From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 4/2/2005 12:57:42 AM
It felt as though he was falling, but Amarouk was quite certain he was standing. And there were walls, walls that pressed in, made him feel claustrophobic, yet there were no walls. He was blind, unable to see the path before him, but certain that they would adjust to the bright light burning away at his retinas. There were noises, too; echoing all through these strange labyrinth, yet Amarouk was deaf to the noise. He was in a realm of paradox, where the closer you came to the goal the farther it appeared to be. It was a warp gate, specially constructed...and when Amarouk exited it, he would be where he wanted to be.
He stepped out of the air itself when he made the long perilous walk through the chaos into this arena. He had signed up for another fight, as if he had nothing better to do. His options were rather simple, fight in another tournament or fight in the war. Of course, once the tournament was done with, Amarouk would return to the war. He had little else to do in his life as a military commander, and since the death of his wife so long ago, felt the need to bury whatever scraps he might have had for memories of those times under the scars of new and more perilous battles.
It was a vicious circle. The more he thought of his past, the more he thought of her, the more he forced himself into combat in the hopes of drowning out the memories. It worked...for a time. But now his dreams were haunted with her face--Kristav. He would awaken sharply from those dreams calling out for his past love, asking her why she would impede his life such. But his only answer was the darkness about him. So, this is where Amarouk was, fighting again. It was his only purpose in life now, his only desire, his only need--although a woman he knew would have said otherwise.
He looked about him, at the pallid complexion of the sky streaked with colors the shade of old bruises. It was twilight. And surrounding the Vadasian were white-washed walls the color of sparkling pearls. It was an arena or sort, and lined about him were spectators, cheering, cajoling, screaming obscenities. Their voices carried to his ears the catcalls, the mocking, the praises. These people wanted blood, nothing else; of course, had Amarouk not wanted the same, he would not be here himself.
He was enamored in his archaic black armor, the only weapons about his person being the two swords strapped to himself and held snugly within their scabbards. The larger of the two swords was Gunguire, a broadsword, placed alone the back of Amarouk's waist with the pommel jutting out to his right, and set at an angel on his back was his longsword, Krypsokorph, with its pommel protruding just behind his right shoulder. Amarouk's armor was black and shaped like old plate armor, and while some might think the Vadasian unequipped to deal with whatever foes might come his way in this match up.
This certainly wasn't so. If the need arose, Amarouk could simply call upon whatever weapon he needed. All was stored in the Jorgani stone that hung about his neck, set in the jaws of a snarling wolfs-head pendant the color of old steel. If armor needed a gun, he could call on it. If he needed better armor, he had but to reach into the device with his mind and mentally grasp it before bringing it into being with a ruddy glow. Of course, Amarouk was here for a challenge, and thus wore naught but his almost ancient armor. It looked bulky on him, with the shield strapped to his left arm looking overlarge. But Amarouk would fix that soon. When his opponent arrived, he would change his shape to his true form, a much taller, stronger and faster form--his half-wolf state.
But he wanted to give his opponent the belief that he, Amarouk, was nothing more than a mere human, that Amarouk could easily be taken down. Amarouk was, however, a very cocky bastard when it came down to it, and believed he would win with ease. After all, he was Vadasian, and thus victory was assured. The Goddess Ankra Anris would surely look down with pleasure upon him this day. And with that, Amarouk smiled and waited, listening to and basking in the cries for violence of the watches.
From: Drago14 | Posted: 4/2/2005 6:02:47 PM
Pherous appeared near the shore of the violet colored river, his armored boots leaving deep imprints in the course sand. Pherous’ armor appeared as studded copper, a large silver cross emblazed into the breastplate. The long sword at his waist seemed to throw off a blue hue into the waning light; the dagger opposite was the same color as the cold piece of steel it was made from. Pherous smirked at his opponent, trying to hide his true feeling of uneasiness.
Another Pherous appeared in the limbs of the failing tree, his white leather armor was stark white, edged in silver. Only one of his dark blue eyes appeared from behind his hair; just as white in color as his armor, though plastered to his face with sweat. His weapons looked to be a pair of win dirks on his lower back, and the talons on the joints of his wings looked rather menacing. This Pherous jumped down from his perch to stand next to the first, the same smirk spreading across his face, though with more calmness and relaxed feeling than his counterpart.
And again, a third Pherous appeared next to the other two. Black hair swaying to no breeze, eyes of gold that seemed to glow in any light. Black plate mail armor with a scale mail skirt, also black, of course. Jointed claws rested on a beat up looking broadsword; cracked, dented and chipped, it looked like this blade wouldn’t make it through a training run. He too took up the smirk, his with an evil tinge to it.
