BattleWraith

I think you basically supported my point that the match was decided by the builds. Also maybe you're misremembering the end. Initially they agreed on no pets. Towards the end the inv tank summoned his and then shark wrangler did the same. They were the same pets and shark wrangler's build was obviously better equipped to deal with them as neither person left the cage.

I watched Shark Wrangler fight Soul Taker earlier. You had two very expensive tank builds standing toe to toe going jab-jab-jab-jab-jab over and over with an occassional knockout blow and quicksand applications. Once in a while there's be a fossilize.

They were obviously great builds in terms of surviving and doing damage in a stationary manner. But I think the whole fiteclub scenario is ultimately antithetical to actually being skillful (at least as skillful as the game permits). It's rock paper scissors and the skill is coming up with the best rock. Once you get in the cage, you just tap away and try not to forget to push the right button at the right time. More like pvp NASCAR than a real fight.

I think if everyone had the same shark wrangler build, and played the same kind of cage match, it would be difficult to impossible to make any evaluation of player skill. People that were clearly incompetent would lose, but beyond that there'd be no differentiation between average and good.

I don't think fiteklubbing is that much worse than ranged duels..build still is a deciding factor although movement skill is very significant. To each his own, but I think the fact that Shark Wrangler has to offer pvp ios just to get a match is indicative that your build has solved the equation for fiteklub success so..why bother?

No you watch your mouth! Lol I wasn't talking about Xan.

10.

"So you've decided to use your abilities to help out." The longbow liason wrinkled her nose slightly as she flipped through Tate's registration materials. He laughed and shrugged, throwing up his hands.

"Well, I was fired from my job. They didn't seem to think that someone with this sort of appearance would go over well in sales. I don't see that there is much else to do under the circumstances."

She looked him up and down, shifting slightly in her chair. She had a clinical air about her, as if she were evaluating an antique. Or a side of beef at the butcher's. He would have been a bit more self conscious if the room wasn't occupied by a dozen other freaks. People in spandex outfits, glowing, floating, sharing their heroic deeds with one another.

"It's tough work, you know. There's a lot of responsibility. There's a lot at stake."
"Yeah. Sure. I get that.."
"Well, you just seem sort of ambivalent. It's a hard life if you don't have a real..."

Tate smiled. He'd seen that look before. She was trying to find the right words to express her doubts about his motivations without offending him.

"Without a clear moral compass? Without the drive to do good spurring me on in heroic ways?"
"Yes. I guess you could put it that way." She leaned forward slightly, tapping the tip of her pen lightly against the desk. He found himselt staring at the stiff, unwrinkled surface of her grey business suit.
"I don't know what to tell you. I'm just a normal guy that got changed into..this."

Tate shrugged and slid his hands into the folds of his altered body that simulated pockets. Was he really getting turned down to be a superhero as well. The woman's lack of confidence in his motives echoed the estrangement he felt with the world. He didn't feel like himself. It was almost like being a ghost or something. His spirits sank as he imagined being turned away. What was left? A lab rat somewhere? Then it started. Low. Barely audible at first.

Giggling.

The woman was trembling. Hand over her mouth. Laughing at him. And changing. Her eyes were filling with some sort of fluid becoming lightless orbs in her face. Her skin paled, the mousey brown locks on her head lengthened and darkened. Tate found himself recoiling from the desk in shock and for a moment he pictured this woman turning into another vampire like Mary. She laughed and waved her hand.

"I'm sorry, hahaha. Sometimes I just get overcome by the hypocricy of my acting and lose it. Didn't mean to freak you out." She leveled her gaze at him for a moment. "Don't be troubled by all that moral compass nonsense darling, I was just kidding."
"Who are you?! What's going on?"
"I'm an assassin. I killed the recruiter this morning and assumed her identity. I was to take her place and.." The woman reached under the desk and pulled out a large wicked looking blade that shimmered with pale green light. "I was going to shove this into the guts of my sixth appointment."

Tate touched his chest. "And I'm the sixth?" She nodded.
"Yes. But you see you weren't supposed to be the sixth." She pointed to a young man with golden skin that was using a drinking fountain on the other side of the room. He was dressed like a typical college student....jeans, tshirt, backpack, sneakers...just with golden skin. "He was supposed to be the sixth. But you showed up instead. This was not in the plan."

"Plan? Well are you going to try to kill him."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he's no longer the sixth."
"Well what does that matter? He's right over there. Not that I want you to kill him but what's the difference?"
"It makes all the difference. I needed to kill him when he was the sixth appointment. Killing him now would be meaningless in terms of the big picture."
"What big picture? WHAT BIG PICTURE?!?!"

