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 Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 8:24 am
Still, the silence is absurdly terrifying...
Snow shrugged off the humorless gesture, taking a stroll up and down the stadium while watching with mild interest the carnage that is still left unbothered between the opponents, fighting each other down there.
Yet he, still with no opponent to spar...for now. Blast.
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 8:30 am
Suddenly, he was bumped by a man who has been searching for opponents. Ryu decides to just shrug it off but notices his drink spilt on him. He gets up to find a towel, damping it with hot water, and wipes off the spill that was on his new gi pants.
"..." His response to the outcome, he thus returns back to the bar sitting down on the stool.
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 9:15 am
Unlike a man of chivalry right now, Snow was too engrossed in the task of pointless wandering, even to the fact of bumping at people and not even knowing the rude remark. In attention, he'll react. If not; he's just a man too engrossed in his own activities, usually those that we might call, short memory spans.
Or whatever syllabus that is descriptive of the word.
It was on the second round trip from the bottom to the top that he noticed a man, drinking with a gloomy manner. Deciding to not miss this opportunity, he sat down a little distant away from the stranger, followed by ordering a simple glass of water.
"......."
Now, to see if it works...
"Bored, I presume?" He questioned, a little broad, but nonetheless directed at him.
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 9:30 am
Opting for a different style of dress on this day Quin had swapt out his clothes for something new, or perhaps old. The fabrics were fresh and clean but the style harken back to an age before him.
Dressed in what one could only safely call a kilt the hemm road just a few inches above the ground with its dark blue hue, emborder upon it was a field of stars with prin-pricks of light taking the form of alabaster pearls.
Tucked into the belt of the kilt was a cream tunic over which he wore a jerkin of the same dark blue. Covering most of this and bound at the neck by a silver death's head clasp was a cloak designed in the same pattern as the kilt.
Moving along his left arm moved the cane in time with his step, giving him the hobbling gait he had nutured for weeks now. Looking out at the world with grey eyes he wished for a moment he hadn't left his hat in his room.
Shrugging his shoulders was a sag he let out a slow sigh. Each step rattled the sheath of his Schianova across his hip while a tiny bell of silver jingled from the long braid in his hair. On occasion his right hand would waver over his chest as though his breathing was strained.
The fingers would dance however upon an object concealed beneath his cloak, a flint lock; about the only protection he could be sure of in this other wise brutal area.
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 10:13 am
Seemingly from nowhere, a armchair appeared down in the stadium, and someone already sat in it.
The figure was covered in bright robes that shined like stars through dark waters, a dim shimmer came off them as he moved, like water.
He had a teapot in his hand, and it was obvious that he was indeed pouring himself a cup of tea, then once the cup was full, the teapot vanished, as he brought the cup to his lips and sipped the warm tea, the smell of sandlewood filled the stadium.
A pair of eyes glowed out from under the hood of the robes, and ever once in a while you could hear him sip his tea when he lifted it and drank.
He seemed to sigh, as the warm rays of the sun beared down on him, shining off the robes.
"...Boredom..." He said simply, taking another sip of the odd tea that was the source of the sandlewood smell.
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 11:21 am
"..." He orders another drink, simply taking the glass within his left hand swirling the juices then sips it some. A simple tilt of his head goes to the right, the eyes leering off more to the right to peer at individuals behind him. It seems the fans are trying to come in earlier than expected for the tournament.
It's also known that people are impatient to wait for battles to start, so they're sparring with fellow entries to the tournament. A simple shrug comes from the man while he returns to his drink taking in the knowledge of his surroundings.
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 2:05 pm
Our chivalrous hero, truly an undaunted warrior, an opposing force of all that is evil in this world, the saviour of... God damnit, nevermind. Eyes glazed over, a drink in hand, the two were probably connected. His expression was deadening, but not without it's light. He swirled his liquor around in his mouth, it mixed with the smoke he had puffed from a burning cigarette. As the paper burned down, he flicked the cig from his fingers. "I wonder where..." His thoughts were filled with images of training. He needed to find a sparring partner before it was his time. These battles would obviously be fierce, and the relaxed life had drained him of his fighting spirit. It was only a break, of course. Soon he would be back on the road, ready to strike at any moment. Soon, the word seemed easy to imagine. He had used the same one when he had arrived three years ago.
