Veteran Bracket: Taskmeinster vs. Homunculus

[Tainted Bushido]

The match begins at Midnight 7/31/2009 and ends at Midnight 8/15/2009.

Best wishes to both participants!

[Taskmienster]

I tossed a half-eaten piece of cold pizza back on the coffee table, signed and closed my eyes. It was dark in my apartment, but that didn’t matter, any light was bright and obnoxious when I hadn’t seen the sun in days. Boxes from deliveries were stacking high, some empty save for a few slivers of crust I didn’t want and half-eaten pieces like those that were littered across the table. If someone had come to visit they would have seen a recluse, not the happy-go-lucky Collin that everyone thought they knew. I was no longer that carefree Collin McFerrin though; I couldn’t go back to that till something finally went right in my life. It was a difficult thing to imagine, but when a person hits rock-bottom the only thing they can hope for is to eventually return to where they fell from.

The familiar and comforting sound of the harmonic bubbling of the hookah filled my mind, a singular noise that overpowered the fleeting thoughts that wouldn’t stop harassing me. The strawberry smoke filled my lungs as I slowly pulled at the hose and let the metal tip slip from my pursed lips. My breath stopped as the smoke slowly seeped from my esophagus, filling my mouth before I pushed with my tongue and created a simple smoke ring. Seven more rings of smoke followed in a sharply declining arch, dropping as the smoke spun in on itself.

Days had passed; how many I wasn’t sure. It had to have been at least a week, maybe even as many as three. My former job was with GramVR, the virtual reality company that had at one point created worlds to learn new languages in their native lands. They had sent me as a spy, as ugly a term as that is, into the server of their rival company TechFront INC. It was while I was working there, termed a hacker in the sense that I was illegally playing on the gaming world, that I really began to enjoy the fantasy gaming atmosphere. Althanas was the TechFront gaming community, I had been hired to copy their codes and write a report of GramVR. Hours of time were spent on the server, finding adventure at times, running from the administration for the rest of the time. As soon as I had gathered the information to create a world for GramVR, I was released without reason, pay, or pride. A common thief was all I had become, a modern day bandit that used computer codes instead of lock picks to get what I wanted.

Growing up, I had been around when the MMORPG craze began, though I was only slightly intrigued by it. There was a gross difference between tapping on a keyboard and clicking some computer animated ogre and really being a pixilated character in a virtual reality gaming atmosphere where danger feels so much more tangible. Althanas, the fantasy server realm, was just the challenge that had attracted me immediately.

The smell of the hookah was filling the air; the lack of air conditioning kept the smoke lingering. It made the large room humid and thick, gross to anyone not used to light humidity. I lived in Jacksonville, one of the many big cities in Florida, so a little humidity at room temperature was far better than one hundred percent humidity in one hundred degree sun-shine. I could deal with my stuffy living room; it was the sun that peeked through the tinted windows that I avoided as best as possible. I took another drag from my hookah and opened my eyes, tapping a paper thin pad on the arm of my wrinkled leather couch to turn on the air-thin television.

Blue light filled the darkness for half a second, making me wince as the unnatural light caught me off guard despite knowing it was coming. The screen changed to a pure black, not the channel I had left it on before passing out. My soccer game was supposed to be on the screen, blaring the play-by-play with some Scottish announcer. Two goals for America, one for Mexico, that was what I had bet on and the game should have just started. Two goals for America, one for Mexico, that was what I had bet on and the game should have just started. Instead, a large piece of what looked like ancient paper and scrawl across it similar to trade-speak from Althanas appeared. I leaned in and began to read, goose-bumps forming without mercy as my fears became reality.


~*~


Taskmienster,

You are well known to us, the administration of Althanas. We have known about you since the rift you created, bringing that flying ship into our fantasy realm with all the gear that was never meant to be in our world. Since that day when the skies darkened and you and your crew were illegally inserted into our midst we have attempted to find you, to remove you. GramVR has been our rival since the craze for virtual reality began, since the first servers years ago went up. You were their pawn, not the queen on their board, and the game of chess was just starting with you. Your purpose served, you were sacrificed for the next move.

