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| Coliseum Boss Battle | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 13 2011, 04:29 PM (1,708 Views) | |
| Jet Blackbeard | Mar 13 2011, 04:29 PM Post #1 |
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aka Bear
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The scene that spreads out before you is one of sheer chaos. The floor of the Coliseum in Valua is awash in a tide of frenzied humanity and you are caught right in the middle of it. Only moments before a group of Air Pirates burst into the arena to rescue their comrades from execution. Valuan soldiers stationed around the Coliseums have arrived to counter their action and a fierce battle broke out between the two factions. Although the Air Pirates were vastly outnumbered the odds turned in their favor as many citizens of Lower City, emboldened by their daring daylight raid, have joined the fray. What started off as an execution has now devolved into a chaotic riot. ~ Bear stood next to the towering portal that led away from the arena's floor and into the tunnels that would open up closest to the wharf where the Albatross was moored. Captain Dyne's crew, along with most of the captive Air Pirates, had already passed through but the big Viking would not leave until everyone was accounted for. "Pirate scum!" An angry voice called from nearby. Bear whirled about just in time to see an armored soldier materialize out of the crowd and rush towards him with an iron broadsword. Charging towards the burly Glacian the soldier raised his sword as he prepared to cleave Bear's skull into. But before the fatal blow could fall Bear loped forward, grabbed the man's wrist and brought his head crashing down upon the startled soldier's temple. A metallic clang sounded as their helms met. With the soldier momentarily stunned by the headbutt the mighty Viking stooped down and hefted the soldier's armored body onto his broad shoulders as if it were a sack of flour. With a grunt of exertion Bear sent the hapless soldier crashing to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. As an afterthought Bear raised his arm and leapt up, delivering an elbow drop to the soldier's chest, knocking him unconscious. As he rose from the ground, Bear dusted himself off. He peered out into the churning mass of violent humanity in search of anyone he recognized. Insead he saw soldiers pouring into the arena to violently oppress the uprising. The Viking's eyes narrowed at the sight and a low growl began to rumble in his chest. As if on cue a trio of guards broke through the crowd nearby. Catching sight of their fallen comrade they immediately turned their attention to the fur-clad man towering over him. "You there! Surrender at once!" One of them shouted as they began advancing towards him, swords drawn. "Not likely lads." Bear muttered. The Viking stretched his neck from side to side, working out a kink, as he prepared to lay the smack down. ~ The Boss Battle is officially underway. The first five posts will be a freestyle battle royale. Write out your own fight scenes, controlling your character as well as any NPCs you need. The rules governing PvP don't apply in this stage so don't hold back. Make this battle as stylish and flashy as you want and give those NPCs Hell! (I'll link to vids of Bear's wrestling moves, plus I'm taking a page from the ZPRG book and providing some BGM.) Edited by Jet Blackbeard, Mar 13 2011, 06:18 PM.
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| The Karlminion | Mar 13 2011, 06:53 PM Post #2 |
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180-proof Redneck
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The Lower City Valuans weren't the only ones getting into the act, or were planning to anyway. At a spot on the other side, reserved for the noble families of Upper Valua, one bunch stood out from the others; amidst a sea of gaudy, colorful clothes and outraged shouts, this family was dressed as if for a funeral, and were conveying their disapproval in icy silence. "Damned peasants," one of the women muttered. "Serve them right to be mowed down to the last." "You don't mean that, dear," her husband replied, stroking her hand. "They don't know any better, poor things... kill the pirates, kill the real insurrectionists, and the cattle will scatter." One man, a little apart from the others, did not comment, though instead of icy disapproval his face was thoughtful, appraising. He watched the chaos unfold, nodding in appreciation as the pirates escaped; he made no secret of his dislike of this whole coliseum charade, and in fact most of his family disagreed with the current Empress and her policies, but only two of them had the guts and the power-driven arrogance to say so out loud. This man was one of them; the other was his grandfather, the patriarch of the clan. Abruptly he shot to his feet, the enchanted mail inside his gaudy coat clinking with the action. "This cannot go on," he announced, setting one foot on the railing. His narrow face was devoid of everything but merciless purpose, which was at odds with what that purpose actually was. Some of the crowd voiced their approval, but his family did not. On the contrary, the eldest struggled to his feet, assisted by another of the family. "You do not intend to go down there, Illyrian Fortunos Telcondera?" the old man demanded tremulously, the white in his hair and the rheumatism in his quivering hands belying the fierce blue sparks that were his eyes. "Oh, but I do, grandpa Tyrian," Illyrian replied, grinning