Finally admitting defeat, Syyrek let go of his spell. Giving the Newt a look of utter contempt, Syyrek saw something move towards them from the corner of his white eye. Wide-eyed, Syyrek jumped off the edge, levitating for a little while longer to see the battle.
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//VIRAL BEASTS\\ Go check it out. Or I'll get Absolete on your ass.
A magical force slams into Syyrek, not letting him watch. He'd have to watch from his prison cell, from a compound-wide projection showing the fight onto their cell walls.
"One down." Garhuth said quickly. He grabbed his swords, and lumbered towards the lizard man. He attacked quickly with his blades, spinning them, slashing, and stabbing. He just hoped they hit. This one was agile.
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To all new RPers... Participate before you Create!
Grinning, Newt crouches below the first slash. It cuts a single scale, just in time. The second is dodged by a roll to the side, and the rest fly over his shoulders. Seeing as his spear was lost when the rock exploded against the tree and it all flew over the edge, Newt simply wracked his talons across the beast of a man's stomach.
Levitation failing, Syyrek found himself falling, the ground rushing up to meet him. Bracing for impact, he felt himself hit...
His cell bed.
Syyrek didn't even bother to move. He was just humiliated at his quick loss to a bumbling idiot and a thricedamned fish!
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//VIRAL BEASTS\\ Go check it out. Or I'll get Absolete on your ass.
Garhuth turned just slightly, just in time. The claws raked across a certain area that was all fat and skin, with nothing inside of it. This area was around his extra arms, to provide the extra space. It hurt, but it wasn't going to bleed for a couple minutes, so he had time.. Taking one of his swords, he swiped at the lizard-mans feet.
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To all new RPers... Participate before you Create!
"Me have four more. More at prison." He mumbled. But he grinned slightly. He may as well do something different. He swung his upper left fist at the lizard-mans face. This would catch him unawares, and hopefully cause a nosebleed. Nobody ever expected you to use your fists when you have perfectly good weapons - thats why being trained in martial arts is always a great thing to do.
((You know what to do, Absolete.))
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To all new RPers... Participate before you Create!
Lotus saw it coming, but not in time. The punch threw him backwards, a complete backflip. As he did so, his talons raked across the face of the huge man. As the first drip of blood leaked from his nose, the first drop of blood dotted on the six armed man's face. Success!
Garhuth smiled slightly. He walked slowly towards the lizard man on the ground, and gave him his hand. "Good. Fought well. Draw." He wiped the blood from his face. It was a pleasure to see another man put up a respectable fight, instead of bringing multiple people with advanced weaponry. This man had talent. Garhuth liked that.
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To all new RPers... Participate before you Create!
Taking it, Lotus nodded. "You too... time to get out of here." Just as he says this, a simmering figure appears. "With careful observation, we have decided the three millisecond difference will not disqualify either of you... you may return to your cells now." The robed woman, garbed in the black robe, vanishes slowly after that.
Nodding to the bigger man, Lotus dives off the cliff as if into water.
Garhuth walked up to the edge of the island, laughing. "Dah, wish this place had less death." He mumbled. If it were all to the blood, this place wouldn't be bad at all. Shrugging, he leaped, bracing his legs for impact. However, it never came. He was simply standing beside his wall of swords, back in solitary confinement, with a small book on the language he was trying so hard to learn.
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To all new RPers... Participate before you Create!
Lotus lands in his special room. Due to his victories in the past he has been given commodities, via bets on himself in fights. Books line a shelf above a massive, comfortable bed with plenty of sheets. A dresser lays open, with simple garments inside.
Other niceties line the 20x20 cell, such as a rack of weapons, a workbench for small gadgets, the sort. Sitting upon his bed, he takes out a book entitled "Blades - How to maintain your weapon." Skimming through it, he crosses his feet while reading it. He begins to relax.
(( Absolete, I might just settle with what I suggested, but I might just forget that and make a character instead. So hold a spot for me if this even has a limit. ))
Species; Fyre (Eternal fire trapped in a human's body. They do not have to eat or drink, but they have to sleep. They mainly use fire magic to fight.)
Skills; Uses two short daggers to fight. He also has a lantern with him, that helps him control his fire magic. He always carries around a pouch of oil, in case he needs to make a bang. Zeke is very quick due to his light weight, and will usually jump around while fighting.
Appearance; Zeke has fiery red hair, and pink skin. He wears goggles to protect his eyes in extreme heat. He wears thick leather gloves and boots, and blacksmith clothes. (Apron, and the white robes.) Zeke stands about 6 feet, and only weighs 80 pounds.
Biography; Zeke used to live in the realm of eternal fire, and a wisp. One day, a purple portal surrounded by black stone appeared in the realm. Curious, Zeke floated over to inspect it. Two strange being stepped through, wearing giant flame-resistant clothing, and captured Zeke. They took him back to the human realm, and trapped him in a dead body. It took Zeke many years to get used to living in a physical body, but eventually he did. He found a job as a blacksmith, because he was not afraid of fire. That was until he one day got a "message". It was very mysterious, saying that if you win ten matches in an arena, you will be freed. Assuming that if he won, he would be released from the human vessel, Zeke joined instantly. Anything to get out of this body.