We found you just before they let you drop off the board. This predicament has brought about a new plan on our part. TechFront was going to allow us to gather enough information on you to put you behind bars, with or without the support of your former company. Now, however, we have a different path to follow without you working for them. Instead of simply watching you drop off the board forever, we have picked you up, and want to turn you into a truly prominent piece on our side of the game.

First, before we endeavor to transform you and use you, we need to know what abilities you have. Althanas invites you to our world with open arms, but with eyes locked on you. Anything that we do not approve of will be dealt with immediately, but there is very little we will not approve of. The choice is yours alone, but known that we have your address, this letter is proof enough of that. If you decide to not agree to this, the last week of knowing where you live, how often you leave the house, and everything you’ve done in the past will come into the public. Our rivals and you would be destroyed, reputation and profitability despite your talents. Should GramVR find a loophole to escape through, you’ll be their lone scapegoat. Either way you are at the forefront of this issue.

We are willing to recruit you to our side instead of pressing charges, despite the potential for being able to alleviate our little niche's challenge for superiority. It may be more useful to hire you onto our staff instead of trying to challenge GramVR and spending unrealistic amounts of our profit in exchange for fighting to a stand-still against their lawyers and the American bureaucratic system.

Your task, no pun intended, is to join a tournament and make your way through the rounds. You’ll be fighting former staff, current staff, and those that have the possibility to be staff in the future. The first opponent is worth nothing to the site other than targeting practice to test out what you know. A mere Althanas cockroach, we are not concerned with what you do to him in the battle.

Best of luck,
The Althanas Administration


~*~

The world was quiet, chillingly so. No wind passed through the small area, making the town setting morose and disheartening. Buildings lined the cobblestone streets, large windows facing outwards with no comforting glow behind them. I sighed as the darkness of the night descended where the flash of light that had brought me to the area once blinded me. Overhead the silver sliver of a waxing moon cast dubious light down upon the world, barely giving enough light to see. I let my eyes adjust and the enhanced code that I had written for my character take over, the darkness no obstacle.

My hands adjusted at my sides, straightening the leather jacket’s sleeves comfortably. I fluffed the faux-fur lining of the jacket and slipped a half-thought code through my hair so it would stand up straight and true once again. Whoever it was that the Althanas staff had set me up with, I was confident enough that I would get out of this round. Death or not, I knew how the server worked, the outcome was determined by the unseen eyes of the staff and not by the in character victory.

Instead of lighting a cigarette like I would normally, I found a solid wall and pushed up against it. The solid support of the empty house was a place to easily look nonchalant while being able to see in both directions without a worry.


((Opponent didn't want to make the arena, so I did. I editted that in, that's about it. Maybe a few errors I noticed here and there.))

[Abomination]

Above the clouds of Althanas, a figure soared across the skies at high speed. With the moon shining brightly on his back, the flying man held his arms out and looked down on the puffy masses he was passing over. His altitude was rising slightly, his speed decreasing. Then, he started lowering, his speed increasing again. It seems he wasn't flying, but gliding, which makes sense considering he launched himself off the ground like a wound-up spring. He dropped further, passing through the clouds, his body angling towards the ground with his head in front. He left the clouds behind him, his view almost entirely the landscape before him. Nothing but moonlight and a clear view of the landing zone of a cobblestone street beneath him. The motion seemed almost graceful, like an experienced diver. However, the reality was far from that.

Homun Culus was really bad at landings. He coiled his legs into springs, but they were pointing at the sky. He was falling too fast, and couldn't turn his body around. He tried grabbing his legs to pull them in front, but it was too late. CRASH! Bouncing off something squishy in the initial impact, he felt his neck break. The second impact, softer, still lead to some bruising with little impact to the cobblestone road. Surprisingly, nobody was around to see what had happened. Did he land in an empty town? Maybe they're all just really heavy sleepers. Reaching for his head, he turned it suddenly, setting the bone back in place. His legs shrunk back to their normal, uncoiled state. He got up, brushing the dirt off of him and staring at the initial impact site.

