The coliseum is an oval (ellipse) with the outer measurements as follows: Length: 189 meters (615 ft) Width: 156 meters (510 ft) Height: 48 meters (157 ft). The inner measurements (arena area) Length: 88 meters (287 ft) Width: 56 meters (180 ft) Height: 4.6 meters (15 ft). Modeled akin to the coliseum in Rome, Italy. The interior of the arena is a simple pit of packed dirt, the thousands of seats available for many to view the happenings within. The arena itself is protected on the walls closing it in with runes, keeping the audience from potential danger of stray attacks and a wide range of damage. These runes also keep the foundation of the arena from being all but obliterated.
Posted: Tue Mar 04, 2014 1:55 pm
"Where's my squire?"
"Paying your entry fee, your knightness."
Szar stopped clasping his gorget and looked down at the boy. He was a skinny thing, probably a body slave or a servant's son. Either way, he wasn't likely paid very much or at all. Every so often the paladin caught the boy, for lack of a better word, adoring him. He'd let his hands linger on the shining plates of the armor or pause to stare at the rudimentary designs. When Szar commanded the waif to bring him his sword, the boy had held it so gingerly he might have expected it would cut him through the sheath. Obviously, he'd never squired before.
"Sir." Szar corrected.
"I'm no sir!" the boy said, shocked.
"No. Me. I'm sir. Not 'your knightness'. Just 'sir'. Sir Szar."
The boy responded only with an awestruck stare. His fingers ruined the poorly tied lace he had been trying at. He bleated apologies and continued, and Szar resumed adjusting his neckpiece. Maybe he'd leave the boy a silver coin when he left; the lad could hardly tie a knot, he'd need all the charity he could get.
A loud knock heralded a coliseum organizer, who informed Szar that his opponent was ready to fight.
"Tell Mr. Tyson I'll be out in a moment." he ordered, and the man ran off to obey.
Szar knew little about his opponent. It was an occupational hazard of interplanar tourney fighting. There were too many people to keep track of. He knew some of the best in the worlds. There were big names, some of them in attendance at this very tournament, but this Tyson fellow wasn't one of them. Most likely he was a newcomer, like Szar was. This was his first extraplanar tourney. He'd won all the ones that could be won in his Temple. It was time to try his skills at a new kind of battle.
But there was more than just that. He was here on a mission, too. There was a creature in attendance here, a foul abomination against nature, who he had sworn to battle. Enthused as he was to try his hand against great warriors from across the lands, it was this creature which had spurred his ride here. Somewhere in this place he would encounter it, whether it was a competitor or a spectator. When he did, he would kill it. Nothing would stop him. Not honor, not riches,not fame.
"Tyson, sir?" the boy said meekly. Szar nodded.
"I've heard of him, sir. I've heard he's a great warrior."
This got Szar's attention. This was what a squire was for! He was a newcomer to this place, but if the slim boy knew anything that might help him, his powers or his gods or his history, it might offer him a great advantage.
"Tell me."
"He's a great fistfighter sir. A legend on his world. He's beated all sorts of men. They say he's cocky, and sometimes he's wild and acts crazy-like. But he just does it to get in his foe's head, you see. He's genius really."
In a queer way, it did sound a bit genius.
"Though truly, sometimes he goes too far. They say he bit off a man's ear once. Doesn't matter though, he's one of the best there ever was! He puts his hands in front of his face, uses them to defend himself. He dodges a lot of hits, and then strikes hard. He's fast, but more than that he's aggressive, and his fists hit like hammers. "
Szar took it all in, surprised men came to these events intending only to use their fists. Perhaps this Tyson wore gauntlets?
"Good lad." the paladin said, before beckoning the boy to sit. He finished donning his own armor, and walked out of the prep-room.
The coliseum was a marvelous bit of architecture, and the stadium was brimming with people. Despite the warning he'd been given that this Tyson fellow was ready, Szar didn't see him on the sand. At least he hadn't made the man wait.
Szar took a moment to wave to the crowd, which roared its cheers down on him. He looked like the fighter they were expecting, perhaps. He hoped to give them a hell of a show.
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Samuel Tyson
Dangerous Prophet
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Posted: Tue Mar 04, 2014 11:43 pm
[ Alexander "The Predator" Tyson ]
[ I''m more then just a little bit curious....
.....how you plan to go about making your Amends, to the Dead]
"A "The darkest places in Hell are reserved for men of neutrality during Moral Crisis....."
