Your move (closed to BlackAndBlueEyes)

[redford]

John's eyes grew wide as he saw the cloud, positioned at the apex of his leap.

This time he was ready though. The edge of John's mouth upturned as he brought his forearms up to shield his body, the armor extending out in a plate as he flew through the mist.

fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me, he thought as he landed, rolling into a standing position to face the girl. It was then that he heard the hissing, and noticed the steam billowing from his arms. He brought his forearm up to see the armor pitting and reforming, the liquid metal covered in the strange substance he flew through a moment ago. It would have likely killed him had any exposed flesh come in contact with the acid.

John looked back at the girl, standing a little taller as he saw the wasps begin to fall from the sky. Come to think of it, she hadn't landed any real hits on him during the entire match. John's smirk tugged at the other edge of his mouth. Perhaps his armor wasn't as useless as he had been thinking of it. It had protected him through this match, and now provided his arms with a coating of acid that would likely hurt her once he landed more hits. John's blood began to pound in his ears as he realized this fight might be winnable after all.

He knocked his fists together a couple times before looking back at the girl through the haze of what was left of the cloud and the shimmering of the midday heat. She had an almost bored expression. He resisted the urge to wipe the beading sweat from his brow with an acid-coated hand.

We'll see if you're bored in a few minutes, John thought, stepping forward with his fists up.

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

Bunny approved.

It wasn't the fact that he man morphed the metal that covered his arms to create a shield that saw him fly through the amber cloud of corrosive death that annoyed me. It was the shit-eating grin and sense of accomplishment that was plastered all over his face after his fat ass hit the ground. As if he just did the impossible.

Congratulations, asshole. You narrowly avoided fake death within the Citadel with your stupid armor arms.

The acid bubbled away on his iron-plated limbs, trying to eat away at the metal while it worked to reform itself. He rose to his full height, towering over me as we stood in the center of the stone chessboard, surrounded by several dozen dead wasps and an endless desert. The thundering sound of metal on metal rang through the air as he knocked his fists together, his sweat-drenched muscles shimmering in the oppressive sunlight. Murder was in his eyes as he took a single step towards me.

I simply sighed. "Enough of this shit," I muttered as I tapped into the infinite well of hatred and darkness that stirred in my soul. The vines of my arms quickly turned a deep crimson as I called upon her magic once more. I focused on the point at the exact center of the mountain's head, raised my right hand into the air, and squeezed my briar-knit fist.

My adversary stumbled mid-step, and bent forward as the vines grew inside his skull. The bored through bone and tore through muscle as they grew. His baby blue eyes bugged out for the briefest of moments before thick, red ruilserk vines popped them out of his skull with a sickening squish. He opened his mouth to scream, but two more thick tendrils pierced the back of his throat and grew out of the opening, bathed in blood and shredded flesh.

With another quick wave of my hand for theatrics--pointless, as he couldn't see them any longer--the thick vines wrapped themselves around his shaved head. He gurgled for a bit, unable to properly express his surprise and agony due to the obstructions in his throat, and slapped at the makeshift vice gripping his head with his iron-clad hands. Remnants of the acid that laced his gloves ate away at the ruilserk vines with little effect.

I pictured in my mind's eye the vines squeezing my opponent's head, and the tendrils followed. The sounds of bones cracking and breaking filled my ears, as his gurgling rapidly grew in intensity before suddenly cutting out.

The man's hands fell to his sides, and I recalled the vines back into his head. What they revealed was the warped, shattered remains of his face. His eye sockets, cracked and caved, oozed a steady stream of blood. His nose had been smashed in, and was twisted at an improbable angle. His bloodied mouth only contained half of its teeth, and his jaw was clearly splintered in at least five different places.

The monks would have a blast putting him back together.

I watch with a mild disinterest as his lifeless body collapsed to the ground, squishing one of his eyeballs in the process under a meaty knee.

It had all been too... easy. Too unfulfilling It occurred to me that I had only been playing with this joker for the first few minutes, until I grew bored and ended him.

No sense of relaxation, no sense of challenge. Just quick, clean, brutal death. No art to it whatsoever.

Maybe it was time to retire from the Citadel.

"Dammit," I muttered sourly as the magic of the Ai'Brone smothered me, pulling me away from the corpse of my opponent.

[Philomel]

Name of Judgement: Your Move
Judgement Type: Workshop Submission (request from the judgees)
Participants: redford and BlackAndBlueEyes

Rewards:

redford:
780 EXP
80 GP

BlackAndBlueEyes:
1095 EXP
80 GP

[Rayleigh]

All EXP and GP have been added!

Congratulations on reaching level 12, Andy!