The cobblestone road indeed now featured a rather large pothole. Certainly something the city council will no doubt focus their next campaign on. Although, among the shattered rocks and displaced earth, there was something else...

A body! He landed on someone. Walking over to the poor corpse, he noticed it was a rather muscular man, wearing nothing but a tank top and aerobic polyester pants. His back was completely caved in and he wasn't moving, so it seems he died instantly. Kicking him over so that he was belly up, Homun noticed something in his hand. A letter! It was easy to see all this with his natural night vision, after all. It was also easy to read the man's letter.

Gregory Wilson,

Your feats of strength have not gone unnoticed. You are cordially invited to participate in a prestigious fighting tournament. You are to meet your opponent at the location of our choosing. Already having met our representative, everything should be squared away and this is only a notification of the tournament's official start and your acceptance. Don't worry about the fighting location, as you will only find your opponent there. Grand prizes await!

Best of luck,
Tournament Committee

At the bottom of the letter was the address Homun was at. At least, that was apparent after looking at the big logo on the side of the building he was standing next to that matched the one in the directions. Tough luck for this guy.

Turning around, Homun realized that he had forgotten which direction he was flying. Up until this point, he was traveling towards Raiaera using his new patented flight method, which consistent of really long jumps. Although, he had never bothered to assimilate anyone that could tell direction without a compass. Wasn't there a star that pointed north? He would see it if he jumped again, wouldn't he? Oh, he never bothered to assimilate anyone who could tell direction that way either, and he wasn't exactly the type of creature to ask for help.

"How am I ever going to get to Xem'zund at this rate?" He wondered out loud, gritting his carnivorous teeth.

If he assimilated the Big Daddy himself, he would gain untold powers. Certainly enough to warrant a makeover of, say, everyone? Oh how he delighted in torment, and yet he was so limited in its application. Of course, there were at least two people he knew of that could tell direction. The person he just crushed, and the person he was supposed to fight. Assimilating and killing that unlucky gentleman would be benefiting him twofold: Easing his boredom and getting him back on the right track to Raiaera! And unlike his other victims, this one wouldn't try to run away. Why was that? Well, because Homun was going to be Gregory Wilson for a while. At least in name.

Looking around, this town reminded him of his last stopping point. Of course, he had cleared out that place by killing all of its residents, but what's the deal this time? No matter, he could feel there was someone here, and his hunger never lied. Cracking his neck and knuckles, he walked casually along the street, turning a corner. Leaning against one of the houses not too far away was his alleged opponent. Brushing aside the long golden hair that obscured his right eye, he grinned.

Condescendingly, he announced, "We're about to have some fun; you and I. Although, I must confess most of the fun will be had by me. I'm not much for introductions, so can you please just hurry up and die?"

Pulling a dagger out of his pocket, he flicked it up between his left fingertips. Pressing down on the base, he threw it towards his opponent. For once, he was going to get someone who fought back! How could he not be pleased?

[Taskmienster]

I looked to the lightly clouded sky, watching as the wisps high above seemed static and almost painted by an unsteady hand. Small brushstrokes applied by a master artist stretched thinly across the curvature of the atmosphere, bending as they approached either horizon. The silver lining absorbed the waxing moon’s light, reflecting the serenity upon the quiet world below. A backdrop of stars flickered endlessly, diamonds dancing for the audience that took the time to admire the masterfully created game’s perfection. I shook my head as the silence reminded me that the winking moon and the flickering stars were the only visible observers. Then I saw it, a slight against the magnificence of Althanas’ perfection.

The blur was no falling star; it was dark and intrusive, unnatural. I pushed off the wall just slightly and felt the ground shake beneath my feet, as if whatever it was that fell struck close by. If the opponent I was going to be facing was able to soar through the sky I was at a distinct disadvantage, one I was not looking forward to in yet another battle against a flying foe. Althanas catered to a number of people’s distinctly unique ideas, most of which were knockoffs of the golden age of anime, sometimes science fiction. It seemed that my opponent was a would-be “Dragon Ball Z” character or Neo from the famed and abused Matrix series.

