Round starts May 3rd, 12:01 AM CST. The Fiery Chef Vs The Not-A-Kobold! Good Luck!
Round starts May 3rd, 12:01 AM CST. The Fiery Chef Vs The Not-A-Kobold! Good Luck!
2011 Althy winner for Best Comeback, Most Helpful Moderator, and Best IC Odd Couple (With Enigmatic Immortal). 2012 Althie Winner for Mr. Althanas, and best Bromance (also, with Enigmatic Immortal). 2014 Althy Winner Best Battler for Forrals Fortress.
Gisela Open Winner (First Year), Lornius Cooperate Championship 3rd Place Winner (1/2 of 'Don't Blinke!', 2nd year).
(21:41:22) Sulla: If you kill god, Nihilism fills the void, you need the ubermensch to take the place of god. Sei is the ubermensch.
The trenches were long abandoned. Filled with brush, rocks covered in moss and grasses growing tall in the sun, they were beginning to fill in. One time they had been fresh wounds, now they were scars left by the civil war. Like all scars, there would come a day when they would be gone completely. The field where the trenches had been dug backed up against a forest that had once been lush and green. Billy knew, because he had grown up there. He lay along the slope of the trench, just peeking over the ridge to watch the forest, and remembered.
The beauty of thick ferns and tangled weeds was gone now, left only by charcoal stains between the trees. Rock and gravel were dotted amongst the black earth like bones jutting from grave dirt. The trees were mostly untouched, scorched at the bottom of the trunks and already those at the edge had been felled. While he was sure they weren’t all bad, he still didn’t understand humans.
Laying in a ravine dug in the name of war, staring at the destruction of his home in the name of turning wood into coins, he wondered if he ever would.
What a hopeless place, he thought quietly to himself as he navigated through the battered cutting grounds, and thought he could make out some of the types of trees that had been cut down, a fern there, a spruce beside it. Certainly not a place he would use for a first date, but this is where he would be finding his opponent. It might actually help if he knew what he/she/it looked like. Although he had to concede to himself, that this was partially his fault, for the only reason he was in the tournament was the human with the actual invitation that he challenged and fought. Even with him winning the engagement he tried not to think of it, as it left a bad taste in his mouth.
Breaking from his inner musings, he continued his journey forward, making sure not to step on the dried leaves and dead twigs on the ground that would assuredly announce his presence to everyone within 100 paces. Eventually he felt a prickle on the small of his back, almost as if he were being watched... Widening his eyes he realized with abject horror the truth. He CHOSE these fighting grounds, he knows im coming and is expecting me! The smart decision would obviously to lay a trap for him in these woods, especially for someone more familiar with them who could just as easily lie in wait as he might count the cards when playing with a bunch of drunken louts. He stopped walking and decided to stay where he was, prepared to shine a light so bright as to blind or counter any assaults with hand to hand combat.
Billy Corgyn had been raised among the fae of Concordia, but he had never in his life seen an angel. He only caught a glimpse of the man wandering through the burnt forest. However, the slants of light that filtered down through the thin canopy had given their shine to brilliant golden hair and loose clothes that seemed to not fit just right somehow. The kobold had chosen his perch mostly out of comfort and boredom.
"Can't leave the poor boy wandering the forest forever," he mused. "Wouldn't be right."
Getting to his feet, Billy lifted his staff above his head and waved it back and forth as he adjusted his glasses. The corgyn wasn't sure if he was right in joining up with this tournament. The fortune teller wasn't the fighting type, but if he was going to save his homeland, he needed power. The tournament promised money and glory and at least one of those would gain him some clout. With a wag of his brown tail and and cheerful bark, he began to call to his opponent.
"Dros yma!" he yelled. "I'm Billy, how're you!?"
Startled out of his fearful reverie, the otherworldly eyes of Michael zeroed in on the corgyn. So he isn't going to ambush me. He breathed a sign of relief. "I am just fine 'Billy', and a good day to you, no doubt you know I will be your opponent." Normally he would have immediately attacked the dog creature upon hearing its voice, but something about the way it perked up and barked reminded him of a dog he had taken in years past. "I suppose we should be getting to it, no point in standing around and talking, that can always be done after the fight. Shedding his cow-hide trenchcoat and letting his battered wings extend to their full width, wincing as they did so.
Michael sized up his opponent and was immediately the utter opposite of impressed, this being had entered the tournament out of necessity, not sport. He would feel bad for this. All gods above! He didn't know if he would even be able to assault the little guy. Maybe a blow to the small of his head would knock him unconscious and end the fight without too much of a struggle. He started forward, breaking into s sprint and leapt into the air above, intending to make a head over heels tumble and strike the corgyn in the back of his head with his booted ankle, and preparing to catch his balance in case it was blocked.