Additional info; Zeke cannot come into contact with water. If he does, he will be weakened depending on the amount.
Want me to add anything;
#!#
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I don't suffer from insanity. I enjoy every minute of it! <3
George was now scared to death of fighting in the arena, more so than before, now that he knew who' be fighting against. George was just an average farmer, an he' have to fight a devil magician, a brutish six-armed man, and some kind of lizard thing.
Right now, George was trying to contemplate a strategy, but it always ended up in 'beat 'em with my fists 'til they bleed'. Probably a side-effect of being a drunken brawler.
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I'm always happy just 'cause there isn't a reason to be sad.
Don't take this as there is nothing that could cause sadness. I just mean it's pointless to dwell on it. I mean, depression is so boring.
Skills; An assassin by nature, Levin has perfected the art of quick, deadly kills. He is quite a good acrobat, able to perform parkour skills and free running. Though usually cautious and calculating, Levin, when in the heat of the moment, can lose control of himself, becoming little more than a crazed animal.
Appearance; Levin conceals himself as a Plauge Doctor; He wears a skin tight black vest, leather pants, boots. Over this he applies a black robe, which, along with adding to his disguise, conceals his array of poisons, drugs, and weapons. For head gear, he wears a ceramic 'bird mask' and a leather, three pointed hat. Levin himself appears as any normal citizen, save for heavy purple bags under his eyes, proof of many nights spent stalking his 'prey.' He has short, sandy hair, just long enough to appear messy, hazel eyes, and overall a lean, muscular body.
Biography; Levin was born in the poor district of his city, to a single mother who frequently sold her services on the street. Levin himself was almost always left alone, wandering the dangerous streets of Nostram. Eventually, his frequent trips caught the eye of a child gang, and Levin was beaten to the brink of death for trespassing on their turf. It was then that Levin began to learn the rules of the street. Nursing his wounds as best he could, he began to think a plan for revenge. However, even his child like mind knew a head long rush in to battle would not turn out in his favor.
And so he waited, becoming older, more experienced. He fought other street urchins for food, money, women, each time learning from his victories and mistakes. Through this, he carefully began to piece together his plan. At the age of sixteen, he dragged a doctor in to an alley way and slit the man's throat with a sharp piece of rock. Donning the man's apparel, he wandered in the crowded streets, seeking out the one who had beat him so many years prior. Finally, he found the boy and his gang. Fortunately, the gang leader was wounded, so Levin pretended to be a generous surgeon, persuading him to be healed. Levin led the leader to an abandoned slum, knocking the boy out and tying him to a wall. There, Levin's revenge was fulfilled, as he slowly, meticulously tortured the boy with the instruments of a doctor, before killing him with a syringe through the eye. Though his revenge had been enacted, this was only Levin's beginning.
Levin became possessed with the feeling, the sight, the sounds of killing and torture. He stalked the streets, killing any urchin or citizen that took his fancy. With his doctor disguise, he was almost always trusted, and this led others to their doom. Levin eventually became bolder, often sneaking in to occupied houses and claiming lives in their own home. But never once was Levin reckless; He planned out all his moves, all the angles of attack before acting on them. Levin became a scourge of the streets, killing at random, stealing money, drugs, anything. Until, one day, he was finally bested. Sneaking in to an apartment on the fifteenth floor, a passing bystander, an archer in service to the town, noticed Levin, took aim, and knocked him from his perch. Levin's years of 'training' kicked in, and he managed to save himself by grabbing on to an overhanging ledge, where he was promptly caught by the authorities. Now, he sits in a jail cell far from Nostram, awaiting his sentence.
Additional info; #!#
Want me to add anything; Nope. I like gladiatorial fights.
((Darn it, you'd think that since the most common person you'd find in an arena would be an average guy, probably a farmer, you'd think you'd see more, you know, NORMAL PEOPLE. Yet, everyone seems to take characters meant for combat.
My character is sooo going to be decimated.))
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I'm always happy just 'cause there isn't a reason to be sad.
Don't take this as there is nothing that could cause sadness. I just mean it's pointless to dwell on it. I mean, depression is so boring.
((Well technically, my guys sucks at combat. He's just good at sneaky attacks, which he can't really do in the middle of a huge arena. Plus, I don't see him doing any head long attacks with poison, a syringe, and a scalpel.))
Levitation failing, Syyrek found himself falling, the ground rushing up to meet him. Bracing for impact, he felt himself hit...
His cell bed.
Syyrek didn't even bother to move. He was just humiliated at his quick loss to a bumbling idiot and a thricedamned fish!
((You know what to do, Absolete.))
Nodding to the bigger man, Lotus dives off the cliff as if into water.