unpleasantly. "Like I said, this cannot go on." He turned and regarded the scene below again, preparing to jump. "Illyrian!" the old man shouted, his voice surprisingly loud. "If... if you go down there... I'll disown you!" Illyrian only snorted. "Disown this, old man," he said over his shoulder, making an ancient and unmistakable gesture with his hand in Tyrian's direction; everyone gasped in insulted dismay, but Illyrian paid them no further heed. He only grasped his Blue Moonstone, which was beginning to glow intensely, and leaped over the guardrail and into the fracas. "So be it," Tyrian muttered, seating himself once again; secretly he smiled, as did the rest of his family, though none of the others noticed in their nationalistic fury. Illyrian landed perfectly, stone in hand, and faced the chaos. "Who wants to die first?" he said casually, surveying the mixture of peasants and guards that had paused upon his entrance. The Lower Valuans cringed and began falling back, but the guards cheered. "Lord Telcondera!" one of the captains cried, coming up to his side. "Thank the Moons! We need your help, the peasants are out of control and there's foreign elements involved!" He pointed at Bear, who was laying waste to the guardsmen surrounding him. "I see that," Illyrian replied quietly. "You'll need all the help you can get against this lot." The captain nodded in agreement, but his statement was cut off with the flash of a cold purple dagger; the Black Mage had slit the man's throat while his guard was down. "All the help you can get, indeed..." "He's a traitor!" another guard shouted. "Lord Telcondera's betrayed us! Kill him!" A group rushed the man in black, but Illyrian did not budge, he merely adjusted his fancy befeathered hat and smirked, the Moonstone in his hand shining brighter than ever now. Just before they reached him he swept his hand upward with a wild yell of "Wevlen!" Three huge twisters erupted out of nowhere, sweeping the entire lot of guards up high into the air. They screamed and flailed about, but it was to no avail; after a few seconds Illyrian brought his hand slamming back downward, and the twisters somehow reversed themselves to send the men crashing back downward at terminal velocity. The sounds made as the bodies smashed into the ground were unpleasant, at the least, as was the sight of the crushed guards and their guts strewn about in the little mini-craters that had formed beneath the impact. That done, Illyrian looked up at the Lower Valuans who had hastily cleared out to avoid being crushed themselves. "Here, fix yourselves," he called, tossing a couple of Sacrum boxes at the mob. "Can't stop now! Take their arms and keep going!" and he turned to advance through the crowd, aiming to meet up with Bear. |
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| Daiohma | Mar 13 2011, 09:52 PM Post #3 |
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The Ice Fang
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'Hurry men!' Daiohma called out as he raced towards the coliseum. six guards and himself where called to help out as the coliseum had erupted into chaos after a group of air pirates had escaped. He arrived in lower Valua where most of the trouble was coming from the people of lower Valua. 'You three take the left side, crowd control! We don't want any unnecessary bloodshed!' He took the others with him to the lower section of the coliseum where there was something big going on. He could not see what it was but something big was tossing guards around. 'You three follow me and get this crowd under control!' The guards and Daiohma started to make their way towards the center of the coliseum. Just then a man from lower Valua jumped one of his men. 'get off me you lower scum' the guard shouted as he hit the man to the ground. As the man hit the floor the guard took out his sword, just as he was about to make contact with the man's neck a chill of ice ran up his arm, it froze his arm in place. 'I told you no unnecessary bloodshed!' Daiohma shouted as he took the frozen sword and shattered it in his hand. Daiohma then heard a voice that he knew all to well. It was another captain, only a few ranks above himself. 'Use full force men, don't hold back!' the voice called out. With that the guards took out their swords and started to attack the out of control crowd. He watched in horror as people fell before him, blood stained bodies everywhere. 'This is madness' He looked up to see the Valuans in the upper seating area. It angered him that they where doing nothing and seemed to be enjoying the show. He watched as one of them jumped down into the distance on the other side of the coliseum. Several guards ran past Daiohma, 'He's a traitor' one called out as they ran towards the man. He watched as the guards ran off. three of his own men seemed to be running towards what appeared to be a huge man near the center of the coliseum. Daiohma removed his helmet and dropped it to the floor, a look of terror in his eyes. A young lady obviously from lower Valua fell from the crowd at Daiohma's feet followed by a guard. The huge guard raised his sword high in the air ready to strike the woman. It all went in slow motion for Daiohma, his mind racing with thoughts. The tension in his arm tightened as the purple moon stone in his gauntlet started to glow brighter. 'stop it!' He shouted as he swung his arm at the guard, the gauntlet covered itself in sharp ice as it dug into the guard's armor and flung him into the air. He landed within a crowd of other guards who all looked up at Daiohma in shock. Daiohma's face had become emotionless as he stared them down. 