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Thread: Round 2: Lute and Hammer Vs League of Nightmares

  1. #21
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    Abomination's Avatar

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    Draug didn't expect the orc to be able to push him back. As Otto was punted off, the Homunculus found himself a bit light in the weapons department. The swords that didn't strike the orc were discarded and the rest rolled away with him. Draug tried to respond to the impending attack by moving his body, but found himself impaled into the ground by the stub of the spear again. It punctured his lung and made him breathe blood instead of air, every gasp causing blood to drain out of his mouth, which he opened as wide as he could. As Eriag's leg went up, a dagger flew out of Draug's throat. The giantess barely avoided it as it grazed the side of her throat, but it was enough to cause her to stagger backwards and drop her leg back down to balance herself.

    Draug used this opportunity to put all six of his arms on the spear and pull it out of his body yet again, throwing it aside as he lifted up his legs then had his body follow them, jumping from the ground onto a shaky stance. He didn't have time to recuperate however as Eriag was already back in action and throwing a big fist aimed at the side of his head. Before impact, Draug's skin shook and tightened, and when the fist smashed into his head, half of the force of the hit recoiled back into the orc's hand, breaking her knuckles. The Homunculus nearly tripped from the blow, lucky that a helmet was integrated into his head and kept his skull from shattering. It still cracked, momentarily causing his vision to blur and spin, his knees feeling almost weak enough to buckle. He couldn't maintain his concentration and his excess arms fell off, leaving him only with his original two. If he was a human, such an attack would've rendered him helpless.

    But he was no human.

    He had made contact with her, his unique body accepting her very being into his mind. He assimilated bits and pieces of her memories, of her orcish, of her song. All the speech before suddenly made sense, and now he had some words for her as well.

    "Lat viz. Viz mat."

    He saw the rage in her eyes and clenched his fist, but before he could make a move, Eriag stopped her next attack when she felt a sharp pain in her back followed by a cold burn that caused her to yell out in pain. She turned her head and saw Ciato out of the corner of her eye. The Mystic was smiling mischievously as he pulled the kunai out, jumping backwards to avoid her retribution.

    This time, Draug knew that his partner was not in the wrong. He took the opportunity to throw a right hook that planted itself into Eriag's face, sending her stumbling back. He followed it with a haymaker with his other fist that struck her in the ribs that knocked the wind out of her. Then came another punch from him, then another, until there was a flurry of fists making new bruises all over her body. The effect of the gas was making the crowd go wild, causing them to shake the fence so hard it threatened to topple over completely. They had even started fighting amongst themselves, starting fistfights that echoed the one being had inside the pit.

    Eriag was not defenseless. Draug only had the use of one lung, so soon he started running low on air which made his punches weak. She started blocking the attacks with her forearms and even mounted a counter-attack with a strong right swing, but Draug was prepared as he caught it in his left hand, clasping down upon her fist and pulling her in order to headbutt her forehead. The attack disoriented her as she reeled back, and the Homunculus continued his onslaught of fists, kicking up sand and splashing blood and sweat with every hit. His knuckles were so bruised from the barrage that they were entirely covered in his own blood. His skin was rumbling in his shoulder blades, his wrists, and his chest.

    "Koh fund!"

    After a particularly devastating swing that nearly knocked Eriag down, he ripped daggers from his shoulder blades, wrists, and chest. Each blade found a new home somewhere on Eriag's body, puncturing her stomach, breasts, legs, anything that looked big and squishy. The poison she made contact with earlier was making her nauseous, and she couldn't tell anymore whether the pain was from the poison or her wounds. To finish the job, Draug reached into his chest and pulled out a bloody mace, getting ready to knock Eriag's head off once and for all like it was a melon mounted on a stand.

    It was then that the fence finally gave way, sending dozens of crazed spectators into the pit. Their fear was completely gone, and they all decided to challenge Draug. Within moments they had surrounded him, and he had to use his mace to dismember the audience members one by one. He couldn't even see Eriag anymore, who he assumed collapsed from the damage. He thought he could rush through them, but the damage he sustained from the spear was still not repaired. He couldn't start sprinting, in fact he was barely standing up anymore. Blood was still pouring out of his mouth from attempting to breathe. Such damage could not finish him, even if it did slow him down. If he had to go through every single one of these interlopers to get to his opponents, he would kill every single last one of them.



    "You (are an) insect. Insects die."
    "Time (to) end (this)!"
    Last edited by Abomination; 03-04-13 at 12:51 AM.

