A Battle...with Mushrooms!

[Nautilus]

Closed!

Although it was hardly a minute past eight, the sun was shedding it's warmth like an overly-hot winter coat that it then discarded carelessly over the city. The aroma of fresh baked bread from the patisserie around the corner seemed exemplified by the early heat, not yet strong enough to cause discomfort but promising of an unseasonable scorcher ahead. Shadow absently flexed the hand of her gun arm as she stood just beyond one of the Citadel entryways, sun flashing conspiciously off the black and silver metal. Her days in sunny Radasanth thus far had been reasonably pleasant, beginning as an innocent trip into one of the continent's larger cities in a search for vital planetary information. She had more or less resigned herself to the fact that she'd likely be an occupant of Althanas for a while yet, and in the meantime a little information gathering concerning the planet's history was appropriate. She'd likely find a clue as to how she might return home, buried deep within the text she so fervently devoured.

Great things had been said about the city's 'libraries', as they were called. Great, great things, rightfully so, and while the absence of a computer certainly complicated assimilation, it was hardly an impedance. She rather enjoyed the process of selecting relevant volumes and relegating herself to an unoccupied table, then commencing to meticulously scan each and every page.

Migrating from library to massive library had proven an enjoyable experience, but Shadow could not escape the guilt knowing that while she studied her books in the safety of a regularly patrolled building, her comrades were unfathomable expanses away, desperately struggling to win a war against enemies they hadn't a hope of beating, drawn closer and closer to total annihilation with every poor decision their impossibly myopic government thought to make.

They were dying. Without her.

Even with the knowledge that she was doing everything in her power to remedy her situation, it all too often felt hopeless. Perhaps that was why she found herself outside the Citadel this morning, stripped of race and history. Those things had little consequence, in the long-run, for those who came here. Having encountered it innumerable times in her scanning, Shadow was well aware of the acclaimed building's function. Super-advanced robotic organism or no, the second she stepped through that threshold she would be just another bloody face in the fray.

Fighting in an area wasn't going to solve her problems, but at the moment, the prospect of battle was...comforting. As young as she was, Shadow's life before now had revolved around the war like an inconsequential speck of space dust pulled into the gravity well of a dying star that would eventually destroy everything within reach. Such a long period of relative inactivity was rusting and weirding her out. She was fidgety. Fidgety! Her systems needed a challenge, even in their deprived state. She had to be fighting...she had to be doing something. The tame, safe libraries would wait, as would their as of yet uncovered truths. It was time for something a little more familiar.

+++

Her arena was a large rectangular room. The walls and tall ceiling were stark white and it was nicely lit, although there wasn't a visible source for the illumination. The floor was composed of firm turf bearing short and impeccably trimmed grass. There were variously sized boulders strewn haphazardly about the place, along with colourful mushrooms that raised their conspicuous mantles from the tips of flawless green lawn. She noticed there were fifteen mushrooms in all: three red, three blue, three grey, two yellow, two white, one brown, and one black, scattered about the grass in much the same fashion as the boulders.

Shadow curiously prodded the nearest red fungus with her toe; the slight pressure toppled it. An ominous hiss and three openings materialised on the two longer walls. The bitroid barely had time to throw herself on her stomach as jets of fire shot from the openings, lasting about thirty seconds before dissipating. The openings in the walls vanished into seamless white. Oh...this is going to be interesting. She got up and tossed her cloak to the side, being especially cautious to not touch any of the other mushrooms.

Mushroom Key:

Red = Flames.
Blue = Water.
Yellow = Lightning/electrcity.
Grey = Mammoth scythes on poles drop from the ceiling and swing for a bit.
White = Random!
Brown = Earthquake.
Black = Whatever you, Winterhair, should wish.

Duration of these events/how they occur is up to the player. :] Note that activating any mushroom seriously endangers all parties. Once a mushroom has been used, it can not be used again. Whee!

[Winterhair]

Thank ye, thank ye. This shall be interesting...
I have decided that the black mushroom shall explode if touched, causing minor to medium fire-based damage. And the scythes shall be be on wooden poles for grey, if you don't mind.

The day was young, Vincent decided, as he looked up at the sky and into the bright yellow orb called the sun. He had his coat off as he relaxed outside on the rooftop of the Scarlet Lady, a bordello that many fellow men had suggested to him on a night of drinking. The drinks were exquisite, the service and professionalism refreshing, and the ladies even more lovely than any virgin to be found.

He had taken the night to test those rumors, and had found them to be quite true.

The young girl he had taken to bed lay down in the room below, physically worn out from the ferocity that Vincent had unleashed earlier upon her body. Like in battle, Vincent considered sex to be an act of beasts, where one can loose control of themselves. He had proven that last night.

Although he was a savage man, Vincent was not without compassion, and had decided to wait for the girl to awaken and give her her tip personally, for she had been nearly a match for him, with a wild, untamed body and dangerous "Spanish" eyes that sent shivers down his spine. And besides, he wanted to know her name, in case he came back again. Vincent smiled as the thought went through his head. Oh yes, he would coming back again, most definitely.

But as of now, boredom was starting to seep back into Vincent's bones, and he found himself itching for the taste of blood and the feel of steel again. It had been too long since his battle with that angel last in the Citadel, and he was curious to see if maybe like he, she had decided to stick around Radasanth for a little while.

So, the day was young. Vincent sat up and stretched, his white hair falling over his taught, tan body as he felt the sweat slide down him like a cool rain. The morning had come, and the Citadel called for him.

"Vincent?" He heard the prostitute's voice below, in a mixture of both weariness and anger. He smiled and dropped down from the roof to the balcony, almost on top of the unsuspecting girl, who uttered a soft scream before he covered her mouth with his.

"Don't worry..." He murmured against her mouth as he crushed her to him, and he felt the stirrings of heat down in between his legs and underneath his gi pants as he felt the girl squirm against him. "...I wouldn't just leave."

"I know you wouldn't." she smirked and batted her eyes at him as she leaned backwards, exposing her breasts to him. "Or else you would have had all of Radasanth on your ass."

He laughed at her threat, then hungrily kissed her throat and listened to her moan. Well, maybe he had time for one more excursion...