The three warriors exchanged glances with one another. Three exact copies of Pherous, well... not exactly. Each one carried traits of the true Pherous... but which one was the true Pherous?
From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 4/2/2005 9:46:55 PM
Amarouk looked at the three assembled across the river from him. The river gurgled and bubbled in its own tune, the purplish fluid sliding along sandy banks toward some unknown destination. Part of Amarouk really didn't want to cross the river, mostly because he wasn't certain of what effects it might have on him or if he happened to touch it. Amarouk shook himself, visibly, and with that, grew a foot in height until he stood a little over seven feet tall. His face elongated forming into a wolf-like face, complete with hackles raised and snarling. He became hairy, too, with chocolate colored fur adorning him, save for a silver mane about his neck (although that was primarily hidden by his armor).
The armor he wore suddenly fit, no longer looking a little over-large, and the giant shield on his left arm looked to be of appropriate size now. Amarouk reached with giant hand to Gunguire's pommel and yanked the four foot long great sword from its scabbard. The black blade was silent as it was removed, and Amarouk stood there a moment. Inside his mind, however, the animal had been awakened. His animalistic rage was already scurrying about the nether reaches of his thoughts, omnipresent, waiting for a mistake to occur to be unleashed. The good thing, though, was that even if Amarouk did lose control of himself he would still be able to function, to fight simply by instinct.
But he wasn't playing instinctively at the moment. He was formulating a plan, a mode of attack, devising an idea of how to proceed. Three against would wouldn't have been fair under most circumstances, but Amarouk had fought against worse odds before and come out on top, so this wouldn't be too much of a problem for the Vadasian--at least not in Amarouk's eyes. After standing in the distance for a long enough period of time, he began to move, a slow saunter across the sand that crunched beneath his feet toward the purplish river of unknown properties. There was enough sand. That alone would be an advantage that Amarouk wouldn't readily give up. His hackles raised in mock grin as he brought his sword up in a salute. He then turned and walked back a distance...
Once he had reached a point he considered well enough to move, Amarouk turned back around and went into a full sprint, swinging his broadsword up until the blade ran parallel with his forearm, the point toward is elbow and extending back. There was a small audible click as a restraining device held the blade in place, and his run came all the faster as he dropped to all fours. As he neared the river, he leapt high into the air, but instead of falling outright, he reached out with his mind to create a telekinetic barrier just below his feet and jumped again. Vadasian were psionics, and Amarouk was using that ability to get himself across where he might actually be able to attack.
He continued his barrier jumping back and forth, rotating in the air in rolls and dives until he hit ground on the other side, and when he did, he charged. But this charge came with another surprise. The first was the sand around him whipping up into a whirlwind storm about him. The protective second eyelids that all Vadasian had slid over his eyes, saving Amarouk the need of closing his. He moved in on his opponent, or rather the three nearby. And with the sand flying all about, it would be near impossible to see the Vadasian, only know he was coming.
The click as Amarouk released his sword from the restraint couldn't be heard now with the sand slashing about. And as Amarouk approached, he leveled his black sword at the middle of the three. If they formed some kind of attack, he could always change tactics, and the fact that he could light himself on fire wouldn't hurt at all. Besides, this was just an initial test to see if his foe was actually awake. It would get better as time moved on...
From: Drago14 | Posted: 4/3/2005 9:27:23 PM
His opponent had saluted him; the three warriors returned the gesture with nods, but their faces all fell with the transformation of their adversary. The thought of "werewolf" crossed the real Pherous’ mind as he saw the snout and brown fur appear. It also seemed the grins from the Pherous triplets had transferred over to the opponent.
The.. 'beast' charged, crossing the river in a manner that suggested either strong wind magic or telekinesis. He reached Pherous’ side of the river quickly, continuing his charge towards the three. Sand whipped around the beast as he closed the distance between him and Pherous ever faster. In an instant, several things became apparent.
As the sand hit first, it did not bounce off two of the three Pherous look-a-likes, the copper and black armored versions; only did it seem to affect the middle one, the angel, whose eyes were forced shut to the miniscule stones. His concentration was failing, and it showed even more.
The Pherous clad in copper armor disappeared with the swirling sand. He represented the past life of the Oblivion Angel, what he once was and what had shaped who he would become. Also, the heavily armored Pherous whisked away into nothingness as Pherous lost more of his concentration. This one had represented what Pherous would become if his life continued down its current path, a broken soul who would hunger only for blood. He would fall from his god’s love and be forced to use the life force of others to sustain himself. There would be no changing that.