[X]-[ Alexander Tyson [X]-[ Stone Arena [X]-[ ...desperate
Why do men fight? Some fight for glory, others fight for gold. Some fight simply to survive but the man Szar faced was not fighting for his own survival....but others.
The Holy Knight would finally see movement as a group of men began to walk forth from the entrance in the wall on the opposite side. These men however were not the man Szar was looking for. About 12 men in total all wearing suits would enter, some carrying MP5s, other with SPAZ-12 shotguns and all with stern combat hardened faces. Out of this group there was four individuals that stood out.
The first was a man in a wheel chair adorned in all white, like a ghostly figure of ominous intent. The next was the man pushing him who also wore a back suit. However metallic silver shined off parts of his skin, most notably his right hand and the left side of his face. The mechanical parts fused with his flesh identifying him as a cyborg.
The third figure as a girl, no more then ten years old but she was by no means human. She was adorned in what appeared to be a school girl outfit, bearing the crest of the Private Academy she attended. However unlike most ten year old girls her skin was a midnight black with eyes as solid blue as the ocean. Her long back hair pulled back in a braid to reveal a small pair of devil horns just at the top of her forehead.
The last individual of note was the man Szar would face, Alexander Tyson. Son of the great Samuel Tyson of Durem, Gaia. The son of a God.
Yet his appearance did not portray such legendary history for the man was shackled. His hands cuffed behind his back and a black bag over his head concealing his face. He wore black jeans and a black dress shirt with a black over coat and combat boots. The group of people moved forward and two men would escort the black bagged prisoner farther out into the arena. The bag would be violently pulled off and Szar would get his first glance at his adversary. Alexander stood at about 6'4" tall with a muscular and built body like that of an Olympian. His skin was black as the void and eyes even more blue and icy cold then the little girls. His eyes much like the girls had no pupils, they were solid orbs of cold blue that seem to stare off into the distance. His black long hair pulled back into a pony tail. Dressed in all black seemed like a simple monotone color scheme yet it was now that Szar would get a glance at a small white collar around the man's neck. Why wear a white collar, well because this Abyssal Devil also happen to be a priest. He was also not the Mike Tyson, the boy was referring too....no...this Tyson was much more dangerous.
It was now that Szar would get a good look at that ebony face, chiseled out of stone with solid stern features and soon it would dawn on him that the resemblance between the full grown Devil and the little imp was uncanny. That was because her name was Victoria Tyson....Alexander's daughter.
"Daddy!" The little girl would cry but the cyborg would quickly grip her shoulder, holding her in place. Alexander would attempt to move forward towards his kin but the two men who escorted him would step in his way, guns raised. "Don't hurt her you bastards! Leave her alone I will do what you want!"
Slowly the man in the wheel chair would lift his head, still concealed by the white robes and hood. His ragged voice drifting out in a hoarse tone. "Yes you will. You know what you must do to save her life.....now go. Reaper of the Mountains."
Carefully one of the men escorting him would point a shotgun at level with the back of his head whilst the other undid his restraints. Finally free the Back Devil would rub his wrists, turning back to face his daughter and then the man in white sitting in the wheel chair. The man in white would nod gently and one of the guards would move forward, carrying with him an ancient Katana adorned in beautiful black with ornate embroidery of bright blue on the handle. It would be carelessly tossed at Alexander's feet. and the two men who escorted him would both raise their weapons, ready to blow him away should be try anything funny. However it was not those weapons he was concerned about but rather the ones that would turn on his daughter should be attempt any retaliation. Slowly he would pick up his Katana and slip it onto the left side of his hip, still glaring at the man in the wheel chair. Finally he would turn to the Knight, moving a little farther forward towards the center of the packed dirt arena. In mid stride he would form the Catholic cross over himself, whispering a small prayer before coming to a halt before the man.
His cold stare determined and out right empty of emotion. It was obvious he was a prisoner but that vicious glare was other worldly as he stared down this Holy Templar before him. "Forgive me....."
The only two words he spoke to Szar as he stood poised, his right side slightly forward and body relaxed......
