Name: Solid Shot
Level: 39
Global Handle: @Khellendrosiic
Archetype: Blaster
Primary: Assault Rifle
Secondary: Electricity Manipulation
Solid Shot touched down in the Bone Yard of Perez Park and looked around at the groups of gang bangers surrounding him. The hero reached behind his cape and pulled out his assault rifle, a technological masterpiece of engineering and warcraft. Surveying the nervous Skulls around him with his targeting eye, Solid took aim at a particularly large group of the gang members.
About thirty minutes and fifty confirmed arrests later, Solid had made up his mind about the odd invitation he had found in the mail yesterday. Shooting thugs had always helped him think and the android chuckled as he slung his rifle over one shoulder.
"I am so wishing for an [censored] load of cash."
Name: Brutish Ghoul
Level: 39
Global Handle: @Khellendrosiic
Archetype: Brute
Primary: Dark Melee
Secondary: Invulnerability
"What the hell is this?" Ghoul muttered through a face full of cereal as he looked down at the slip of paper Toy Dispenser had handed to him.
"Mail time," the android mastermind said. "And you've actually got something besides junk mail for once."
"Huh," Ghoul grunted as he hastily wolfed down the last of his food and opened up the paper. After a few minutes spent reading and pondering, Ghoul slipped the paper into the pocket of his tattered jeans.
"Good news?" Toy asked absently as he fiddled around with the refridgerator.
"Yep," Ghoul said as he pushed his chair out from the table and stood up. "Ya mind havin' one of your bots clean my room for me while I'm gone?"
"Business trip?" Toy asked.
"Somethin' like that," Ghoul said and grinned, his teeth the same color as his milky white eyes. "I think I'm gonna go win myself a fight with Statesman."
"Be careful," Toy remarked as he continued fiddling around with the back of the fridge, utterly oblivious to what Ghoul had said.
Name: Painpipe Wielder
Level: 11
Global Handle: @Khellendrosiic
Archetype: Tanker
Primary: Ice Armor
Secondary: War Mace
"WELL THIS IS INTERESTING!" the Wielder of the Painpipe said to himself as he looked at the letter addressed to himself that Gladys had observed on the body of a Family goon. "APPARENTLY THERE IS TO BE A TOURNAMENT AND I AM INVITED!"
Several moments passed in silence as Wielder looked down at the bent lead pipe in his hand.
"VERY WELL, WE SHALL GO TO THIS TOURNAMENT AND WIN FOR GREAT JUSTICE!"
Several more moments passed.
"I SHALL WISH FOR GOOD TO TRIUMPH OVER EVIL, OF COURSE!"
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
Name: Burning Brawler
Level: 50
Global Handle: @Burning Brawler
Archetype: Blaster
Primary: Fire Blast
Secondary: Ice Manipulation
Burning Brawler quickly flew high in the air, careful to make sure his invisibility spell remained intact.
The streets of Grandville were a dangerous place for a hero.
He held out a small wand, its tip glowed steadily brighter as he continued to head towards the large tower in the city's center. Blightlord was in there somewhere.
He hovered high above, watching warily with his enhanced vision letting him view the villains coming and going. He looked up, thinking he caught the sound of something in the wind.
He whirled around as a creature slammed into him, his claws ripping at Burning as they fell to the ground. He grunted, flailing and flinging balls of flame directly into Captain Mako's face, but knew he wouldn't be winning this fight.
He exploded in a massive burst of flames, and was mediported to safety.
He reappeared a few moments later in the hospital, fully healed. He glanced over at a table where a small invitation was propped up. He read it, and looked up.
"All I want is to end Blightlord's threat to my family."
-------------------
Name: Blightlord
Level: 46
Global Handle: @Burning Brawler
Archetype: Mastermind
Primary: Necromancy
Secondary: Poison
Blightlord watched as Captain Mako limped into the conferance room, covered in scorch marks.
Black Scorpion snickered. "What happened to you, fish boy?"
"Train," he muttered, leaning back on the wall as his personal attendants began to heal his wounds.
"As I was saying," said Blightlord, returning focus to his conversation with Lord Recluse, "I find it in your best interests to cease your attempts on me. You know their futility, now know that you will never win."
Ghost Widow watched from afar, somewhat stunned. He hadn't truly pulled off the task, had he? No one could defeat her lord.
"You put yourself at great risk coming here, Blightlord," Lord Recluse said, arms crossed as he stared down at him from his pedestal. "What could you possibly do to prove to me that destroying you is not the best path?"
Blightlord snapped his fingers, and Grime stepped into the room. Scirocco's face twisted in a small mix of hate at the Lich.
Grime stood behind his master, and reached inside his robes. Lord Recluse's eyes slowly widened as he saw the object the Lich held out.
His own head.
"I believe this will suffice," said Blightlord.
Lord Recluse glanced about the room to make sure his servants had not seen. "Very well. I leave you free to go about your own schemes. Just make sure they do not interfere with my own."
Blightlord walked out of the room, but not before setting the head in the center of the large table. Lord Recluse's servants stared in surprise. Ghost Widow gave a small nod of approval, and Blightlord closed his dealings with The Rogue Isles pitiful leaders.
He walked past the long line in the tower's lobby, the citizens standing their glancing at each other. The worry and fear on their faces was unmistakable.
"S-sir!" said a man, running up behind him.
Muck and Guck dropped from the ceiling, and held their swords out to gut the man. He fell back as he hurriedly scrambled from them and their wide, menacing grins.
Blightlord held a hand up, and they disappeared. He approached the man who lay on the floor, wincing and shying away in fear.
Blightlord held out an open hand. The man reluctantly held out his own to be helped to his feet. Blightlord shook his head, and pointed at the piece of paper.
The man handed it to him, and quickly scrambled away. He ran into the corridor, causing a shout from Arachnos guards. There was a cry of pain, then silence.
Blightlord walked out, a zombie soon coming behind him. He opened the envelope and read the invitation inside.
"Soon, all shall bow to my power."
----------------------
Name
anica
Level: 22
Global Handle: @Burning Brawler
Archetype: Scrapper
Primary: Martial Arts
Secondary: Invulnerability
An Arachnos mace smashed into the ground, splintering into hundreds of pieces. "No, please! Let me go!"
"Let you go?" said Danica as she stared at the Wolf Spider.
As she hovered over the Steel Canyon skyscrapers.
"Yes! I mean no!"
She let go, and he fell, flailing and screaming as certain death seemed to rush towards him.
And suddenly he stopped as Danica gripped him once more, hovering back up. "I know Arachnos has trackers in their medi-port system. How do I access them?"
"I will never tell you!" said the soldier.
Danica shook him. "You don't tell me, and I swear this won't end well. Where... are... those... FILES?" she yelled, shaking him.
He stared into her eyes with hatred, and spat in her face.
"Wrong answer," said Danica, and she let go.
This time, death and he became quite good friends.
Danica stared down at the ground, regret clean on her face. But that man was scum. Who knows how many he had killed? She quickly wiped any traces of the emotion from her face.
She set down on a rooftop and sighed. Would she never find him?
Suddenly, a small piece of paper slammed into her face. She tore it away, and glanced at it. A tournament? Maybe he would be there.
"Matt, I'll find you somehow."
