TOA Round 3: B-B-B Berias VS Grahf

[psychosyd]

Alright, we only have 16 fighters left... and what a show it has been so far... lets continue to keep this thing going with a bang!

1. NO SIGNITURES!

2. No God Mods... you know the basics, "possesing characters", godlike abilities, cheapo moves, power dodging or Didging killing opponents stuff like that.

NOTE: The small time taking over, for like adding to battle posts are legal, as long as you dont hurt them or whatnot

3. 2 ways to win- Killing your opponent hte legal, way, getting them to accept the win, when you have bested them, or by a judges decision. ACCEPT it... if you have a problem with there decision, then PM me....

4. Judges will post who won, and a short paragraph on why they believe that person won

5. Round 3 starts on Sunday September 22... and will run till saturday the 28th

Round 4 starts that following sunday

So each tournament round lasts a week, you will have that much time to defeat your opponent. Topics will be closed on Saturday night, or sunday morning... if possible, and the next round will start. This tournament will be done in 6 weeks.

YOu may begin anytime

It was as if the battle was over before it started; Gage had no recollection of the second round. He was drifting in darkness once more, a parallel universe that was beginning to intrigue him, in spite of its repetition. He listened, if it could possibly be called listening in a subconscious world. Awaiting the voice that he knew would eventually come, bringing a message that he would barely understand.

It came in the form of a barely audible whisper; a hissing that rattled his mind. “Third round, huh? That’s farther than I thought you’d make it. Turning out well…let’s see if you can keep it up.”

He struggled for a moment, before finally spitting out a sentence. “Who are you?”

“Me?” A small boy manifested in the darkness, a smile stretching across his face. His black hair was long and tied back in a ponytail, and he had a fresh cut across his right eye, stretching down his cheek. The blood trickled down to his lip, yet he continued to smile. Gage shuddered, as it immediately dawned on him. “I am you.” The boy spoke, his childish whisper having turned to a deathly serious, completely audible tone. With his voice came a gust of wind that seemed to push Gage away from his younger self, as the blackness morphed, and he once again felt himself being thrust back to reality.

***************

Gage felt the breeze on his skin, noting the fact that he was no longer wearing his trench coat. He kept his eyes closed, trying to remember that second round. But it was hopeless; his mind had scratched it out, as it did most other things. He felt the lit cigarette between his lips, as he puffed continuously, desperate to relieve the stress of his reoccurring dream-state.

Finally, he opened his eyes, and looked himself over. He wore the same red business vest and dress pants that he had adorned in the previous round; the only thing he did remember. He questioned whether his opponent for the previous round ever showed up at all, but a small inkling kept telling him different.

With a sigh, Gage reached behind his back, withdrawing the dual desert eagles that had been resting there for the entire tournament. He rubbed the two barrels of the magnum pistols together, the moonlight reflecting off of each one respectively. The left one, “Deke,” as he called it, was a shining titanium alloy, its silver finish polished clean. “Sowms” was equally gorgeous, but it was gold plated instead of silver. Each clip held seven magnesium tipped bullets, each bullet containing a capsule of nitrogen, designed to filter through the tip on contact.

He smiled, admiring the two pistols before kneeling towards the ground, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor of the arena. He looked up at the night sky, letting the light of the full moon wash over his face, as the breeze seemed to die down. Laying the two guns on the ground before him, Gage withdrew the silver shaft from his pocket that would eventually serve as his sword in the battle to come, and laid it between the two guns.

He watched the people flooding the arena, filling the seats like vicious, starving children rushing towards the last remaining breadcrumbs in the world. Somehow, he felt his fear of everything float away, as he thought of the things that had happened to him in the past few days, and how he had possibly made it this far. He removed the butt of the cigarette, realizing that it had gone out long ago. He flicked it across the arena, as it hit the ground a few feet away from him. Closing his eyes once more, he felt his mind drifting away, awaiting the arrival of his opponent…

Loneliness was everywhere. Hopelessness and an air of foreboding had settled over the shores, casting their pall over land, sea and the stone arena where many warriors battled to see who was the greatest. A pale moon of early spring cast its wan light down upon the face of the grand deeps, giving each wind-driven wave top flecks of cold silver. Soughing breakers crashed endlessly upon the strand, weary from their journey from the corners of the earth. Above the tide line, icy gales forced dry sand against the dark rocks. Julius Abizaboah slowly walked along the beach, his two-handed sword, Dark Blessing, loosely held in his right hand, dragged along in the sands. He turned to the dark ocean, apparently unaffected by the freezing winds.