'You will have to answer to Empress Teodora for your crime' Said one of the scared guards. Daiohma gazed at the group of guards, 'and you will have to answer to me for yours.' He charged at the group of guards and leaped into the air, he came crashing down and swung his gauntlet at two of the guards. The first one became impaled on his claws as he swung the guard at the second. The other guards did not know how to react to the captains act. They ran for cover as the purple moon stone in his gauntlet shone brighter than ever. He turned to see that the woman had got herself to her feet. 'Take her to safety' he instructed another man from lower Valua. 'All of you get out of here' Daiohma then turned his attention the the center of the coliseum where most of the action was taking place, huge groups of guards where attacking. As he walked towards the center he saw a huge blue flash of light followed by strong winds, guards where flung into the air on the other side of the coliseum. He could make out a man, the same he has seem jump down from before. 'Seems not everyone from upper Valua is as bad as I thought' He raised his gauntlet as it covered itself in ice. 'Seems these two could do with some help, and so could I' He started to hurry towards the center where the huge man was fighting off guards. Daiohma knew he would probably get put on the executions block for this, but he knew deep down that what Valua was doing was wrong |
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| Raiu | Mar 15 2011, 02:23 AM Post #4 |
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Seated in the Upper section of the Coliseum, Alba smiled when she saw the Lower's rise up in rebellion. She did not smile because of her want of new entertainment, no. Her smile was one born of hope. She hated the almost caste like system that was in effect in Valua and could not wait for it to die out. Because of her elevated position in the stands, Alba commanded a more complete view of the battle as it started to spread out from the Coliseum and into the city, leaving the Upper section of the Coliseum unmolested, atleast for now. At the moment, she debated weither or not she would assist the Lower's in their uprising. That decision was made for her as word spread that one of the nobles had jumped down and, no sooner than the words reached her ears, a trio of tornados tore through the arena. With this event happing, Alba shifted her hands so that her right hand ring was hidden and she muttered a few words, calling down lightning from the clouds above. The bolts of lightning were naturally attracted to the metal clad soldiers with their weapons raised, a rare few exploding with a loud pop like a bug in an electric bug zapper but most of them died twitching uncontrolably as their hearts or brains died near instantly. Her only concession was that Alihandro was no where near Valua at this time. The Upper's gasped as they saw this and the noise just pissed Alba off. Shifting her now red marked hands (from touching the moonstone ring), Alba muttered a single word under her breath. "Noxi." Spread out over such a large area the poison gas took a moment before it was noticed by the nobles, the first coughs known. Pulling from her years of living under the rule of her parents and under their noses as well, Alba aided in the chaos. She coughed before saying, "Poison!" That caused a stampede in which she made sure to lose her parents before she walked back down, waving her hand to disipate the smell as she neared the edge of the Upper section, muttering as she continued her lightning attack. "Hey! What are you doing?!" Alba whirled around at the voice to see a guard a short distance away. Her ring still glowed and it became clear what she had done. As the guard drew his sword, a bolt of lightning hit the top of the palice, simply melting the lightning rod at the top, but that was at the bottom of Alba's worries right now. As the guard lunged at her, she lashed out with desperate energy, blowing a hole in the stomach of the guard and practicly setting her arm aflame. She howled as her ring threatened to burn off her finger, the pain masking the shock at what she had done. She practicly screamed "Sacria" as the heat died down before she saw the twitching body of the guard tried to fight vainly for its own life. She knew the guard had died when the smell of human excretement drove the fact that death was not pretty or even nice into her skull like a sledgehammer. The "human" side of Alba checked out, her instinctive or "animal" side making her pick up the sword from the dead guard's hands before moving away. Her animal side was still in control when two more guards entered the stands, their blades stained with blood. Before they could say a word she turned and ran, her human side only returning in control after she had jumped the barrier and she could only feel fear as the ground rushed to meet her. "Ow..." Landings... Really.... Hurt. Bad landings atleast... And if the landing was on a dead guard it was a bad one. "Ow..." Why of all the places she could land that she had to land on her bum? She groaned as she picked herself up, the sword still in her right hand by some devine reason, and looked around at the arena. It was clear that the only victor here was death as the fighting started to move away from the Coliseum and into the streets. Still, she didn't want to fight more than she had to so she moved to the area where the fighting was less, the center of the arena. Edited by Raiu, Mar 15 2011, 06:10 AM.