"What's your name, by the way?" He muttered as his hands wandered. "...I can't keep callin' ya the saucy wench with the dark eyes, you know..." He chuckled deep in his throat as he carried her to the bed.

"Love, you can call me anything you like."

"But whats your name?"

"...Samantha."

He laughed again before pushing her down to the bed and looking down at her with eyes of the beast. "Well, Samantha...lets make love until the world cries, shall we?"

--------------------------------------------------------------

A little later, Vincent stood once more before the doors of the Citadel, his black coat floating out behind him on the wind and his hand on the smooth polish of his sword's scabbard, a smile on his lips as his silver eyes studied the place.
No matter how many times he came here, he was always impressed with the sheer size of the Citadel. It was enormous, probably large enough to hold a duel between two giants. Maybe that was why he felt so small compared to it...either that, or the memories of giants of a different kind who had come before him.
He needed no urging from the monks around him to move forward and into the closest open door, whereupon he disappeared into a cloud of swirling light.

When he came to, he found himself in a white room with grass and strange mushrooms and boulders covering the expanse. It was a strange arena, and Vincent thought that to himself when he noticed a large figure standing just a little ways off. Large, but slim, however. He couldn't make out the figure clearly, so he slowly walked towards his opponent, drawing the sword at his side with a thin, rasping sound that somehow echoed through out the entire arena.

"Hey, you-" He began to say, but then his foot brushed up against one of the grey mushrooms, and immediately a shiver of apprehension went down his spine. He spun around just in time to see three sets of giant, grim reaper-esque' scythes swing down from the ceiling, homing with deadly intent on not only him but on the figure just a little ways off as well.
He didn't panic. He rarely did. Instead, he spun and slashed at the same time, his sword training paying off as his blade cut through the wood of one of the scythes directed at him, cutting the sickle off about four feet above the blade itself and sending it flying straight into the wall, where it embedded itself with a sickly thud.

"What the hell was that?" He exclaimed as he sidestepped the remaining two, which continued on their way to the figure he had been addressing.

[Nautilus]

Not at all my good sir!

Fortunately, she saw them coming. Shadow activated the mechanisms located in the soles of her feet -- there was a short high-pitched whine that grew louder until it ended in a low, anticlimactic thwip that sent a minor shock wave pulsing through the ground. The bitroid jumped at just the precise moment, using the wave to gain the needed height, even if it was in mere decimals of a fraction of an inch. She cleared the first scythe and grasped the wooden pole of the second which had been swinging parallel to it's twin, directing her weight so she swung stiffly around much like a cold gymnast on a bar and landed in a crouch behind it. The blades continued and were swallowed harmlessly by the wall.

As she stood her crossbow emerged from the cannon chamber on her right arm, clicking into existence and automatically loading one of it's bolts. The man towered by human standards, clasped in his iron grip an archaic metal sword nearly as tall as he. Shadow was by nature a long-range fighter; if his primary weapon was his sword, then the both of them would be leaving their respective comfort zones for this battle.

"I do believe the fungi on this arena prompt different booby traps that somehow correspond with their colouration," she replied with a hint of amusement lingering in her synthetic female voice, remembering that he had touched a grey mushroom. Shadow called on her armouring and thin, angular dull black plates started silently forming over her thighs, upper and forearms, shins, chest, shoulders and midriff, and a dark visor-like contraption dropped over her optics so no green was visible. This bulked up her appearance only slightly.

Without waiting another nanosecond, she calmly shot the white fungus nearest to her, piercing straight through it's mantle with a moist crunch.

Yes. This was already feeling good.

[Winterhair]

This battle works out perfect with one of my plans for Vincent. Thank you for choosing such an interesting arena! :D

His opponent had turned out to be some machine-like being, as far as Vincent could tell. Standing a few inches taller than himself, its lithe, cold body was imposing, even to Vincent. But it wasn't fear that the swordsman felt: he was excited at the prospect of fighting such an opponent, and watched in fascination as the machine grew armor seemingly right out of its skin and even pulled a crossbow from its right arm.

So, a long-range fighter...Vincent thought, a twinge of mild irritation going through him as he remembered his fight with the angel. She had been a long-range based fighter as well, he could remember, and had angered him by playing with the fact that she could just float out of his goddamn reach.

But this opponent, even though she also held a weapon unsuitable for close-ranged combat, didn't seem to have the same capabilities as his previous opponent, and plus 'her' demeanor seemed different than the angel's. He referred to her as "she" because of the pure femininity in the thing's voice. And so, he felt only a dull irritation, not the rage he held the last time he had fought.

Before he could reply to her slightly confusing statement (Vincent had honestly not understood a word of it.), she promptly shot the nearest mushroom near her with the crossbow attached to her right arm, and Vincent took a step back in surprise as a white gas emitted from the mushroom and immediately surrounded itself around the two combatants like armor.

Vincent gasped as he felt something probing around his body, poking at him, examining him for god's sake, and he swung blindly at the white mist surrounding him, trying to cut whatever it was that wouldn't stop touching him. "Fucking stop!" He yelled in anger, and the mist seemed to react to his anger, literally flinching backwards as if it had been struck physically by his words. Before he could think what this could mean, the mist around him blew away as if in a sudden wind, and suddenly Vincent stood face to face with a completely white version of himself.

The thing's face was emotionless, its white eyes blank, but other than the little details the creature looked exactly like him. "What the hell..." Vincent muttered and drew his blade up before him in case the thing decided to attack, but to his amazement the thing shook it/his head, and pointed at the machine-lady.

He looked over to her and saw that she too had a doppelganger of her own, which looked ready for battle with a loaded crossbow in its right hand. Vincent looked over to his, and saw that it too held a serrated nodachi, as white as it.

"Well, well...explain this." He chuckled quietly and gestured to the white clones of the two fighters. Then he frowned, as if reconsidering his words, and then ran straight at the pair of machines. To his mild satisfaction and surprise, he saw that his clone was also doing the same, and he smiled in grim satisfaction as he dashed madly forward, scabbard in his left hand and his blade in his right, ready to strike.

Doppelgangers: They can suffer up to three hits before dissipating, and do half damage.