  2. #22
    Radical Radasanthian
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    Otto's Avatar

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    Bits of sand danced up Otto's nose with each shallow breath; he didn't know why, but this irritation seemed to stand out from the others. His mind was starting to swim, whether from blood loss or poison, he also wasn't clear on, and the pain had started to fuzz out. Even with his bad arm pinned beneath the weight of his body, Otto felt as comfortable as he could be at the moment. The pain he was in now would have nothing on what would afflict him should he move.

    The ground jumped, grains arcing up through the air, as something landed with a crash. With an approaching cacophony of lighter thumps and thuds, members of the enraged crowd sprinted past the prone Orc. Sprinting towards Erirag and the others.

    The music had stopped.

    Zouk'hai. Otto tried to push up, but the broken bones in his left arm grated against each other. A pathetic whimper flew from his lips. He felt sick now, and to make things worse, the pain had flared up again.

    Marr daumab.

    He gritted his teeth, and pushed again, with all the weight placed upon his right arm. Slowly, unsteadily, Otto swayed back into a kneeling position. This time he didn't just whimper; Otto failed to choke back a single, loud sob, which seemed to echo back and forth inside his helmet. The wound in his gut ached every bit as bad as the numerous other stabbings he had suffered at the Citadel, and the few genuine ones courtesy of the war. Pain like that was not just an inconvenience - it let you know something was truly, deeply wrong.

    Daumab drautan fukishamum.

    He stood up. Then he swayed a little, staggered, and landed on his knees again. The agony became his world.

    Daumab drautan fukishamum!

    He stood up. Then he swayed a little, staggered, and lurched forwards. His booted feet dragged through the soil, leaving twin snake trails behind them, and his broken arm swung loosely at his side - the shield he had left behind, unable to bear the weight. The crazed mob had pressed up against something that Otto could not see through the throng of bodies. Judging by the crunching sounds and flying blood, it was probably the drok and his partner. His eyes fell upon the stricken body of Erirag; whatever the former spectators were doing, it seemed that they were more interested in the upright and moving. He shuffled over to see for himself the extent of Erirag's injuries.

    "Erirag", he muttered. His voice was hoarse, wheezing, apologetic.

    Marr fukishamum.

    The song was one more thing which had started to blur together for him. He put the hammer away, and noticed the glint of metal over Erirag's body - daggers. Poison, he thought, pulling them out one by one. Then he grasped a thick green wrist, slick with blood, and pulled. His grip slid free and he fell backwards once more, to land on his back. The air went out in one wracking cough; Otto would have cried some more if he had the breath. After a few seconds, he was able to gulp down some more air. Strength returned to his limbs, even as his mind continued to falter. A little slower this time, her rose up, took the wrist once again and pulled. Slowly, but surely, they made their way backwards.

    Dragging the behemoth through the sand tested every part of Otto's remaining strength. With each pull, the muscles in his stomach relived the pain of the sword going through, the blackness around his vision grew and the migraine pounding the inside of his skull became a little more painful, a touch more sickening. Halfway to the antechamber doors through which they had entered the arena, Otto threw up. Blood, bile and healf-eaten chunks sloshed around in the iron cup of his bevor, soaking his beard, splashing up his nose and burning his lips. Otto choked and sputtered inside the fetid iron cage - but he continued on. His left leg had almost given up, and he could only push with his right, but he continued on.

    In the last few feet of the trek, the gates swung open for the sorry pair. Otto hardly even noticed. He was too busy with making sure he moved the correct foot in time, or that he didn't let go of Erirag's wrist. He dragged her on for a few more steps through the portal, and the last thing he saw before the heavy gates clanged shut was a glimpse of the drok's black eyes... and then the rough, grainy surface of the doors blocked the view.

    Shof miruurz.

    Otto let himself collapse. He didn't even bother trying to get up again, although his hand did fumble it's way along Erirag's arm. He tried to find a pulse, and to his tired surprise, he found one - it was strong, too, and throbbed up her entire arm. Her hand had clenched tightly shut, and that was where the pulse was strongest. However, the oddity of this failed to strike home in Otto's weary, blood-starved and poisoned brain.

    This was it, then. Otto waited. Soon, the far door - the entrance to the waiting room, not to the arena - would burst open, and shuffling footsteps would mark the arrival of their tenders. It was entirely possible that they would be dead by then; Otto would not mind that, so long as the smell was gone. Consciousness was transient, pouring rapidly through his fingers.

    He closed his eyes, and slipped away.
    Last edited by Otto; 03-04-13 at 05:00 AM.
    Previous levels: I - II - III - IV - V

  3. #23
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    Ciato Orlouge's Avatar

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    Ciato Orlouge
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    He had seized the opportunity the second it presented himself before him. The blood that splashed out from Erirag’s open wound left a wide smile upon the Mystic’s face. He could only imagine how the combination of pain, poison, and cold burns felt upon her exposed flesh. Between that and Ciato’s first impalement of the giant orc, he thought that there was no way that victory could belong to Lute & Hammer.