“Better get this shit over with, can’t sit around and look cool when I have some bullshit character floating around here.”

My eyes locked with the bend in the road, following the line of houses that formed the flanks of the thin pathway. Darkness consumed the street, absorbing what I couldn’t see as well as a majority of what I could. The light-posts that followed the raised curb were unlit and didn’t help offer anything more than possible obstructions should I need to duck behind something to avoid attacks. As I continued staring an image appeared, clothed in garments that were almost as strange for the fantasy world as my own. A voice echoed from the darkness, egotistical and trite. It was something I was expecting from an opponent who willingly joined a tournament, but had a taint of arrogance that caught me off guard.

“I doubt—“ my sentence was cut short as the metal object that had come to my opponents hand was adroitly flicked in my direction. Rude, cocky, and not one to allow for small talk… the man in the darkness was obviously a one-track minded warrior that fit in with the Althanas background, the weak spine of the server that made characters of intelligent design that much more meaningful. I side stepped, using my enhanced speed to dodge the missile thrown from distance. “As I was saying,” I continued as the dagger clattered off the wall and fell to the smooth sidewalk behind me. “I doubt it means anything, but I’m pretty sure your definition of fun is a little off, man.”

I stepped into the street and squared my shoulders with the figure, letting a plain throwing dagger loose from the concealed contraption up either sleeve. The rounded hilts were cool against my warm palms, comforting and smooth when my cupped hands were already beginning to sweat. My lip ring was flicked back and forth as anticipation reared its ugly head, a quirk I couldn’t stop myself from doing. I was prepared to fight, but not going to start out the battle myself. Some would call me a coward, some would just say I was little more than a joke, but without being able to clearly make out a full silhouette I wasn’t willing to leap into the battle. “Come on then, let’s get this shit over.”

[Abomination]

Homun's attack had interrupted his opponent's sentence, but he was hoping it would interrupt his heart. The way he dodged seemed... abnormal. He couldn't explain it, but in that quick movement he saw something artificial. Was it some ability? Some technique to close or create distances? Either way, right now he felt he had to clarify.

"Not true! Fun can be mutu-" Homun started to reply as a shiny object flew at him and embedded itself into his chest. He glanced down at the damage and finished his sentence, "...ally exclusive."

Reaching up to the dagger with his right hand, he pulled it out. Blood spurted from the wound like a shaken up bottle of booze but slowly stopped. The afflicted spot still stung and he felt a sort of numbness as the internal bleeding as stopping, but it was no big deal. He brought it up to his mouth and licked some of the blood off. The smell of blood was nothing new. He was amused; his opponent just retaliated with the same attack! Not only that, but it connected and there was no follow-up. He was either lazy or a coward.

Smiling, he stated, "You know, you really shouldn't interrupt. It's bad manners."

There wasn't anything particularly interesting about this character. The dagger seemed to come out of his sleeve, which hinted towards a hidden arsenal of sorts. Some sort of hedgehog mixed with a skunk died on his head. He had a lip ring. There was nothing to indicate a stimulating or even interesting assimilation, but it was Homun's intent anyway.

Meanwhile, through a small hole in the bottom of his shoe one of his arms had grown out and was burrowing through the ground, slowly making its way to the rude man. It was the reason Homun didn't bother to dodge the attack. At any moment, it would pop out of the ground and try to grab his ankle, allowing Homun to throw the dagger again at a static target.

[Taskmienster]

I eyed my opponent and took in a fresh breath of air, the stillness allowing the humidity to coat the land and fill my lungs with a thick warm sensation. The smell that permeated the area was something I knew well from my travels to and ventures in Radasanth, the scent of salt laced impurity. We were close to the sea, maybe even in some town close to Corone or a similar area. I exhaled the breath after holding it for a second and smiled. If it was not Lars absorbing the air, but Collin, it would have caused a coughing fit and a small asthmatic attack. I didn’t have such weaknesses though, not in the fantasy world. My penchant for smoking and drinking carried through, but those were vices and not weaknesses, sometimes.