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
Name: Essex - Reploid S6
Level: 36
Global Handle: @EssexS6
Archetype: Defender
Primary: Empathy
Secondary: Sonic
"Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!! "
Streaking through the sky in Founder's Falls was a flash of black and pink, a trail of green nanites accompanying the slight vapor distortion trail of her thrusters.
Desperately dodging back and forth with her arms full of small, glowing spheres, she pivoted midair, performing a stunning barrel roll to evade the sniper fire that streaked past her.
Following behind was a contigent of Crey agents, cryo pistols firing as she flew over the Gaspee, Crey snipers on buildings taking shots at her and then dashing into large vans to follow. She had to have at least twenty agents following her by now.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!"
Essex cut the power to her thrusters, frefalling a few feet before re-engaging and flickering off to the side. Her agility was amazing in the air; her siblings commenting once that she flew like a dragonfly - a really chicken dragonfly.
That nickname had lasted a couple weeks - "Chicken Dragonfly."
This thought was interrupted by a sniper laser blast clipping her shoulderguard. With a mortified gasp, she swung around again.
The Crey were closing in on her, when suddenly one was fired out of the air like a clay pidgeon by a huge blast of energy. The rest could only look on before soon they were struck down one by one by various blasts.
Panting, Essex slowed and touched down near the base portal, the poor little android panting heavily.
"What's the score?" Ginstar said, arms folded as his own sonic generators cooled down.
"Twelve to seven." Delphi said, looking up from her tally sheet.
"Yep, I reckon you still need to work on your aim, son." Burner said, proudly polishing off his huge gunarm.
"I don't know why I ever agreed to this." Essex sighed, still shaking. "You boys and your games of Creyball. You know, one day they'll actually get me and then they'll take my AI chip and you'll all have to come and rescue me again."
"So?" Burner said with a grin. "Then we'll be bowlin' for Crey cause they'll be on the ground."
"Oh, by the way." Delphi said, holding out a letter for Essex. "This came for you."
The android's eyes widened as she looked at the invitation. Letting her hand drop, she turned her green eyes to the sky.
"I wish..." she said, "For ONE DAY...that people would just stop fighting."
---------------------------------------------------
Name: Dread Rosalind
Level: 9 (dammit.)
Global Handle: @EssexS6
Archetype: Scrapper
Primary: Claws
Secondary: Regen
"I'm sick...I'm tired...
I can't sleep 'cause I'm so wired.
I don't know if I can take this,
I don't know how to love you.
Tick, Tock, in-side,
Tossing, turning; I feel blind.
Sun is up, the rain pours in,
Another day of
No end....
Bend it, break it, smash it!
Love it, loathe it, yeah, yeah!
Hold it, throw it, crave it!
Searching for my solace....
Tip, toe
Bend, break
Cold night air, I start to shake.
My eyes red, my tongue is dry,
These long nights are never kind..."
The blast of electric guitars and pounding bass. Rosalind's black hair was tossed everywhere, her eyes lightly closed as her snow-white bangs brushed over her cheeks, her canine ears laid back aggressively against her head as she sang out, her clear voice perfectly pitched, but rough enough to handle rock.
"Grab it, Kick it, SMASH IT!
Love it, loathe it, yeah, yeah...
Hold it, throw it, crave it!
Searching for my --"
The background abruptly stopped as the magnolia tree spirit ripped the earbuds out of her ears with an annoyed sigh. Rosalind whined as Emry pulled her iPod off the table and quite firmly locked it in his drawer.
"There." he muttered. "Now I've found my solace."
Pouting, Rosie leaned back in her chair, arms crossed across her chest. "You're a jerk." she said, kicking her feet up on the desk.
As she did, a letter drifted to the ground. Picking it up, she looked at the contents...and her fluffy black-and-white tail began to wag.
"...If I could be a real rock star..." she said, her eyes glittering with imagination.
------------------------------------------------
A third figure neutrally held their invitation between thumb and forefinger.
Their face was split with a demented smile.
((Term, can I have a seeeeecret contestant? I'll send the PM with information to you directly.))
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
Name: Hallucinogen
Level: 50
Global Handle: @Hallucinogen
Archetype: Controller
Primary: Illusion Control
Secondary: Radiation Emission
The walls were pure white, the ceiling and floor the same. Hallucinogen sat alone as always in the hallway of his own mind, lined with portraits of the things that mattered to him. Friends, associates, even his other self, Schizophrenias. Maybe someday, Schizo would come to his senses. . . but it was hard to imagine it at present.
The most prevalent pictures, however, were of what appeared to be a little girl clad in pink, smiling, blond hair flowing in the breeze. A large portrait of her sat at the end of the hall. . .
There was a piece of paper in his lap. Someone must have found his anchor to the real world. . . no matter. It was hardly impossible. As he read the paper, and thought it over, he got to his feet, and the hallway melted around him, giving way to reality.
"Essex. . . I just want to be with you to the end. . . and ever after."
* * * * * *
Name: Schizophrenias
Level: 45
Global Handle: @Hallucinogen
Archetype: Dominator
Primary: Mind Control
Secondary: Thorny Assault
But there was a door in that same hallway that led away from logic and clear thought and was lost to madness.
Thorns grew out of the walls of the passageway, thicker and thicker as it continued in its inexorable course.
Until finally the hallway dropped out entirely, and was succeeded by orange skies and floating rocks as though in the Shadow Shard, and just outside floated a castle formed of purple stone, with a tower at its peak. And the tower curved and swayed and swirled dizzyingly and impossibly as it climbed into the air so high that it seemed to go on forever. And it did.
Yet there was a top still, and at that top Schizophrenias reclined in a large poofy purple armchair, tossing thorns into the walls casually.
"Massssssster, an invitation," Iisperiax the Wisp Overlord hissed as he arrived out of nowhere, holding out a piece of paper.
Schizo read the paper, and as he did he grinned wider and wider and wider, until his grin seemed to actually extend off his face.
"Cool," he said, and Iisperiax bowed and vanished, and it was as though he had never been there.
"Lessee," Schizo cackled. "What do I want? Well, that Essex chick is awfully--"
He stopped himself. "What am I saying?!? This is my CHANCE! The end of the world isn't coming nearly fast enough! There's too much hope and love and all that mushy crap!"
"I'll just end it all now! Finally, I will be free of reality and existence all together! AND ALL SHALL DESCEND TO MADNESS!"
* * * * * *
Name: Moonscribe
Level: 27
Global Handle: @Hallucinogen
Archetype: Controller
Primary: Gravity Control
Secondary: Storm Summoning
And in the real world, a figure stood on a rooftop, blue robe flying in the breeze, moonlight reflecting off his glasses, though there was no moon.
And he caught the piece of paper out of the air, but he already knew what it said, and his answer was long prepared.
"I merely wish. . . for an end to his madness. I wish for Re-Horakhty to be himself again."
Name: Ozell One
Level: 15 (d'oh)
Global Handle: @Tomanton
Archetype: Scrapper
Primary: Claws
Secondary: Regeneration
The artificial human named Ozell One lay sprawled out on the bed of his living quarters. Formally, the 'private' space set aside for Ozell in Equinox Laboratories was called the Estoc (Equinox Synthetics Test and Observation Chambers)- Ozell called it the doll house, because each room had a wall set aside for a huge one-way mirror along with security cameras and audio capture devices so that the scientists could observe and record his every move. Privacy, his artificial [censored]. He was a little surprised when the door to his room opened, though- a young lab technician with short, messy black hair looking to Ozell with a mix of relief and pity. Ozell sat up.