[ Power Points Pool ] [ 86/86 ]
Posted: Wed Mar 05, 2014 5:28 pm
Horns. Handlers. Black skin, deadly black. Could he have gotten so lucky? He raised his hand and pointed his palm toward the fighter. The power of the sun warmed his skin, swimming gently through his muscles and up his arm. Golden light blossomed from his hand, and that light exploded out from him. The golden hue lit behind his eyes, began to wisp off of his skin. It also flew out past Tyson and his retainers. It washed over his daughter as she was pulled away, and over the crowd behind them in the stands above. Tyson had hardly had a moment to turn from crying out to his daughter when it would hit him. Detect Evil
Szar was a paladin, it was his holy right to distinguish the good from the evil. More than that, however, he had the power to distinguish his mark from other folks. He had taken a special, holy oath. The Oath Against Corruption, a lifelong quest to destroy all abberations, creatures from other realities and alien dimensions. Such creatures were worse than demons, more vile than devils- they were unreal and unnatural. They fed on the threads of reality and causality and the universe itself for, where they came from, such things did not exists. Of the many years studying abberations, Szar had found that they seemed to become addicted to the natural and the real. Worse still, they seemed to lack any civilized morals. They slaved and raped and destroyed almost casually. They were the refuse of the planes, formed from nightmares and impossibilities.
And luckily for Tyson, he was not one of them.
Szar closed his fingers into a fist and the light blinked out. His eyes returned to their regular color and he reached for his sword. He felt great sympathy for Tyson. Whoever was forcing him to fight would pay. But this man was not what he had come searching for. His plight was secondary. Szar had to find the creature he was hunting. After this, he would help this Tyson man. But he would defeat him first.
"I am Szar, Paladin of the Sun. You are forgiven." he said, and clasped his longsword tight in one greaved hand as he shrugged his other into a shield. He spun his sword in his hand and touched the pommel against his helmed forehead. He was fully armored in field plate. It seemed a silly thing, to wear so much heavy armor, and chain beneath, when fighting such against such lithe and agile foes. But Szar had a special trick, a spell he had journeyed back to the Temple to learn.
Effortless Armor
The weight of all the metal over his shoulder rose. He felt naked, though he was clearly now. His wiggled his fingers dextrously over his shield's grip. He could have spun a coin over his knuckles. He felt light as a feather.
And suddenly, he was running. His sword arm was back. It was his right arm. The savage chop he was aiming for was clearly meant to bite into the horned behemoth's stomach on the left side. A crippling blow early on could give the paladin the edge he'd need.
His shield would be up as he closed in, though he would stop when within range and transfer the momentum of his charge into the brutal whip of his swordswing. Hoe Tyson would react would dictate the entire fight. If the man was particularly hardy, Szar might even have to release the huge greatsword strapped to his back. He prayed that his horned foe was not the sort to require such excessive measures.
Notes Buffs Active -Effortless Armor: Moves as though not wearing armor.
Foe -Please note in your next post whether your character would register as evil, neutral or good aligned.
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Samuel Tyson
Dangerous Prophet
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Posted: Thu Mar 06, 2014 12:58 pm
[ Alexander "The Predator" Tyson ]
[ I''m more then just a little bit curious....
.....how you plan to go about making your Amends, to the Dead]
"A "The darkest places in Hell are reserved for men of neutrality during Moral Crisis....."
[X]-[ Alexander Tyson [X]-[ Stone Arena [X]-[ ...Focused
The holy energy would flood over the area but the Paladin would see only a gentle glow of gray from the Devil with hints of sparkling white. A neutral Good aura radiating from him. His daughter radiated simply pure white, too innocent to even be considered a threat. However the man in the wheel chair flowed with an eerie black shadowy aura that radiated darkness at it's very core.
Alexander could feel the skill at work but was too concerned for his daughter to care or block it.
Now the fight could begin as the Knight armed himself and Alexander stood poised, his right hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. His mind already processing what to do against such a heavily armored foe until he started bouncing on his feet. Curiously the man did not seem to be encumbered at all by his protective gear and soon he was in a sprint towards the Priest.
Alexander turned fully so his right side primarily faced the Knight, his arms tensing as he prepared to draw his own sword. The long-sword would swing and Alexander would swiftly draw his own whilst simultaneous lunging back. He would put distance between him and the Knight but at the same time his sword would draw, slashing out and parrying the blade away with little effort before re-sheathing his sword all in the blink of an eye. The pure speed of which he had drawn, parried, and re-sheathed was blinding and sent the crowd into a roar of cheers. Many where confused as too what happened for the movement had been to fast for the normal human eye to catch. The sound of metal ringing out as steel cashed however was enough to excite the people watching. The Knight had his armor but the speed and raw strength of Alexander was his weapon.