"Did I win?" Julius softly whispered, his words made bizarre by his broken lip, as a few of his cohorts dragged him from the center of the arena, a thick trail of blood following closely. He looked back and saw his opponent, Lionheart, also being taken from the arena. One of the men dragging him told him that the judges haven't decided yet, but a feeling in his gut told him that he had lost the match.

"Julius!" Someone else ran up to the small group, but Julius' vision was blurred and he couldn't tell who it was. "I saw Pherlammothion just now, exiting the arena!" Pherlammothion! Julius pushed the men who dragged him along the ground aside and stood on his own. The man who had killed his father, kidnapped his mother and sister and ruined the once proud name of Abizaboah was in the arena just now. Julius had been searching for Pherlammothion ever since that day, and now he had finally found him.


But by the time Julius' wounds were cured and his horse readied, Pherlammothion was long gone. The whole incident had only wakened bad memories. The memory of seeing the old farmhouse empty for the first time. The memory of seeing the crudely-made cross that marked a grave. The memory of devoting his entire life to finding one man. At the time, he thought that Pherlammothion had ruined his life. But now, standing on the cold beach, Julius realized that he had ruined his own life, by devoting it to revenge. But he knew that he would continue the desperate search, for his mother and sister.

Julius turned again and looked up at the arena. While trying to track down Pherlammothion, Julius had learned that he had won the second round. He wished that his opponent during the second round, Lionheart, had won the match and he could honorably leave the tournament. He needed time to think. He began to slowly walk towards the arena.

Julius had deep, brown eyes and a bronze mane. He was dressed in a simple, black shirt and pants, which was covered by a surcoat of small, steel links. He wore a long, black cloak and a long, red scarf. The decorated scabbard of Dark Blessing, which he still dragged along the ground, dangled from a leather belt. He also wore a pair of black, spiked gauntlets, which were covered in scars from the last match.

When he finally entered the arena, he saw that his opponent was already there and that the arena was full of eager spectators. He examined his opponent. He couldn't draw any reasonable conclusions from his opponent alone, but his weapons sparked Julius' interests. Before his opponent, who was apparently meditating, there were two guns. Julius had heard of guns before, metal staves that fire magic or something like that, but had never seen one before. Julius moved close to his opponent and bent down, carefully examing the two guns. He slowly moved a trembling hand towards the weapon, but looked up and saw Gage coldly staring at him.

He continued to float around in a dream state; a simple one, not containing any particular substance. For the first time in the entire tournament, he felt truly at bliss. After a considerably long period of contemplation, Gage decided that it was the first time in years, in fact.

He compared the length of the tournament to the mere idea of a lifetime in years. The thought was enough to make him tremble. Convinced that he was in a subconscious state that he would never be able to attain again, Gage momentarily overlooked the tournament altogether, trying to delve deeper into himself.

But the presence of an eager newcomer ripped him from his meditation, as he opened his eyes and stared straight to the face of his opponent, who had ignorantly been reaching for his gun. Malice traced every line and wrinkle on his face. He absolutely hated it when others reached for his possessions. Chiefly those whom he was determined to kill in the first place. And it was even worse when those possessions were his prized hardware, Deke and Sowms.

Slowly, Gage moved his arms forward, placing each pistol in his hands. He stood, as the silver shaft that had been lying between the two desert eagles began to spit forth a metallic liquid, flowing over the stone floor and riding the cracks like a system of canals and rivers. Placing each gun in its respective holster, Gage lowered his hands, doubling his fists, each knuckle giving off a loud pop.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still; Gage and Julius staring each other in the face, their eyes viciously attacking one another before the battle had even taken place. He knew something had to be done. Before long, the sword at his opponent’s waist was going to be breathing fresh air, crying out to take his life. Meanwhile, his sword was resting on the ground, the liquid metal having completely manifested itself to a three and a half foot long blade, stretching between the two apprehensive legs of Julius Abizaboah.