"Keith! ..I thought you were in a meeting? With Mr. Masters and Julia and the rest of them.."
The man smiled weakly. "Well.. yes, Ozell. This came in the mail for you, though. Mr. Masters screened it, and.. you know how he likes things done right away. As soon as he made up his mind, he excused me to deliver it to you. You're fighting in a tournament."
He held out the invitation for Ozell to read. He skimmed it dully.. but when he reached the bottom line, his dull white eyes went wide. "......Wish??"
"Apparently." Keith grinned, setting the note down on Ozell's bedside table. "Mr. Masters expects nothing short of a win, so you'd better start thinking of one. Best of luck, Ozell. We'll be cheering for you. Make sure you make your wish count!"
Ozell looked to him gravely as he left.. didn't have to tell him twice. Trembling slightly, he knew there was something more than anything else in the world he wanted. "I wish I had my memories back."
Name: GSR-Lyden
Level: 27
Global Handle: @Tomanton
Archetype: Brute
Primary: Dark Melee
Secondary: Dark..whatever
In the medical wing of Greensryche Research secret laboratory, the hissing and clicking open of a stasis capsule door signified that one of the GSR Units artificial sleep was over. The orange-haired boy who stepped out, dully opening his eyes, would be groggy for all of about half a second before a needle pricked the back of his neck in a space in the bodysuit too small to see, and various chemicals injected into his body shocked him wide awake. Greensryche Unit Lyden was ready to serve.
The lab was, as usual, cold and lonely. The other units were either out or in stasis, and everything here was in proper working order. First order of business.. do a check of the lab's computer systems. Wait, what idiot taped this piece of paper to the monitor? ..."The chance of a lifetime"...?
His mind was, of course, already made up. His master would definitely let him represent Greensryche in this tournament. But, what to wish for?
"This Unit wishes only to serve his master."
Wait, he was already doing that.
"This Unit wishes... to have the opportunity to prove himself."
Crap, that didn't work either. There really wasn't much he or his master didn't already have going. If not for them, then who? If only he had an idea... but wait, perhaps he did have one. After all, there was one other person close to him. He walked down the long, dark corridor to the teleport bay in silence. Speaking into his mask, so that no other device could pick it up:
"...This Unit wishes to always be able to assist Unit Locria."
Name: Tomanton
Level: 29
Global Handle: @Tomanton
Archetype: Stalker
Primary: Ninja Blade
Secondary: Regeneration
It was a little known fact that on the red skinned race known as the Kosunn, the quality of their hair was a remarkably accurate indicator of their overall health. Hair products tended to have little to no effect on changing this- silky and thin was the picture of fitness, rough and tangled was a sign of seriously poor health. Tomanton's looked about ready to fall out.
He was collapsing under the weight of his own life. Earth was an incredible place, but the stress was overwhelming- protecting his own interests, looking after Kaloaten, being hunted by his father.. it was all too much. From the time he had gotten the invitation it had been read perhaps a hundred times- folded and unfolded almost as many, the letters were already beginning to fade out. He had to end this.
"I wish for a means to safely return home."
Name: Cypherr
Level: 34
Global Handle: @Sil Rian
Archetype: Blaster
Primary: Electrical Blast
Secondary: Energy Manipulation
KsssshkssshksshCLANG!
KsssshkssshksshSSSSS...
Ksssshkssshkssh-"SKREEERK!"
Cypherr recoiled from the pile of trash she had been digging in, and began suckling most irritatedly on a gash painfully rendered across her thumb. Trash digging was routine for her, but striking glass however, was always quite the nasty suprise one might get when making a habit of scavenging.
Cypherr glared at the broken bottle which had so loathefully sliced her, emitting a gutteral, menacing growl. However, it came out more a childish gurgle than anything, as her thumb was still wedged firmly into her mouth. Her brow furrowed.
The wind picked up amongst the junkyard, unsettling the debris from it's various filthy places of rest. As Cypherr continued to tend to her injury, a lone slip of paper floated adrift on the breeze, crumpled and stained and no better nor noticeable than any other piece of trash. As it lingered and wafted in the air, it made it's careful way over to a very unsuspecting creature.
As the paper smacked Cypherr in the face, she jumped into the air like a spooked deer. It only took a fraction of a second for her brain to react however, and she lept in the direction of the offending creature, lips curled into a snarl and claws outstretched, waiting for the feel of the flesh of her assailant pinned beneath her.
WHUMPH!
Cypherr blinked. Nothing. This was odd. She looked down, a puzzled expression on her face. She slowly peeled her hands back from where she had pounced, spotting the slip of paper now rather pitifully smashed into the ground, and frowned to herself.
"Wassss not stupid hyoo-mun. Was just...papersss? Stupid papers. Sneakings up on Cypherr!"
She reached down and picked the piece up, turning it over and examining the back. As she gazed upon the invitation, her eyes grew wide with excitement.
"Preeeeeetty piiiicturesss!"
Indeed, though looking like a piece of cheap clipart to most people, Cypherr found the image amusing, and was soon giggling to herself over it's shapes. After a moment however, she squinted at the text below, staring hard to try and decipher the text. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into frustration as she tried willing herself the ability to read the entire paper. After a few moments of irritation, she took the paper inbetween her teeth and skuttled out of the junkyard on all fours.
Her feet padded along the concrete in an easy lope, as she made her way towards the more lively area of the city. Lights grew brighter and the night sky sparkled with electrical brilliance as Cypherr scurried her way into Atlas Park, her eyes searching among the shadows. Atlast after a good 20 minutes of running, she finally spotted exactly what she was looking for. She screeched a little joyful howl, and trotted up to what looked like a homeless man slumped up against a bus stop, peacefully snoring away. His bedraggled beard made Cypherr giggle as she reached over, poking him lightly in the chest with a claw.
"Hyoooo-mun. Sleepy hyooo-mun! Wakeses ups! Cypherr haves questions for you, yessss."
The man woke with a start, his eyes unfocusing for a moment before settling on Cypherrs grinning form. Her tail wagged back and forth enthusiastically, but quickly halted as the man reached for a rolled up newspaper beside him, lifting it above his head.
"YOU DANG BODY STEALERS AINT GETTIN' ME TONIGHT! I beat you dang things off thrice before and I tell ye again, ye ain't getting NONE O' MY ORGANS!"
Cypherr quickly curled up into a defensive ball as the man bopped her with the newspaper, yelling furiously in his half-awakened state. She squeaked with each hit, her tail twitching, trying desperately to communicate with him through his rain of incoherent stupor.
"EEP! No...! Cypherr not comes to-EEP! stealssss organses. Cypherr just want know ifs-EEP! hyoo-mun mights be niceses and help Cypherr-EEP! readsss pretty paper she founds with picture on it!"
The man had momentarily paused as she finished her sentence, lowering the newspaper to his side. Cypherr unfurled herself and looked up with a toothy grin, handing the invitation out to him. He drowsily grasped the note, peering down at it and starting to stroke his beard with thought.
"Well now. Right fancy piece o' paper you got here. Lessee, says..."
Most suprisingly for his state of mind, the man managed to (for the most part) correctly read the invitation word by word. Cypherr's ears twitched in interest as he read, and slowly she began to comprehend what the slip of paper meant. One word echoed within her mind.
