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A tournament hosted by Club SadistFaction 

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REDEMPTION | ERTAI VS JUSTICE GUY!!!

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ImNoHero
Captain

Clean Codger

PostPosted: Sun Apr 20, 2014 6:36 pm


The Coliseum
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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.

NOTE: Each player is allowed a max of 10 posts for this fight winner advanceS to Round Three!


Ertai Vexic
themightyjello
PostPosted: Mon Apr 21, 2014 3:07 pm




…End Justice for All





Location: The Arena
Character: Ertai Vexic
Story: The Contest of Champions

”CLINK!”


The noise reverberated through the empty corridor.

”CLINK!”


The chain hit the windlass and continued with the medley of echoes.

”CLINK!”


His eyes opened…

”CLINK!”


Slowly he started to stand---wearing nothing but the darkness of the chamber.

”CLINK!”


His perfect body was in full display of the servants of the arena. The horrific blackened scars adorned his pale body like etchings of an epic upon royal tapestry.

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”CLINK!”


Turning towards the opening portcullis he extended his hand towards to one of the servant girls. Gripping her by the chin he lifted the profile of her face upwards, examining her closely before tossing her to the ground violently. A snarl rolled over his lips as he threw both arms outwards. The darkness that once covered his naked body lashed outwards to the servants around him. All at once they froze in place, dropping his regalia and equipment. With a whimpering cry they all fell to their knees and crumbled backwards into ash. With a violent gust of wind from the corridor, they were swept away.

”CLINK!”


Inhaling violently, the ash of the deceased swept upwards into his darkened maw; smoke begun to pour from his body. It spun itself like a seamstress spins silk. It wove wickedly over his powerful frame, covering up his godly perfection and transforming it into totalitarian oppression. Like a fascist nightmare, he stood unparalleled across the omniverse as the true evil, as the true proprietor of oblivion. The most honorable and good fell the same as the most wicked and corrupt. Ertai did not discriminate against petty notions and ideals---if they were created, he would make sure they were undone much the same…

”CLINK!”


Gripping the edge of his right glove he would pull it against his flesh. With a powerful clench, the leather stretched taut, showing the brutal raised sections of his knuckles and the plating of his palms.

”CLINK!”


With unending compulsions he adjusted the collar of his overcoat. The action itself caused his physical reference to shift and break apart like a distorted image upon a screen.

”CLINK!”


He opened his mouth and exhaled once again a small plume of darkness. It wove itself into existence his anchor, his tangibility, his reminder of dominion. Biting down upon the black stretched Cigar, he grinned a wicked grin.

”CLINK!”


Slowly he moved forward, stepping through the half dissolved corpse of the young servant girl. Blinding light soon made contact with his feet as he stood at the precipice of the arena, awaiting for the final strike of the windlass, the final position of the portcullis. Extending his hand outwards he brushed the rough surface of the stone once more. He inhaled the scent of the baking dirt and the remnants of blood that soaked deep on the surface. Ertai trailed off in mind, listening to the ravaging collective. Their hunger had become his hunger… He wanted to feast upon the thoughts of his unknown opposition… Ertai cared not for who he faced, he only cared about what they were. First the voluptuous little girl that pandered to his senses and predatory nature. Second was the wild and brutal half-breed who enticed his urge for death. Third would be a mystery…

”CLANK!”


The portcullis froze in place, kicking out another wave of dirt, dust and sand.

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Ertai stared out into the illuminated arena for a moment before taking stride. It was if a blanket of night followed him as he placed his first foot into the sun. The crowd instantly became silent, much as they had before when he fought Nierro. They were all too familiar with the brutality and vicious efficiency of the artificial deity. It would be his opposition who would soon discover what countless civilizations before had discovered. Ertai was not to be trifled with or to be taken lightly. It was to his own amusement that he danced with the half-breed before. The darkness and vicious brutality the wolf had attributed played a major role in why Ertai acted the way he did. He wanted to acquire the half-breed for his own ends, wanting to display his efficiency as a brutal leader and a domineering force of nature. Ertai would not dance to that melody again. It was a matter of mental stability that Ertai hungered to spill mortal blood on mortal soil, and so he would… Throwing his arms outwards, he would close his eyes to the silence around him. His masked hands gripped tight and loosened impulsively as he waited. It was with this action his body started to charge. The dark crack of energy surged over his frame and became a smoky displacement. Ertai wasn’t a man of pleasantries or mortal customs. It mattered not what his opposition would say to him, all he wanted to do was peel back the memories that made him who he was and drink them down greedily.

He stood in silence.

Waiting to oppress life…

…to end justice for all.




Overview: Entering arena – Charging



themightyjello

The Great Absolute

Omnipresent Consumer



themightyjello


Dapper Elocutionist

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PostPosted: Tue Apr 22, 2014 5:51 am


.: Step Into the Light :.
.: Beginning of the Dream :.