[Nautilus]

:D Also, your post was most excellent. Doppelgangers FTW

Well, she hadn't been expecting this, exactly.

Then again, Shadow had learned by now that the words 'very usually physically impossible' did not apply to many phenomena here. Extensive memory banks that would normally hold her enemies' base schematics and security protocols were now full of her recordings and observations of the frequent and pretty bizarre Althanian occurrences that she had had the (dis)pleasure of witnessing thus far.

She studied it with a vague scientific curiosity, noting that every scanner and spectrum channel on her person brought her no closer to identifying the ethereal clone. Yes, not too unusual at all. Satisfied that the spectral copy was definitely on her side, the 'troid's attention resumed on her opponents, who were charging toward her now with clear violent intent. Shadow opted for a defensive stance, ignoring her painful hip. The infernal joint was stubbornly resisting automatous repairs and she suspected it would continue to dog her until she got it replaced, whenever that happened to occur.

As the human duo neared her position, her clone side-stepped and bodily confronted Actual!Swordsman, ducking low and aiming a kick at his ankles whilst simultaneously firing it's bolt upwards at his pectoral area. The movement would render it momentarily incapable of defending itself, and she wondered if it had inherited her old nagging injuries, the stiffness and the unnatural pull in her limbs. It was an unforeseen asset, yes, but just how long would it last? Shadow in turn took a step backward and shot for the man-clone's head, attempting to keep a distance between herself and that fierce blade.

[Winterhair]

Vincent was suddenly confronted by the clone of the machine woman, which moved with such speed that he was momentarily stunned. But only momentarily. He grinned as it lashed out at him without pausing, and jumped forward to both dodge the clone's sweeping feet attack and tried to flip over the arrow. However, Vincent was no acrobat, and he felt a fleeting moment of pain as the arrow ripped through his gi pants and cut his leg. At least it didn't hit...He muttered in his mind, and landed in a roll on the other side of the clone. At first, as he quickly rolled to his feet, it seemed as if he were going to spin and attack the machine-woman's clone, but instead he continued sprinting at full speed towards the original, who had now fired at his doppelganger. He watched with amusement and interest as the clone did something he himself would have done, deflecting the arrow by simply swatting it away like a buzzing bee. A dangerous move, and one that Vincent himself had only been able to perform once or twice, despite his own proficiency with the blade. But he admired his twin's skill, even as the two swordsmen rushed the original machine with obvious intent in their actions.

Vincent swept around to the back, cutting off the woman-thing's escape path as he kicked up dust, the tip of his blade scratching the ground and causing mild sparks. He grinned with glee at the pace of this battle, and could feel his heart pounding in expectation of the incoming blows. What would she do, now that she was forced to close-combat by both he and his clone? Would she try to retreat, or stand and face the incoming duo? There were a billion thoughts in his head, but all he wanted now was to--

A crossbow bolt suddenly zipped in front of his face, humming as a faint trail of mist flew behind it, and Vincent, startled out of his thoughts, lost balance and fell backwards, trying to simultaneously dodge the attack and move forward at the same time. He fell on his back in a comedic position, his butt thrust up in the air as his feet touched the ground just above his head, but he quickly spun his feet around in a sort of street-dance move that eventually had him come to his feet, and there was no trace of humor in his face. He spun and glared at the machine-clone, which was already loading another bolt into its weapon, and hissed an order to his own: "You. Take the machine--I've got the clone." He ordered it in clipped tones, unable to know if it truly understood him or not, as it simply continued to now attack the woman/machine anyways, bearing down with the mist-blade in its hands in a crazed, berserker-like fashion. He took no time seeing if it would need any help taking her/it down, and instead rushed forward, leaping into the air to deliver a flying kick to the machine-clone's face.

[Nautilus]

Shadow kept her feet moving, the blunt support claws tearing none too gently into the lawn and leaving a dander of slivered grass wherever she stepped. She kept her optics trained on the flexible human's clone, steadily backing up and keeping her bow directed at the chest of the closest attacker.

The results of her prior investigation of the arena had been digested by her internal computer and were superimposed faintly on the HUD as to not interfere with her vision. The computer collaborated with her motion systems and determined when she was approximately five feet from a boulder to her hind left, and approximately three from a yellow-coloured mushroom. The objects as they appeared on the screen, as if seen from above, blinked softly against the clear blue in additional alert. Without turning her back to the clone, who was practically on top of her, she speedily closed the distance and had her heels at the massive rock, narrowly avoiding the mushroom.

The unearthly blade swung downward assisted by gravitational forces in what had to be a hopeful killing blow. Shadow dodged to the side, cursing in staticy Machina as the blade shaved a portion of exposed metal at her elbow joint, throwing a glorious array of cherry-red sparks in the process. Without missing a beat she plowed into the clone with her left shoulder pressed against it's left arm and triggered her bow on the opposite hand to shoot at it's head in close proximity. "Frakker!" she growled. It's body was painfully icy against her armour.

A bit across the arena, clone-Shadow was toppled -- CLANG! -- when the swordman's feet connected with it's faceplates. It rolled dazedly onto it's abdomen and discharged a bolt at the first potion of man that caught in it's sights.

[Winterhair]

Sorry I haven't responded sooner. It been hell over on my end, and you know how drama is. -_- Well, hopefully this is a decent post.

As Vincent felt his attack connect, he felt at the same time an icy coldness creeping up his leg, and he uncharacteristically shivered in mild fright at the feeling. Doubt made its way into his mind. What were these ghostly doppelgangers, and why had they appeared? Their actions had suggested nothing other than they were there to help their counterpart in battle, but as Vincent's body fell to the ground in a heavy thump that caused the strange, artificial grass around him to flatten, he shivered once again as lingering goosebumps went up his legs and up to his back. He stared as his ghostly opponent rolled to lie on its abdomen in one smooth motion, obviously unfazed by his powerful kick, and barely had enough time to roll himself out of the way as the machine clone let loose another one of its deadly crossbow bolts. It ripped a hole through his black coat as it skimmed the side of his ribs, and he could feel the power behind that shot. Coming to his feet, he heard a loud THUNK! and as he turned his head quickly he saw a crossbow bolt protruding from the forehead of his clone. At first, he thought that was the end of it and almost groaned out loud.