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| Ranger | Mar 18 2011, 01:53 AM Post #5 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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Where...? What...? His mind raced to adjust to the warning-less chaos. Fighting. Bloodshed. Death. What had caused it? Where had it come from? He scowled, spinning around, strange massive polearm ready in his hands. It felt natural in his hands. Who should he be fighting? Who should he defend himself against? Shouts turned the man about, and he looked down upon a mob that rushed at him with a bloody force; men and women with dirtied clothes who’s faces bore the furry of hellfire. More shouts behind. His heart pounded as he spun to confront the newcomers. Guards, weapons draw, bore down in neat formation, every step bringing them closer. The crowds thought him to be a guard, and the guard knew the man not to be one of their rank. An enemy of all. The word that came his to mind first was ‘unfortunate.’ The second was ‘horrendous.’ “HAVE YOUR PEACE,” The man bellowed, thunderous words hindered by a thick accent. “I AM NOT AN ENEMY!” The two charging mobs made no move to slow, and in reply the warrior adjusted his grip on his weapon. It was not often that he was faced with his commands not being followed; yes, it was, he held rank where he came from, but that was hardly the full tale. One could compare Roarke Blackfire to a mountain, but that would be giving the mountain too much credit. He was a Goliath of a man, standing some head and a half above most tall men, and with shoulders and arms to match. The heavy, black plate armor only highlighted his massive build. “Put him down!” A commanded guard. “An executioner!” Declared a commoner. “HALT!” Roarke’s second command, shouted between bared teeth. The two mobs continued on towards him. Weathered lines on his face deepened as his scowl was renewed. There was no way about it; he had to defend himself. Neither side would listen to reason, and for that, both sides aimed for him to be dead. They were all criminals, as he saw it, and they should be punished as such. They thought him to be an executioner? They would have their executioner. He adjusted his stance, widening it, and brought his great bladed weapon to the ready. There wasn’t time for any more talk; they were only heart beats away. Even so, he couldn’t move yet. Eyes nearly squinting he watched the footfalls and counted the moments. One, two, three... With a cry worthy of war, he began the dance of his forefathers. Begin S-Move: Obsidian Assault Roarke spun about, letting his weapon fly in an arc. A guard’s head tumbled to the ground with that broad stroke. Next, a woman’s neck was delicately slit at the throat. He let the weight of the blade gracefully carry him to the side, just one step’s worth, and swung the blade up. He didn’t need to look to see a guard had lost his arm, and couldn’t; his focus was already elsewhere. A solid kick sent a dock worker to the ground. His bade bit another; he didn’t see who. The dock worker was attempting to stand, reaching for his weapon. Roarke dashed forward a step, trailing his polearm behind him. The dockworker collapsed dead, head split open. The Black moon’s energies pulsed through him, sharpening everything, clearing his mind, and guiding his blade. The guard’s chest bled scarlet. A young man was cut across the face. Another woman dead. Roarke spun about somehow graceful despite his mass; he was an unstoppable force that drove into the two fronts, and glided past the enemy’s blows. While a master of battle, what he did now was too much; he couldn’t keep this up forever, and he knew it. “Moons...” He growled from the deep of his throat, accent distorting his words. His blade radiated darkness, and he could feel its wisps travel up and down his arms. “Lend me your might!” A wave of black essence exploded from his form, driving back the group around him, sound deafening. He couldn’t hear the screams. End S-Move Around him, the two fronts that had aimed to end his life were no more. Men and women lay at his feet. Some where in armor, others