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 2:10 pm
Up in the stands sat a young man that appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties. He had spikey Silver hair, and wore black from head to toe, except for a glorious white scarf tied about his neck. He was leaned back in his seat, head pointed towards the blue sky above him. One couldn't tell what his eye color was at the moment, for they were closed, but he had an air of difference about him that one couldn't quite place their finger on.
Off to his right side sat a rather large weapon. A sword. Nearly four and a half feet long from tip to tip, and about six and a half inches wide at its widest point. It was truly a massive weapon, though not as large as others one might see across Gaia these days. It sat unmoving next to him as he relaxed, the cool breeze ruffling his spikey hair.
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Eloquent Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 2:21 pm
Allen appeared in a flash of holy white light, still drenched in rain. His sword run through to the hilt of a bohemeath of an angel, who would stand at about eight feet tall. When allen appeared he was still hovering a good three feet in mid air with his gladius entrenched in the once holy figure. Once he'd appeared he immediately seethed with an ungodly pain. The beast had struck him with the arrow, in his broad shoulder. He broke the fletchings off and pushed it all the way through and out of his back after hitting the ground in a clumsy thud, leaving his blade in the chest of the creature.
Once the arrow was forced through he raised his right hand and with a bit of telekinetic thrust withdrew his sword from the chest of the angel, and it glided back into his hand, stained with corse angelic silver blood. "Good bout, Seraphim." He said softly as he exposed a small vial of red liquid from his inside pockets and began to drink it. The wound at his shoulder immediately healing afterward, the rest would have went his angel companion, Seraphim, if he were to need it.
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 2:30 pm
Seraphim smiled and shook his head putting up his hand to refuse the vial as blood pulsated forth from the enormous wound. He was also still drenched from the rain, and his bow appeared to have vanished between hear and the ship. The Fallen Angel spoke, "Yes, I did much enjoy such a battle. The enviroment alone was a phenomenal one." And with that Seraphim raised his hands to the sky and was engulfed in a bright light. Moments later he had been fully restored and now was equipped with two new brilliantly shining maces, having lost the other two in the previous battle. He placed the weaponry on his belt and turned away from his former opponent.
Seraphim looked back and nodded in respect to Allen, light beaming off his silvery bald head. He spread his mighty wings and lifted up and into the stands, taking a seat to watch the ensuing events.
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Eloquent Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 2:30 pm
Now THAT caught the Silver-haired Man's attention. Not the SIGHT of the man's entrance, his eyes were closed, but the SMELL of blood. He opened his left eye and looked over to see this very strange sight of a man, and his very large...friend? He snuffled a bit covering his nose and mouth with his scarf in an attempt to block out the pungent scent of blood. This man wasn't a man for killing, and as thus, he didn't enjoy the smell of blood that drifted towards his position. With a look of offense in his red eyes, he looked over towards the healing man and spoke.
Was such brutailty really necessary...?
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 2:36 pm
"It was easily countered. Look now we're both fine." Allen said as he turned to the man, and immediately put out his hand for a shake. "Allen." He introduced himself pleasantly. "You're Ryugi, correct?" Allen asked. "Would you be my opponent?"
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Eloquent Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 2:41 pm
Ryugi raised an eyebrow, and warily shook the man's hand. How had he known his name? As far as Ryugi could tell, he'd never met this man before...
It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Allen... I am indeed Ryugi... Ryugi Kazamaru, but I am afraid you have puzzled me Sir... How is it that you know my name when I have no recollection of me telling you or us ever meeting before?
Fighting could wait until some basic questions had been answered. Ryugi enjoyed a friendly spar from time to time, however this man raised some interesting questions.
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 2:41 pm
Seraphim looked towards the man who spoke. He had a grin, the same one he had bore for ages, a half-grin, Seraphim admired the ones who asked questions. Asking these questions were how beings learned. These learners were the most powerful people of all.
"Blood shed is common for him and I, to train, to test, to question, to learn. It is our fate to be such beings." Seraphim spoke trying to get a good look at the being's covered face. He stood walked forward and placed his hand on Allen's shoulder, "there's something about this one...be careful."
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Eloquent Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 2:46 pm
Troll_Poop1 "Blood shed is common for him and I, to train, to test, to question, to learn. It is our fate to be such beings." Ryugi turned to the man and nodded, understanding. Ryugi and his brother had met many times in battle over the ages, and each time they had come away better fighters. As he nodded, Ryugi's right eye narrowed slightly at his comment to the man called Allen. Ryugi's hearing was excellent, and he was always picking out bits of conversation from around him. Could this strange angelic being know what Ryugi really was?
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