Another thing to become apparent during the brief amount of time was Pherous always won hide and seek. A gift, and a curse, Pherous never saw as most people did. He saw not a physical form of his adversaries, or anybody for that matter, but a shell of them. Like seeing a ghost, he saw this shell filled with their life energies, their auras if you will. Only the best illusionist could hide their auras as well as their bodies from Pherous.
The last apparent thing to come around was Pherous' style of fighting. One the ground, he relied mostly on two things; deception, and an uncanny sense of balance. He proved this as the blade closed in, tip first towards his torso. Pherous fell forwards to what looked like his knees and then leaned back. In truth he rested heavily on the front of his feet; his body used to the drastic changes in posture. The blade passed over him by a few centimeters, Pherous could almost feel the cold metal.
Pherous countered quickly and in two motions. His hands fell to his lower back, gripping the hilt so of his twin dirks. Releasing them from their homes, Pherous brought the blades up together towards the hand that held the blade.
From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 4/3/2005 10:05:11 PM
Amarouk knew the charge would never connect. It was a test to see if one, his opponent had any inkling of how to fight, and two, how his opponent responded. Depending on the response evoked, it meant Amarouk would take one of literally dozens of paths open to him. And, since his foe of the moment had fallen, bent forward to duck the attack, this meant that several things would take place in this match. Most, Amarouk knew, would have pivoted away at such an attack; it also was an indication that his opponent would fight close up, making Amarouk glad he had taken the time to actually strap the large shield onto his arm, plus add the gauntlet blades he wore.
The gauntlet blades were actually a forearm bracer, and when Amarouk flexed a particular muscle group, it would cause a foot and a half long blade to slide out instantaneously. For use later on, when the need arose. Currently, thought, the forward bent creature in a dust storm was reaching for twin weapons attached after a fashion on his back. No worries, Amarouk would deal with him. Plus there was the added benefit of the illusions dropping away. That had surprised Amarouk. For a moment he had thought he might be facing triplets.
Triple threat? Not really. The sandstorm had gotten rid of them quite quickly. Too bad there wasn't any foliage, Amarouk thought. Had there been foliage, he would have been more inclined to create a firestorm instead of a sandstorm. The former would have been far more detrimental to his opponent's health. But, his mind was jerked back into reality as his foe did something with his newly-made-free weapons of choice. He aimed them toward Amarouk's hand.
That just wasn't nice, attacking his hand like that, all furred and cuddly looking considering the long claws put on it. So, Amarouk would have to just repay the foe in kind. He raised his arm higher, which meant the weapons would collide with the armor of his arm--and if there were any thoughts of an unguarded armpit, that just wasn't true. The only unguarded portions on Amarouk’s body were his head, front of his neck and hands. The rest was a heavy black metal, plated such to allow for both movement while providing the protection needed.
So, the weapons scraped along the lower biceps of Amarouk's armor. And just as he was about to step past, he dug his right foot into the sand, the foot that was extended forward and twisted/pivoted on it. This caused him to do a counter-clockwise spin. It had one of two effects. The first being a complete reversal of direction, where Amarouk provided his opponent with a very clean, up-close view of his shield where it would collide with said opponent.
The second was that if his shield failed to collide with his opponent--which might be hard considering how large it was--Amarouk would be forced into a backward leap by the momentum that still carried his body. Either way, it meant the first blows had been unleashed, and Amarouk was at the top of his game. The animal in him was already being sated, and thus lay low for the moment. The bloodletting would satiate him, indeed.
From: Drago14 | Posted: 4/4/2005 9:02:25 PM
Pherous didn’t have to hear or see, he could tell by the feel that his blades had missed their marks. The next thing he knew, his opponent had preformed a quick, counter-clockwise turn. His massive shield was the last thing to fill Pherous eyes before he felt himself hefted into the air and flung from the still churning sand storm. Pherous landed on his back several feet away. Hard.
Still, his leather armor had managed to absorb most of both the initial, and secondary, blows. His ribs ached already, but Pherous had taken worse blows before, at least he could still stand after that last attack. Now he had the chance to make his own attack rather than rely on counter tactics.