But that was not all.
At no point did Alexander take his eyes off the knight, keeping a vigilant stare as the man moved, every step, every form taken, every twitch of his body. Alexander was analyzing him and all the while building up for something. With the sword attack easily deflected Alexander stood poised as he did before, seemingly to simply bide his time.
-3
[ Power Points Pool ] [ 83/86 ]
[X] Razors Edge [Activated] Cost: 3 Recharge: 1 This ability charges Alexander's Katana with psionic energy and turns the slash from the ancient weapon into a deadly assault on whatever it hits. Like heated plasma it will cut through bone, metal, and energy as if it was but tissue paper. It can be charged and then hold it's charge until it is used.
Posted: Sun Mar 09, 2014 2:10 pm
Szar paid his foe's prowess no mind. To say one was faster than the next was folly. Szar was no mere mortal, no common sword. He was blessed by the gods of the Sun, the lords of light and radiance. His was the edge of justice, his wrath the fury of the gods. When he moved, he moved with grace built upon years of training, his eyes darting over his foe with keeness granted only by sweat and blood, from hurt and toil and experience. A fast sword was no defense against a fast warrior. A parry was no preface to a victory yet earned.
And if a parry was all this foe had to offer, then he would find himself made a victim.
Szar seemed to ignore his very arm. There was no hesitation between his strike and his next movement, almost as though the strong cut was something he had meant to ignore. He let his arm fly out of the way, and pushed back as it was he allowed it to reset itself with the hand level with his head and the blade's point aimed directly at his foe. But that was only a fraction of his movement, for it was all done during a push. As his foe lunged back, he jetted forward, hot on Tyson's heels. To have been close enough for their swords to have clashed, Szar had needed to be within reach. He kept that distance as he moved forward, and he kept his own pace.
The sword loomed threatening in his cocked back arm, but it was his shield he attacked with. The round thing thrust at the horned man's neck as soon as he stopped his retreat. Let the man parry it, let them man counter attack. He had one weapon. Szar had two.
Many underestimated the fierceness of the sword and shield warrior. True, he was a surer fighter with his greatsword. The thing's reach was astounding, and the damage it dealt was brutal beyond humanity. Yet the shield spoke of conservatism, and it was the lie that made men like him so dangerous. A shield was a poor defense, in truth. It took one, two, three hits before splintering if the swordsman was careful with it. Yet it was more wieldy than a mace, and twice as damaging. The beauty of the thing was in its shape, which put all of its weight on a single plane when attacking, yet spread it evenly when defending. Szar had heard tell of men who fought with steel shields in each hand, and he didn't envy those who ever faced them.
Yet this was no common melee. His investigations had led him to understand that the people of this tournament had wild and strange powers. In this, they were alike. He was an uncommonly good swordsman, but he was a mage too, a holy channeler who could blast his foes as surely with spells and holy smites as he could with steel.
He made sure to plant his right foot down first. It was an important step. The weight of the shield would carry itself, there was no worry that if it struck, it would be a bone-shattering blow even though his stance was awkward. The shield was bossed and reinforced with strips or metal. It was heavy and its edge was brutal blunt steel. Yet it was the sword Szar cared most about, whether he needed to block or attack with it. Seeing as it was in his right hand, it was his right foot that needed to be forward to make the most of it. Even if he needed to dodge away, he would want that side of his body moving first and fastest. After all, the horned foe drew from the left, Szar's right.
Notes Buffs Active -Effortless Armor: Moves as though not wearing armor.
Foe -
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Samuel Tyson
Dangerous Prophet
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Posted: Sun Mar 09, 2014 8:20 pm
[ Alexander "The Predator" Tyson ]
[ I''m more then just a little bit curious....
.....how you plan to go about making your Amends, to the Dead]
"A "The darkest places in Hell are reserved for men of neutrality during Moral Crisis....."
[X]-[ Alexander Tyson [X]-[ Stone Arena [X]-[ ...Focused
Alexander was a cautious man and with the life of his daughter hanging at the edge of his sword, at the moment of every action he took, he was not going to leave anything to chance. He knew pleading to the Paladin to back down would be useless, the man was as Honorable and Devout as they came. But why was he fighting in this tournament, surely not for gold or glory sake. Such things mattered not to men like them, to men of the Clothe and Gods. No this Paladin fought with a higher purpose, he was on a crusade of some sorts....but what?