Tate's yelling drew all attention towards the desk. He waved sheepishly. "Sorry peeps, um...just got a little carried away."

9.

"You're not going to keep that thing?" Cheryl's face crinkled with disdain as Alan slid the cloth doll into the inside jacket of his coat.

"Um..yeah. I think so. Why not?"
"Because it belonged to that devil."
"Devil? She said she couldn't help it..."
"Lies I'm sure. You saw what she did."
"Yes."
"She was evil, clearly sent here by the devil to cause suffering."
"Oh...well what if I told you that her being here, doing those things she did, saved the human race. What if I told you that her killing those people actually saved billions of lives."
"I don't believe it."
"Well if you did, would you hold the devil responsible for saving all those lives."
"No. Evil can't do good. Not intentionally. Maybe there was an accident..."
"I see."
"I don't get how you can have any sympathy for that thing."
"Because I'm a thing too. I'm as inhuman as she was. And I didn't have any say in becoming what I am either."
"But you helped us. You're doing good. You've chosen to be good."
"Have I? How do I know I'm the one making the choices?" He shrugged and turned towards the street.

"Tell them I'm sorry about the dirt. I have to get going."

-----

Tate retrieved the scout. Deactivated, it took the form of a small cube which he fed through a portal into the alien dimension. The simulacra of his friend Jake greeted him from the other side.

"Well done Alan Tate. We doubted your success on this mission but you returned our scout unscathed. How did you defeat the woman creature?"
"I didn't. I merely distracted her long enough to take the scout."
"Ah. Well, we have directed our attention elsewhere. Now that our scout is returned we will commence. Farewell human."
"Wait--are you leaving me like this?"

The alien's expression went blank, as if it had not considered the issue of the extradimensional body they had created to send him back.

"Hmmm...it would probably consume as much energy to deconstruct you as it did to mold your current form. I suppose we will leave it." The alien looked Tate up and down for a moment then grunted dismissively. "Given the entropic nature of that universe it won't last long anyway."

The edges of the portal began to contract. Tate raise his arm in protest.

"Wait! Wait..how long do you think I have?"
"You will be lucky if it persists for another 500 of your Earth years. Farewell." The voice faded as the portal shrank shut. Tate focused his energies to open it again but found he was no longer able to access their continuum.

"Wait! 500 years? I'm going to be alive for another 500 years?!"

8.

The church was in sight when they heard it--the wailing off in the distance but getting closer.

"Oh my god she's noticed--listen to her." Cheryl looked pale under the streetlamp as they began to cross the street on their way to the church parking lot.
"You two go on ahead...run. Get over there and wait for me on the church steps." Tate looked at the walking heap of dirt. It had been able to manage a brisk walk, but anything faster had caused it to trip and spill over into a heap.

"Go on. I'll hold her off if I need to."
"Ok be careful." The women scampered off. He steered the dirt in the direction of the sidewalk along the fence that bordered a park next to the church's lot. They'd gone another ten feet or so when he spotted her, something like a chill passing through his reconstructed body. The vampire had actually passed him up--she was standing in the center of the street, her eyes wide with panic. Glowing. She licked her lips nervously as he met her gaze. Both hands clutched the strap of a large purse slung over her shoulder.

"Wait! Stop! Don't do this please! Please stop!"

Tate focused his attention on the animated earth. Instilling it with a sense of purpose. Simple directions that he hoped would keep it moving. Keep it walking towards the goal even if he was somehow disturbed by the bloodsucker. As they got closer she took some tentative steps towards him.

"Stay back!"

She reached into the purse and pulled out some large stacks of bills. Her hands shook as she held them out, the cash flapping in the breeze as she offered it to him.

"Look! I can pay you...everyone needs money right? Doesn't everyone need money? I'm sorry..here take this. Please take it..I'm sorry. Just don't kill me. Please.."

He grunted and shook his head no. The cash started sliding out of her grip as her arms went limp. The bills fluttered as the droped to the ground, some picked up and carried away by the wind. The dirt golem stepped into the church parking lot and turned into a straight line towards the chuch doors. Tate found himself inbetween it and the undead woman. She clenched her hands in front of her, her eyes darting over his face desperate to read his response. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut, even though he no longer really possessed one.