Pherous returned his dirks, then reached in among the metallic feathers of his wings, pulling out a seemingly random plume... and kept pulling it, and pulling... until it was about three feet long in itself. Pherous gave the now elongated feather a tap on his chest, then his head; his eyes never leaving Amarouk. The silver feather began to, what looked like, melt away and then shift into another form. It took on a cylindrical shape for most of its length, the rest becoming a leaf style spear head.
Pherous took note of his adversary’s armor, he was almost completely protected. Almost. Pherous took a running start, leveling his new short spear to feign a charge. Nearing the still spinning sandstorm, Pherous gave an extra kick and a powerful flap of his wings. He went in head first to keep as much speed as possible. Flipping over Amarouk’s wolf like head, Pherous used his wings to again shift his body so that he could look down on the beast.
Pherous made his move, taking the small, silver spear, Pherous stabbed downwards for the inside of the beast’s armor at the neck. He couldn’t tell if he made the hit or not, for as soon as he reached where he thought the target area was, he let go and continued his acrobatics back outside of the sandstorm to land a bit a ways. If he had hit, his spear would have instantly melted into its liquid form, seeping into even the smallest wound. It would travel through, as far as it could, the veins and arteries of Amarouk and then harden again.
Instantly, his hands went up to the claws at the joints of his wings, reaching in among the metal digits Pherous gave a hefty tug. He pulled forth his twin swords, the inch wide blades spanning the entire three and a half feet of the keen edged metal. He took up a quick stance, one blade leveled towards Amarouk, the other above his head. Watching... waiting...
From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 4/4/2005 9:34:35 PM
Amarouk watched with a kind of disdain as wings sprouted from the back of his opponent. Not another bloody celestial! he thought. You'd think the bastards had better things to do than go around fighting, like accepting the prayers of random idiots. Amarouk hated wings. Loathed them, really. Just the sight of them alone sent him into hysterics. A part of him wanted to grab both at once and rip them clean off his opponents back. Amarouk wondered idly what color his foes blood was when said foe ripped one of its feathers out and began to do something with it. This doesn't bode well, Amarouk thought.
He was still backpedaling from his previous momentum, keeping it up a bit, moving backward because who knew when speed might be handy. The action proved more than handy a moment later when his opponent was above him with sweeping wings dropping something. Amarouk swore and leapt--or rather pushed with his feet--back in a backward flip of sorts. He first latched Gunguire in its reverse-facing grip on his bracer as his back became parallel with the ground. He brought his shield up as he twisted to the right and heard a loud ping. That must have been whatever attack had come.
Amarouk's rotation continued, his right clawed-and-furred hand touching ground. His back flip turned into a cartwheel as his left hand touched ground and he used his telekinetic abilities to aide the motion. And as his right hand came up it was at the proper direction to flick a dagger from a small sheath hidden in his bracer as his enemy in the air. Amarouk didn't expect the attack to hit, but it was always nice to return a favor.
Amarouk was again on his feet, backpedaling a bit, but this time with a fervent grin in his icy eyes. Although, unlike last time with the backpedaling, Amarouk stopped himself short and reached into himself--so to say. Searching for his own inner fire and finding it, he could feel the inferno burning its way to the surface. But what came with it was his own animalistic rage, a burning fire ready to immolate anything about him. A small ember sprouted to life in his hand. Amarouk concentrated. It wasn't often he used magic of any kind, and even rarer to do what he was about to do. All Vadasian could burn; they were like fire elementals after a fashion, but what Amarouk was about to do went a little beyond what the average Vadasian did with their inner fire.
Focusing, which took a bit from Amarouk who wasn't used to doing such an exercise of will, he caused the ember to flash in his right hand, hotter, larger. And waiting for the moment when his dagger might have already missed...or hit, he let loose. A column of flame erupted from his hand, slashing through the sandstorm inferno to blaze into the twilight sky in the hopes of incinerating his opponent where he flew...
From: Drago14 | Posted: 4/5/2005 5:50:59 PM
Pherous huffed in disgust. He hadn’t managed to lay a scratch on the beast yet. Too bad, an upper torso full of metal could have been a good thing. Pherous was already taking another look over Amarouk’s armor when a flicker of silver caught his eye. Instantly, he brought the sword above his head around in a quick arc. He heard the satisfying 'ping' of a thrown knife deflected.
As suddenly as the knife, Pherous saw the raging inferno blasting towards him. Forcing his own energies into his swords, Pherous braced himself for the attack. As the fire neared his body, Pherous slashed multiple times at the column of fire, separating the attack into smaller blasts his body could better withstand. Still, despite his better defense, Pherous could still notice the awful smell of burning hair and flesh.