It was times like this that a person was meant to feel apprehension, anxiety, and fear. A generalized uneasiness of not knowing what lay ahead of them other than the certainty that whatever it was they were about to endure would be nothing if not difficult, and that the amount of time left before choosing not to pursue this path was rapidly slipping away. Because that's what this was... a choice. To face the uncertain future with his head held high and put even his life at risk for the purpose of proving his worth to none other than himself, or to simply walk away from it now with the experience he had gained, his life, and the knowledge that he had not gone all the way; that there were limits still untested.

No. That was not a choice that could be made any longer. Not since he had first put on the mask and resolved himself to what he had come here for. And so with the fingertips pressed tightly into the stretched fabric the young man pulled the mask down over his head; adjusting it around his neck and eyes before he stepped out. The stone under his feet gave way to packed dirt and sand, the shadow that he tread gave way to the ambient light of day as he neared the exit and stepped across the threshold of the portcullis; out of darkness and into light...

...but shadow lingered still in this arena.

Across from where he stood a figure appeared from the darkened entryway and walked forward, dragging the black behind him like it was a cloak that he wore about his shoulders - like a thousand frail hands grasping at his coattails to bask in his presence for but a moment longer. He stood in shadow while bathing in the sun, as if even the light recoiled from his touch.

"I do not know you."

The masked male's voice carried across the distance between them, his words booming through the silent arena for the sake of clarity. He had no desire to put on a show for the masses, but for one...? Justice kept his even pace as he continued across the bloodsands toward the other. The thing that was not to be called a man.

"I have heard your name spoken in the dark corners of Sigil. Muttered by cultists and cursed by good men. I have heard of you, the tyrant of Vexa. But I do not know you."

Justice cocked his head to the side as he spoke the final sentence, as if questioning his own words at the statement or perhaps sizing up the 'man' that stood across from him. There were many things that were said about the being called Ertai Vexic, but none of them were more than rumors and hearsay.

"Some say you are a bored god that walks among us to satisfy some unknown urge. Some say you were born from the nether and seek to reshape the world as you desire. Some say you are a dream that walks in human skin. The whispered words of the mad and broken. None say that you are a man."

That much was as clear as day. One of the talents that he had acquired when training as a paladin was the ability to sense the presence of evil; but since that time he had learned that evil was not an absolute as some would choose to believe. He had honed his senses to focus instead upon malicious intent, allowing him to feel out the internal energies of those who would choose to do harm to others. From where he stood, the creature across from him was like a gathering storm silhouetted as a man.

"But what is it that you say, Sir Vexic? Tell a curious man... what are you?"

Behind the mask, Justice would peel back his lips in a sly grin. His eyes narrowed as he looked upon the other, but he made no movements for weapons or defense; he continued forward at the same steady pace as he would continue to do until the gap between them was gone. Just as he had done in the past, just as he would continue to do.

Perhaps the light would hesitate to touch this man, but Justice would not.
PostPosted: Fri Apr 25, 2014 7:40 pm




Unraveling





Location: The Arena
Character: Ertai Vexic
Story: The Contest of Champions

It was in these moments that time stood still. An eternal echo that broke all boundaries between God and man. As Ertai basked in his own shadow, he watched with bemusement, the masked man making his way to the available light. The smoldering tyrant wanted nothing more than to hear the contrite cries from his soon to be suffering, dying victim. The thought alone stirred what was dormant inside. A swath of malicious and malign ambitions came to life. He peeled back the layers of himself, an attempt to beguile his youthful opponent. The features of his face shifted and changed as he broke his posture and moved as the man encroached, circling like a predator as the man spoke. Like tossing pictures to the wind, his face shifted over and over. He made an attempt to keep the conversation going, clearly intrigued by his vague knowledge. It was his arrogance and vanity that fed into this ambivalent weakness. Ertai wanted to peer beneath the mask, while retaining his own.

”You don’t know me… You don’t know-me-“

He callously whispered out.

”I am the Great Absolute-“

He paused, giving the masked man his profile. With a blank stare he stood, looking into nothingness. Ertai could only see his goal, he knew only the corruption of life. The urge to consume, reproduce, control and survive. Rambling madness had indeed beset upon him, yet it was as sharp and wicked as he was wise. Everything was of design to him, he chose to see it that way. Memories dashed through his mind, as he thought about just who he was. Even if it only was a moment, he seen what he desired most; he seen the beginning. It was where he died. The golden color of the fields… The darkness of the sky… The absence of time- Power beseeched his thought and he ascend once again. Turning back to his opponent, his Concussive Black was upon him. Smoke poured from his bound grasp. With a loud crack, the air around him became suddenly cold and thin. One by one he unbuttoned the mirrored chrome latches. His unnerving stare bore directly into the brave masked man. Ertai wanted to peel back what made this man question him.

