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 Posted: Sat Aug 18, 2007 4:56 pm
The stadium is masked by the shadow of storm clouds moving into the vicinity, causing the wind to shift to a gustier current as the sky takes on a not-so-good-looking dary gray. Within the office sat Midus himself, the President of GTB. His hair was white, having two bangs in the front of his face and some of his hair spiking up in a curve at the top of his head, the rest of his hair falling to his shoulders. Within stood two people, each wearing a dark cloak. One had pink hair falling to his back, and the other was recognizable by the patch over his left eye, with his hair being streaks of gray and black.
"Looks like the weather isn't looking any better," Midus says as he looks out the window. "Though the forecast said we wouldn't be getting any rain for at least three days."
"They are known for making mistakes," the eye-patch wearer says with a chuckle.
"Yes...but if I'm correct, this may just be another omen caused by one of our pretentious visitors. Keep an eye out for any menacers."
The two nod then step out of the office, closing the door behind them. Midus just continued to stare, his eyes narrowing every passing second. He felt like this was more than just a storm.
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End Time: Saturday, 7 PM Central
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Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2007 4:30 am
His coat ruffled quietly in, to him, would be nothing more than a gentle breeze in which he enjoyed the caress of the wind on his face. Eyes lit green surveyed the massive stadium in which many great battles had played themselves out, the Gaian Tenkaichi Budokai stadium, and mused upon his fight. Needless to say it was a rather bitter defeat at the hands of the storm giant Trebuchet, but he was still alive, and now in the closing days of the tournament which had been a strange crossbreed between a complete disaster and amazing success he would be exacting a rather nonspecific revenge upon the tournament. He raised one gloved hand out of his pocket, watching the small droplets of water impact against it as he held it palm up, and then slowly raised his head to view the sky above him. He had been standing on the very edge of the stands overlooking the battlegrounds themselves for a very long time now, and he supposed it was time to kick the party off, though it may take some time before it hit the stadium. He closed his eyes, the feeling of rain hitting his face soon dulled away until he felt nothing at all and merely saw a visualisation of the sky high above him, the aforementioned storm clouds beginning to clash, strengthen, and more importantly become the vital ingredient to his strike upon the stadium. Air currents of various temperatures and strength became a visual cue to him, a set of strands he had to weave in a very specific manner to create a product of efficient destructive power. Thunder boomed over, the sky rumbling in recession as the storm clouds slowly drew back, the sky becoming ever darker before lighting up briefly with the strike of lightning. Warm air currents battling with cold as he played with them like mere toys, building pressure, and ultimately forcing the wheels of nature into motion. The figure clad in black exhaled rather hard as he opened his eyes, grinning with pearly whites as he watched the thunderstorm above him ravage, the winds that had been merely gusts were now howling gales, pounding the stands as everything was set into motion, his coat billowing around him like a cape, yet he stood teetering on the edge, standing tall and firm as if this was a perfectly normal occurrence, an occurrence that couldn't touch him. Rain would begin to pour down soon, blanketing the entire arena in a coat of dampness, and in roughly half an hour to forty-five minutes, the skies above him would converge downwards into a spiral of destruction and possibly death, the makings of a tornado, a tornado that would tear this place apart. He grinned, and wondered how long it would take for there to be a repercussion to his actions, but in the mean time he resolved to remain in his precarious spot that could result in a few hundred feet drop to the arena below. The wind elemental, Lusik Grey, was having a hell of a day already, and his wide grin was evidence of it. Posts until tornado impact: 10 (( Misc. Crap:Quote: Appearance: Standing at a height of six ft, boasting a body capable of performing various acrobatic feats but yet also capable of throwing down with the stronger and tougher opponents of life, Lusik Grey is a man that quite easily by his appearance can intimidate a lesser person when drawn to his full height before a battle. With his wide, pearly white grin welcoming all those who come to him and his fluorescent green eyes studying the aforementioned over the rims of those slim-lines, Armani glasses, he is quite a sight to behold. From the years he’s been fighting and training on occasion, Lusik is nothing short of a natural born fighter, molded by what he’s seen and done in order to survive.
With sleek, lower-jaw length white hair adorning his head and somewhat framing it, various bangs of lengths and sizes hang somewhat scruffily down across his face giving him that carefree, raffish charm. Behind the white veil of hair hides a fairly handsome and clean shaven face with slightly higher than usual cheekbones, all features of his rather pale skin, obtained from a general lack of going outside. However, his most predominant facial feature would be his large, oval eyes. A gentle hue of green, his eyes tend to be a very visual reference to his mood and emotions to anyone who may take the time out of their day to study them as well as a tell-tale sign of the white-haired wonder using his powers. Because anyone who pays enough attention will realize that with the use of his fabled wind elemental powers, his green eyes flood with light and become luminous, two emerald beacons.