Eventually the attack let up, and Pherous was left a little shaken. His leather armor was now complete with holes, some still fringed in glowing embers. As previously stated, Pherous’ hair didn’t look, or smell, all that great. Nor did it seem he was able to escape without some painful looking burns, the blackened skin completing the ragged look Pherous was now forced to carry.
Fine, he wants to play with fire... we’ll burn him from the inside out. That armor should do nicely.
Pherous returned one sword back to its sheath in his wings, leveling the other at the creature. He took two fingers from his now open hand and held them near the base of the sword’s blade, sparks of lightning striking from his digits to the blade. They continued to move up the blade, weaving in and out, twining together to form a single bolt. Eventually, the sword became encased in a single, ever changing bolt of electricity.
Soon enough, Pherous began to take his finger up the blade, moving the energy up, compressing it more and more. He left behind only the metal; all energy was being forced up, until only an inch from the tip remained. By now, the visible shaking of Pherous’ entire left arm could only go unnoticed by a blind man. One final, hard push and Pherous forced his fingers past the tip of the blade. The result was a surprisingly massive amount of electricity that exploded from the sword to rush at its intended target, Amarouk.
Defend that with all that armor on, wolfy.
From: Wolfgang Visarett | Posted: 4/6/2005 12:04:05 AM
The only words that Amarouk was even capable of uttering when he saw the electrical discharge taking place were a various assortment of curses. In fact, he was screaming them quite loudly in a rather guttural language. He swore, again and again, with each word screamed at the top of his lungs more vile than the last. A wailing kind of cursing. It was as thought the Vadasian's mind had stopped working when the first vestages of electrical energy began to build up on the winged combatants weapon of choice.
Amarouk had some faith in the outcome, though. First, his dust storm would help to ground some of the current that was soon to be directed at him. In fact, when his mind moved onto that fact, he attempted to create a large enough barrier or sand to stop the blast altogether. While Amarouk might be able to take a large amount of energy poured into him, it wasn't exactly healthy. And even if he wasn't human, being shocked wasn't high up there with his list of most enjoyed experiences.
So, the swirling sand continued with the added benefit of a wall beginning to rise. It was too little too late, though. The blast shattered through the barrier and sandstorm. Much of the energy was grounded, thankfully, but enough got through to do the job. Amarouk dived at the last second, but it was a futile gesture. And when the rather large dose of electrical energy hit him, he froze in mid-motion, his roll coming to a stop as his body jerked for a motion.
He lay there, on the ground, on his side. His body refused to move, and the only thing that gave the impression he was still alive were his eyes that despite still seemed to move. It was a stragne effect, but one not completely unknown to Amarouk. Vadasian were like computers--give them a large enough jolt and their OS would hiccup. And now Amarouk was going through the throes of rebooting his system, struggling with his mind to regain control of his unresponsive, and very much stiff, body.
Of course, if Amarouk could move, he would have ripped the throat of the celestial. Of course, he still had full mental control, which meant full use of his telekinetic abilities. That, however, would mean nothing. The judges had said something about three attacks, so Amarouk would just lie and wait for the verdict. He would refuse whatever healing they offered. He didn't need to heal, just change his clothes. He sneezed then, the smell of his own burnt and singed fur wafting through the air. It would take weeks to get ride of that stench...
From: Corbow6 | Posted: 4/9/2005 12:56:18 PM
Ares quickly transported to the next finished match. Pherous had fought valiantly, but Amarouk was just better in the ways of fighting. Ares could easily tell that Amarouk held a vast amount of power. He hadn’t even fought Pherous at a complete one hundred percent. He was holding back, waiting for the latter rounds to unleash his full amount of power. This was a smart move that Ares used as well. Never reveal your cards until you are absolutely forced to. Never come out at full power unless you have to use it to finish the battle.
Ares then floated down from the judge’s room. With a quick discussion between the three, it was clear who the winner was. Ares landed with a soft ‘thud’ in the mucky terra. He called to both Pherous and Amarouk at the same time.
"It was a great fight you two. Pherous, I am sorry to say, but you have been eliminated by Amarouk. It was a very nice display of counter abilities and using your opponents own attacks against him though. I am sorry I do not have more time for congratulations, but I must get to the next match. You two are welcome to accept the healing of the sprites, but you aren’t forced to. Please stick around Pherous; shortly after the round if over I will be holding a commemoration of it."
With that speech, Ares was off to end his last match.
Juryrigged > Works > RPGs > Tourney's > VPT - Round 1: Drago VS Wolfgang