New Blood Bracket: Petoux vs. Mikeavelli

[Tainted Bushido]

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

Best wishes to both participants!

[Petoux]

THE DOME OF THE ANCIENT MAGE


And he stood inside a great dome. A silver marble floor streaked with veins of red and blue was beneath his feet. The walls were lined with shelf after shelf of books, such a number of books that one could spend a lifetime here reading and only make it through a tiny fraction of them. And all around the dome ran a balcony where there were yet more shelves of books set into the walls. The balcony was made of a deep brown wood with the kind of luster that spoke of years beyond counting of delicate care. The balcony's railing was of the same rich wood made into a variety of intricate designs. There was no gap in the railing and no visible means of reaching the balcony; obviously its designer had intended that no one might reach that level my merely mundane means. A brilliant mural was painted onto the domed roof, an illustration of angels and demons and mortal races all intermingling in a mingling of assorted landscapes that seemed to melt one into the other. The only mar upon the beauty of it was a single opening that stretched from one side of the ceiling to another; a long, straight edged hole with a curving top and bottom, through which was visible brilliant points of starlight.

And in the center of the room stood an immense cylinder that came down from that opening in the roof and tapered down as it reached for the floor: a telescope, a rarity that could only be built by an accomplished mage with the resources necessary to hire on the most talented engineers and glass-workers and purchase the finest materials that were produced anywhere. Below the telescope sat a single desk of lustrous oak, whereupon sat a number of delicate instruments and controls. The barrel of the telescope, the desk, the balcony, and the book shelves recessed into the walls were the only things inside the dome, with nothing but the marble floor stretching out to cover the expansive distance between the walls. There weren't even any visible sources of light, the illumination seeming to radiate from everywhere in the room at once while at the same time coming from nowhere. No door or window offered entrance into the dome at any point.



~*~


Sara returned to the forest with her new purchased bow, she wanted answers of how the forest truly came to be after what she went through. The warm summer breeze delicately brushed its way through Sara’s hair as the maroon-haired girl stood casually atop the large branches of the forest, where her and Hopper reigned victorious from the Tournament Of Champions. Her white blouse fit snugly against her small frame, a necessity when loose articles could mean the difference between a clean escape and capture, for it hugged her slender hips only loose enough to allow her legs the freedom she required while on the run. The tipped ears that she had could only belong to an elf. It took a few moments, but the girl’s sharp ears caught the sound of someone else on the opposite side of the forest. But it was abruptly interrupted as...

...


“No!!!...” She screamed as a crash of lightning blinded her for a moment. She flew helplessly towards the ground and straight through the portal that had just opened with the flash of the bolt at the last second before she hit the moistened dirt below. Tumbling around in the pitch black void of the portal, the sound that must have been coming from her still-screaming throat failed to reach her ears. She could breathe in the darkness, but there was no sound. She could see, but there was no light. It was quite a strange sensation, very different from her first tournaments transportation. Yet in a way it was rather… soothing. She stopped screaming and started to relax as the pinprick of light that marked her new destination drew slowly closer. As she relaxed, she was revitalized, and it was with a new found strength that she was dropped onto her new arena looking at a rather large assortment of books that lined the rather large room she seemed to have winded up in.

Her ears twitched as they caught another body breathing somewhere near her, and given she knew what a friends' breathing sounded like, she could only guess to an utmost certain degree that the quiet rasping noise belonged to her opponent that must have gone through the same experience wherever she or he came from. Bookcases, ledges, the ever-present yet invisible lighting, and even the balcony above began to fall together in her mind.

Those books would make a good distraction. It won’t take much to get up to that balcony for a surprise attack either. This room is pretty big, too, so I don’t have to worry about running into things this time around. Now… I wonder how my opponent to be will work with this place.

[Mikeavelli]

Patrick was in the middle of nowhere, in the shape of a brown-haired brown-eyed human, dressed in old, dusty travelers clothes, indistinguishable from any other poor farmer on the road, for at the time he was attempting to keep a low profile. Unexpectedly, he felt the calling, the sensation of being summoned off to elsewhere by powerful, unseen magic. It was always unpleasant, but hard to describe to someone who’d never felt it. It was like a strong hand clenched his innards together, and proceeded to pull him inside-out through a hole in reality sized for a field mouse.

It brought back memories of back before he’d come to the world of man, when his only experiences here were being called by powerful wizards, always seeking some kind of task. Some were mundane, even so low as to be mere entertainment for whatever guests the wizard had gathered together. Other times, he was supposed to impersonate some influential member of the mortal world, speak nice words to their friends and family, make decisions in their place, and eventually disappear when the job was done.

Once, he’d even been bound to a labyrinth of mirrors, with instructions to drive away anyone unfortunate enough to wander inside. THAT had been tremendous fun, providing him years of amusement before the wizard finally passed away, and the magic binding him there faded away.

So, despite the unpleasant trip, these little sessions almost always proved entertaining. He met the whole experience with excitement as he popped into this new wizard’s home with an audible *FWOOP!* His glamour came up instinctively to project an image of the most stunningly attractive man most mortals had ever seen to anyone who might happen to be around. Though in reality his clothes were old and dusty, they now appeared to spun from the finest silk. To most eyes, he was now wearing a brilliant, bright purple buttoned shirt and black pants, with their ends bloused into tall leather boots. His hair was shoulder-length, and golden-brown like the color of freshly harvested grain, framing a smooth, clear face that changed from viewer to viewer depending on what their own personal view of stunning beauty might take.

His mouth started running before his new host even appeared, “Tsk tsk, bare stone walls and bookshelves, let me guess, you’ve called me here because you need a decorator?”

And they were all the same. Some had the decency to put down some carpets, but most summoners were the most spartan decorators imaginable. Bookshelves filled with quaint and curious tomes of forgotten lore, foul-smelling potions percolating over candles, and bare stone carved into staircases and walls. The giant metal contraption in the center of the room was a new touch, but it had the bitter reek of iron to it, enough of it to make him a little sick to his stomach. He made a mental note to stay as far away from it as he could.

And then he looked up, and smiled when he saw one of the better-done works of mortal art he’d ever seen sprawled across the domed roof, speaking loudly, “Well, at least you have some taste. You’d be a much better host if you’d come out and have a chat though.”

[Tainted Bushido]

Petoux has forfeited to Mikeavelli, who advances.