To his and to his opponent's great surprise, however, the ghostly clone simply reached up and pulled the crossbow bolt right out of its own head and tossed it aside to the ground, then continued its lethal assault upon the original machine woman with renewed ferocity. Vincent blinked in amazement at what had just happened, trying to make sure he hadn't been seeing things. But he didn't have long to pause, as the other clone had already clambered to it's feet and was locking another arrow in place. "Oh no ya don't..." He growled and rushed the the clone, swinging his long blade in a horizontal arc at it's midsection as his great birth moved forth. His silver eyes had begun to lazily swirl, and his muscles grew tense.

Let me clarify something. The clones must suffer from three damaging hits, or blows that would normally cripple the opponent. i.e. head shot, cutting off of a body part, shooting the arm, mid-waist slash (as I'm performing now), etc...You get the picture. In essence, lets say that my clone has 2 hits left and yours still has 3 at this point.

[Nautilus]

It's perfectly okay. ^^

Shadow's optics widened behind the battle visor. Oh for the love of the Vortices...that should have killed it! The clone shoved her aside to prime hacking distance and then whirled, commencing with said hacking in proper berserker fashion. The robot took a few blows with her left forearm, the clone matching her frantic backward stumble and blocking off every endeavor at escape. Sparks jettisoned with the wail of metal screeching on metal, and all she could do was continue to hold her arm up and watch as the black plating dented and began to crack.

Interesting...why has not my armour failed against these attacks? It is not that strong yet...

Cling! Shang! Thwing! Tang!

Ah, there we go.

The plating on her forearm finally split and scattered in an explosion of dark shrapnel. The force of this final blow had Shadow on her rear, holding the damaged arm to her chest as bruised wires fizzled feebly. The clone paused and raised the behemoth sword high above it's head. This gave Shadow the desired opportunity and she ducked and rolled just as the empyrean blade plummeted and bit a chunk from the grass. She was on her feet and running before the clone could wrestle it's weapon from whatever it was the arena floor was made of.

A short distance away, the 'Angel took a quick inventory: a mere eight bolts left. She'd have to be conservative with them. Her diagnostics informed her that her left arm had sustained minor damage and internal repairs were already underway. However, the loss of the armour there would leave it open to a crippling injury. So far, so good. The clone was jogging toward her now, preparing itself for another assault. Shadow launched herself at it, evading the swinging blade and smushing her body close against the chilling white torso with every ounce of her strength. The clone hammered the sword hilt into her visor, cracking it as they went down.

In the meantime Shadow's copy crumpled silently as the swordman's blade found a vulnerable area between the chinks of it's abdominal armour, tearing into the softer wires and weakened materials. Strangely, there was no release of electricity, nor flowing of life-giving tethanol. Nearly cut in half, the clone simply toppled...and the ground started shaking, for it had fallen upon a lone brown fungus.

[Winterhair]

Vincent growled and his silver eyes widened as he felt pseudo-steel and wire shredding beneath the force of his slash. His smile grew, revealing abnormally long canines. They weren't long enough to be a vampire's, but they were long enough to strike fear into any normal person. But his opponent was not even a person: it wasn't even the machine itself.

His slash spun him around as the machine-clone tried to leap backwards, avoiding the last of Vincent's blade. However, the movement caused the upper half of itself to flop around, as the swordsman's attack had nearly cut the thing clean in half, and it lost balance, toppling straight to the ground.

Right on top of a brown mushroom.

Running forward with a crazed smile on his lips and his silver eyes now pools of swirling quicksilver, Vincent was about to finish the clone off when suddenly the ground began to shake. Stopping abruptly, he looked around as cracks began to rip into the ground, shifting the very arena itself as the cracks soon evolved into crevices. Branches of the quake crept into the walls, and the very arena itself soon began shaking to pieces.

Suddenly, pillars of earth began erupting from the earth, and as Vincent looked at them in surprise he felt a shiver of apprehension slide itself down his spine. Leaping to the side, he made it just in time as a pillar erupted from the spot he had been just seconds ago, smashing into the ceiling and causing chunks of it to spurt out like shrapnel. Deflecting some of the larger pieces by knocking them away with the flat of his titanic blade, Vincent narrowly escaped a huge pieces by flinging himself to the side once and pressing himself up against the wall.

He barely noticed that he had moved next to the giant scythe that was still embedded in the wall, but as he brushed his arm up against the wooden handle, he smiled and grasped the weapon with his left hand before yanking it out violently. Almost immediately, the quake ruptured the hole that he caused with the scythe and the entire wall cracked before shattering in a storm of earth and rock.

Vincent yelled in surprise as he fell, momentarily caught off balance by the sudden explosion. But his survival instincts soon overcame his surprise and he swung his newfound scythe, embedding it into one of the boulders nearby, which seemed to be the only things unaffected by the earthquake. Using the scythe as leverage he swung his body up over it and onto of the wooden pole, keeping balance with one hand as he shouldered the serrated nodachi in his right hand once again. Vincent surveyed the damage from the earthquake quickly as he leaped on top of the boulder, yanking out the scythe at the same time.

The arena had basically collapsed, and it seemed to Vincent as if they, the clones, the machine and himself, now stood on top of what seemed to be a giant pillar of earth. The boulders and mushrooms were still there, but all in all the arena had collapsed to reveal a bright, blue sky.

"What a strange battle..." Vincent whispered to himself, as he saw his opponents clone stand back up, the mist it was made out of reforming itself so that his cut now seemed to be nonexistant. Growling in mild irritation, he hopped down from the boulder, sliding a good ten feet downwards before landing in a crouch. He looked to his clone and saw that it was chasing after the form of the the machine woman, who was clutching her/its left arm in...pain? He didn't know. But those two slipped out of his mind as he once again brought his full attention upon the machine clone, which seemed unaffected by the quake and was once again loading an arrow into the crossbow.