"FIGHTSES!" she screeched gleefully, tearing the invitation out of his hands before he had even finished and sprinting down the street. She called out a 'thank yousss' as she raced, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she panted, tucking the invitation into her hair.
"Abbot Stateses. Abbot Stateses. Cypherr finds youuusss. Finds tournament! Get to zaps more things, win lots more ice creams than even shiny gives!"
The homeless man just sat there, shaking his weary head. He turned over and laid down once more, mumbling to himself as he drifted back off into dream.
"Goin' crazy. Darn cats are startin' to talk to me..."
~~~~~~~~~~
Name: Droxiin
Level: 27
Global Handle: @Sil Rian
Archetype: Mastermind
Primary: Thugs
Secondary: Dark Miasma
Name: Droxide
Level: 12 (Most likely will hit 13)
Global Handle: @Sil Rian
Archetype: Corruptor
Primary: Fire Blast
Secondary: Radiation Emission
The smooth, heavenly sounds of guitar strings being gently plucked resonated throughout the room. They were accompanied by a harmonic voice, humming along rather pleasantly with the tune.
Dundundun
Dundundundu-SCREECH!
Droxiin winced, halting abruptly. She reached up and started to fiddle with the tuning, spending a few good, long minutes until she was satisfied. She leaned back in her chair once again, legs outstretched, cradling the guitar in her lap. She closed her eyes peacefully once more and started to play.
Dundundun
Dundundundu-"What the hell!?"
Something quite out of nowhere had prodded her shoulder, and she lept out of her melodic trance rather violently. The guitar slumped in her grip and she tilted her head upwards, groaning as she noticed a mans amused face looming above her.
"Goddamnit, Nyx. Do you always have to interrupt me?" she grumbled, standing up and fitting her guitar into the stand she had propped next to her chair.
"I do believe it's sort of become my trademark now, so yes. Yes I do." he stated with a proud smirk.
Droxiin crossed her arms, peering up at him and giving a rather pointed, mock-anger look, though the smile creeping onto her lips rather negated it."You'd better have some good news, or you're not getting supper tonight, young man."
Nyx stuck his bottom lip out in a pout and stomped the floor with a foot. "But mamaaaa!"
"Okay, seriously now."
"Right. Well..." Nyx folded his arms. "...the Drakkus caught some guy snooping around the area."
"Really now." Droxiin's eyebrows raised amusedly. "And?"
"Unit 6 decided it was best to snipe him in the [censored] and bet each other to see how far he could get while trying to run away," Nyx grinned. "Thought he was just another idiot trying to find the entrance to the temple. Sometimes I think you've trained them too well, boss."
Droxiin waved her hand dismissively, seating herself back into her chair and crossing her legs, a rather proud look on her face. "No such thing as TOO well, my dear."
"Guy actually managed to get pretty far. He dropped this." Nyx reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper, offering it to her.
Droxiin grasped the paper and pulled it over, flipping it open with a thumb and reclining back as she scanned it's contents, her boots tapping rhythmically the floor.
"Hm. Intriguing..." she paused. "HAH! A wish? What a buncha BS. Bet it's just some poor saps trying to lure in some suckers to make a quick buck."
Nyx nodded in agreement. "That's what I thought. If someone actually had that kind of wish granting power, we'dve heard about it somehow."
"Nonetheless, though..." Droxiin rested one arm behind her head, re-folding the paper and tucking it delicately into her pants pocket, a devious glimmer in her eyes.
"Ah! I know that look..." Nyx smiled. "We're gonna go trash 'em anyway, right?"
"Yyyyup. Bogus or not, this could prove most amusing. And hey, there may be some uh. ...what's the word. 'Items of interest' we can 'liberate' from their possession?" Droxiin said with a smirk.
"HELLS yes." Nyx pumped his fist into the air, a triumphant and most excited expression on his face.
"Right, then," Droxiin stood up, dusting herself off lightly before making her way down the hall, pausing momentarily and looking over her shoulder with a smile. "Nyx, go grab Vex. You two round up the boys and pack up our gear. Tell 'em we're...going on a little road trip."
"Yes, ma'am!" Nyx ran off gleefully in the other direction.
"Mm...this gonna be some fun."
~~~~~~~~~~
Name: Tragic Error
Level: 20 (Will likely be higher before tournament)
Global Handle: @Sil Rian
Archetype: Brute
Primary: Super Strength
Secondary: Electric Armor
Tha-THUMP tha-THUMP tha-THUMP
She could feel his pulse quickening in her grasp. Good. He was frightened. MOST frightened. His heartbeat was hammering in his chest, sweat staining his clothes and dripping down onto his armor. Excellent.
There, against the wall of one of Cap au Diable's less than savory dockside homes, was a rather unfortunate Goldbricker, pinned into the wood. Tragic Error held him about two feet off the ground, uncomfortably smashed against the building, the sleek silver metal of an axe pressing into the soft flesh of his throat. Small droplets of livid blood pooled to the surface of his skin, beading down the blade. But she paid no attention. Her eyes were transfixed onto his face, cold, and emotionless.
The man choked on his words, hyperventilating, trying desperately to say something that would cause her to release her grip. But nothing seemed to work. She just continued to stare, unblinking, the blade of the axe gradually starting to press harder into his throat.
"I swear I didn't mean to shoot you! I swear! I was just...just sitting up on the rooftop looking down and the gun just went off! It was an accident! I swear! Please..."
Though, his words got him nowhere. Tragic Error was far from a fool. The man had perched deliberately on the rooftops to fire at unsuspecting creatures below, in hopes of nailing a "destined" one in the head and scoring another few pounds of candy. Tragic Error had, unfortunately for him, been the first passerby, and he grinned happily as he lined up his shot.
Mistake. BIG mistake.
And so there he was, bleeding from the neck as this woman slowly squeezed the life out of him, his gun sadly wrenched from his grasp.
He coughed, spluttering, praying that somehow she'd either release him or kill him quicker than this torment she held him in for the past 10 minutes. Suddenly however, he realized the axe wasn't pressing into his throat anymore. He opened one eye curiously, still crushed to the wall however, and saw her gaze had shifted to his pocket, where she was now rummaging in. The axe had been propped against the wall of the house, as she pulled out a piece of paper which he had been keeping. Almost instantaneously he lost his composure.
"HEY! That's mine! I found it, don't you-GGHK!"
She elbowed him hard into his stomach, silencing him almost immediately as her eyes scanned the document. As soon as she had read and processed it all, her head lifted, her eyes once more meeting his own. With a small scowl, she silently pivoted on her feet, grasping him by his rocket-pack. With an amazing amount of strength, she lifted him and threw him in a wide arc, his body flailing pathetically as he sailed through the air over the docks, landing with a large SPLASH into the murky water.
"...Blurble..."
Tragic Error grasped the handle of her axe with her free hand and hefted the blade to rest on her shoulder. Still clutching the paper, she continued to stare at it as she slowly walked off, her heels clicking on the pavement.
"Concept of wishing seems...ridiculous. Though event may prove promising, if only for data collection."
((Your avatar=
Invader Zim fans unite! >_>
)
Arc ID: 475246, "Bringing a Lord to Power"
"I'm only a simple man trying to cling to my tomorrow. Every day. By any means necessary."
