Witchblade
09-11-06, 06:36 PM
[Closed]
Like everyday the corridors of The Citadel were filled with fighters, or those that just thought they were. Scrawny mage types to the towering hunks of muscle that make one wonder how they were even able to move, let alone fight. Tiny teens with rusty swords, worn hilts and armour that had seen better days passed through the halls occasionally, looking for a challenge yet being cocky and over confidant barely able to give a challenge themselves. Many a warrior was created here in these rooms and many a young man—or woman’s—pride and dreams were forever crushed under the realization that they just couldn’t fight. The Citadel was always a mishmash of people and cultures. One could always find humans of course, this was Corone and humans were everywhere here. Literally, you couldn’t get rid of them no matter how many you killed. But being the only battle arena around where someone could be revived meant a lot of other races showed up as well, from elves to Drow to even Demons and the occasional race one didn’t even have a name for. It was all here and if one was lucky enough they could find a real challenge and perhaps feel the bitterness of steel thrust into their own body instead of the satisfactory feeling of thrusting steel into the flesh of another.
That was what she was here for, a challenge. As fun as it was to slaughter the helpless masses a true challenge was much better. Though technically speaking, for it to be a true challenge real death would need to be breathing down her neck and clawing into her back. She wouldn’t be able to find that here but she could get the next best thing.
“Can I help you?”
Witch turned around and looked at the robe monk before her. He was standing about her height and though he was covered from head to toe in robes it was quite obvious he was rather built underneath. He was not a pretty sight to look at though; his face had been broken too many times in battle.
“Looking for some kind of challenge…”
He didn’t even seem to flinch at her telepathic response to his words.
“We have many rooms available with challengers already inside, are you looking for anything specific?”
Was she? Did she want to do another one on one battle or was she looking for something a little more chaotic? Chaos was always so much fun, yet uncontrollable; there was never any telling what would happen when one figured that into the equation. Heh, chaos it was then.
“How about something with multiple opponents?”
A smirk passed over the monks face; “We have a room set up for a team battle right now.”
A team battle. Witch was not a team player most of the time, she preferred to go solo but this did found better than just a plain old one on one battle.
“A team battle it is then…lead on.”
The monk nodded his head and led her down corridor after corridor. Passed fighters preparing to go into battle and others being removed from their arena on a stretcher while others calmly walked out battered and bruised yet clearly the victor. There was nothing better than getting the crap kicked out of you in a fight yet coming out victorious in the end. It made all the pain worth it, it made everything world it when that blade sliced through the flesh like warm butter and embedded itself into organ, muscle and veins. Blood flowed, eyes that initially looked on in surprise soon began to glaze over in death and look on at nothing. It was so satisfactory, it made Witch shiver with memory of so many occurrences like that, the bloodlust already beginning to build as she continued to follow the mage.
“Here you are.”
Witch found herself standing before a plain wooden door like all the others in this place. Shrugging out of her rucksack and setting it aside, Witch removed her cloak. Long strands of black hair with silver, gold and bronze streaks began to fall down around her pale face. Crimson eyes emerged from the shadows of the hood and a sewn mouth was smirking with anticipation for a good battle ahead, or the hope of one.
“Who’s going to be on my team?”
“I’m afraid the teams are chosen at random, you’ll come out in a room under the stadium, when all the teams have been assembled the door will open and you may begin the match.”
Nodding her head, Witch checked over her equipment making sure everywhere was in its right place. Throwing daggers around her hips, twin daggers in the small of her back, sais in her boots and the fold out staff in her belt. Everything was perfect, the straps on her armguards were tight and the titanium glinted in the light. Opening the door Witch walked through into her battle arena. As the monk said she found herself in a small room mostly in shadows. A few torches were in sconces along stonewalls and a large iron gate allowed for most of the light that was filtering in. The first thing that became apparent was the noise though. It reminded her so much of the roars and cries of the crowd from The Cell it was like being thrown back to that moment, only she wasn’t in a cage here and there was no one else in the room with her. The halfling didn’t even know if this crowd was a simulated illusion like this playing area or if they were real people, though the latter did not sound very likely. Resigning herself to patience to wait for everyone else to file in, Witch leaned against the wall and tried to drown out the noise from the crowd. Her hearing was very sensitive and the sound of hundreds of screaming humans was not something she enjoyed very much, unless they were the sounds of them dying but even then that got annoying after a while. People should learn to die quietly.