    Just as he finished the blow, Draug capitalized and began another assault. Ciato could hear the sound of metal breaking coming from above, the excited crowd now wishing to participate in the blood sport as well. Ciato unsheathed his blade, his left hand still holding the enchanted kunai, and extended his arms as if to tell his audience to try and attack him. He had, after all, hoped that this very moment would come.

    The fence gave way and dozens of people started pouring in. They acted as though they were ants whose bed had just been kicked in. They came wielding anything that they could hold; broken glass bottles, twisted pieces of chain link fence, even sticks and stones were held in the hands of the people who moments ago were satisfied merely viewing.

    His blades whistled through the air, an orchestra of violent melodies as they easily tore through flesh and cloth alike. The sand quickly was turning into a deep shade of crimson due to his onslaught, but Ciato’s eyes were focused elsewhere. He had found Erirag amongst the heaviest of the rioters, getting pelted by God only knows. The nobleman ran for her, his weapons thrusting and slashing their way past anyone impeding his charge. Erirag fell around the time that Ciato had arrived, almost causing the Mystic’s eyes to roll into the back of his head from pleasure.

    She was breathing, but bloodied and beaten as well. Ciato’s eyes remained the same as he found the perfect area to mark the woman, the kunai being dug deep into her inner thigh. He licked his lips as he carefully turned the blade, running it down into a curve. He withdrew the dagger only to drive it back in to the beast. Blood splatter onto his face, which only served to match the color of his stained vest and pants at this point. He continued to carve, making a full circle into the flesh of this woman who reminded Ciato of so much pain.

    C.O. Ciato Orlouge.

    He stood up to admire his initials, his mind hoping that even with healing, they would scar over and be with Erirag forever. He hoped that she would carry this weight for the rest of her life. His eyes shifted around, settling upon the form of Otto as he stumbled towards his partner. Ciato vanished into the thick of the crowd once more, his weapons once again raising a concerto of gore. He maimed, dismembered, cut, impaled, and ripped through the bystanders until the floor of sand was replaced by organs and limbs, a very arena of death.

    These people, as well as Ciato’s opponents, now saw what it meant to get involved with the League of Nightmares.

    ((Final post from Ciato. Good fight))
    Last edited by Ciato Orlouge; 03-04-13 at 08:25 AM.

  4. #24
    Radical Radasanthian
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    Spoils request:

    Erirag would like to claim the mysterious amulet as spoils. I am not aware of the details, but it will be used in relation to her bardic skills. Specifics will need to be resolved at a later date, though.
    Previous levels: I - II - III - IV - V

  5. #25
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    Abomination's Avatar

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    Draug Remi
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    "Tch," Draug spat. No matter how many he cut down, they kept coming. He managed to break through the mass of bodies to where he was fighting with Eriag, but the only remnant of the towering orc was a fresh blood stain. Now he had two unfinished fights in this damn tournament!

    The spectators closed in, at least those that weren't fighting amongst themselves. Some of them were chanting for blood, for flesh, for a piece of anything they could find. Draug then noticed the invisible gas that now spread throughout the pit. Something like that didn't affect him, but he could feel it on his skin. Blood finally clotted in his damaged lung to let him actually breathe reliably again, even if it was only off one lung. Draug realized something about these maniacs. While they didn't wear dark robes or worship Cassandra Remi, they were behaving like Cult members. The only difference was that their desires were not focused, they were sporadic and uncontrollable. That is what the Cult offered- a controlled outlet for those desires, to spread the true freedom of will.

    "I see," he muttered. "Mother is trying to teach me." His own will... he never considered having one. Was mother trying to change him? He couldn't experience what these people were feeling, but he understood their impulses. Lifting his mace up high, he declared, "Anyone who manages to land a hit on me will be taken to the Cult! I am Draug, I am Her son, I am pain!"

    Reports circulated around Lornius of the massacre in Lyridia, a violent riot orchestrated by the Cult of Blessed Torture. Most of the spectators were found dead in the cellar arena. The ones in charge were slowly starting to lose control of the people of Lornius. Crime increased, and many of the suspects were caught singing praises to a woman known as The Dark Mother.

  6. #26
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    [Judgment temporarily redacted for training purposes. Original saved on my laptop and to be replaced after - Shinsou]
    I could laugh...
    ...Till I die!

    Avatar Edited to Look AMAZING by Sagequeen

  7. #27
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    Experience and gold added.

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