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”I was once a man”

Throwing his hands inwards he would violently unsheathe his dominion blades. The leather of his glove gripped tight against the binding of the hilt. He tightly squeezed them, snapping his wrists outwards he would flip the blades around in his grasp. The black steel cut through the air like a wave of darkness before slamming firmly into the ground. Ertai loved to entice his opposition by discarding his weaponry. The bold move was more strategic than boisterous arrogance. It was his attempt to move ahead of the masked man. Like a master tactician he set the stage to his advantage; he set the stage to play. Ertai wanted to keep the attention of the man, but not upon his actions but upon his voice.

”I have walked the blind eternities… I have been victimized and in turn victimize. It is not out of malicious intent that I operate, but an idea that was once whole. Beneath the shifting layers of this physical existence-“

Ertai would spread his arms and stare heave side, parting the darkness around him-returning the arena as it once was. Smoke pouring from his agape maw and crooked hands.

”-this existence that is nothing but a lie… I was once like you. Bold and filled with ambition, yet that was stripped from me with a swipe of the divine.”

Looking down at his masked hands the expression on his shifting face faded. Like a string caught in a gear, his flesh slowly started to unravel. Layers of confidence and arrogance rolled off the synthetic skeleton that gave him permanence to reveal his true face. The face that he once had, the true vision of Ertai…The true man, Erasin. The militaristic stern features faded and what was left was a vibrant youthful face drowned in melancholy and woe. A slave to his own power and bound to the ever consuming avarice of it. Ertai was a begin of self-perpetuating anguish and he wanted to bring that to the masked man.

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”You have no idea what is beyond the physical bounds of this world… This multiverse…”

Once again he started to move, sliding his overcoat off his arms and letting it fall to the ground in a black lump. He revealed what was his flesh and the scars that adorned it. To his sides, respectively, were his old gladii. Much the same as his fight before, Ertai unsheathed the two blades and slammed them into the ground, teetering back and forth. Rolling his shoulders he would show just how powerful his physical frame was. He hulked like a brutal soldier, his strong arms almost ripped at the joints. The black ichor that pumped through his veins flared for a moment in his neck as he cocked it to the side.

”You have no idea what it is you don’t know… You have no idea what is in store for you when you die. This world in which you stand, has no tangible place of salvation nor does it have a world of suffering and contrition. The only thing for you-“

Throwing his arms out wide once again.

”…the only thing for them, is the silence of oblivion-“

Ertai inhaled deeply, allowing the booming force to shift the contours of his chest. The megalomaniacal tyrant was in thought, ready to pounce upon his prey. Slowly he exhaled the putrid black cloud, sending it bleeding through the air between the two men. It was at that moment he decided to make his move. With a bolt of energy, Ertai took off, gripping the two teetering gladii by their spiked hilts, flipping them around in his grasp. The right blade was held in a traditional hold, gripping the blade tight around the hilt. His left blade was of a different position and style. He let the spike on the bottom of the hilt extend between his index and middle finger, gripping the blade in a loose reverse stance. The flat of the blade lay against the underside of his arm, the point exiting out just past the elbow.

Stepping inwards he would bring his right Gladius cleaving down towards the masked man’s neck. The strike itself wouldn’t likely hit but it would prompt the masked man into base combat and perpetuate the future struggle between the two fighters. As his wicked blade tore through the air, he could only whisper out solemnly.

”Everything will return to oblivion…”





Overview: Posturing – Ascension into Concussive Black I – Posturing – Attacking

Concussive Black Stage I: Upon gaining his charge Ertai will advance into his stage of psychokinetic power. This first stage of power is more physically altering than anything. It gives Ertai a displaced look with a smoky black substance bleeding from his hands. The closer one would get to Ertai the more they would notice how cold and thin the air is around him. Upon touching Ertai one would be met with a slight numbing sensation that would fade as soon as contact with Ertai was disrupted.

Effects: Smokey visualizations, slight numbing on contact.



themightjello

The Great Absolute

Omnipresent Consumer



themightyjello


Dapper Elocutionist

5,650 Points
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PostPosted: Sun May 11, 2014 9:29 pm


The Great Absolute

Imnohero


(( So it's been like 2 weeks and I haven't written a response yet or even logged into Gaia. Between moving and having some other things taking my leisure time up, I don't see myself regularly posting again for a while. So I shouldn't be holding this up more than I am.

Ertai should be advancing to the next round like the lord of creation that he is.

We can pick this up where we left off in an exhibition thread later on. I'm sorry about bailing, since I really was looking forward to this fight. ))
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CoC I

 
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