simple clothing. No matter what they wore, they all shared the blood marked that showed their passing. Any who survived the assault, who survived the dark attack now ran for their lives. A retreating guardsman stumbled and fell, clutching at his side. A nearby group of women watched him fell, and swooped in for the kill. Roarke’s unfinished work was soon finished by the women. Nostrils flaring, the warrior caught his breath, and looked around. Instinctively, his weapon was still at the ready, despite the fact that that no immediate threat remained. As his gaze drifted over the blood on Darkmoon, he shook his head, and snorted. He didn’t regret what he had just done; it was both necessary and justified. He did, however, regret that such action had become necessary and justified. Idiocy. Blood-lust. Waste... He tugged at his dark cape with his armored hand, freeing it from a limp form. Whoever had started this blood bath was a murderer. There was no doubt about that in the seasoned chief of security’s mind. |
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| Jet Blackbeard | Mar 18 2011, 04:27 PM Post #6 |
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aka Bear
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Rather than charge recklessly towards the Viking the soldiers spread out, hemming Bear in on three sides. The first stood facing him, sword drawn. The second circled around behind Bear while the third positioned himself on the right flank. The big Glacian smirked. "You boys must have read the abridged book of military tactics." He chortled. It was an obvious tactic. The first soldier would engage him while the one at the rear stabbed him in the back. The third soldier was there to disarm him the moment he attacked the first. Bear tensed, awaiting the attack. It was soon in coming. The first soldier predictably stepped forward and slashed his sword downward towards Bear's head. The Viking swatted the blow away, hooking the sword's blade with his axe. A deft twist of his wrist locked the blade so that the soldier could not pull it away. In a flurry of motion Bear stepped forward and grabbed the soldier around the neck. He spun the man about, tossing him bodily into the second soldier who had been only a second away from skewereing him. The two armored men collided, crashing to the ground in a clatter of iron against iron. Even as they went down Bear was stepping back. The third and final soldier's sword swept through the air only inches from the Viking's face. Having narrowly avoided the awkward swing Bear was poised to counter the soldier's attack. His swing had left him unbalanced for a moment, more than enough time for the Viking to drive his booted foot into the soldier's ribs. The first two soldiers, who were just beginning to recover, were cast back to the ground as the third lurched sideways and fell atop them. Now all three were lying in a tangled mass of armored limbs. Bear raised his axe to deliver a final blow to the hapless trio. Begin SP Move - Glacier Blade Bear held his axe out to his side and focused his spirit into the blade. Empowered by the Purple Moon he summoned its icy power to strengthen his attack. A sheen of ice began to spread across the axe's moonstone blade and a cold mist rose from its surface. Bear raised his axe over his head and leapt high into the air. He hung suspended above the fallen soldiers for a moment before he came crashind down upon them. The axe struck against the breastplate of one of the men and the elemental energy was released. In an instant the three soldiers were encased in a solid block of ice. End SP Move "There. Now if you know what's good for you you'll stay down until this fracas is over with!" Bear suggested with a glint in his eye. Beneath the translucent surface of the ice the three men could only look up at him helplessly. They wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon, even if they wanted to. With this skirmish behind him Bear cast about in search of anyone who might be in need of his assistance, or a good beating, whichever came first. Edited by Jet Blackbeard, Mar 18 2011, 11:25 PM.
