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 Posted: Mon Jul 17, 2006 8:55 pm
Kharn "The Betrayer" vs. Ryou 'Thief King' Bakura
FIGHT!
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Posted: Mon Jul 17, 2006 8:58 pm
The gates of the entrance to the arena swung outward by some unknown force. Where the force in question was daemonic or technological was unseen, but it was probably a little of both. They opened up to reveal the black mask that hid the ones to arrive as well as every facet of the hall from which they would emerge. Although, who or what it was had yet to be seen, the noise that echoed and marked the coming of something very large was imminent. There was noise of course, to the untrained ear like the repeated hammering of stone. The repetition was indeed loud and forced dust to stir from it's confines, but the lapses were quite long in between each. It was as if their was some purpouse to the wait or perhaps a great strain before the crescendo of vaulting noise, still the reasons were unknown. What was known, was that each time the noises sounded, the very foundations of the stadium shook.
When several minutes had come and pass their was finally something to be seen, the sight was both horrific and a let down. A man of middling height, but built from hard earned muscle that seemed to make him stand taller, as well as extremely sun burnt skin emerged. He was clothed in little more then his small clothes and a peaking shirt with a hood that hid much of his upperbody. On the back of his shirt was the burned outline of the Mark of Khorne, it revealed the flesh bellow. At certain times as the shirt swayed you could see brass actually had been melted onto this mans skin in an exact match of the outline. There was another very surprising feature about this poor soul, his real arms... were gone. Gone and replaced by augmented ones; cold, dark-black massive things of metal. Mechanical in make, but poorly to be sure as steam hissed out of them from each movement he made with the arms. Instead of elbows on these damned machinations, their were large pistons that shot out and pushed back in each time he bent his arms.
Around the wrists of these mechanical appendages lay brass spiked shackles. By the looks of it the man was probably glad he no longer had his real arms for the shackles would have utterly mutilated the mortal flesh. Leading on from the shackles were black iron chains, each link was as thick as a man's thigh. They continued on behind him into the abyss from which he had emerged. With each step the man took and they were ver slow in coming. As he fought the simply horrendous load he slaved to pull, his foot hanging in the air for several moments as his screams of strain wracked the collisseum. Then finaly when he placed a foot down, their was another deep thud from within the darkness. The slave would then cry out in relief as he was given reprieve from the madness of his work.
The screaming, pulling, and the eventual thud went on for several more minutes. Each time he walked two steps another link from both chains emerged from the bleakness. Until finally part of the cargo the man was slowly dragging came to be within sight of the audience. It was an utter nightmare, the poor, obviously damned individual had the chore of pulling a giant wagon for hauling cargo. The thing looked more suited on the battle fields of some insane war; not here. The front of the wagon was marked by a red six pointed star and sharp metal teeth consuming a planet. The wheels of this monstrosity were bigger then the slave pulling it. Each was made from steel and covered in blood stained brass. Huge spikes emitted from the outside fo each wheel, possibly for traction but mostly for fear.
Skulls lined the rim of the war machine, what it was carrying exactly was hidden beneath a grey-brown sheet. Still it was obvious from the rectangular outline the sheet gave off meant it was a holding cell of some sort. Small embers burned in each skull, with red brighter then that of the paint on the wagon. Once the vastness of the mobile had been dragged from the darkness and the wheels churned with every few steps of the slave. He stopped and suddenly the shackles on his metal wrists released him from their binding. Perhaps the man with the strange mechanical arms would flee, but no servitude was engrained upon every last molecule of his body and mind. Walking at a brisk pace to the rear of the wagon it was noticed that their was extensive tissue damage done to the mans body. He then deftly climbed up the spikes of one of the wheels and into the back of the wagon, after scrambling up the side and over the skulls.
Clasping a skull topped lever he pulled it towards himself, foot braced the base of the lever, as the scarcely used instrument slid towards him with a loud grind. Then with a rapid succession of clicks, the bottom of the wagon opened into two parts down the middle and dropped the massive crate to the ground with a titanic boom. The slave then hopped down after it, and landed on the top of, there was a soft thud as his feet obviously hit metal. He then reached over with the monstrous hands of his augmented arms and gripped the sheet. The slave puled it towards him and hopped off the crate to the ground, revealing the hidden cargo as the last folds fell away.
A rectangular box of about ten feet in height and thirty feet in length, as well as ten feet wide, was given light to the arena: most probably wished it hadn't. Covered from base to base were skulls, there must have been thousands of the yellow boned skulls. Only the top and bottom of the disgusting cargo were not enshrouded in this horrific gesture of piety to some insane god. There was no discernable exit to be found amongst these bones, so how was the cargo of it even exposed to get out? At the top of the container was hole that was about three feet wide and three feet long. What purpouse this served was yet to be seen, not to once again the seemingly missing exit. Four circlets at the top, one at each corner could be seen these perhaps served the purpouse for loading the unholy cell back onto the wagon.