Instead of attacking, something altogether confusing happened. The man was struck by a material weapon wielded by a phantom hand. His sentence was cut short, just as mine had been, but instead of a weapon I had used against him it was one that appeared from nowhere. The object appeared to be nothing more than a common dagger, somewhat similar to the two cupped in either hand at my sides. It plunged into his chest with a burst of blood. The hilt was protruding from where his ribs or organs should have been located. The unfazed humanoid finished his sentence before tearing the weapon from his chest.

Blood sprayed outwards like a fountain, shooting away from the man’s crimson shirt. It splashed across the cobblestones and coated them to create a slick surface. My eyes followed the blood with disbelief, watching as the wound slowly ceased gushing and was little more than a hole in some man’s chest. Had I thrown the weapon I would have been at least slightly proud of the accuracy, the damaged caused, and the bloody reaction. However, it was not my hand by which it was caused, so I was more confused than anything. The creased brow expression across my face contorted into gut wrenching disgust when the blade was lifted to his tongue and licked.

“I didn’t interrupt you fucker,” I called back with a tone of disgust mingled with pure perplexity. I twisted the two daggers in my hands and let the blades face upwards. It was a stance I took when preparing to throw the blades. Anyone trained in the use of daggers would know that an inexperience person held daggers upwards; experienced people kept them parallel to their forearms and pointed backwards. “I don’t know if you’re just some bad Stephen King knockoff, maybe IT’s cousin written by some thirteen year old adoring fan with an obsession for Hot Topic and vampires, but whatever the case may be I’ve gotta get through this round and on with real challenges.”

Waiting had proven nothing more than a headache, one that I was going to alleviate immediately. I turned on the balls of my heels and began to run along the sidewalk, flanking the street I had been boulevard I had been standing in the middle of. Althanas did not cater to the quick draw, shoot to kill Westerns and a standoff at midnight was going to do neither of us any good. Instead I picked up the pace and approached the man. I waited till the distance was cut to a mere five yards and hurled both blades from my hands, aiming one at his right side and one just off center to the left. Should he dodge one the other was waiting, should he turn to offer his profile the left dagger was centered enough to catch him. I could only imagine that after the display with the weapon from the phantom hand he would simply accept both and carry on.

“Let ‘em hit, lick your own blood freak. I don’t give a shit, so long as I can get out of this with an impressive show for TechFront.”

[Abomination]

Homun apparently misread one of his opponent's movements, causing him to create an error in response which rather than being corrected through PM or whatever, he was completely ignored and complained about to everyone other than himself directly. No harm though! Homun figured that passive aggressiveness and vengeful replies was the proper way for a moderator to conduct themselves, after all.

After the dagger attack by Lards that actually happened and wasn't made up, Homun now had a free dagger in his hand. However, it seems the man's attack wasn't finished. He started moving and throwing more weapons at him, a sort of desperate move by bad fighters in lieu of actual detailed attacks.

Homun avoided the attacks using his cat-like reflexes while waxing philosophical about the moon and stars. Their luminescence was truly a sight to behold. Alas, now was not the time for star watching. Homun's burrowing arm burst from the ground and grabbed the ankle of his enemy.

"Damn it!" Whined his enemy. "This is like from that movie or book or whatever! I'm gay!"

It was true. He was gay. However, since Homun was now assimilating him, he was now risking contraction of HIV through gene-swapping. As he assimilated, his vision turned dark. It was like he was alone in a vast void, and suddenly green numbers started appearing everywhere. The numbers turned into grids, wrapping themselves around the scenery Homun was standing around. Suddenly, it all hit him. He was in a game! It felt like .hack//sign, but with a lot less crying and idiotic main characters. Actually, wasn't this Lards person the main character in this case? Maybe the main characters were the same.