He waited until the being fired this time, and dodged the arrow completely as he closed the gap between them in in a short burst of speed. Not allowing the clone time to react he brought down his blade in a vertical slash, taking the clone's arm off completely as he put his entire weight and strength onto the attack. The clone stumbled back in surprise, but he wasn't finished yet. Taking the scythe he had gained, he once again spun around and brought it to bear in a horizontal slash, using brute strength instead of technique. The force of his slash with the pole arm, however, was too great, and although the tip of the scythe embedded itself into the clone's side, it also sent both the clone and the scythe itself flying away, having it slip from his hands.

The mist clone let out a shriek and clutched at the weapon, as if to drag it out of itself, then shuddered and dissipated into mist once more, the scythe falling to the ground with a heavy clatter of metal and wood. Vincent stood watching the weapon and the tendrils of mist for a moment, before being satisfied that he had indeed defeated the clone, and walked forward to pick up the weapon when suddenly the tendrils of mist began moving once more. Stepping back in caution he held his blade ready in battle position, but the mist did not seem interested in himself. Instead, it slowly surrounded the iron sickle, caressing it, embracing it, until the entire thing glowed with a faint outline of mist.

Reaching out carefully he grasped the scythe with his left hand, gasping slightly at the cool feel of the wood and the mist. Now this was strange, he thought to himself, but the mist didn't seem antagonistic anymore, so he shrugged and without a second thought rushed up to where his clone and the machine woman continued to do battle.

[Nautilus]

A stony spiral cleaved through the clone's head, peeling apart symmetrical halves of what she guessed might be skull and missing Shadow's own cranial unit by a fraction too small worth considering with any amount of composure. The Arcangel stumbled backward, only to find the grassy arena falling away from her at an alarming rate. She jumped off the spiral which had caught her before it rose too high, landing in a controlled roll and having to spring aside as another monstrous pillar exploded from the ground inches from her side.

Shadow stood uneasily, legs slightly splayed so she wouldn't get knocked off balance by the intense shaking, as if the very foundations of the arena had liquefied into gelatin then placed on a high-powered centrifuge. Her sensors warned her as to the debris crumbling from the strained walls and, most importantly, the ceiling, but the indicators were late. She didn't even have the chance to register pain as a slab crashed into the back of her neck, sending her sprawling and her optical sensors flickering ominously.

For a scant moment, her world consisted of the ripe, permeating smell of trampled grass stitched with dust and the closeness of the trembling earth.

Then the shaking subsided, and the weight of the chunk of ceiling-turned-projectile was lifted from her back. Shadow hesitantly rolled over, her internal stabilizers reeling, raising a hand to shade the stark brilliance of the sudden sapphire sky that refracted in the crack on her damaged visor. A figure blocked the light then, pale as the electron-degenerate matter of a white dwarf star. The weight returned, this time on her chestplate when the figure -- the clone, she surmised -- held her down with it's heavy foot.

The sword swung downward.

Shadow loaded a bolt into the bow and fired, a blind shot, her only shot, her optical sensors still weaving in and out of focus as they were.

The sword fell wide, slashing into her shoulder and digging into the grass at an angle as the limp body of the clone pushed against the pommel, held there in fleeting balance before the spectre toppled lifelessly next to her, the wooden colour of the bolt highly apparent from where it was lodged in it's throat. It dissolved back into the mists from whence it had come.

Shadow plucked the missile from where it lay and drew herself to her support claws, a trickel of silvery tethanol dribbling down her arm from the shoulder wound. She retracted her visor, as it was beginning to interfere with visual readings, and turned to face her original opponent, feeding the bolt into the modified chamber for further use.

"If that...thing was any indication as to your skill, I find myself humbled, Organic," she admitted quietly, flexing her injured arm experimentally whilst loading her bow again. Those searing emerald lights radiating from her optics were narrowed by the expressive facial plates in a comedy of a smile. "It has been exciting. Everything I hoped it would be, in fact. But let us say we finish it, hm?" With that she shifted into a defensive stance, beckoning the formidable warrior and his new weapon onward.

[Winterhair]

Vincent reached his opponent just it/she finished his clone off in quick fashion, shooting it straight in the throat. He grinned, amused and filled with elation at the machine's words, and when he looked closely it seemed his opponent too was grinning. A strange sight indeed. He watched her load her weapon and slightly shift her weight before lifting his serrated blade off of his shoulders where it had laid in rest, and spinning the surprisingly light scythe around in his left hand.

"Your not too bad yourself." He replied. There was nothing wrong with making conversation in battle, as long as it was an enjoyable fight. And so far, this battle had turned out to be so. Exploding walls, flying scythes, doppelgangers, and machine women. He couldn't wait to see what this day would bring next. "And I agree, it has. But before we end this..." He shifted into an offensive stance himself, holding his blade out before him and the scythe curved around his back. "...I should at least tell you my name. You deserve to know." And he pushed off in a spring of his powerful legs, the dust and grass beneath him curling and flowing beneath his movement as he flew through the air to cover the short distance between he and his opponent. As he brought the sword down in a classic attack to cleave the woman in half, he smiled.

"I am Vincent Winterscar! Remember me, will ya?"

Sorry for the craptacular post. I've been studying at the same time, so blegh.

[Nautilus]

That's alright. I'll forgive you eventually. :p

"Winterscar," the machine woman acknowledged as she dodged out of the way, her voice perfectly smooth. A good thing about not having lungs meant you were never out of breath. "A name to be remembered. And you may call me...Shadow!" She purposefully stampeded a red mushroom, but instead of the jets of fire that had nearly turned her into a crispy critter when she first entered the arena, the air surrounding the edges of the circular plot of land the two combatants were stranded upon, shimmered.

The air then thickened perceptively and her sensors noted a measurable increase of temperature. There was a windy hissing sound and the serene blue sky was consumed in venomous purple flame. Tongues of the odd colour whipped and clawed, tasting atmosphere, rising well above them enclosing the arena in a massive rotating twister of fiery lavender doom. They were corralled effectively in the center. What was worse, the walls of roaring conflagration appeared to be steadily tightening, causing boulders at the perimeter to superheat and burst in short order. Pieces of molten rock were soon being tossed everywhere, piercing the robot's armour and leaving it riddled with brilliant orange holes. The air was tangible and undulating with heat.

"Fascinating!" Shadow yelled over the superbly loud racket of the spinning flames, sounding too enthralled for her own good.