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| The Karlminion | Mar 19 2011, 04:11 AM Post #7 |
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180-proof Redneck
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Advancing through the press wasn't so much a matter of slinging spells about as it was keeping oneself alive and ensuring the enemy died and stayed dead. Illyrian hardly had time to cast Increm on himself before a fresh gaggle of armored myrmidons was upon him; deftly he drew his dagger forth, took advantage of their pressing numbers and slashed their throats open when he could, otherwise he simply stabbed them through their eye slits if they were wearing helmets. "You have no idea who I am, do you," he casually remarked when they finally pulled back; four of them were dead at the Black Mage's feet, ice beginning to crust around their mortal wounds from the Purple Moonstones his knife was made of. He stared at the man who seemed to be in charge, grinned sadistically and licked the blood off the dagger; it was terribly cheesy, but it had the intended effect of further disconcerting the men before him. Not that it would have been necessary, with one of their number turning on them up near the stands with a fine show of Purple magic; that furry fellow was dealing similar icy death, some huge armored behemoth had randomly joined the melee in spectacular bloody fashion, and oddly enough a second noble had jumped down from the elite seating. A mere slip of a girl, though Illyrian had no time to waste aside from a brief glance of appreciation for the magic she commanded. But, now it seemed someone was shoving through the insecure guards to his position. "Stand aside, lads, stand aside," he declared gruffly, coming out into the open. He was lightly armored compared to the rest, but still a soldier of the Armada; a saber was clutched in one hand, stained with the blood of commoners. "Beggin' yer pardon, Lord Telcondera, but ye'll have ter surrender or die," he told Illyrian, his voice apologetic. He was only doing his job, after all. "Of course, I understand completely," the Lord replied, bowing cordially and bringing his dagger up as he took a stance. "I am afraid I must refuse, however... if I surrender I will only be subject to a prolonged and humiliating death later on. I give you the same chance, officer; take your men and leave, or die here in the name of bloody entertainment for the masses." No reason to act like barbarians, after all. "Ah, I must refuse in turn, m'lord," the officer said, bowing himself as he brought his sword up. "Can't let a rebellion go on, Upper 'r Lower." Niceties aside he lunged for Illyrian's heart, no doubt attempting to end the battle quickly so he would not have too much noble-born blood on his hands; traitor or not, killing one of the noble families was still a serious crime. The Black Mage had no intention of dying, however, and he had faced down better swordsmen than this man. He avoided the man's initial lunge, knocking the heavier blade aside and attempting a simple slash, but the man pulled his head back in time and batted him back with a sweep of his arm; Illyrian went with the shove and stepped back a few paces, before rushing in low for a disemboweling thrust. This went back and forth for a few moments, neither man having an immediate advantage despite the officer having more reach and a heavier weapon, but he was unaware Illyrian was under the effects of Increm. He swiftly disabused the man of the notion when he took a full slash across his chest with no ill effect, stepped into the opening and slammed his dagger through his heart. "You fought well, officer," the sorcerer whispered, gently lowering the man to the ground as his blue eyes went hazy. "I shall see to it that you are commended for your valor this day." He closed the man's eyes, then reached into his tunic and removed his Medallion; not only would it serve to identify him later, but Illyrian could make use of its intrinsic effects for the near future. Accordingly he slipped it around his neck as he stood up, tucking it away beneath his shirt. "He killed th' cap'n," the men muttered, growing angry again. "Get 'im! Skewer 'im an' leave 'is guts fer th' Loopers!" They hardly took three steps before the ground split open at their feet and solid walls of fire erupted forth, immolating them utterly. "Fools," Illyrian muttered, looking about for the next threat. That girl had gone for the center, perhaps thinking the fighting would be easier there, but she would be surrounded fast by the rush of arena guardsmen and soldiers. He decided he would help her out, took his Yellow Moonstone in hand and started walking for her position; the stone glowed brightly in his grasp, as he fed his energies into it so the natural properties of the stone could amplify their strength immeasurably. Once it was shining brightly enough he unleashed the torrent with a shout of "Electrulen!" and watched as a massive bolt of power streaked forward, frying every enemy it touched; against the normal rules of that line of spells it curved around, creating a temporary barrier between Alba and the onslaught of enemies. In a span of seconds she was truly alone near the center of the Coliseum, surrounded by scorched and charred remnants of humanity. "What's your name, girl?" Illyrian called as he continued his casual walk in her direction, as if he hadn't just electrocuted who-knew how many guards to death. |