It mattered not, Alexander could not accept defeat and this only broke his heart more that he must do everything he could to defeat this Holy Knight. IN another time they may have been god friends, allies in combat against evil...but today evil had twisted the fates to pit them against one another.
The man kept pace with Alexander well, moving in with his shield for a forward attack with impressive skill. Sadly for the Paladin the dangerous wielding of sword and shield was not lost to the Katana wielding Devil.
[ -12 ]
It happened quickly, no immense charge of power, no fancy flare of show or sparks. The shield would collide with Alexander, catching him off guard as soon as he had settled, his enemy apparently catching him on the off foot. The Paladin would feel the vibrations of force as his shield hit home and the black Devil would stumble back....and dissipate into thin air. Like smoke evaporating the Devil he had hit turned to ash and fell apart, at the same moment the Paladin's victory fell into jeopardy.
At the last moment Alexander had actually ducked, allowing the shadow clone to take the hit for him while he lunged forward and low. Darting under the shield attack and to his right. Simultaneously with his evasion he would draw his sword mid stride, reaping it low to slash it across the Paladin's left thigh. The Psionic energy charged would tear through the armor like it was not even there. Heated energy would act like plasma, melting steel and flesh together as it attempted to wreck havoc on the Knight's base of movement.
He would attempt this just as the Knight's shield beat the shadow clone into oblivion, attempting to fool him and catch the armored foe off guard.
This would be a low and fast run by attack and by the end of it Alexander would end up behind the Paladin, sword drawn. By moving to the Paladin's right he would hopefully avoid any real counter from the sword, however he did not underestimate the Holy man.
[ Power Points Pool ] [ 71/86 ]
Psionic Charge: -Expended-
[X] Shadow Blur Cost: 12 Recharge: 3 This ability sends a pulse of Psionic energy around Alexander, combined with his speed it creates an after image effect to confuse enemies into attacking the wrong target. It lasts for only a second but can off throw an enemy long enough to create an opening and strike. {/spoiler]
Posted: Sun Mar 09, 2014 10:04 pm
"Hah!" he cried, feeling the sickeningly sweet crunch of the metal band against Tyson's bones. The hit reverberated up his arm, flexing his muscles and sending a welcome shock through his joints. It felt good to hit someone. It felt right to get first blood. He never got first blood. It was always some trick, or some device which robbed him of it. This time, he would dominate the fight from the start, this time he...he...
What was that warm feeling?
It felt as though he'd pissed himself. His leg felt wet, and there was a strange burning smell. He paid it no mind until the man before him disappeared in a cloud of darkness. He felt himself falling, suddenly. Falling as though his muscles has simply given out.
He looked down and nearly dropped his sword. Across his thigh was a gash, huge and smoking. A grievous cut had blasted through metal plate and linked chain and flesh to wound him so deeply his head began to swim.
"No!" he cried, and winced as the pain flooded through him. Like a papercut, the gash hadn't hurt until he'd looked at it. Now that he had, he felt all the agony a man could feel. He was a paladin, and a warrior of a hundred battles, war and tourney both. He'd taken worse cuts, indeed he'd even lost an arm once, but not once had he merely shrugged through the pain. Being hit always hurt.
And hurt made him angry.
He was a paladin. A warrior of a hundred battles. He hadn't lived through them all by feeling guilt or regret or even mercy once an enemy was in his sight. He'd been a timid boy in the far away beastlands, a compassionate boy who'd loved to tend to sick animals and train horses. His paladin master had beaten that out of him.
"You're a warrior, boy. A killer." the old man's words rung in his ears as though he were in front of him, as he'd been long ago. He'd protested against the sentiment. He was to be a paladin, he was to help people.
"Paladins don't help people, fool boy. Killers can't help people. All you can do is hurt. Best you can be is a person who hurts the right people. You're scum, the assassin of the gods. We all are. Couch it in chivalry all you like, you just make it harder on yourself to do your wicked work."
"It's not wicked! Paladins only kill when they have to, and only demons and-"
The old paladin's wheezing cough interrupted him before he could finish. Honestly, the boy Szar hadn't know what he would have said next anyway. Not yet a paladin, he'd had no idea what they did, only what he'd wanted them to do.
"Is that what your nanny told you, fool boy? You're thinkin' of clerics, you are. Clerics walk the world and make men whole with healing and free from sickness. It's clerics that bring men unjustly slain back from the dead. You're the one who kills 'em."