"Listen..please...I'm sorry...I couldn't help it....I couldn't.....please believe......I couldn't stop ... I was made into this. Do you understand? I was turned into this. I didn't have a choice...someone else turned me into what I am and I couldn't help the things....I did....please don't destroy me....mercy? Please...please have mercy on me....do you understand.. this is all I have left....my soul was taken away from me.....if you do this I will be completely destroyed.....I'm afraid......please stop...."

Tate rubbed his forehead reflexively and looked back at the grave dirt. It had made good progress across the lot. Cheryl and Sheila saw him from the steps and waved excitedly. He turned back and the vampire was once more digging in the purse.

"Look....look at this...." She pulled out a small cloth doll. Something sewed from felt or old socks, bound together with yarn and with two big buttons for eyes.

"My name is Mary. See I made this when I was a little girl. I remember....I'm still a person..see? I can remember my life...my mother helped me sew it and we took some spare buttons from my father's old coat..."

She held it in her hand. She smiled wanly as she looked at the face, it's faded line for a smile turned back towards her. She ran the tip of her finger along the edges of the buttons, her head drooping slightly.

"I'm still a person...I know I am...I know......please don't kill me...I couldn't help it....I didn't want my life to be this way...."

Tate closed his eyes for a moment. He could sense the golem reaching the church steps. The thud of each step beating in his mind like the hand of a clock counting down. He sensed it. Numbly. A bystander, paralyzed by doubt, standing there watching the train run off the tracks.

"Oh no. No......"

The dirt collapsed onto the church steps. The vampire slowly lifted into the air, pulled by some unseen force. Her eyes wide, staring blankly into the distance, mouth agape. She dropped the cloth dolly as her arms were pulled wide. She screamed silently then started to fade. Tate watched her blur and fade away until there was nothing but a fine cloud of dust that was quickly carried away on the breeze.

He kneeled down and lifted the dolly, staring at it in his palm and thumbing the button eyes absently with his thumb.

7.

"Alan where are you going?" Cheryl stumbled on a branch as they snuck around the side of the house. Sheila steadied her with one hand, dislodging a branch from her hair with the other. The side of the house was overgrown with trees and shrubs with a narrow unkempt path winding through them.

"Shhhhhh! Here." Tate found a clearing in front of a small basement window. He dropped on his stomach in front of it, peering through the dirty glass.

"Did you kill her?" Sheila kneeled beside him. "You didn't did you?"
"No. Not yet."
"Then she could be here any minute.." Cheryl chewed on her lower lip, nervously squinting in the darkness.
"No. I remembered an old story about vampires. That people used to go to the grave of a suspected vampire and place a pile of rice on it. The vampire would be compelled to count the individual grains. They'd be stuck in there until it was dawn again. Not just vampires actually...lots of strange supernatural creatures are said to have the trait. Something about how their minds work. Some would sneak into your house to count the silverware."
"So she's counting all those marbles?"
"Yeah. We have some time..don't know how much."

He traced his fingertip along the perimeter of the small window, weakening the molecular cohesion of the bricks before pulling the window and its frame out of the wall.

"So what are you doing now?" Sheila leaned forward to peak into the opening.
"Please back up ladies." The women moved away as Tate reached his arm inside the hole. "That's it buddy. Good..good..come on you can do it."

He slid back from the house, rising to his knees and pulling his arm back out through the hole in the wall. Cheryl gasped as his hand emerged clenching a greyish brown, mitten-like shape. As Tate kept pulling and rising to his feet, more and more of the dark substance slid out of the hole. It had a strong dank scent as it slithered over the grass and shifted. Eventually rising and taking a rough humanoid appearance with arms, legs and a lumpy top that suggested a head.

"Oh my god what is that thing..." Sheila almost tumbled into a rose bush as she recoiled from the creature.

"It's her grave--the dirt she was buried in. I was able to sense it in the basement and I used my powers to animate it."
"What are we going to do with it?"
"Walk it over to the nearest church. If we move it on to holy ground her connection to this world should be severed and she should fade away. At least that's my theory."

Cheryl waved her fingers in front of her body. "Can't you just poof it over there? You know..like you did with my daughter?"
"Hmmm...I dunno. I really don't know how much or how far I can move things that way. Do you two want to be left alone while I try to materialize over there with it?"
"Umm no. Please, my mom and I want to stay with you."
"At least until we know that thing is gone."

"Well then ok ladies. Let's hoof it over there."

6.

"I don't think you guys should hang around here."

The vampire's lair was a large brick house set back on its lot, partially obscured by thick growths of tree on either side. Tate could sense the scout inside and he doubted that the creature would leave it alone there unattended.