Other niceties line the 20x20 cell, such as a rack of weapons, a workbench for small gadgets, the sort. Sitting upon his bed, he takes out a book entitled "Blades - How to maintain your weapon." Skimming through it, he crosses his feet while reading it. He begins to relax.
Age; 18 (By looks) 218 (Official Age)
Species; Fyre (Eternal fire trapped in a human's body. They do not have to eat or drink, but they have to sleep. They mainly use fire magic to fight.)
Skills; Uses two short daggers to fight. He also has a lantern with him, that helps him control his fire magic. He always carries around a pouch of oil, in case he needs to make a bang. Zeke is very quick due to his light weight, and will usually jump around while fighting.
Appearance; Zeke has fiery red hair, and pink skin. He wears goggles to protect his eyes in extreme heat. He wears thick leather gloves and boots, and blacksmith clothes. (Apron, and the white robes.) Zeke stands about 6 feet, and only weighs 80 pounds.
Biography; Zeke used to live in the realm of eternal fire, and a wisp. One day, a purple portal surrounded by black stone appeared in the realm. Curious, Zeke floated over to inspect it. Two strange being stepped through, wearing giant flame-resistant clothing, and captured Zeke. They took him back to the human realm, and trapped him in a dead body. It took Zeke many years to get used to living in a physical body, but eventually he did. He found a job as a blacksmith, because he was not afraid of fire. That was until he one day got a "message". It was very mysterious, saying that if you win ten matches in an arena, you will be freed. Assuming that if he won, he would be released from the human vessel, Zeke joined instantly. Anything to get out of this body.
Additional info; Zeke cannot come into contact with water. If he does, he will be weakened depending on the amount.
Want me to add anything;
#!#
Right now, George was trying to contemplate a strategy, but it always ended up in 'beat 'em with my fists 'til they bleed'. Probably a side-effect of being a drunken brawler.
Don't take this as there is nothing that could cause sadness. I just mean it's pointless to dwell on it. I mean, depression is so boring.
Age; 25
Species; Human
Skills; An assassin by nature, Levin has perfected the art of quick, deadly kills. He is quite a good acrobat, able to perform parkour skills and free running. Though usually cautious and calculating, Levin, when in the heat of the moment, can lose control of himself, becoming little more than a crazed animal.
Appearance; Levin conceals himself as a Plauge Doctor; He wears a skin tight black vest, leather pants, boots. Over this he applies a black robe, which, along with adding to his disguise, conceals his array of poisons, drugs, and weapons. For head gear, he wears a ceramic 'bird mask' and a leather, three pointed hat. Levin himself appears as any normal citizen, save for heavy purple bags under his eyes, proof of many nights spent stalking his 'prey.' He has short, sandy hair, just long enough to appear messy, hazel eyes, and overall a lean, muscular body.
Biography; Levin was born in the poor district of his city, to a single mother who frequently sold her services on the street. Levin himself was almost always left alone, wandering the dangerous streets of Nostram. Eventually, his frequent trips caught the eye of a child gang, and Levin was beaten to the brink of death for trespassing on their turf. It was then that Levin began to learn the rules of the street. Nursing his wounds as best he could, he began to think a plan for revenge. However, even his child like mind knew a head long rush in to battle would not turn out in his favor.
And so he waited, becoming older, more experienced. He fought other street urchins for food, money, women, each time learning from his victories and mistakes. Through this, he carefully began to piece together his plan. At the age of sixteen, he dragged a doctor in to an alley way and slit the man's throat with a sharp piece of rock. Donning the man's apparel, he wandered in the crowded streets, seeking out the one who had beat him so many years prior. Finally, he found the boy and his gang. Fortunately, the gang leader was wounded, so Levin pretended to be a generous surgeon, persuading him to be healed. Levin led the leader to an abandoned slum, knocking the boy out and tying him to a wall. There, Levin's revenge was fulfilled, as he slowly, meticulously tortured the boy with the instruments of a doctor, before killing him with a syringe through the eye. Though his revenge had been enacted, this was only Levin's beginning.
Levin became possessed with the feeling, the sight, the sounds of killing and torture. He stalked the streets, killing any urchin or citizen that took his fancy. With his doctor disguise, he was almost always trusted, and this led others to their doom. Levin eventually became bolder, often sneaking in to occupied houses and claiming lives in their own home. But never once was Levin reckless; He planned out all his moves, all the angles of attack before acting on them. Levin became a scourge of the streets, killing at random, stealing money, drugs, anything. Until, one day, he was finally bested. Sneaking in to an apartment on the fifteenth floor, a passing bystander, an archer in service to the town, noticed Levin, took aim, and knocked him from his perch. Levin's years of 'training' kicked in, and he managed to save himself by grabbing on to an overhanging ledge, where he was promptly caught by the authorities. Now, he sits in a jail cell far from Nostram, awaiting his sentence.
Additional info; #!#
Want me to add anything; Nope. I like gladiatorial fights.
My character is sooo going to be decimated.))
Don't take this as there is nothing that could cause sadness. I just mean it's pointless to dwell on it. I mean, depression is so boring.