-Caldwell B. Cladwell
((There's hardly enough people to warrant a good PvP event here. With just six people, and three chars each, there's gonna be way too many incidents where two teams with two chars controlled by one person is gonna have to face. That means too many people will have to miss on the action.
This topic is focused on RP more than PvP, yes, but I'm not going to deny people the ability to PvP just because of an oversight.
I guess with that, this topic is closed. I've asked Lighthouse to nuke it. Sorry to disappoint, guys, I seriously expected a lot more people to show up.
Note to self: Next time I ask people if they're interested in an event...don't assume they're all going to sign up))
Well.....you could always have set up a simul-thread in Virtue or something. I'm sure there'd be no end of people who'd sign up there.
Statesman said let there be heroes, and there were heroes.
Lord Recluse said let there be villains, and there were villains.
NCsoft said let there be nothing, and there was nothing.
((. . . Gah. T_T))
((<_< *glares at everyone who didn't sign up*))
((Well, maybe they didn't hear about it. . . or something. . . T_T))
((But yeah, how about Khell's idea? Don't just give up already!))
((Well excuse me for having other things to devote my time to. 
I keep telling you people that your 24-hour day it stupid and too short, but no one ever listens.))
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
((Ack... sorry, ment to sign up but work kept distracting me. :/ Have parts of the intoductions.. 
))
Pinnacle
Heroes
When in danger, or in doubt; Run in circles, scream and shout.
((Khell's idea won't work, for three reasons:
1: Virtue had an event like this a while back--it went horribly, and left a bad taste in everyone's mouth. Thus, reception to this would be rather...heated.
2: Cross-posting is against forum rules, and will get both topics deleted.
3: This event has nothing to do with Virtue--the only thing it has to do with the server is RPing, which is on EVERY server, and thus belongs more in the RP forum. It'll get deleted for off-topic-ness))
((Well then in that case, extend the deadline? Some people might still be mulling over whether or not to join. Maybe place the deadline for entry as December 18, and the deadline for forming teams an alliances as Christmas, and then we'll be all set?))
Japancakes.
Art - Theme 005 - Seeking Solace
((I'd join, except that I REALLY don't want to join any more RPs until I heal all the slow bat bruises on my head and find the ladder that gets me out of the boiling point tempature pool. 
))
((Mmmm. Very well, then--as per Essex's suggestion, the deadline is extended to the 18th. Team-making ends around Christmas.
I just hope you're right, Ess))
((IMMA JOIN, Gimmeh time.))
Name: Jordan Vailo
Level: 37
Global Handle: @Jordan Vailo
Archetype: Scrapper
Primary: Katana
Secondary: Regen
A normal day, a normal patrol. However, Jordan Vailo had found a peice of paper on a Freakshow's body, and now, he was on the hunt to see who could tell him about this... Tournament.
The Katana sliced through the air and into a Freakshow in an upper-cut motion, sending him flying upwords. There was a brief period of shock where the Freakshow around him recognize that their friend wasn't getting up any time soon. They stared at their new enemy, a 6'3 fool who dared to infiltrate their base. He held a Katana in his left hand, and didnt have any pants on for some reason.
He sliced again, this time, making a Freak Tank's head split in two. Jump-Slash. Another Freakshow down. A horizontal slice, cleaving one neatly in two. This all happened in the span of about 5 seconds. There was one last one standing, which the pantless hero kicked to the ghround, and pointed the Katana at his throat. "Tell me about this." He kneeled down to the Freakshow, almost frighteningly close to the newest recruit.
"I aint tellin' you anything, cape!"
"Oh. Alright then." He put hand fingers to teh side of his underwear. "Let me explain it this way, then. You tell me about it, and the underwere stays on."
"DEAR GOD, ALRIGHT! Itz a fightin' thing that our Tank 'ere was goin' to, till you killed him, ya FREAK!" the Freakshow snarled. Pulling pants out of nowhere, the Pantless Hero suddenly became the Pantfull Hero.
"Alright. Hmm... One wish, huh?"
"I wish that I was above Walter Redd on GSR-Lydens list of priorities."
((If this isn't being held on Test/Virtue, i'll need a loller-PL.))
Name: Blazing Angel Akiko
Level: 50
Global Handle: @PyroICFFII
Archetype: Tanker
Primary: Fiery Aura
Secondary: Stone Melee
"Soooo... There's this combat contest thing that's being organised by the, uh..." *paper rustling* "... Carluccis. Who're a mob family that used to run most of the gambling 'round here, right?"
"Right! Yes! That's right! And can I just say how dreadfully sorry I am about the-"
"And there'll be lots of superpowered types there, d'you reckon?"
"Oh yes! Oodles! Lots! Bound to be, Sir-" *pause* "Ma'am!"
"And there's gonna be a wish granted as a prize, so they'll all be fighting like a sack full of frenzied weasels over it, because that's the sort of thing that appeals to cape-for-brains heroes and villains."
"Probably! And I really am terribly sorry, so could you... Perhaps please put me down now? Please? I just wanted to learn how to play trombone! They don't mention this when you sign up! um... And I didn't say 'Let me go'. I just want to be clear on that... Ma'am."
"Ah? Fair enough then. Sure. Down you go." Akiko let go of the sniper's ankle and stood thinking for a moment as the scream dopplered away. "Wonder if it's a trap again? Hm. Who've I pissed off lately? Doesn't look like a Malta thing, and the Carnies would've used a more garish invitation. Nemesis? ... Nah. Doesn't look his style either... Guess it could be real. Not that it makes a difference, really." She paused as the rapidly fading screech cut off abruptly and leaned over the parapet to gaze at the street below. Judging by the man's wailing, the 'porter beacon had kicked in at about five meters above pavement this time. She nodded. Good.
"A wish, hm? Hell with that. Those always go spectacularly wrong... Might be a good fight or two though, I suppose."
"The gaping maw of your mind is filled with layered circles upon circles of bloody razors, I am finding."
- Twoflower
((Oh snap Jordan's in it! Ramier's so for this now...))
Name:Ramier Khastrovitch
Level:33
Global:@Soviet
Primary:Robotics
Secondary:Traps
Ramier, the Raging Russian, the Stoic Soviet, grinned evilly as he stared down the notice that one of his units had handed him.
"One wish? One wish." There was practically a spring in his step as he moved throughout the Serial Killer's base, grabbing his most poisonous bombs, canisters full of caltrops, huge packages of web grenades, everything and anything that would give him an edge in his fight. His robots tromped and crashed through the halls, the steel soldiers seemingly eager to cause some damage themselves.
"I dislike associating with common two-bit mafia men, you understand." He explained to his younger self, who wasn't interested, "But one wish? Comrade, you do know the wish I will wish for, of course."
"Da."
"So-long to capitalism...."
---
Name:Agent Rulaag
Level:11(Inches from 12, may be 13 by then)
Global:@Soviet
Primary:Storm Summoning
Secondary:Radiation
The clicks grew in intensity. Drechi's manic chatter, Miich's calm deliberations, and Rulaag's eager snickers melded in the strange Osh'Kan language to a level that could nearly disorient the untrained ear. A free wish -- Well, certainly, there would be fighting, but that was what they were bred to do!
After many fierce deliberations, it was decided that Rulaag would be the one to bring the human fighters to their knees, and after even further deliberation they settled on their demands, (Or wish, whatever the humans may have called it.)