She partially ducked as another boulder exploded. A narrow, four foot-long jagged shard that had avoided liquefying thudded near her feet, the stone ablaze with a tranquil white-orange glow that aroused smoke from the grass. Shadow processed quickly, resolved what she was to do, and snatched at the shard's less-glowy end. Nonetheless the immense heat immediately tore into her palm and fingers. Warning messages streaked across her HUD, pain flared and sensitive wiring burned, fire erupting from between the finger joints and setting metal ablaze in splendid refulgence. Wielding the sparking shard and shrieking a strange high sound, Shadow leapt at Vincent Winterscar.

[Winterhair]

This was the end. Vincent could feel it. As soon as the robot had proclaimed its/her name, she had stepped purposefully right on a red mushroom, and immediately Vincent felt a huge shiver of apprehension make its home on his body, sending goosebumps all over despite the intense heat that was now building around him. As he stared at the sky, he watched it grow into a violent purple and crimson flame, igniting the very air around them. His eyes widened in excitement as he felt a smile pull itself across his face, seeming to spread past even human boundaries, until it no longer was a human smile. It stretched so far that all his teeth were showing, revealing canines sharp enough to tear through human flesh and teeth meant to bite and tear. A guttural sound emitted from his throat over the increasing roar of the flames, a growl of pure insanity until it emerged into laughter, a booming sound that could be heard even through the roar of the cyclone of flames.

Now it was just he and Shadow in the middle of the arena, the rest being consumed by the inferno that had been summoned. He only continued to laugh as the cyclone tore the place apart, super heating rocks until they became glowing projectiles of flame, exploding shrapnel of insane proportions. For some reason, the larger pieces seemed to miss him as he stood laughing, his silver eyes closed as he had his head held back, his face to the burning sky. The smaller pieces, bits and chunks, did hit him, digging into his arms and legs, torso and back, setting his coat on fire. He didn't take it off until it was almost all consumed before throwing it off and into the fire, letting the enclosing incendiary walls erase the coat from existence.

As he threw the coat off, he turned that monstrous grin on the machine woman, his eyes snapping open to reveal that his silver orbs had become swirling pools of liquid quicksilver, glowing brightly as they reflected the light from the fire. "INDEED! FASCINATING INDEED!" He roared the words over the fire and slowly moved his right arm until he stuck his sword in the enclosing cyclone, long enough until the blade ignited on fire. He swirled the flaming blade around, causing a small whooshing sound, and his eyes met the machine woman's as he said his last words he would ever say in that moment. "ITS BEEN REAL, SHADOW!"

And with that he leapt at her the exact same time she leapt at him, swinging his sword horizontally as to cut the machine woman in half. The sword roared its own agonizing scream as the flame consumed the metal completely, and soon he wielded not a scythe and a blade but a sickle and a sword of infernal proportions.

With this sword, he swung the final strike.

Go ahead and bunny my character if you wish.

[Nautilus]

Inhuman silver orbs as wild as the inferno, framed by that manic, toothy grin, filled her optic sensors, dominating them. She could see nothing else. Hear nothing but the strained cycling of her vents as her internal temperature climbed to dangerous degrees. The arena was disintegrating under their very feet, but she could not feel it, nor the agony of her melting hand. The tornado of fire, the din of it and the explosions of rock, had faded into the background like the insubstantial backdrop of an amateur painting destined to languish in some darkened hallway. Time as they knew it seemed to falter.

Shadow brought her clumsy, molten blade down in an arc at his neck as they met in mid-air...and his sword simultaneously collided with incredible power with her mid-section, splitting her apart.

All sensory perception failed instantaneously.


+++

"The battle is over, Arcangel."

The lights within her optic sensors blinked to life until they were radiating at full intensity. She was staring at a plain white stucco ceiling. The fire, the heat, the passion of battle...those insane silver eyes...were gone, replaced by a cool dim room. She sat up, her metal frame sinking into the mattress she had been lying on. There was a human Ai'brone monk standing nearby, his hands folded in his sleeves. He was regarding her with an unreadable look on his youthful tan face.

"Let's see. I believe the question is, 'Are you functioning', correct?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"What...I...yes. I am functioning."

Shadow gazed around at the barren room. There were sounds echoing from behind the single door, and she could see reflections of shoes walking by on the polished wood floor beyond the crack at the bottom. Sounds of laughter and light conversation.

"My diagnostics inform me that I have been fully repaired," Shadow continued, fixing the monk with her unblinking stare. "How can this be? How do you have the technology?" She went into this knowing about the monks' famous healing powers, but somehow actually experiencing them firsthand was a mite different than just reading about them. It had never occured to her that being of foreign tech might propose a problem, but since it hadn't...

He was looking rather pleased with himself.

"Do you want to know the results of your battle?"

"Negative. I want to know how in the fragging Vortices you restored my function! It is impossible for beings from this planet to accomplish such a feat!" Perhaps they could assist her, if they were so powerful!

"You assume much," the monk replied coolly, never shifting from his stance. Shadow stood up, shocked, to put it plainly, that she felt perfectly fine.

"Why did you leave my other systems unrestored, then? Why fix me and leave me without my other modes, or my cannon?"

"Those'll come in time. In the meanwhile, I have somethin' that may help you in your quest to return home," he added, rummaging in his robes. "More helpful than diggin' around in some musty old library, anyway. Ah, here you go."

Shadow dumbly accepted the small green crystal he handed her, gently turning it over in her fingers. It was smooth and round, it's surface warm, unmarred.

And yet...it was not composed of anything out of the ordinary. Just covalently bonded silica.

"I fail to understand how this can aid me. Why -- "

"Travel to the forest of Concordia. Your answer may be found there," was his cryptic response. "Someone will be with you shortly to discuss the results of your battle...with mushrooms!"

He turned and swiftly exited the room, chuckling quietly to himself.

"Wait! You can not possibly be more vague, organic! How did you come across this? How did you know about my predicament? I said, wait! I have queries!"

But when she burst through the door, slamming it into the stone wall, the hallway was empty save for a stray light beam shining peacefully through the tall window at the end. Shadow's vents cycled in exasperation and she brought the crystal closer to her face, further studying it and wondering how something so miniscule, so apparently mundane could possibly do anything to help her.

