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Post by DEATH97 on Oct 23, 2006 17:04:46 GMT -5
OOC:Grey you will post your intro first, and will get the last attack.
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Post by GreyEidolon on Nov 1, 2006 19:57:41 GMT -5
Ivremill ascended the stairs gleefully, mind elsewhere. He understood the basics of the situation, if he defeated his opponent then- well, something would happen. Something good he assumed. But it didn't matter. He unsheathed his dagger and forced the door open with his free hand. Perhaps the bolt spell wasn't necessary, but it made the door open faster. It was just, convinient. He approached the gate quickly, grabbing the bars with one hand a staring out at his opponent, grin widening. Casually, he threw his dagger into the air, meaning to catch it in his other hand. He missed entirely, then fell to his knees, laughing hysterically.
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Post by grrman on Nov 1, 2006 20:09:37 GMT -5
GrrMan sighed.
It was with a slow trudge he ascended the shallow stairs to the entrance of the Arena through the Bloodworks route, and while doing so, he begun to think back, to let his mind drift farther and farther into the past...
How many men had he killed?
How many of them had friends, lovers, families?
But... looking at the massive curve of things, did it truly matter? Were all of those lives he had mindlessly reaped, were the worth the cost of his own entertainment, his own dignity? His own pride?
But that's why he was here, wasn't it, now? To prove to himself that he was the unsurpassed warrior that he had claimed all these years.
GrrMan glanced at his belt, where a rather baleful iron longsword resided, glinting weakly in the sputtering firelight trying to claw away from the sconces. Perhaps this humble blade could find honor and glory in robbing more and more people of their lives. And yet... with the more lives it took, the more breathes it stole, would it become more honorable... or less?
The last step was conquered, and GrrMan placed his hand on the bloodstained door to the Arena. Strange... what was this feeling? Anxiety? Excitement?
Calmly opening the door, he stepped into the priming zone, and let the door fall closed with a loud clank. Placing a hand on the blood-rusted iron gates of the Arena's pit, he drew his iron longsword and bored his eyes into his enemy. His... prey.
"I am what I am," he murmured to himself softly. "Nothing more."
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Post by dogonda on Nov 1, 2006 20:12:48 GMT -5
OOC:No one dies in matches they are nonlethal
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Post by GreyEidolon on Nov 1, 2006 20:29:07 GMT -5
Finally, but slowly, the gates lowered. Ivremill stood and walked excitedly over the threshhold. His opponent? A redgaurd, by the looks of it. He had mumbled something that Ivremill could not make out. Ivremill frowned, lowering himself on to all fours. "Quit your rambling!" He roared, voice childlike. "I've a poem for you!" He bounded towards the center of the arena, stopping abrubtly in the center. Clearing his throat, he recited- Spider Bit Me!
Tiny Fangs!
Poison fall with mighty pangs!
Dragon Hit Me!
Stupid Beast!
Did Not Phase Me In The Least!
Mighty, Mighty Thunderous Hail!
Baying Hounds Do Pound The Trail!
Away, Away Oh Monstrous Foe!
There It Is, Now Here We Go!" He lunges, making a slashing motion with his arm, sending a crescent flame at his opponent. Quickly jumping backwards, he trips and falls on to his back.
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Post by dogonda on Nov 1, 2006 20:30:47 GMT -5
Exalted for your poem.
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Post by GreyEidolon on Nov 1, 2006 20:32:10 GMT -5
OOC:
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Post by grrman on Nov 1, 2006 22:46:44 GMT -5
GrrMan blinked, and found himself easily sidestepping a crescent of searing flame, which sailed past him and dissipating against the iron bars of the starting gate, resulting in a long hiss as the iron struggled to maintain its form. "My, my," he laughed, stepping toward the wrinkled Altmer struggling to get to his feet. "Quite the harlequin, aren't we?" The Altmer looked up at GrrMan furiously, yet he continued:
"I once met a man quite like you. He had no sense and was quite the fool. He found himself in a terrrible duel, and soon was submerged in a crimson pool."
GrrMan bowed. He then raised his sword and brought it upon the Altmer.
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Post by Abaddon on Nov 2, 2006 0:14:24 GMT -5
Maelin walked along then stands. He heard Grrman's poem and smirked at it. He picked a seat and sat down.
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Post by OGRenderence on Nov 2, 2006 8:12:24 GMT -5
Gordon sat in a shaded corner, where he nhad been since before the match started. His throat was letting out a near silent, deep, growl. He had been having a bad week, and both of these fighters were odd. He let his thoughts drift away as he watched the fighters.
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Post by GreyEidolon on Nov 2, 2006 11:28:37 GMT -5
OOC: Ivremill would never "look up furiously" at his opponent, not his nature, sorry.
Opening his eyes, Ivremill noted the rapidly approaching blade. He frowned, dissapointed by his opponents self-assured demeanor. No sense of humor, what a waste of space, just like all the others...
He mustered up some spare Magicka, calling forth a bound blade. However, his opponents weapon was far to close to be effectively parried. The two swords clashed, Ivremill's being forced into his chest, tearing his robe and ripping at some exposed flesh.
He howled, forcing himself back into a standing position. Regaining (or perhaps, simply "gaining) his composure, he spoke:
"How many of you idiots must I endure in one lifetime?" He said. "I'm so very tired of people acting as though a cold, impersonal attitude makes them impressive, or even powerful. Always talking about how many you've killed, and how your going kill your next victim. Then you assume your are somehow deservant of respect, or reverance. Listen- Get over yourself, you are not nearly as powerful as you think."
He whipped around his opponent, slamming his open hands on it's back. Summoning his magicka, he shouted "MARK!".
A violet 'x' materielized on Grrman's back as Ivremill ran back to a pillar.
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Post by grrman on Nov 3, 2006 22:27:56 GMT -5
Throwing his legs into an easy crouch to regain his balance, GrrMan shifted his shoulderblades nin an attempt to piece together what his opponent had just done. Letting the anxiety slide, he channelled his magicka into his hands, and letting flame begin to spout from his palms, the flame enveloped his blade. Lunged forward, GrrMan launched a sphere of flame at the right side of the pillar and darted around the left, in an attempt to cage him. "Cold? Impersonal?" he snarled, pulled his flaming sword back into a primed strike. "I find your generalizations impressive, my sickly friend!"
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Post by GreyEidolon on Nov 4, 2006 16:25:05 GMT -5
Ivremill laughed, stretching his arms outward. Channeling a considerable amount of mana, his hands begin to radiate with bolt energy.
"Generalizations? Well, of course that's what they are!" He shouts. "By the way, I did not call you 'Cold' or 'Impersonal', I said that's how you wish people to percieve you. Cowardice!"
The sphere of flame collides with the pillar which, unable to withstand the spell's force, collapses dangerously close to Ivremill's side.
"You cannot avoid this- RECALL!"
Enveloped in a violet light, not unlike the color of the 'X' on his opponents back, Ivremill dissapears. Immediatley afterwards, he reappears behind Grrman, his powerful shock touch spell flowing out into his opponents back.
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Post by dogonda on Nov 4, 2006 16:35:24 GMT -5
OOC:I have to step in as a judge. I think you both need to stop taking control of each others characters. Its hard, but its only fair.
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Post by GreyEidolon on Nov 4, 2006 16:36:34 GMT -5
When did I take control?
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