One-hundred percent of the proceeds of all further Carlucci operations.
It was time to strike it rich.
Name: Cortianna
Level: 26
Global: @arashi
Archetype: Dominator
Primary: Mind Control
Secondary: Fiery Assault
A figure floated in seza a mile above the HellForge. It was the closest Cortianna could come to being alone. The oppressive heat drove smaller minds from the area so she only had to deal with the roar of the minds of few hundred workers and 'supervisors'.
new load of coral for processing can't keep us working like dogs Scrapyard won't let this rest need a raise of I need to keep an eye on these some pet freak of Arachnos' been snooping around the Freakshow maniacs are moving in on the north side mail for someone named Cortianna what kind of joke
Pale eyes snapped open and far below, a Cage guard found the letter he was about to shove into a burner ripped from his hand and launch straight into the air. The invitation opened before the psychic's eyes as she read it. A purple eyebrow arched as she read it.
A wish is it? I want to know my past, and if I need to liquify the minds of these others... so be it.
With a snapping of leather in the wind, Cortianna bagan making preperations.
------
Name: Tam Khat
Level: 32
Global: @arashi
Archetype: Scrapper
Primary: Martial Arts
Secondary: Regeneration
The Red Cap Hooligan giggled as he slashed with his knives, cutting deep and drawing lots of blood.
"Damn it, that was a new pair of pants!" Tam shouted just before bringing the heel of the injured leg smashing onto his collerbone. Slumping over slightly, the Red Cap blinked through the spike of pain and was about to burrow into the ground to call a 'big brother' up to finish the job when Tam's foot connected solidly with his face, hurdling him backwards and into unconciousness.
Grumbling as she fingered the tear in her pants, the wound underneith having long since closed, Tam gave the short creature a disgusted look before moving on. The caves the Caps were using to hide their 'collected' iron in was filled with junk besides iron, most of it worthless. But the iron cache was more then enough for her.
"Hmm.... gate, gate, fence, car frame, lamp poast? How the blazes did they get that here?" Taking stock... the martial artist sighed. "I'm gunna need help with this." Flopping on a chest, she reached for her comm device to call up a hand or twelve when here amber eye caught a folded envelope with her name on it.
"Bit out of the way for a mailman." She mussed unfolding the flyer. "Oh Sweet! A rumble! That'll be cool. Eh? A wish...?" Smiling, Tam shoved the flyer down her bodice and called up her friends.
I wish my girlfriend's memory was restored.
-----------
Name: Ally Khat
Level: 16
Global: @arashi
Archetype: Brute
Primary: Super Strength
Secondary: Invulnerability
The Goldbricker's jibbering was annoying...
Ally really didn't know what the idiotic male was so worked up about. He opened fire on her first, and damn did those sonic guns hurt her ears. One twitched spazmotically in remembered abuse. Thankfully, after bending the barrel into inoperitivity, the 'fight' became much more onesided. The Boomer's strength enhancing suit proving to not be a close match for her own mystically empowered muscles. He began pleading around the time she punched through his jetpack when he tried to run. That just pissed her off more, never start something unles you intend to see it through. That was her motto... sort of anyway.
"Oh do shut up and face this with at least some dignity. Stupid male." She shook his leg, from almost a mile above the courtyard of Aeon City. "So... any remote reason I shouldn't let you go here?" The cat like woman smirked.
The Boomer opened one of the small pouches on his bandolier, a feat that faintly impressed the Pretorian, concidering she had broken both of his arms earlier. A slightly crumplied peice of paper was offered to her on a badly shacking hand. Snatching it with one hand, she smoothed it open with her other, ignoring the doomed man's scream as he fell.
"Hmm.... pathetic... Bunch of postering men intent on beating eachother senseless?" Ally tapped a clawed finger against her chin thoughtfully, "Still... one wish hmm...?"
A dark grin slid across her features as she banked toward the ground.
"I wish for my... pet's... return. Then I can focus on destroying the woman who stole her in the first place."
Pinnacle
Heroes
When in danger, or in doubt; Run in circles, scream and shout.
Name: Lady Permafrost
Level: 35
Global: @Sehkmet
Archetype: Controller
Primary: Ice Control
Secondary: Empathy
Name: Baroness Frost
Level: 11 (>_<
Global: @Sehkmet
Archetype: Corruptor
Primary: Assault Rifle
Secondary: Cold Domination
Her expression thoughtful, Celia watched as Morgant paced and muttered, having looked over the invitation herself. Of course it positively reeked of danger and she was quite certain there was more to it than what the invitation itself had implied, but she could tell from the way he set his jaw and the light in his eyes that he was determined to get to the bottom of this.
And naturally, she would be right at his side.
Ice blue eyes briefly moved to run over the sleek lines of Vangelis, and she sighed. Part of her hoped she would be able to use the huge weapon - holding it made her feel important, brave, and powerful. The other part of her despised her weakness, and she clasped her hands into fists as she turned, throwing open the little closet where she kept her costumes and grabbed both of them with a scowl.
.oO(I wish I was stronger than I am.)
* * * * * * * *
Name: Shade Panther
Level: 38
Global: @Sehkmet
Archetype: Scrapper
Primary: Claws
Secondary: Regeneration
Perched on one of the shattered ruins of Siren's Call, Renata grimaced as she held a deep wound in her side. The dull green glow that pulsed bright enough to shine through her skin was more than merely cosmetic: as the pain ebbed away, so did the puncture left behind by a very determined Stalker. She'd made short work of him, giving into the primal urges that throbbed through her mind more often than not.
.oO(Damn you, Crey.) She rubbed at her temple, and after a moment's digging into her bodice, produced a slim pen-style injector which she promptly jabbed into her thigh with a grimace.
The serum that gave her the power to leap and attack like a panther was also the same one that gave her the power to heal away wounds in the blink of an eye. It was also the same serum that was slowly robbing her of her sanity and her hard-earned knowledge, grinding away years of education under its invisible, oppressive boot.
The fog lifted for a moment, and Renata let out a sigh before she dug into her trenchcoat and pulled out the flyer again, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"... yes. A wish? A cure... would be most beneficial."
((One more day until signups close))
"Two grand? Dat's all?"
"That is all, sir."
The grey-suited man in a white fedora tilted the brim of his hat over his glasses-covered eyes, twitching his brown mustache in thought. He reclined back in his chair, lifting his feet up onto the table as five others surrounded him, quiet as they anticipated his reaction.
He was "Cheesy" Adriano Carlucci, Don of the Carlucci family. They were not as prestigous or famous as the Marcones, Vendettis, or even the Family, but they made do with lurking around in the shadows. While other crime families tried to contest with the Family and try to take their throne, the Carlucci preferred to simply lay low with the rise of the Family and try to make money with easier means, with the work of innocuous restaraunts or hotels in hot demand, acting as fronts for gambling circles with drinking contests or the sports they showed on TV. However, with all the mayhem that the villains of the Rogue Isles had been spreading as of late, they had been having to pay more money just for reparations rather than actually developing their gambling circuit. Insurance companies willing to cover you had been hell to find as of late.
"Money's been tight as of late...really, really tight." Cheesy Adriano mused aloud.
All of the other five across the table nodded. They knew who to blame.
"All because of da damn Family." Adriano's grip on his fedora grew even tighter.
