl 2 Wraith Rogue ~ Exp: 2/3 ~ Atk: 2 ~ DEX: 1/4 ~ CON 6 ~ HP: 2/8
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby SilverMK2 on Thu Dec 15, 2011 11:45 pm

I claim the win from Arctic as he wasn't actually fighting my character!!!!

(I have to say I didn't notice the spelling of Vritra's name being wrong, but shhh! Technical victory!)

:lol:
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Re: RW I. Be Careful What You Wish For. Quarter Finals!

Postby RandomMerc on Sun Dec 18, 2011 11:18 pm

Hopping on the bandwagon here, sorry for stalling not voting for so long.

Roy vs Serv: Roy has charm, you gotta admit, but in this competition charm can only do so much for your character. And through the whole thing it sounded like Roy was trying to make a point to someone :P.
I admit that I have been a jerk(a big one) in the past to Knuckle, and I'm still an idiot, but I think M0rt made a good story out of it.

Vote: Serv

Inti vs Vrita: I thought the same as Reads here. It was just easier to follow what Inti was doing. Plus the plot hole of the wing coming back, but that's my fault so I cannot really comment.

Vote: Inti

Jimmy vs Aloysius:
I liked the whole poision cup thing (was thinking of Aloysius shouting INCONCIEVABLE a few times). I felt like it wasn't complete, that it was missing something (probably because you didn't have time to finish it.

Aloysius had a great twist to the battle which really fit Jimmy, and the way you beat him was great too.

Overall, although Jimmy's was interesting, I have to go with Aloysius
Vote: Aloysius
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