As far as attire goes, Lusik has finally ditched his old threads for something slightly more practical, though still leaning towards a black wardrobe. However with his trade-mark, slim line sunglasses and trilby hat remaining in their ever faithful spots upon Lusik’s head, he still manages to be unmistakable as far as recognizing goes. Wearing a black, long sleeve shirt that relies on a series of small straps and belts buckles instead of buttons, accompanied with a high collar and large cuffs at the wrists and a pair of slightly flared, jet black trousers, he yet again manages to not make a massive effort on wearing a set of clothes that actually protect him from the hazards that his occupation and hobbies bring him. His personal look is finished off with a pair of black, size 9 boots comparable to that one would wear at a construction site and a pair of tight-fitting leather gloves.
Containing his form is usually an open duffle jacket, a long coat made from synthetic fibers, its’ length spans from the neck to mid-thigh, having a single pocket inside the left breast and two adorning the left and right sides of the coat just in hands reach. ))
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Posted: Fri Aug 24, 2007 5:56 am
As the winds began to pick up the people in the stands began to glance about in wonderment save for a fair few. This few that did not differed in nearly every way from one end of the spectrum to another, the differences between them all irrelevant under the common goal of victory over their peers. Eyes of blue and green, red and orange, yellow, gold, silver, and platinum, the many faces and hearts poured their very souls into the competition. With none yet victorious the multitude watching for a victor only grew while the handful remaining with hands outstretched towards that wonderous goal dwindled.
Among the stands a single man stood as wind ruffled his fur, his giant limbs and accute meteorological sense knowing well enough this was no normal storm. The giant of a man, this Trebuchet, turned to survey the arena, "Has this man truly returned for another defe-" The giant's monologue was rudely interupted by a man with ashen grey hair in a loose grey shirt and cargo pants with the pockets ripped away, "DOWN IN FRONT! Move your giant fat a-" He seemed to get slapped upside the head by an unseen hand, probably just his conscience getting him to shut up. A man with his torso stitched together by spars of metal and gauze clutched his side as he laughed to himself, "Stupid kid." Next to him a man with a beard and a halo nodded, "Kids these days indeed. No moral center." On the man's other size a birdman clacked his beak and gave a shrug, "He's not that bad of a kid, for having half god in him."
On the opposite side of the arena a jaunt looking man with one side of his face a stretched piece of flesh looked down to the arena with a single emerald eye. He wore a smile on his lips as he awaited the results of the previous round, having been unable to see just how far the spirit detective had been able to go. Down below two men were arm in arm, the first black as night with flecks of color running through him as he sang Bleed It Out out of tune. Next to him was a rather smelly man dressed entirely in brown providing the music with a can of beans, the magical fruit. The next man over was rather bloody, bleeding quite heavily as he sang the other half of the vocals. Down near the gift shops an elderly man was trying to con a few people out of their cash with a few simple card tricks.
Lounging about in the food court were approximately fifteen men that all looked pretty much the same except the last who seemed to be a giant tarrasque...reduced to five feet tall, arguing over a pile of hot dogs. Each had wild pink hair, wore a red blouse, black leather pants a size too small, and bloodied red boots. Off to the size was a scarred man in a black coat, pants, and shirt with a red symbol on said shirt, simply shaking his head, "Oh god, why me?" Crouched nearby was a trashcan...UNTIL IT TRANSFORMED! Where it had been stood Venificus Compleated, spitting out trash and coughing up used condoms, "Thats going to leave a stain..." On his back was a puddle of person, still trying to pry himself off the massive machine-man. Far out in the forests away from the arena itself the humble monk lay in meditiation over his experiences within the tournament.
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Posted: Sat Aug 25, 2007 10:53 pm
Midus picks up his phone, speaking into it. "Yes, this is Midus. Hey, there. We got a little problem at the front gate. Mind taking care of it for us? Thanks."He sets back down the phone and turns in his seat to face his pink-haired executive. "Well, looks like it have come to this. The tournament..."
----------------------- As the tornado races toward the building, the doors open as a black man in a well dressed suit steps in. A well-groomed afro and mustache lied on his head. Letting the doors close behind him, his arms fold in front of himself. Giving a smile, he speaks his given words:
"GAIAN TENKAICHI BUDOKAI'S CLOSED! SEE YOU ALL NEXT TIME"
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