Convinced that one more second could be one second too long, Gage attempted an acrobatic backwards somersault, his legs wheeling towards Julius’ head, hoping to knock the bronze haired warrior back a few feet, giving Gage room to maneuver. As his hands touched the ground halfway through the somersault, around the same time his feet would be making contact with Julius, he swiftly reached forward and retrieved his sword, “Gladios,” from the ground.

When the rotation had finally been completed and he was back on his feet, the now fully equipped warrior sprung forward, sword raised high above his head, his short jet-black hair slightly wavering from the jolt forward. Once within range, he attempted a descending slash on his cagey opponent…

Though he didn't feel like he could relate to Gage like he could with his opponent in the second round, Lionheart, Julius felt that the gun warrior had reached some sort of higher enlightment, something that made him very nervous. He wanted to feel anger toward the warrior but his anger had no fire. He wanted a reason to hurt the man, but so far, Gage had did him no wrong. I have better things to do with my time than try to kill a man I just met, he thought to himself. He wanted to leave the tournament before he got hurt again, or worse yet, hurt somebody again. But he didn't show it as he continued to stare deeply into Gage's rage-filled eyes, unaware of the activities below him.

With a slight breeze running through the arena, Gage suddenly leapt forward, connecting his nimble feet with Julius' jaw. Julius was knocked back a few feet and blood began to trickle out of his lip and nose. He was shocked by his inability to sense the attack come or to dodge the attack, and he quickly reached the the handle of his sword, which was wrapped in withered black cloth. Just as he put one clammy hand around the handle, he felt cold steel slice through his flesh. He fell back to the ground again, blood gushing out from a new cut on his right shoulder. Again, he was shamed by his inability.

I should have been able to dodge that, Julius thought to himself as he examined the wound. He looked up at Gage, who was preparing for another attack. The feelings that Julius felt towards Gage before, the feeling that they had no need to fight, was shattered when he saw the blood from the second attack. Now, his face was the one traced with malice and distrust. He got back to his feet and was about to reach for Dark Blessing but stopped himself. His face slowly twisted into a smirk.

"They call this the Hitsu-Do." He quietly said.

He slowly put his hands together, as if he was going to pray to some god. He began to chant inaudibly. His chanting was calm at first, but shortly it erupted into a intense language. Than, his body was suddenly engulfed in flames. His limbs billowed with wisps of flickering flames, even his eyelashes were engulfed in trails of heat. He kept his hands together but slightly bent his back. Next, he slowly pointed one fist at Gage, as if it was a great strain to his body to move it. Than, with a quick shout, all the flames on his body surged foward, becoming a giant wave of inferno that quickly swam towards the awaiting Gage.

But he knew that that wouldn't be enough. The seconds following his attack, he reached down and drew Dark Blessing from its black and gold scabbard and rushed towards Gage, the weapon held high above his head.

Gage felt his hopes rise as his opponent went crashing to the ground after his opening assault. Something inside him kept telling him he was going to have an easy fight; that the third round would be even easier than any of his preceding matches. But like always, that was the part of him that always lied.

Julius rose from the stone floor, a look of pure disdain on his face. The man seemed to change from passive to vengeful, all within a few seconds time. Gage could understand his contempt; it was a tournament, after all. He knew the stakes had been raised, and they had both made their return to the realm of seriousness.

Gage watched his opponent reach for his sword, and he tightened his grip on Gladios. But instead of drawing the blade, the man smiled; a smile that made Gage shiver. “They call this the Hitsu-Do.” The man muttered, placing his hands together, as if clasping something between his palms. Gage stepped forward, eyeing the man with curiosity not befitting of a fighter in a tournament of such magnitude. But he quickly jumped back when the man erupted in flames so hot that the mere sight nearly blinded him, forcing him to throw his head to the side, raising his arm in defense.