Requested spoils:

The green crystal. It has no special properties and will not be sold.

[Winterhair]

He knew the taste of metal as he bit into the machine, tasting the melting machinery in his mouth as the inferno consumed the rest of the arena. He had sliced his opponent in two, and watched in sadistic glee as the "life" faded from her and flames began to consume her being. Before she could be totally eradicated, however, he gave in to some primal instinct that told him to consume his opponent. That same instinct that had been driving him on the entire battle, and now he listened to it once more, screaming in simultaneous pleasure and pain as the molten metal slide down his throat, his flaming sword long forgotten by his side.

The inferno drew nearer and nearer, until the walls were less than four feet on each side of the swordsman. Painfully, at the end of his strength, Vincent stood and dropped the mist-scythe in his other hand and screamed up at the sky, his sharp canines piercing the heavens it seemed. He screamed as he threw his head back, arching his back, his hands clutched around the throat of some imaginary foe as his corded muscles rippled along his body, pouring out the last of his strength before the flaming tornado ripped the very flesh from his bones and he disappeared into the darkness of death.

Unbeknown to either of the warriors who had fought on that small arena, they had been watched. As Vincent's last death cries filled the violet sky and echoed into the horizon, a dark figure had been watching, black hair framing a slim body covered by a dark coat. At this figure's back lay a huge claymore, a black rune blade that glowed ominously in sync with the flaming sky. Only a few words were spoken by this person, feminine and soft.

"Vincent Winterscar..." The woman murmured as she turned slightly to reveal a slim frame with a lithe, curved body and the coat open at the top to reveal the pale tops of a pair of voluptuous breasts. "You really are something, aren't you." And with that simple sentence she disappeared into a cloud of ashes, floating away in the dust.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the second time in two weeks, Vincent awoke to blinding white lights, naked on a comfortable mattress in a small room. Groaning, he sat up, covering his eyes lazily with one arm to block the light. "Well, this is nice..." He murmured, standing up immediately, stretching his cramped muscles and allow his full height of six-foot five to protrude to the short ceiling, a mere four feet above his head. "...now where's my sword..." He continued to talk out loud to himself, a habit born from years of being alone. As if in answer to his question, a knock on the door caused him to spin around and reach at his nude hip, but once he found nothing then he grumbled in irritation. "C'mon in, but I can't find my clothes anywhere so..."

The door opened and a female monk, her hood down to reveal her face, young and girlish, stepped in. She gasped in shock as she noticed Vincent's nudity and blushed. He groaned at her reaction and hit his forehead with the palm of his hand, muttering. "Its you again, isn't it?" She nodded and stepped forth, holding her hands out to reveal she was holding his sword, now in the same condition it had been in when he came in, his clothes, and the scythe from the battle, wisps of mist still trailing from it.

What he meant by "Its you again, isn't it?" is that the last time he had been here at the Citadel, to fight the angel Yukina (although he didn't know her name), he had had this same girl come in with payment from his employer that time, and had received an obsidian ring and a mysterious letter. But she had reacted the same way she had did then to his nudity, with a girlish innocence that left Vincent confused and wondering why she acted so.

But, like last time, it was the items she brought with her than held more interest than her attitude, so he decided to ignore it and instead grasped the items in his huge hands, staring at the scythe. "Hey, this isn't mine." He told the girl, holding out the weapon to her by the pole.

Now she was in her element. The girl clasped her hands together and her face held only a little trace of the blush that had infected it earlier, her orbs looking directly at Vincent's silver ones. "Think of it as a gift, from us here at the Citadel." She said mysteriously, and walked away, closing the door behind her.

Vincent was stunned. A...gift? No one ever gave him gifts. No one ever had, except for his foster father and mother when he was much younger, and even then it had been out of necessity than anything. Mildly irritated by his own frustration and inability to understand why he had been given it, he swung the scythe in the air at nothing, seemingly.

That is, until the mist from the scythe suddenly separated from it and formed a doppelganger of Vincent, which swung a misty version of the same scythe Vincent himself wielded and clashed with it, the two pole arms sending phantasmal and real sparks through the air. Vincent looked in amazement at the naked mist version of himself and gritted his teeth in anger. "What the hell do you want? I thought you were killed!" He shouted at it.

It simply grinned back at him and shouldered the serrated blade in its own other hand, the misty clothes it held too falling to the floor with a muffled thump. Vincent was about to do the same when to his amazement, the mist clone opened its dark mouth and spoke.

"Hey, hey, calm down. I'm just here ta' talk."

He blinked, and it smiled at him. "Wait, what the..." He left the sentence unfinished as he dropped the scythe blade to the ground, expecting the clone to do the same, but it didn't. It simply grinned at him and shouldered the mist-scythe it held in its right hand and uttered a small cackle. "What were you expecting, me to roll over and pick it up? I'm a spirit, not a dog, y'know."

Vincent laughed despite himself. It was obvious that this "spirit" it called itself wasn't his twin, at least not when it came to personality and stuff. "I like you. Who are you, anyways?"

The mist-Vincent cracked his neck as he contemplated an answer, staring up at the ceiling. "Sorry, its been awhile since ANYBODY has asked me that question. Three thousand years of being trapped inside a fucking mushroom will do that to ya."

Vincent raised a thin, silver eyebrow. Three thousand years? He watched the mist version of himself think for a little bit before it finally answered with a satisfied grin, "I guess you can call me Skeith. Thats the name of that scythe there, so I might as well adopt it as my own, if I'm going to be living in it for a bit."

Vincent looked down at the long pole arm by his feet for the first time, really. It's blade was curved and wicked looking, a good two to three feet long with a clean cutting edge. It shone mildly in the unnatural light of the room, the waxen length of its four-foot handle seemingly smooth and silken to the eye. A good weapon, Vincent pondered the name of it for a second before giving it up and turning to the spirit. "Skeith, then it is. Usually I don't give my weapons names, but in this case..." He grinned at the mist clone before picking up the scythe in his left hand. "...I think I can make do with it."