A magical plot device in the shape of a keypad appeared before him, and he started punching numbers or letters or whatever in.

"Colin McFerrin," he stated in an authoritarian voice. "You have been found in violation of our Terms of Service. For this, your character shall be permanently deleted and your real identity sent to Jesus Camp. Our Lord and Savior shall install some discipline into your soul."

Many arms emerged from Homun's body and wrapped themselves around Lards, throwing him into an active volcano several miles away. Lards Calhoun was now dead forever.

Suddenly, there was a knock on Colin's door. Before he could react, the police broke in and tased him, bro. He was squirming around on the floor and soiled his pants. He was then sent to Permanent Jesus Camp, forever cursed to recite bible passages and cry for Jesus.

Homun, having won very easily and handily with no trouble at all against an inferior opponent, continued on his path to Raiaera.

The End.

[Taskmienster]

“Since when has calling someone gay,
Been used in place to say,
‘I’m inferior in every way’?”

The words danced behind in my mind as I watched my opponent duck and dodge, avoiding my untrained attacks. The daggers danced through the still air, piercing the darkness with flashes of brilliant silver reflecting the waxing moon. Consciously I watched them, my eyes widening with every new blur. All of them were moving, as if my hands were no longer in my control. The “Althanas cockroach” that stood across from me moved effortlessly to avoid the quick blades. It was as if nothing could touch him. I had never met someone with a character of such high level, and had never seen anyone in the virtual reality world that was a NPC of such high skill. I was impressed, amused, but foremost annoyed.

Xem’Zund was not as strong as this one before me seemed to be. It was as if he had bypassed the approval process as I had, but instead of playing at least close to fair he had created a powergaming monster. The abilities he commanded were not limited to just being able to take a dagger to the heart and live, but seemed to lay in his sickeningly powerful self-growth.

From the ground burst a hand, one like that which was attached to the body I could see. Where it came from I was not sure, but it was apparent that it had somehow burrowed through the ground. Wide eyed I looked to the clenched fingers that wrapped around my ankle. He would have had to have the ability to grow an arm at an alarming and impossible rate to have it extend that far. Furthermore, it would have had to have had the ability to burrow through solid packed rocks, and then tear through sealed and solid cobblestone.

Whatever it was I was facing, it was not something that was human in anyway.

I felt my weight exerted upwards, the gravity surrounding my pixilated body suddenly disappear as arms wrapped around me from the roach. They lifted me without effort, just as he had eluded my unconscious and unwanted assault. Through the air I flew. Delicate tendrils of a soft wind tickled my cheeks as the higher air was alive with motion, completely different than the cityscapes motionless atmosphere. I felt powerless, but free. It was not until the looming mountain with its gaping red maw came into view that panic struck.

In a moment I was forced from my ponderings of solitude and peace and given worries of what would happen should I fall into the opening of the vast and uncharted live volcanic mouth.

Just before striking the magma I could feel the heat pulsing around me, absorbing my body. It was as if I had jumped into a hot spring with my clothes still on. Beads of sweat fell from my brow, both from the overwhelming intensity of the churning lava and the concern with my safety.

A flash suddenly appeared in place of the mountain. The rocks glowed slightly, and the light from the volcano became blindingly brilliant. The world went white.

[Taskmienster]

The light faded and the world was returned to normal. Collin looked around his small apartment, from the paper thin screen on his blank television to the worn arms of the couch. His hookah was waiting for him, a coal burning on the top with a warm ember glow. He picked up the hose and put it to his lips, inhaling as deeply as he could. The strawberry tobacco was quick to relight, allowing the sweet smoke to fill his chest. His eyes closed, he laid his head back on the couch and let the smoke slowly slip from his lips. The nonsense of battling in a tournament where overly powerful individuals were allowed to participate was over.

Whatever had happened to Althanas, it was over; at least he thought it was.