He'd balked at it. Yet time had proven the old man right. He'd killed, and fought. He'd battled in wars where the blood and mud had reached his knees. He'd slain innocents on false evidence, chosen who was to live and who to die when all could not be saved. He'd done terrible, terrible things in the name of justice.
And it festered in him. It clawed at his soul. The innocent boy who wanted to save the world had never truly died. He'd merely grown. He'd grown angry. Angry that the promises of his dreams had never been fulfilled, angry that the world hurt him when all he tried to do was good. Angry that he never got to fight a just battle. Angry that he could never quite have first blood. Angry at the pain in his leg. Angry at the horned man who inflicted it.
It burned in him worse than any hurt.
It consumed his heart, tightened his grip.
It fulfilled him.
And suddenly, a blast was radiating from him, a pulse of white light which started at his core and burst in all directions. When it passed, it felt like a warm wind had blown in from some unknown desert. Yet in its wake, Szar was changed. He was larger. He was thicker. His muscles strained against his mail, his hands clenched with unreal strength. Even his injured leg seemed to look healthier and more powerful. And so it was.
Not healed but empowered, Szar had popped the lid that kept him from overflowing with holy radiance. Now the sun was in him, and the rage. He turned to look at his foe, his teeth grit tight behind his helmet.
As he did, his sword changed. The metal of the blade began to glow, and the brighter the glow became the less easy it was to see the steel behind it until an onlooker couldn't be sure if any steel remained. The glow was golden and violent, warm and then hot. The power of the sun sent the air rippling around it. No steel could possibly have kept solid beneath it furnace-like aura.
The sword was now the stuff of tempered sunlight, the weapon of a god. No metal could deflect it, no substance could destroy it. No armor could block it. No shield could withstand it. It was more than fire, more than light. It was a speck of something no mortal could understand, a touch of divinity in the palm of his hand.
And by the gods, it would hurt Tyson.
"HYAH!"
Szar bolted. Fast as he was when he'd just lightened his load, he was ten times faster now. The speed of his charge would test Tyson's flickering technique to its limits. Yet Szar had no need to sheathe, no cause to stop a relentless assault. The limp in his leg was still there, and it slowed his charge enough that his speed was like thunder rather than lightning. Yet he closed distance all the same, and when he did, the golden sword began a flurry of attacks, any of which could burn into Tyson's skin as easily as Szar had been burned. God forbid the man tried to block a strike, the light would pass straight through any physical object and cut true to the skin. Each chop was a dice roll with death.
One swung directly for the crown of the head, a cruel downward cut. It would be avoided, Szar knew. Whichever direction the foe ran, he would follow, bringing a sideway follow-up, either left or right it didn't matter. Energy was bursting from his skin, each slice sent wisps of the holy puissance wafting in white smoke from him. He was going to rip this Tyson apart. Someone could put the man back together when he was done.
Notes Buffs Active -Effortless Armor: Moves as though not wearing armor. -Divine Favor: Increases physical strength and speed -Divine Bond: Brilliant Energy
Foe -
Perniciouss
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Samuel Tyson
Dangerous Prophet
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Posted: Sun Mar 09, 2014 10:59 pm
[ Alexander "The Predator" Tyson ]
[ I''m more then just a little bit curious....
.....how you plan to go about making your Amends, to the Dead]
"A "The darkest places in Hell are reserved for men of neutrality during Moral Crisis....."
[X]-[ Alexander Tyson [X]-[ Stone Arena [X]-[ ...Focused
His focus had paid in full as the Paladin bled from his attack only to erupt in Radiant light. Alexander watched in awe as the Holy Knight took a barbaric form. He had expected this from a Marauder of the North but not of a holy man. As the knight turned his cold blue eyes stared into those orbs of light, shaking his head as he sighed.
-3
"I am sorry my friend.....may God forgive me." The Exorcist Assassin knew what he had to do, even as the Paladin charged with ferocious speed that sent the crowd into a roar. Yet to Alexander all faded into shadows and the only light in his world was this man running like lighting at him. Too him his gentle and peaceful movements were calm but to the outside world they were but blurs of blackness.
His breathing slowed down, his eyes closed and he focused. His left foot was back and right foot forward, the sword gripped in both hands with his right on top whilst he breathed. The Paladin was upon him now as his eyes snapped open, his knees bending as he lunged forward at a slight angle to his right, his sword low and ready trailing behind him. It appeared as if Alexander would attack just as the Paladin did, both of them ready to slay one another at the same time with fatal blows! Again Alexander would move to his adversaries left flank but it appeared that the Paladin would strike true with his ferocious attack!