The slave once more climbed back onto the wagon by way of one of the wheels. He pushed the lever back to its original posistion, and thus the true herald of death had been announced. The small square shaped front of the box, pointed towards the center of the arena, swung open. Skulls split half at the corner, and the noises that had once been contained within it's confines finally came to fruition. Incoherent babble and screams of pure undeniable rage rang out into the collosseum from with the cell. Suddenly, their was the sound of clanking metal, banging on the inside of the confines and the captive came into view at long last.
Covered in an absolute multitude of hooked chains which had previously restrained him before had begun to slacken. He was a majestic killing machine, a man wrought into the fabric of reality for one purpose only: to collect skulls. Daemonic armor covering from head to toe, save for his pale white left arm; which was completely unprotected. He hulked over eight feet in height and gave every presence that he knew how to use the massive bulk that made up his body. The blood red armor was faceted with the leering skuls of daemons as fleshless skulls hung by chains, similair to those that held him. Each skull was plated in a dull grey metal that was most likely meant to preserve the skull and nothing more.
He was armed with a veritable armory of weapon. Different sorts of grenades clung at his waist. While a pulsing green gun hung limply from thick metal cables that led up to the shoulder guard on his right arm. Red steam hissed out of three slits at the center of his chest, the vent were these three slits were was attached to huge metal restraints in a 'X' fashion across his chest. The hulk of a man took another step forward, there was less strain in it then the previous ones. Upon setting his foot down, the stone beneath cracked about it's edges. At his left thigh was another absurdly large pistol, but unlike the last one this one had a bit more normality to it.
Studded in brass and stylized with red paint, the pistol had a massive barrel and seemed to lack a moving slide. Not to mention it was a smooth bore pistol, usually guns like this would easily be dismissed for inaccuracy, but this one was different. This pistol was a Bolt Pistol, once used to spread the name of the corpse god, "The Emperor" and fight in his holy name. Now it was used to sow the seeds of chaos and kill the false Emperor's servants. Even just thinking about the Imperium caused Khârn to roar once more at the very thought of enemies. Everyone in the stands looked like freshmeat to him. Lambs idly left alone and he was the wolf, but the walls that lay before him shattered any real prospect of getting to them.
This sudden realization only made him angrier, so with his left hand he gripped at the air by his waist and did a double take. The Betrayer realized that Gorechild, his favored weapon, was missing. Looking up at the slave he snarled and yelled incomprehensible words filled entirely with untamed rage. The man merely stared, transfixed on the being before him, but with suitable chasting by Khârn making to get on the crate and tear the man apart. The slave scrambled to pull the lever towards him once more and now a very entertaining sigh was to be had, as the last few inches of the pull on the instrument were complete.
From the black slit atop the cell that Khârn had been transported in, a large almost casket like container was propelled into the air. Yey another chain was wrapped about this container and led back into the bleakness. As it was launched out the from within, the contain spun on it's axis in a blurr of movement. This caused the chain that held it shut to come unwrapped with the spin. On it's last rotation, half of the parcel opened and out flew Khârn's most prized, most deadly possession: Gorechild.
It was an axe of massive proportions and deadly intricacey. As it soared through the air and gravity took hold, forcing it back down towards the ground to it's master. Khârn bent his knee's and leaped into the air, he was utterly transfixed on procurring his weapon. The last of of the chains on his armor fell away except for those place on there himself. Then the container began to spin in the opposite direction, with the chain wrapping back up around it and back into it's confines once more. The Betrayer jumped to a height thought impossible by someone so bulky as he, yet Khârn was the impossible and he had laughed in the faces of Daemon's before he slew them.
His bare hand touched the cloth wrapped haft of Gorechild, and the weapon sung to life. Its horrid daemon engine purred to life, and a small inferno of it's power engulfed the two. The many eyes that speckled his tool of mercilessness: opened. They looked about, daemon energies crackled in their presence as the pair fell back to the ground. Their was a resounding clatter once his bulk slammed into the ground feet first. For all those without their own mental protection their may have been a dark ominous presence in the back of their concious. For Gorechild's reach was far, but Khârn's was farther.
Khârn bellowed once more and gave a gesture of "Bring it on" with a show of arms. Before the aura Gorechild had given off finally settled. The beast was now fully released and nothing short of astronomical power would stop him now. The slave seeing Khârn's freedom as well a Gorechilds made him very inclined to leave. So he did, pushing the lever away from him one final time. Chains dropped down to the crate and hooked themselves around the loops on each corner of the crate. They hauled up the cell quickly and the trapdoor on the underside of the wagon shut before the vessel moved off on it's own back into the dark tunnel from whence it came. This begged the quesion why the slave had been forced to haul the thing in the first place.
Gorechild snarled in mechanical rage, as it's teeth howled in the air it's roar commanded it's need for blood to be filled. Pulling Khârn's arm toward the retreating vessel, as he ran towards it; the gates clasped shut once more. He stopped and snarled as it retraced it's course back into the collisseum. "Snivelling blood sack come back here and let me feast on your blood!" The Betrayer dared in his harsh resounding voice as it echoed around the arena. Before he turned back to the stands and sawe the other gate; yet no opponent. "Where is my fool prey, does he fear me The Betrayer so?" The slighty static filled voice snarled in complete bitterness, "Better for me to offer your skull to the Khorne, now show yourself!"