Like everyday the corridors of The Citadel were filled with fighters, or those that just thought they were. Scrawny mage types to the towering hunks of muscle that make one wonder how they were even able to move, let alone fight. Tiny teens with rusty swords, worn hilts and armour that had seen better days passed through the halls occasionally, looking for a challenge yet being cocky and over confidant barely able to give a challenge themselves. Many a warrior was created here in these rooms and many a young man—or woman’s—pride and dreams were forever crushed under the realization that they just couldn’t fight. The Citadel was always a mishmash of people and cultures. One could always find humans of course, this was Corone and humans were everywhere here. Literally, you couldn’t get rid of them no matter how many you killed. But being the only battle arena around where someone could be revived meant a lot of other races showed up as well, from elves to Drow to even Demons and the occasional race one didn’t even have a name for. It was all here and if one was lucky enough they could find a real challenge and perhaps feel the bitterness of steel thrust into their own body instead of the satisfactory feeling of thrusting steel into the flesh of another.
That was what she was here for, a challenge. As fun as it was to slaughter the helpless masses a true challenge was much better. Though technically speaking, for it to be a true challenge real death would need to be breathing down her neck and clawing into her back. She wouldn’t be able to find that here but she could get the next best thing.
“Can I help you?”
Witch turned around and looked at the robe monk before her. He was standing about her height and though he was covered from head to toe in robes it was quite obvious he was rather built underneath. He was not a pretty sight to look at though; his face had been broken too many times in battle.
“Looking for some kind of challenge…”
He didn’t even seem to flinch at her telepathic response to his words.
“We have many rooms available with challengers already inside, are you looking for anything specific?”
Was she? Did she want to do another one on one battle or was she looking for something a little more chaotic? Chaos was always so much fun, yet uncontrollable; there was never any telling what would happen when one figured that into the equation. Heh, chaos it was then.
“How about something with multiple opponents?”
A smirk passed over the monks face; “We have a room set up for a team battle right now.”
A team battle. Witch was not a team player most of the time, she preferred to go solo but this did found better than just a plain old one on one battle.
“A team battle it is then…lead on.”
The monk nodded his head and led her down corridor after corridor. Passed fighters preparing to go into battle and others being removed from their arena on a stretcher while others calmly walked out battered and bruised yet clearly the victor. There was nothing better than getting the crap kicked out of you in a fight yet coming out victorious in the end. It made all the pain worth it, it made everything world it when that blade sliced through the flesh like warm butter and embedded itself into organ, muscle and veins. Blood flowed, eyes that initially looked on in surprise soon began to glaze over in death and look on at nothing. It was so satisfactory, it made Witch shiver with memory of so many occurrences like that, the bloodlust already beginning to build as she continued to follow the mage.
“Here you are.”
Witch found herself standing before a plain wooden door like all the others in this place. Shrugging out of her rucksack and setting it aside, Witch removed her cloak. Long strands of black hair with silver, gold and bronze streaks began to fall down around her pale face. Crimson eyes emerged from the shadows of the hood and a sewn mouth was smirking with anticipation for a good battle ahead, or the hope of one.
“Who’s going to be on my team?”
“I’m afraid the teams are chosen at random, you’ll come out in a room under the stadium, when all the teams have been assembled the door will open and you may begin the match.”
Nodding her head, Witch checked over her equipment making sure everywhere was in its right place. Throwing daggers around her hips, twin daggers in the small of her back, sais in her boots and the fold out staff in her belt. Everything was perfect, the straps on her armguards were tight and the titanium glinted in the light. Opening the door Witch walked through into her battle arena. As the monk said she found herself in a small room mostly in shadows. A few torches were in sconces along stonewalls and a large iron gate allowed for most of the light that was filtering in. The first thing that became apparent was the noise though. It reminded her so much of the roars and cries of the crowd from The Cell it was like being thrown back to that moment, only she wasn’t in a cage here and there was no one else in the room with her. The halfling didn’t even know if this crowd was a simulated illusion like this playing area or if they were real people, though the latter did not sound very likely. Resigning herself to patience to wait for everyone else to file in, Witch leaned against the wall and tried to drown out the noise from the crowd. Her hearing was very sensitive and the sound of hundreds of screaming humans was not something she enjoyed very much, unless they were the sounds of them dying but even then that got annoying after a while. People should learn to die quietly.