-6
The Paladin would watch as his sword came down hard, about to cleave his enemy in two only for it too hit something. The keen eyes of the Knight would watch as his mighty blade was contested by some sort of shielding and the momentum of his attack was diverted too the far right! What was barely visible appeared to be a small circular shield made of pure energy, forming just above Alexander's head and at a slight angle as to parry the great-sword and not just take on such force directly.
The Rippling Shield skill was a dense barrier of Psionic energy that came into existence, blocking attacks or people if need be. The Paladin's blade would have ripped through it had it hit head on but with it positioned at an angle the blade's own momentum would carry it too far off to hit Alexander. However what the Devil had not expected was how strong the holy energy was for the shield held to complete it's tasks but shattered against such powerful energy and physical force. The Great-sword would miss Alexander just barely thanks to the rippling wall but the colliding forces would create a flare of energy that would burn the left side of Alexander's face and possibly blind the Paladin if he looked directly into it.
Just as the great-sword missed the Abyssal creature once again slashed low and fast. Like two Swordsmen dealing their final blows Alexander would lunge past Szar's left flank, his Katana humming with power as it once again attempted to reap across the exposed and injured thigh with the intention of severing the leg completely! This had been his plan all along, to injure a limb so that the Paladin would submit, but with his raging form it seemed more drastic measures had to be taken. With a severed leg the Knight would hopefully be un-able to continue and Alexander would be one step closer to saving his daughter.
[ Power Points Pool ] [ 62/86 ]
[X] Rippling Wall Cost: 6 Recharge: 2 This ability triggers as a defensive shield, creating a round circular wall of energy roughly 6 feet in diameter. The blue transparent energy is as durable as steel and can form anywhere with in a 10 foot radius of Alexander on mental command to block attacks or people. It lasts for up to ten seconds.
Edited to clarify that this ability had in fact been used. My bad. sweatdrop
[X] Razors Edge Cost: 3 Recharge: 1 This ability charges Alexander's Katana with psionic energy and turns the slash from the ancient weapon into a deadly assault on whatever it hits. Like heated plasma it will cut through bone, metal, and energy as if it was but tissue paper. It can be charged and then hold it's charge until it is used.
Posted: Tue Mar 11, 2014 12:36 pm
One shield shattered, blocking the energy of Szar's longsword.
One shield thudded, blocking the counter-attack. Two weapons. Two defenses. Simultaneous action.
Szar was no fool. He'd clearly noticed that this single weapon user was just a bag of defensive tricks and a simultaneous strike away from victory. He was repeating his pattern, and it would be the death of him.
The priest's sword would collide into Szar's shield as he shoved it down and across his body. The strike would bounce away harmlessly, taking only a few splinters of wood with it. Extended and striking as his foe was, his shoulder and upper back would be neatly exposed for a follow up attack.
So Szar capitalized.
He pointed the blade down, meaning to send it plunging into the foe's back. They were nearly entangled at this point, so close and so intimate that his foe would have to pull something mystic out of his hat to escape the blow.
Szar had no doubt he would.
It was a bit of a discouragement that this priest seemed to be able to summon his magic without any movement or pretense. It was enviable, really. Even a great paladin such as Szar, or the demi-god cleric who championed his order had to at least wiggle a few fingers to activate their magic. He refused to let it deter him, however. If this horned creature could summon magic and attack at the same time, Szar would have to work all the harder to keep up.
Luckily he was a holy juggernaut, what with the blessing he'd called upon himself. It couldn't be understated what he'd done. He was a paladin. To begin with his body was well past what a normal human could hope to be. He was stronger, faster, and far more resilient than a common man. With his blessing, however, he was inconceivably tough and unbelievably fast. He'd known he would need it. This tournament was going to be a long, slow slog through the dregs of hyperpowerful, ultraquick monsters.
Would that he could have just met another regular fellow, another man who liked to cross blades with beauty. That was his passion, the back and forth, the give and take of a battle between two evenly matched warriors, where a slip of the hand, a single slight miscalculation was the difference between honorable victory and noble defeat.
Instead, he would have this. And he would need to power himself with magic he could have used for more entertaining and showmanly purposes. But he had to win. He had to stay angry. He had to stay passionate and keep his furious focus.
Alas.