With the relocation of Monkey Fight Club from Sharkhead Isle to Pocket D...now the Family had a strict hold on the gambling circuit, too. Gambling wasn't blatantly "allowed", per se, but Joe Young and Cornelius constantly looked the other way whenever heroes and villains made bets on whoever won or lost. In fact, despite Joe Young's constant proclamations that "it's purely a fambly establishment, no gamblin' here", Cornelius was his bookie. Money was simply rolling in to the Family. And, admit it, watching Rikti monkeys beat the hell out of each other was a lot more amusing than watching some people bring a ball across a court and put it into a goal somehow.
"We've gotta find somethin' else." Cheesy Adriano stood up, throwing his fedora down on the table in a sudden spurt of frustration. "Fer years, the Carlucci family's been livin' along decently and quietly. We ain't fighters anymore, we gave up on dat when da Family rose to power, an' legitimate business only goes so far. Da Family's had dis idea fer a long, long time, so we ain't gonna even begin to contest their right to host it. But we ain't gonna go down without a fight. The prollem is...WHAT are we gonna fight, ha?"
A large man, who was named Church, stood up from his chair. His massive, hulking 7'2" figure only further accented all of the impossibly large muscles that wracked across his entire body, though his sleeveless vest on top of a white dress shirt and black slacks gave him the impression of a powerful business man, a fact that his slicked-back hair and neatly-trimmed beard only furthered. He was one of the last of the Carlucci family's enforcers, and had been able to singlehandedly stand up against not only swarms of other mob hitmen, but also had been personally responsible for hospitalizing several metahumans who seeked to disrupt Carlucci operations. He was a fearsome example of a man, that much was certain, and perhaps his bloodline and his fellow enforcers were likely the only reason that the rival families had not tried to do away with the Carluccis as an easy target. The Carlucci family had little in the way of defense, but what they had was powerful indeed.
"Sir, if I may be so bold as to suggest, this problem is not as bad as it seems."
The other four and Cheesy Adriano murmured. Church was a genius of a man, with his intellect rivalling his behemoth strength. If he said a possibly devastating problem wasn't something to worry about, then it really wasn't something to worry about.
Cheesy Adriano was a little young to be a Don, but he knew this fact. Church had risen from a simple enforcer to one of his best consiglieres and advisors, utterly loyal to the Carlucci family. Relief poured into his voice as he lifted up his hand, running his fingers through his hair. "What is it, ha? If it's an idea from you, Church, it's gotta be good."
Church lifted up his hand to adjust his vest. "Look at what the Family have done, if you please. They have taken a small amusement and then moved it to the right place, and profitted from it. Monkey Fight Club was little more than a minor amusement that some people too pride in, and the Family capitalized and expanded upon that."
He paused for effect. "I suggest we do the same thing. Look at entertainment these days. What is glorified? What is capitalized upon in video games, in movies, in books? Violence. Some heroes and some villains even live in the contested zones and in the arenas. Everyone has a thirst inside of them to be better than other people, and the most base way to prove this is through violence. Beating the hell out of each other until somebody falls. However...some people need a litte nudging to get them fighting each other, but when they do, it is sheer entertainment. In bars, in public, even in schools, people crowd around fighters. It's like watching a train wreck--it's sad, but it has to be seen."
Cheesy Adriano frowned, adjusting his glasses. "What're you suggestin', Church? That we gets peoples fightin' each other?"
Church nodded sagely. "That is exactly what I am suggesting. I propose we invest what little money we have left into expanding this idea and creating a fighting tournament so that people...can watch it. And bet on it. And pay us by the loads just to see it in action." He looked around the room, hmming. After thinking for a few seconds, he pointed at one person sitting across the table. "Doom Schneider. You are our spy. You have been keeping tabs on metahumans. Please, send invitations to some fighters that have caught your eye, tell them to gather at Abbot State Penitentiary." A lanky-looking man dressed in all-black nodded and then...swiftly seemed to fade from existance.
Church pointed at an attractive woman in a suit, who was adjusting her miniskirt. "Lady. You are our negotiator. Please, speak with Liandri Corporation with their respawning technology--we do not wish for our contestants to come to permanent harm, lest they are unable to give us entertainment anymore." Lady simply smiled charmingly, stepping up and bowing down in a curtsy, then walked off slowly.
Church then pointed at a dark-skinned man dressed in only a white shirt and black slacks, an eyepatch made entirely out of diamond slung over his left eye. "Glittery Joe. Please, prepare Abbot Penitentiary for our guests. You will be responsible for maintenance and cleanliness."
Cheesy Adriano put his hands on the table with a THUNK. "Hold up, hold up, hold up. Wait a sec, Church...you've got a great idea here, but there's a problem."
Church patiently turned over to the Don, stroking his thick beard with one hand. "Yes, sir, what is it?"
Cheesy Adriano closed his eyes in thought. "Like you said, some people are gonna need nudges. They aren't willin' to get inna arena just fer the helluvit. How are we gonna entice them to entertain us inna first place?"
Church continued to stroke his beard. That was the one thing he hadn't thought of.
"I can help with that." A quiet voice spoke out as the sixth person, a man in an entirely-black business attire who was wrapped and bound by barbed wire and chains, hovering roughly a foot off the ground. Red lightning flared from his eyes--he was a descendant of the Mu, much as with many other magically-inclined in the Isles and in Paragon, but he had decided to use his talents in favor of the Carlucci family. He was more powerful than many of Arachnos' Mu, and had studied likely for just as long, if not longer. There were many rumors that he had used his abilities to bound through time, studying magic and the arcane from the past, future, and post-apocalypse lands in order to gain all the magical knowledge available.
Cheesy Adriano twitched his mustache. "What is it, Sparky?" Sparky was his nickname, as his true name was unknown. He knew the real power that names could have, and thus refused to give his actual name out to anyone--even the family he so loyally served.
"People desire." Sparky spoke, calmly as ever. "People desire, and this is their fuel for continuing onwards. Whether it's just some new clothes, money, power, fame, or fortune, people desire. There is always a reason for doing something, and it is usually a desire--even if it's just a desire to be seen as a good person, or a desire to see somebody else happy. People are willing to fall, to bleed, and to hurt for their desires. Some are even willing to die for their desires. I suggest we use these desires to bring in a person. I can bring out the greatest magicks I have in my possession...and people can then tell me their single, greatest, deepest desire. And I will grant it." He smiled, the lightning dancing about in the air surrounding his eyes.
Cheesy Adriano smiled at this proposition. "I like it."
Invitations were sent out a few days later.
((Okay. Here's how it's gonna go down--this is an RPvP topic, with focus on RP. This is a fighting tournament, as you may guess, and the Carlucci family have set up this tournament for their own purposes, and have enticed the victor with a wish. How important is this wish to you? You will bleed, you will feel pain, and you will die for this wish, repeatedly.
Those expecting something similar to Fight Night will be sorely disappointed--this is an RPvP event, and it drips with RP. The pace is a LOT slower, too, at that.
You can use up to three characters for this event--if your character has more than one form, they're all permitted as just one character. The level limit for this event will be set to 31--anyone higher gets exemped down. All the arena levels from 1-31 will be used.
The arena levels are:
1-5
6-11
12-13
14-21
22-26
And 27-31.
Name:
Level:
Global Handle:
Archetype:
Primary:
Secondary:
[jot about them recieving the invitation, their reaction, and why they want to enter. Be as long or as short as you want]
"I want blah blah blah blah".