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| Daiohma | Mar 19 2011, 11:17 PM Post #8 |
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The Ice Fang
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Daiohma came to a sudden stop as he was running towards the center of the coliseum. In front of him stood four guards from the other unit. They slowly started to form a circle around him, each taking out their blades. 'Keeping people in order with force is one thing' Daiohma said as he watched the four guards circle around him. 'But to kill them? That's where I draw the line, these are our own people!' Two of the guards looked at one another, but nothing changed, the four where not going to back down. 'I see what I must do.' He muttered to himself as the first guard in front of him charged. Daiohma dodged the guards blade as is skimmed past him, with fast reflexes he grabbed a hold of the blade with his hands and twisted the weapon. The guard lost his grip and fell to his knees. Daiohma raised his gauntlet and slammed his elbow down with full force onto the guards head knocking him out. 'I'll need to use you soon' He said as he turned just in time to see the other three guards rush at him. 'Moons, lend me your power!' Daiohma cried as he raised his gauntlet high into the air. A purple mist surrounded the floor as the temperature suddenly dropped. 'Crystales!' The guard closest to him stopped in his tracks as he saw the top of an icicle appear at his feet. 'Well that's not good.' The guard said as the icicle shot up out of the ground and impaled him through the head. 'Your crazy' Shouted one of the remaining two guards, 'Lets get out of here.' Daiohma was not surprised to see them run off, after all anyone that would attack civilians was low in his view. For a few years now he has watched as the Valuan armada has slowly gone down a path that to him just seemed so wrong. 'ouch, my head' Said the voice from behind him, it was the guard he had knocked out. Daiohma tuned to face him, he placed his hand on top of the guards helmet. A cold chill was felt as the helmet froze. He shattered he frozen helmet and grabbed the guard by his neck as he lifted him up to his feet. The man was scared, what would this captain do to him? Daiohma gazed into the man's eyes with a cold look in his eyes. 'Go, go and tell your captain that until he calls off the attack on lower Valua I will assist them who fight back!' The guard ran dropping his blade. Daiohma looked around the coliseum to see if any of his own unit was still around. They had all gone, his own unit knew to get out of there. He could now see the huge man that was in the center of the coliseum, he was clearly not from Valua. Daiohma had never seen a person in such cloths or of such size, but as long as he was fighting the guards then he was considered good in Daiohma's eyes. Daiohma remembered the people from upper Valua who had jumped down to fight the guards. He scanned the coliseum to see that the two where within a short distance of each other. Who to join he wondered as more guards seem to come from the shadows. 'Would people from upper Valua listen to me? An admiral of Valua? What about this strange man, could he be a black pirate, or worse?' Daiohma's time to think was cut short as he heard foot steps behind him. He turned to see a huge guard, his sword already drawn and pointing in his direction. 'I don't have time for this.' He said as he looked over his shoulder to see more guards had entered the coliseum. Turning to face the huge guard he noticed something was not right. The huge Man swung his blade at Daiohma, only missing by a few inches. Daiohma took this opportunity and slammed his gauntlet down on the blade, forcing it to become suck in the ground. He then kicked at the blade using it to catapult himself into the air. His blades on his gauntlet glistened as they caught the light from the yellow moon. The claws came crashing down onto the guards helmet, slicing it half. Daiohma landed behind the man, he stood up and stared walking towards the other guards. They all stood staring at the back of the huge guard, he was not moving. It then became clear why the man was not moving, he body slowly fell backwards to the ground. The front part of his head missing. Daiohma raised his gauntlet at the group of guards. 'Moons, lend me your power!' The guards could feel a chill run down each of their spines, not from the spell but from fear. 'Panika!' A guard turned and started to attack the others. 'That should keep them busy' Daiohma turned his attention back to the others that where fighting the guards. Just who should he join up with, if any. Edited by Daiohma, Mar 20 2011, 02:15 PM.