Skeith laughed. "Good. Because I'm going to be around for awhile...whether you like it or not." It grinned ominously at Vincent before dissipating into mist and surrounding the weapon once more like a protective sheath. The swordsman looked down at the weapon in his left hand once more, a smile of his own placed there amongst the maniacal gleam in his eyes.

"That suits me just fine." He murmured, half to the weapon and half to himself, then proceeded in getting dressed and leaving the Citadel, the only trace of his disappearance being a whisper of his coat and the slap of his sandals on the marble floor.

His destination? Back to the Scarlet Lady, where he would greet Samantha once more with open arms and eager body.

End post.
SPOILS REQUESTED: "Skeith" A four foot long sickle with a two and a half foot long blade, its handle is made of oak and the blade itself is made of normal, average-quality iron. However, it does have one special property: once per day, it is able to summon a doppelganger of its wielder that has the same properties as the doppelgangers in this battle: Does half damage and can suffer up to three damaging hits before needing to return to the scythe to recover. The doppelganger is considered an NPC and can be used by any other player the way they see fit, keeping in note the clone has sentience and a personality of its own. The scythe itself is about ten pounds in weight.

Nautilus, I'll submit this for judging.

[Witchblade]

First of all, I just want to apologize to the two of you. I said this would be done on Monday at the latest. Unfortunately, some things did come up to distract me and keep me from judging this quest. I’m giving you both a little extra GP for your patience. ;)

Nautilus, your scores will be in blue. Winter, yours will be in red.

Storyline

Continuity: - 7, 6 Both of you threw in some back story for your characters, just enough I found to truly engage the reader in who the character was and what they were doing there. I would have preferred a bit more of Vincent’s history to him just continuously talking about this battle with the angel though. Also, I must say that you took a simple battle in The Citadel and did something a little extra with it. Not only did you tie it into your characters storylines, but most of the fighting was against clones rather than just each other. It made it seem a little more than just a hack and slash kind of situation.

Setting: - 6.5, 6.5 The mushrooms really helped the two of you interact with your surroundings more. I found that while Nautilus was the one initiating the mushrooms, Vincent seemed to be the one coming up with the reaction from them, almost all the time, except for that torrent of fire at the end. Both of you are relatively good at describing your surroundings, however sometimes your wording does get a little confusing and as the reader, I have a hard time following the movements of your character in relation to what’s going on.

Pacing: - 6, 5.5 The story certainly had a few bumps along the crazy rollercoaster track that comprised of this battle. There were times when the simple mechanics of both of your writing affected the pacing and the flow of your sentences, but I’ll get into that more in Clarity. I enjoyed the end of it, though I assumed that Vincent would have been sliced through by the piece of smouldering rock in Shadow’s hand rather than being devoured by the swirling tornado of fire. The tension rose and fell a lot. My suggestion for battling; is to not back track very much into the other person’s post. Winter, you have a bad habit of doing this. You’ll go back through actions that Nautilus has already taken and recap them for your character, but that kills the tension. Sometimes you just need to jump right into the action.

Character

Dialogue: - 7, 6 The dialogue from Shadow seemed pretty true to her character, sticking with modern and more mechanical terms than anything fantasy orientated. I enjoyed it. Vincent has this odd way of talking that’s almost modern and almost fantasy and almost a little cliché. I’m not entirely sure about it. It doesn’t seem to not fit him, but I would suggest working on your dialogue a little more and trying to make it a bit more dynamic.

Action: - 7, 6 I found that both of you played out your characters actions true to them and never really missed a step there. Winter though, NPC’s seem like nothing more than tools to you. They’re not a big part of the storyline and thus you seem to give them little if any of your time. The problem is, you were fighting an NPC for most of this battle and all you did was have it shoot at you constantly with bolts. Though that did appear to be its only weapon, it does have hands and feet and is made of metal. I’m sure it could have done some damage with those. I suggest you start considering NPC’s as real characters and not just stoic paintings in the background. The more they live and breathe, the more the story lives and breathes. I do have to say though; Samantha came across rather well.

Persona: - 7, 7 Both of you have a clear understanding of your characters and their personalities. Though I can find Vincent comes across rather coldly, in the beginning of the thread when he was interacting with nothing more than a whore, he seemed like a very dynamic and interesting character. In battle, I think you lose a bit of that.

Writing Style

Mechanics: - 6, 6 Winter - Saying woman/machine and her/it constantly in paragraphs destroys the overall pacing and flow of the writing. Don’t use / unless you really need to and definitely try not to do it in a high tension filled moment. It’s like me sitting here going you/Nautilus and him/it were good/okay for most of the battle. Did I get my point across? Also, try not to constantly call your opponent the machine-woman. You can just call her woman or machine and even her.

Nautilus – you need to watch out for awkwardly worded sentences, spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes. Also, if you’re going to call your character an Angel and an Arcangel, it’s usually best to include it from the beginning. Doing it towards the end of the battle is only going to confuse the reader because they’ll think you’re talking about someone else.

Technique: - 6, 6.5 Winter – I don’t want to see you calling something a ‘street dance move’ again. It sounds way too modern for a fantasy role-playing board. Remember, though you may come from earth, your character doesn’t. Nautilus, the way you write things sometimes leaves it feeling rather choppy and unfinished. I suggest rereading your posts and maybe even doing so aloud. If it’s coming out awkward to you, it’s going to be an awkward read.

Clarity: - 5, 7 Nautilus – you really lost a few points here. I just found that I got lost in some of your descriptions and could not decipher the actions of your characters properly. Especially when I read sentences like this: “...her clone side-stepped and bodily confronted Actual! Swordsman, ducking low...” I’m sure you can where this one lost me. Winter, in moments of high tension, though keeping things to a minimal description is helpful; make sure you’re properly and fully describing what your character is doing.

Wild Card: - 6, 7 This was a good read and I liked the idea of the mushrooms, they really helped throw in a bit of a unique twist with the combatants.

Total:

Nautilus – 63.5

Winterhair – 63.5

It’s a tie!

Rewards:

Winterscar receives 500 experience and 300 GP!
Nautilus receives 500 experience and 400 GP!

Both spoils are approved!

[Zook Murnig]

EXP/GP ADDED!

WINTERHAIR LEVELS UP!