Notes Buffs Active -Effortless Armor: Moves as though not wearing armor. -Divine Favor: Increases physical strength and speed -Divine Bond: Brilliant Energy
Foe -
Perniciouss
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Samuel Tyson
Dangerous Prophet
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Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2014 1:11 am
[ Alexander "The Predator" Tyson ]
[ I''m more then just a little bit curious....
.....how you plan to go about making your Amends, to the Dead]
"A "The darkest places in Hell are reserved for men of neutrality during Moral Crisis....."
[X]-[ Alexander Tyson [X]-[ Stone Arena [X]-[ ...Focused
His enemy was fast and had proven he was no slouch with his armament. Even in his enraged state he still had the awareness to drop his shield. Metal and wood would burn away as his sword cut through it and though the damage to the shield would be great it would do for Szar what the Rippling Wall Technique had done for him. The shield would throw his slash off course but this did not deter him from his movement. His strides were long and so in this clash of swords the battle became a stale mate.
His enemy would turn, hoping to drive the tip of his blade into his enemies back but Alexander's techniques required that he move constantly, so when his slash had failed to sever the leg he had not remained anywhere close to the enraged foe. He had stayed in stride and was long out of reach before his adversary had fully turned. Szar's speed allowed him to turn on a dime but his sword would catch only the tip of Alexander's coat, ripping the fabric as the Devil dashed on and turned, his heel digging into the sand and sending a small cloud of dust in his trail.
He half turned, poised with his sword in his right hand down low. His other resting on the top of his sheathe as he stared down his foe. This had become a battle of life and death, not of honor but then again he was not here to fuel the glory of others. He also did not want to die......too much was at stake. "Enough."
He stood poised, sword tight in his hand as his icy blue eyes stared at his foe. "You know I can't let you win. Please before this gets any worse....just...walk away."
It seethed through his veins. His mind was poisoned with it. Part pain, part shame, part conditioning, the wrath was his magnificent vice, his familiar demon fluttering over his shoulder to whisper of power. His joints tensed as he watched his foe elude him again. He was ready. Ready.
He could see it in his head so clearly. He's slam through shield after shield, a berserker in holy steel. He had powerful spells to protect him. Powerful gods watched over him. He could rend this man into four pieces, even if it did damn near kill him. He would win. He would move on. He would find what he had come to discover.
And all he had to do was ignore this man's life. This man, who was not evil. All Szar had to do was unleash himself, let the anger blind him for only a few moments. The creature was quick, but the skin under Tyson's horns could be cut like any man's. He knew that. He would win this fight. Even his injury was not going to prevent that. All he had to do was kill.
Spiritus Immortalis
"Enough."
He stood poised, sword tight in his hand as his icy blue eyes stared at his foe. "You know I can't let you win. Please before this gets any worse....just...walk away."
Szar's sword diminished. The light of it faded.
He would not do it. He would show mercy. This time, if not the next. And yet...
"No." Szar answered, his powerful voice reverberating in his helm. He dropped the Longsword, he unlaced the shield with a quick, hard pull. His arms reached back over his head, and both curled around the thick handle of his greatsword.
What a sword. As soon as he felt it tight in his grip he smiled. He couldn't help himself. The weapon was more dear to him than any woman had ever been. It was his ally, his companion, he greatest tool. Rarely did he even sully it with magic. The metal was so laced with ancient spellcraft and legendary power that it rarely needed augmenting.
Adamantine was like that. It was strong, sturdy and yielded to nothing. Here was a weapon worthy of Tyson's killer edge.
And so Szar walked with it toward his foe.
"No. You do not win this fight. But once I do, I will help you. In return, you will help me." This man was holy. He would understand, once it was explained to him. There were bigger matters to attend to here than mere tourney bouts.
"Hyah!" he would cry, as soon as his greatsword was within reach of his foe, yet he only swung it in one hand. There was no clumsiness to his swing, however. His divine power made such a feat easy, as easy as swinging a longsword.
Though not quite as easy as swinging a dagger. Yet it was a dagger his free hand rested upon. The attention payed to the tiny weapon was almost casual, and well hidden behind the blur of steel he brought down when he sent his overhead strike for his enemy's right shoulder. His feet were well spread apart, he looked like he could dash one way or the other.
The question was, would he dash toward his foe, or away?
Notes Equip Shift -Longsword and Shield to Greatsword Buffs Active -Effortless Armor: Moves as though not wearing armor. -Divine Favor: Increases physical strength and speed