A light tap on the door and before Collin could turn around it burst open. He coughed on the smoke as stood as quickly as he could. The hose came with him, pulling the rest of the water pipe. It turned on its side, and for some reason his mind was focused more on the fact that the coal that was the source of heat for the tobacco was resting on the floor. He moved to grab the tongs, in order to pick up the coal so it would stop burning the floor. Instead he was met with an electric shock that pulsed through his entire body.

Never had his body hurt so much, and yet wanted to move as much. His arms twitched, his eyes attempted to roll back to see his brain, and the split second that the taser touched him felt like an eternity. His head dropped to the ground and he drooled from the edge of his mouth. His eyes were unfocused and filled with tears. In the background he could hear the police moving through the small room and looking for other people, while their leader called to his superior about the room being cleared. Inches from his nose, the scent of burning carpet lingered and pervaded, leaving him with the horrid scent just before he passed out.

[Taskmienster]

The world returned in a blur of color. Blue mingled with green, absorbing the forefront of Collin’s vision. He could see everything in a sense of pure nature. Trees began to come into focus first, wavering and shifting with the winds. The branches bowed as if in reverence. All around the man, the world was watching what would come next.

He sat up and looked around, confused. A sign was the only thing he could see immediately, one with a text across it declaring the camp behind it as the “Kids On Fire School of Ministry”. Small children were wandering behind the gateway, their clothes were simple. Every girl was wearing a dress, every guy pants and a long sleeve shirt. It was a strange world where he was stuck.

“Welcome to Jesus Camp.” The smiling man had a toothy grin, almost shark like. There was a light behind his eyes that scared Collin. “This is where you go when you’re in the situation like yours.”

“It’s true. I’m gay.” Collin closed his eyes and sighed. It was as if whatever that person he had fought in the first round was still working on him. As if he had never escaped.

[Taskmienster]

The television flashed, and Collin regained consciousness. His hands pushed the headset upwards, finally freeing himself from the virtual reality world. The hookah was still, the coal turned completely to ash, and useless. He sighed, and wiped the sweat off his brow. Whatever had happened, it was a glitch that he had never seen nor ever wanted to see again. The headset of his virtual reality gateway was buzzing quietly, a light blinking along the side.


~*~


Taskmienster,

We as the Althanas Administration apologize for the issue that came about during the battle. A glitch has occurred during the battle, and it directly affected your ability to truly battle. We notified the tech team, and have identified the problem. In the next round you will be able to actually fight. We look forward to the display.


~*~

Collin tapped the screen to reply. As soon as the reply box opened.

“Please send my opponent a message. Three words: Suck my dick.”

With that he turned off the screen and went to light a new coal for his hookah.

[Tainted Bushido]

Alright, I have been holding off on my judgment of this situation for a little while. I let there be some discussion about what is going on, and how things should be handled. In the end, I'm going to go with this situation.

1) Both of you are going to be reprimanded for the actions you took in this thread. I hate to degenerate to using such words, but you both acted childish. Therefore, any post that was seen as an attack (which begins with Homunculus' final post in this thread, and carries through to the end) shall be discredited, and their entry into the tournament null and void, despite their content.

2) Because of this, Homunculus times out due to inability to post a legal post. In the future I hope this underlines the correct course of action.

3) BOTH players shall be barred from registering for the next tournament. If you can't play nice, then you don't get to play at all.

4) Should this occur again, and I catch wind of it? The offending posts shall be immediately deleted, and the offender will be punished in the manner deemed appropriate. This is including but not limited to temporary bans. This goes for the both of you, either learn to stay cool, or don't participate in tournaments.

5) Taskmeinster is on probationary allowance to continue in this tournament. Should he step out of line again, he will be immediately disqualified. Anyone I find to be harassing him, in order to get him disqualified, will be HARSHLY dealt with. This is a punishment, not an excuse to harass the man because he can't fight back.

6) No rewards shall be given out for this thread. I don't reward what came down to in character bickering, and that's what this degenerated into.

May I one day get to bury this thread into the deepest recessed of the Althanas archives.