When he finally had the nerve to face the human fireball once more, he had just enough time to see a massive wave of flames rolling towards him. He tensed, his entire body releasing a massive outflow of energy in automatic self-defense. The flames engulfed him, as he battled to fend off the amazing heat. Finally, the fire blew past him, the cool breeze soothing his red, heated flesh. The tips of the hair on his head had been singed, and every hair on his raised arm was gone. His clothes let off a nearly transparent gray smoke, every fiber heated and tested to its maximum limit. The blue energy shield that he had manifested slowly dissipated, as he raised his eyes to Julius.

But rather than seeing a man calmly standing, laughing at Gage’s poor attempt to defend himself; he saw an angry warrior charging towards him with sword raised high, intent on slaughtering him. Gage gasped, as he exerted even more precious energy to pull his sword up, and the two blades clashed. The heat of the wave and the rate with which Julius was overpowering him was too much, and he quickly jumped back, barely avoiding a cut to his abdomen.

He gasped for air for a few moments before driving his sword through the stone floor below, a tear escaping his eye. He looked back towards Julius, his eyes blood red and full of hate. Clenching his fists, Gage grunted as his wrists bulged, the skin splitting about three inches up and down, as two small mechanisms folded out, latching to his palms. Each one contained a red orb at the end where they attached. He raised his left hand, the orb facing Julius. Two lights pulsated beneath his chest; the light on the left shining bright, the light on the right remained dim. All at once, the left light became constant, and his entire body was engulfed in a bright blue light from within, before completely draining through the orb in his left hand, a streak of plasma jetting towards his opponent.

Just as he released the first stream, Gage broke into a dead run towards Julius, his body glowing blue once more. Once within a few feet of Julius, he thrust his right palm out towards his enemy’s chest, the plasma ready to blast upon contact…

Now, Julius felt that the golden Lady Luck was on his side once again and he might actually have a chance of winning the battle as he watched his opponent stumble back after his first two attacks. He felt that he might have a moment to relax as his singed opponent angrily glanced back at him, and than remembered the large gash on his right shoulder that still pumped out dark blood. He quickly glanced at the wound, and when he looked back at Gage, he gasped in complete horror.

It surprised Julius enough when he found out that his opponent had some guns, but now, he found out that his opponent actually was a living gun! Gage's wrists ripped themselves open and two strange contraptions slowly worked their way out and latched onto Gage's arms, each one pointing a small, red orb directly at him. Than, two small lights began to weakly blink inside of the Gage's chest. Next, a bright blue aura came over Gage before draining into the red orb and firing a line of energy at Julius' chest, which violently pumped up and down with horror and pain. Julius was so horrified by what had just happened that he could do nothing but watch the blast of energy zoom towards him. Then the reality of pain pulled him back to the Tournament of Arms, as he was knocked back to the dusty ground by the powerful energy blast. He roughly coughed as he eyed his burnt chest, which was covered in hot sores and blisters that spat out thick blood.

Suddenly, Gage was standing over Julius, one of the red orbs aimed at his wounded chest. Julius gasped when he saw his own red reflection in the orb and than began to roll over. An energy blast from Gage's wrist machine pummeled into his back, ripping the cloths and skin off his back. Julius screamed out in pain. His blood stained the ground, as he slowly started to lift himself up. He turned to face Gage. He was becoming desperate. He was facing an opponent who had weapons and abilities that he coudln't even begin to understand. He knew that he had few chances in the battle that he didn't even want to fight.

"Watch closely, you'll never see this again." Julius said with a cough of blood, trying to sound dangerous.