Birdman? the Corgyn thought when he saw the angel’s wings unfold. It was a shame, he thought as it was announced the fight would start without more ceremony, he didn’t even know this fellow’s name. And yet, he would have to put the young man in his place. Before he could so much as straighten his jacket or loosen the red cowl from around his neck, Michael had sprang.
The movement was fast, as fast as a fae warrior might ever be. Billy had learned his spells from the best, though, and managed to counter with a wave of his hand. A rush of wind came at his bidding and acted as a barrier between him and the heel of his attacker. Not bothering to see if the angel had been sent flying or merely slowed, he rolled away and came up with a swing of his staff, meaning to swat at the warrior as surely as one would swat at a fly.
Instead of a solid impact as he was expecting, Michael's foot was greeted to a barrier that stopped his leg for a moment, before giving away partially. His foreleg sunk into the barrier and then it snapped back into place, launching him away from the corgyn and sending him into an uncontrolled tumble, head over heels. This lasted for a fleeting moment until he expanded his wings and caught air, from their it was a simple task of landing on his feet. Light, that dog is better than I thought, up close that felt like fae magic, I am sure of it. Michael noted grimly. This was no longer going to be the easy fight he had expected.
Glancing over he frowned when Billy came out of his roll in a fluid attacking motion and looked for emotion in the corgyns features. With an attack like that it almost seemed like the barrier was expected to stop him outright, it almost did, he had put all his strength into it and he could feel it slightly give way before the dreadful rebound. He leaped forwards this time towards his opponent's front with a fireball composed of holy flame in his palm. This had a purpose, with his combatant having an advantage in reach with that staff of his; the only option was to go in with the attention of taking a blow himself. The attack however would leave the corgyn wide open for a counter-attack, and probability said that his opponent did not have his regenerative factor, so he was willing to take hits more than one might expect.
His snout exploded with pain, white and hot. Lights danced in his vision and the Corgyn dropped his staff as his hands immediately went to his muzzle. He didn't know or care if his attempt to swipe at the Birdman like a fly had hit or missed. With a quick conjure, water poured from his palms to soothe the burnt flesh and when they came away, singed hair and a red and bloody nose was to show for it. Behind his glasses, his eyes narrowed into a scowl, brows furrowing and lips turning upwards to show the sharp teeth in his mouth. With a growl, he lurched forwards, intending on biting anywhere he could get. The jig was up, and Billy Corgyn was done fooling around.
Success! Michael thought as his attack hit home, that is until the corgyns staff made a very heartfelt greeting to his face and broke his nose. Fuck!, He was not planning to even bother setting his nose, as his regeneration restored things to their proper place even if they were completely ass-backwards at first glance. He made the motion out of habit though, which turned out to save his life as the fangs that had been aimed at his throat instead latched around his forearm. As soon as his teeth hit home the little mutt braced his clawed feet against his chest for a foothold and scrambled to yank his head and swing his arms to tear up Michael's arm and chest respectively.
The Archangel grinned at this, these close quarters grappling situations were what he lived for! He started his offensive by bringing his fist down towards the corgyns head, although he couldn't tell if he had hit home or his own arm... He repeated this a few times then attempted a swing at the midsection currently at home hanging from his arm and hosting appendeges that were assaulting his chest. He finished off the exchange by grappling Billy's shoulders with his free arm and began to radiate light with all of his might. His own flesh emitted wisps of smoke a bit and it became clear that he was attempting to burn the corgyn while also trying to pull him closer. He had to grit his teeth from the pain of feeling his own meat cooking, after all this tactic was only applying some of the heat from his holy fire to his skin. Trying as he was with all his might to keep the corgyn from disengaging the grapple, he could only hope that he did not notice his wounds closing ever so slowly and wondered what would cook first, the inside of his mouth or the shoulders that Michael had a grip on.
Last edited by JLScrolls; 05-14-15 at 09:33 PM. Reason: Uhh, my opponent lost the fight and i need to delete some actions for continuity errors.
His growls as he tore into the angel's forearm soon turned to yelps as pain as the skin beneath his teeth began to flash and burn. He could smell the cooking meat, and he began to salivate. It was almost enough to soothe the pain from his heat-numbed tongue to his aching gums. A ball of ice formed in one of his hands and he intended to throw it into his opponents face, except there wasn't any time. A thick fist came down hard on the top of his skull. The pain wasn't as brilliant as the flashes of white that danced in front of his eyes. Again and again, he was struck until finally he let go.
A dizzying wave of nausea crept over him and then the edges of his vision went from crisp, clear, spotted with white to a hazy dark. It swooped in to consume him as surely as night would come to the sky above the forest. When he fell to the ground, his muzzle to the charred earth, the ball of ice rolled from his hand. Bits of charcoal and black bark clung to it, and as it lay still, so did the Corgyn. Unconscious, he dreamed of a forest untouched by forest or axe.
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