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| Raiu | Mar 21 2011, 02:52 AM Post #9 |
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As she neared the center of the arena, Alba found that it was not as safe she had thought it to be. True it was not that filled with combatants at first but once they had spotted her, the guards and arena swordsmen surrounded her. It seemed a bit like a sport to them, one attacking the girl as she clumsyly blocked the strike with a heavier weapon than she had ever used before, while another made a quick strike that Alba barely dodged, a rythum that the girl could not keep up with for long was forming. Eventually, the men decided to just end the game with the trembleing girl and were about to strike when a large circleral stream of lightning coursed through them. Needless to say, Alba was shocked, still trembleing as the stream faded away and allowed the cooked bodies fall to the ground. Death was new to her and she couldn't let out a word when a man asked her for her name. Her mouth moved silently before she choked out her name, "Alba..." It was just too much... Too much... Alba sanked to her knees and trembled. She never encountered anyone who wanted to kill her before. It terrorfied her. Edited by Raiu, Mar 21 2011, 08:55 PM.
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| Ranger | Mar 24 2011, 04:50 AM Post #10 |
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Previously Nex Terren
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Roarke Blackfire snarled at the body that sat at his feet, and shook his head. Giving it a nudge with the toe of his boot to make sure the man was dead, he looked back up at the frenzy before him. It was avoiding him for now, and for that he was thankful. Carefully, he studied a few figures that caught his eye. A man, a large man, battled three guardsmen. Roarked noted quick, skillful movements of a man who knew battle, and of a man who knew how the enemy thought. The men danced around the tall fighter, only to be knocked aside like children’s toys, and then finished with an icy blade. Not just a strong arm, but he knows magic as well… A mob of citizens blocked his view, so Roarke looked on. A man, well dressed and with a certain air about him. The man danced with a dagger in hand, matching skill and might with a guardsman captain. Roarke was quick to hand the favor of the battle in his mind to the captain, and with surprise, Roarke found his estimation of skill to be a mistake; the guardsman was killed, carefully lowered to the ground by the—what Roarked assumed to be—noble born. The man faced towards the center of the coliseum, and lightning poured from him like so many legends of old. Another who displayed skill with both weapon and magic… Turning, he watched as an impressive dance of sorts was played out by what seemed to be another guardsman, but a guardsman fighting guardsmen. As he watched the interchange, he shook his head, the utter chaos of this battle being highlighted before him; not even those who donned the same clothing and uniform stood by eachother. Again, magic and blade were played out, causing Roarke to wash another gaze over the battlefield. Who would survive? Dice had as good as guess as he. As to who would decide the battle though, the aged warrior had three very clear guesses. If he wished to survive this, he would need to have those keys favor him. Judging the battle, Roarke began his advance towards the center of the pit of blood, circling a bit to the left as he did so. A lone guardsman saw him move, and charged the plated-warrior. Roarked watched the man’s form, taking small steps back as he judged time and pace. The man was reckless, aiming to put someone down. Out of the corner of his eye, Roarke saw another guard attempting to flank him. The Zivilyn brought Darkmoon back, ignoring the words shouted at him by the two guards. Breathlessly he watched both guards, counting their steps. Another guard approached from behind caused Roarke’s mouth to sour; he would have cursed, but he didn’t have the time. He roared and swept forward with his polearm. The blow caught the first guard’s weapon, nearly ripping it from his grasp, and sending him staggering. Roarke turned, and shifted. He spun Darkmoon around, and caught the second guard’s sword, intertwined with his own weapon. Jerking back, he pulled the guard forward, and then connected a solid kick to the man’s chest, sending the man to the ground. Roarke was not fast enough for the third. The blow hammered into Roarke’s back, and he could feel the might of the attack in his chest. However, the bow did not piece the plate, and that was the important part. Roarke turned slightly, and shoved his shoulder into the guard. He went down with all due haste, and his life was ended by a swift cut to the neck. The first guard, having recoverd, rushed forward, attempting to catch Roarke off-guard. Roarke thrust his polearm down on the man, piercing him as though with a spear. Wrenching it free of the flesh and armor, he turned toward the mage. “I hope to survive this chaos. Care if I join you?” He looked down at the girl, and frowned. She wasn’t like the commoners who ran as a mob; she was scared, and wasn’t meant for there. “Is she hurt?” He questioned. |
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2:36 PM Jul 11