After this topic is posted, I'll wait until December 7th for people to sign up and make teams. At the end of then, if you're not on a team, I'm gonna pair you up with a random free person. If there aren't any free people left...tough.
Need a partner? Talk your friends into this. It's impossible to have too many fighters!
PREMATCHES:
At the end of these few days, every fighter will be escorted (or taken themselves, if they want), to Carnate Island, Abbot Penitentiary. This miserable prison has been converted into a nice "waiting room" for all of the contestants. Each of the prison cells has been expanded and improved until it resembles a typical room of a house, and every person bunks together with their teammate. Though it still has the bleak atmosphere of a prison, it's quite clean and well-maintained.
This waiting room is where the topic will see most interaction. As I said, it's an RPvP topic, with heavy emphasis upon RPs. After these few days are over (and maybe a few more days for everyone to settle into their surroundings), the matches will be posted up on the main room wall for everyone to read and prepare themselves for.
THE MATCHES:
All of the matches must be done within the week. Discuss with your teammates and/or your opponents as to when you will get together. Once you have decided upon a time, you can either choose to keep it silent, or post the time on the forum for everyone to see so they can watch it. In either case, though, get the results back to me within a week, both teams, by either PMing or posting it on the forums for everyone to see. BOTH TEAMS must submit reports.
The matches WILL be held on the Test server. This is for people across other servers, so that they can participate with or against each other.
Temporary powers are NOT allowed. Only SMALL INSPIRATIONS are allowed.
Matches MUST be put at the lowest level bracket of the lowest level fighter. If one fighter is level 15, one fighter is level 23, another's level 25, and the final's level 30, the match MUST be held at the level 14-21 bracket. The ONLY exception is if BOTH TEAMS AGREE UPON SETTING IT HIGHER OR LOWER.
One match and one match only isn't the way to do things--if both teams decide that a rematch would be nice, then by all means have a rematch. Match as many times as you want until there are satisfactory results that both teams feel are good. But BOTH TEAMS have to agree on a rematch, not "omg we lost HEY REMATCH SO WE CAN WIN".
At the end of the week, if people are unable to decide upon a time to meet, or haven't submitted in results, I'll decide on a result for them. Teams will be systematically eliminated by losses until theres only one team remaining.
And then what happens...?
Well, youll have to find out.
POST-MATCHES:
So you won? Great job, you can move on to the next part of the tournament! You're one step closer to getting your wish granted!
So you lost? Don't worry, there are loser brackets so you can work your way back up for a second chance!
So you lost in the loser's bracket? You're out of the tourney, but that doesn't mean you're out of the topic! You can leave the island if you want, or you can cheer on your friends/boo your enemies/try to get more information about this penitentiary or get your friends advantages!
BETWEEN MATCHES:
Use the forums! This is an RP topic, so RP! Don't like your matchup because you're against a friend? Have a drink with them and angst, try to talk them out of a match or into forfetting/not doing their best. Taunt the opponent, tell them how little chance you have! Contemplate about your wish! Reassure your teammate! Have a practice spar! Character development is KING!
Or you could investigate further into Abbot Penitentiary--maybe there's something lurking in the depths that could lead to special advantages or disadvantages for the fights...
CHURCH:
Church is our resident plot device. He makes sure everyone stays in line. He can take you for a ride if you're trying to disrupt the tournament. It doesn't matter who or what you are, or how many of you are ganging up on him, Church can kick your [censored]. Hard.
Any questions?))
Name: Sir Morgant
Level: 31
Global Handle: @TerminusEst13
Archetype: Blaster
Primary: Assault Rifle
Secondary: Electricity Manipulation
Name: Templar Morgant
Level: 13
Global Handle: @TerminusEst13
Archetype: Brute
Primary: Super Strength
Secondary: Electric Armor
Morgant frowned as he held the invitation in his hand. The entire thing rang of fishiness. There was something wrong with this, but he couldn't think of anything. He scowled as he read the location. A penitentiary? A prison? What was he, a criminal? He frowned as he folded the paper in half, pacing back and forth across the room. This would be a great time for him to truly deliver a crippling blow to all evil everywhere, and cleanse the world of the filth that contained it.
Yes. That would be a grand idea.
Morgant grinned as he opened the paper back up again, muttering softly.
"I want for all evil to be eradicated from the world, leaving only the good."
Name: Kairaishi
Level: 28
Global Handle: @TerminusEst13
Archetype: Mastermind
Primary: Ninja
Secondary: Trick Arrow
Kairaishi was sleeping on his couch silently. One of his Kabuki was behind him, swords at the ready in case anything would threaten its master--the other was on autopilot, scouting the apartment for any potential threats. Kairaishi, for all of his lightheartedness, took his security deadly seriously. He had a numerous amount of enemies that were vigilantes, supposedly "heroic" types that would slit his throat just for their own misguided view of "justice".
Blind, idiotic fools.
Reiketsu continued to prowl about the house, its mechanical eyes scanning the entire area. It heard a thump at the front of Kairaishi's apartment door, and tilted its head to the side curiously. An arrival while the puppetmaster was sleeping. It had to deal with this thing or person itself.
Click click click click click click click. Kairaishi had lock after lock after security system after security system on all the entrances to his apartment, and Reiketsu swiftly disabled them all with the precision and speed that only a machine could do.
Reiketsu flung open the door, shinging out both of its blades and pointing them forward.
Nobody was there.
Reiketsu looked down at the ground and stared at a slip of paper that was resting on the ground. Paper was harmless, unless it had contact poison all over it--a quick grip, feel, and scan denied this theory.
It was safe for the puppetmaster. Reiketsu retreated away from the door and shut it, once again activating all the security mechanisms and the locks, and glided over to Kairaishi's sleeping form. It draped the paper over his face and gripped his shoulder, giving it a few gentle shakes.
"Hnnng? Wha? Huh...?" Kairaishi shook his head, blinking as he took the paper and gave it a quick read over.
"...Y'know what? Screw anything fancy. I just want porn. GOOD porn, too. Not the crappy stuff that permeates the internet."
Name: Scordatura
Level: 21
Global Handle: @TerminusEst13
Archetype: Scrapper
Primary: Martial Arts
Secondary: Super Reflexes
Kkkkkkkkkssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
The sound of rushing water is a simple sound, indeed, and rain torrenting down onto rooftops gives this sound, quite similar to a river running, or an ocean overflowing.
Kkkkkkkkkssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
The night sky prevailed through the air, coating the entire district of King's Row in a realm full of black, illuminated simply by the pinpricks of light given by stars and by by the moon.
Kkkkkkkkkssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
A blue figure perched on a rooftop, bent down on one knee. Clad in blue-and-white armor with a blue hood hiding a visor, the owner of the armor rested on the edge of the rooftop inside of her protection. Her blue scarf whipped around in the wind, tugging at her metal-clad neck, but she simply lifted up one hand to tilt her hood further in front of her face to keep the rain out of her visor.
Kkkkkkkkkssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
Rain torrented down from the night sky.
Rain torrented down from the night sky onto the roof.
Rain torrented down from the night sky onto the roof and the blue-armored woman, who ignored the chill and continued to stare at the Row below.
She had already gotten the invitation.
She already knew she was coming.
She already knew what she want.
"I wan' a whole slew of research material fer me fightin' style!"