He touched his forehead with the pointer finger of his right hand and began to hum in concentration. He slowly moved his finger from the center of his forehead and pointed it at the mechanized Gage. A small, black orb took form at the tip of his finger. Than it quickly shot forward but suddenly pulled to a stop about four feet in front of Julius. Than Julius removed the black, spiked gauntlet on his left hand and tossed it to the side. Than he bent down and lifted up his large sword, Dark Blessing, which had fell from his hand when he was hit by the first of Gage's energy blasts. He lifted his left hand towards the dark sky and suddenly sliced it off with a quick swipe of his sword. He screamed again as he dropped Dark Blessing and caught his left hand with his right, his eyes growing large with pain. He stumbled back a few feet, still holding his left hand. Blood was everywhere. Thick, dark blood that felt like hot fever on his scalded skin. He than slowly and weakly tossed his left hand towards the black orb of energy that still floated there. When the dismembered hand hit the ball of energy, it exploded into a swarm of large, black insects. The individual creatures were each longer than a large man's index finger and three times as fat. They had huge maws with which they tear at the flesh of their intended victim. The swarm had a hive mind, allowing the individual creatures of coordinate their attacks. The swarm rushed towards the awaiting Gage, as Julius sat on the ground, quickly wrapping up his bloody stump with cloth that he tore from his ruined black cloak.

Gage gave a triumphant laugh, finally releasing Julius from his prison of torment. Slowly, he backed away, giving his opponent space to move, as if he were going anywhere. But he did; Julius climbed to his feet again, even after the brutal attack that Gage had unleashed on him. The orbs on his palms steamed, the heat burning his flesh. Yet he didn’t notice, for he was too amazed at the sight of his opponent standing at this point; the only one to have ever gotten up after being shot down by his plasma.

"Watch closely, you'll never see this again." The man threatened Gage, as if his life were to end within a few seconds time. He formed a small blue sphere on his fingertips, giving Gage a cold stare. Gage, in return, gave the man a neurotic look, as his blood began to boil. His look of agitation soon changed to utter disbelief, as the insane man before him chopped off his hand, tossing it to the blue sphere that had been lingering in mid-air. The second the hand collided with the dark magical ball, a swarm of insects exploded on top of him, every single one clinging to his flesh and clothes.

He fell to his knees, as an attack that lasted only a few moments seemed to drag on for an eternity, torturing every part of his physical and mental being. He felt his skin being literally torn from his bones, as the massive swarm consumed him. Finally, he decided to do something about it. He let out a wicked scream, as his body bulged and erupted at every single pour, spilling liquid metal onto his exterior, engulfing every single insect. He fell even closer to the ground, planting one hand on the arena floor to keep himself from passing out from the pain. With yet another shrill of pain, Gage flung himself back up, as the liquid metal solidified, as several hundred loud crunches were heard in unison; each bug meeting its demise.

The metal turned liquid once more, melting off of him as if he were a plague. But what was underneath was not much more than that; Gage’s entire body was bleeding profusely, and his clothes were tattered and destroyed. He tried to stand, but it did no good. He felt his consciousness slipping. Nevertheless, he struggled to hold on. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a zippo, lighting up the long, cancerous stick and puffing on it. He sighed, dropping the zippo to the ground, as he started to fall forwards…then the voice struck him once more.

“You strong?”

With energy that Gage did not even realize he possessed, he jumped back to his feet and quickly withdrew “Deke and Sowms,” pointing them directly at Julius. His thoughts raced, as he realized that if this did not work, he may very well be out of the fight. But he held onto his hope, as well as his guns. He felt his grip tighten, almost uncontrollably, the sights aiming towards his opponent’s chest. He closed his eyes, muttering a prayer before unloading each clip towards Julius…

(OoC: Hopefully that wasn’t illegal…if it was, then I can either edit it or if you wanted to just disregard the post…yeah…Well let me know.)

Grahf Intro: Very nice. I like the philisophical talk, but the way you talk about the ravenous fans is taking it a bit too far. Good writing style otherwise.

Berias Intro: Ugh...the ol', "My parents were killed" storyline does get ever so old. Nice writing style though.

Grahf Attacks: You write your attacks in a very technical way, quite similar to the way Timothy Zahn works his Star Wars novels. This is very interesting at first, but it does make your writing very bumpy, and less enjoyable to read.

Berias Attacks: You have creativity on your side, but your writing doesn't flow very well. I also found that you said your name waaay too much.

Ugh....this is hard. After much debate and consideration, however, I think I'm going to have to give this to Grahf.