"We...have to see what happens."
"You can handle it right?"

The two women huddled together in the street, cowering yet glowing with a morbid fascination. Waiting to see if he'd succeed. Riveted by the thought of how bad things would be if he failed.

"I suppose. Wait here."

The path arched slightly to the right around the body of a large tree trunk, then straightened and connected with the front steps. The door was large, oak with decorative metal insets. Stained red. As he put his hand on the surface, he could feel the scout on the other side, altering it's molecular structure to bar Tate from entering. Alan focused his thoughts and pushed through, passing his the subatomic structure of himself and all his belongings past the physical constraints of the wood. Like a ghost, he stepped bast the barrier straight into the foyer of the home.

The scout stood there, opposite where the foyer segued into a hallyway. For a moment it attempted to pose as a child, like the first time he had encountered it, but Tate could perceive it for what it was and it quickly gave up. It defaulted to a nondescript grey mass. Tate felt a rage begin to burn in his mind. This was the little ******* that had gotten him into the mess in the first place. But with his new senses he could see that it was merely a tool. A device with no will of its own--even less now that it's directive to psychically connect with terrestrial lifeforms had led to its enslavement by the vampire. He began to enter the shutdown sequence given to him by the aliens when he heard a sound above him.

"AAAAAAARRRGGH!" He looked up in time to see her drop from the ceiling, a grey blur in the dim light with her pale eyes gleaming like streaks of light. She landed on him hard, driving him against the wall to the side as she sank her fangs into his neck, ripping out a large chunk of the particles and energized matter that made his new body. Struggling to hold the paper bag full of marbles with his right arm, he lifted his left reflexively to push her off.

She anticipated the motion and seized it, wrenching with superhuman ferocity. He heard a pop as the arm tore loose just below the shoulder. He felt no pain, but the sensation..the awareness filled him with a wave of panic. The closest thing he'd felt to an adrenaline rush since his own flesh had been destroyed by his abductors.

"ENOUGH!" The arm dissolved in her grip, becoming a luminous clowd of flowing minerals under his command. She snarled as it formed a huge fist the sized her tightly around the torso and launched across the entryway, slamming her into the wall behind the scout. He bent the construction to his will, gradually crushing her form as he reshaped his missing arm.

The vampire writhed and growled, her legs flailing in the air as the stoney fist clenched her. Then abrubtly she was free. Her body seemed to shimmer and fade. She floated ghostlike out of it's grip then solidified on the ground again, crouching down. Her eyes darting around manically as she looked back and forth between Tate and the stone fist. Then the expression on her pale grey face seemed to break. She muttered something to herself then yelled at him plaintively.

"What do you want with me? Leave me alone..you're tresspassing here!"

Tate snorted. "What are you going to do lady? Call the police?" She hissed at his comment but he waved to try to calm her down.

"Listen..we got off on the wrong foot here. I just need to get that thing back.." He nodded at the scout. "I brought something. I thought we could make a trade."

She eyed him suspiciously. "What? What is it?"

Tat held up the bag. "See?" He took a few steps forward and kneeled down in the foyer. He opened the top of the bag and started pouring the marbles out on to the stone tiles.

"See? Aren't they beautiful? So shiney..." He emptied most of the bag then dropped it on the floor. The marbles were in a round, irregular pile. Some had rolled away. Some were still in the bag. The vampire stood there slack jawed, a bland expression as her gaze moved over all the shiney pieces. Tate smiled.

"Hey no hurry. Take your time deciding. Look them over. See if its worth a trade. I'll come back later to ask about your decision. okay?"
".........ohhhhkaay........"
"Good good. Great. No hard feelings then. I'll check back with you in a bit. Enjoy."

Happy BDay big invulnerable guy!

Dee Dee--

I assumed nothing. The picture is a photomanipulation, which is allowed by the competition. It's obvious in the case of the background.

With regards to the figure I said this (which you quoted):

Gratz DD, well done.

Bubba--

I don't see any point in continuing this competition. Between this year and last year's competition I haven't won any theme, despite putting in considerable effort to do so. I've really come to the conclusion that this isn't the community where I should be trying to focus my efforts. Thanks to everyone that voted for me and please continue to follow my work on Deviantart.

Oh so it's not bowling that makes someone a jackhole, it's the swagger and the trash talk. Maybe stealing someone's ball, or going down the wrong lane.
Thanks, that's profound.

Thanks for sharing your prejudice against people who like a type of gameplay you don't. I'm sure that makes them real "jackholes."