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Posted: Wed Jul 19, 2006 3:11 pm
The sounds of footsteps could be heard from the other side of the gate, getting steadly louder till the figure reached them and walked through them, not waiting for them to open.
The white haired young man looked up at his opponet, one eye a blood red, the other a fake gold one, in the shape of the eye of Horus, The man smiled, showing vampiric fangs as he stood on the other side of the arena.
He wore a lot of gold for sure, six Items to be precice, the legandary Millenium Items, the Ring, Key, Necklase, and Puzzle hung from his neck, the Scales and Rod hung on either side of his hips, just behind his big 454. long barrel pistol, and his gold handled Sabre.
He wore a long trench coat over a blue shirt, along with dark blue denim pants and black boots and smiled at his titan of an orpponet, this would be hard, but extreamly fun. Was his thoughts as he called out to him, "I do not fear you, I fear no man, or beast so. So you are 'The Betrayer'? let us fight then!"
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Posted: Fri Jul 21, 2006 9:26 pm
At the entrance of his opponent, Khârn wasted not time to act. Laughing madly, you could almost see and hear the spittle flying out of his mouth from such madness and the lust to spill blood once more, from within his helmet. Gorechild assailed the air as he sprinted towards his very ill matched foe. It's gurgling motor cried out with hunger to drink this fools soul as well as his blood, letting it's teeth blurr with motion. "Blood! Blood! BBBLLLOOODDD!!!" He shrieked in his very gruff voice, obviously from the millenia of yelling in this exact same way.
As he scrambled towards his opponent, he fired his Plasma pistol twice in a dual shot. The heat from such lethality caused the air to waver and look odd, as steam filtered out from his gun. Both of the white bursts of plasma would easily be enough to incinerate something on a person if they hit their intended target. Not to mention the terrifying pace in which the space between the two was diminishing. His opponent would have to act very quickly or else be flayed to little more then scraps of meat fit only for rats to pick at.
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Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2006 12:02 pm
Useing his vampiric speed he dodged the shots then jumped up as far as he could, drawing his gun and chargeing shadow magic into the ammo and fired shots at his head and neck, the power of the shots pushing him back while still in the air.
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Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2006 9:48 pm
___Many fans stare in awe as the vampire leaps up "as far as he could," which is presumeably about three feet or so. Although many see Kharn as a vicious, blood thirsty, inhuman, unforsaken, cult driven, lifeless beast, they begin to silently hope that he rips out the maggot vampire's skull and places it on the skull throne.
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Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2006 11:10 pm
Our next Hero's entrance was one of similar thoughts. He knew of Kharne's gleaming reputation. However, as he was not You-Gee-Oh, he had never heard of the Monster's adversary-for-the-minute. This fght was over before it had begun.
"I mean, is anyone actually gonna' read that thing?" Our awkward hero said with a smile, looking down on the battle with some malaise.
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Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2006 11:28 pm
Khârn refreshed his blood curling scream, that most likely ended up with him actually causing his throat to bleed once more. The nerve of the man to not just die like Khârn had wanted him to, in a pile of half incinerated body parts. As the rounds flew at him, the shadow energy merely dissipated before ever touching the daemon armor Khârn was gifted with. Each monstrous foot step tossed up a shower of debris behind him in a dusty storm of pulervised stone. Gorechild buzzed with new found rage, it too sensed the fool did not die as intended, and desperately needed to drink his mortal soul. Each round collided with his armor, or just missed, placing barely even a dent in it's inconceviably strong make up.
Quick to react after the man had fired and jumped, The Betrayer lunged after the man, timing it so that he would come very close once his prey had landed once more. "I must have blood!" Came the horribly scarred voice from his voxcaster. Death was truley upon his opponent, after quickly regaing his balance from the now large dent in the floor. The small remained of his charge was quickly erasing from the lengthy strides he was making in the armor. In perhaps three strides, the fool would be in perfect slicing distance for his most unholy weapon to pluck the head off his shoulders.
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Posted: Tue Aug 01, 2006 7:54 am
"Gotta hand it to the Juggernaut... I want to fight him now..." Ivan grunted as he looked down from the stands, sitting on a bench high up with his legs crossed and his gauntlet clad fingers interlaced. He did not dount that he would face this Heretic of Heretics eventually, though he had no fear or worries. No one seemed to be able to match him these days. The Bandit King was bound to loose if all he could do was dodge and get out of the way. He needed sheer brute power to crack the tough armour of Kharne, Champion of the Blood God.
"Hit him hard and end this!" he roared, just which person he was yelling at unclear as he disappeared in a violent explosion of white light, vanishing in a column of flame that stretched to the heavens.
"This fight was over before it started..." a voice whispered as it flowed throught the air, the last lingering comment of the Paladin as he moved on to his own fight.
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Posted: Sat Sep 02, 2006 1:10 am
Kharn "The Betrayer" wins and advances; both from time up against Ryou and being a crowd favorite.
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