[LocoColt04]

{{ OOC:

This is an "open" challenge in the sense that there ARE restrictions. You MUST have participated in a Tournament of Arms at least once prior. I want a skilled warrior who is looking for something fun and lighthearted. Something with humor, yet skill. Choose your best or your worst character, or create a new one. I'm not partial. I will be creating a new character specifically for this challenge as I wish to completely work up my creative flow, and I do this best with fresh scenarios.

We will be using standard RPB rules.

I will make the first battle post. You are allowed to claim rights to this thread with an Out of Context post following my own. First come, first serve, so the first person to post will need to provide a direct link to the post in which your character's biography resides. Again, it is required that you are a prior tournament participant as I wish to have a familiar writer to work with.

Any willing posters must also be willing to converse via xfire, Private Message, or email so that we may collaboratively create the best story possible here.

I wish to start this as soon as possible, be it tonight or tomorrow.

That is all. }}


{{ OOC edits, with relevant info:

To add more of a fantasy feel, though this fight takes place on Earth, the use of magic is allowed and encouraged. I am allowing the use of guns up to mid-20th century models as well as summon spirits and VERY rudimentary white magic. Alchemy is also an option. The setting will be mid-20th century in central Europe somewhere; I have not yet decided where. I will link to the character profile when it is posted. }}

Artemia Valencia

[Slim Perfect]

{{ OOC: If you deem me eligible I'm willing to do battle. Technically I was about to participate in TWO TOAs but, due to other arrangements I could not follow through. Up to you. I will be making a new character if I am accepted.

edit by LocoColt04:
I'm down with that. Just keep in mind that I'm looking for something a bit lighthearted, and I need you to have patience with my awkward schedule. Either way, you've got the job. I look forward to seeing the character you'll be using. Please edit the link back into this post, as I will do the same with my own. All future posts will be story/battle only (unless something crazy comes up). Now, I'll be off making something to eat and then I'll begin working on the scenario. }}

[LocoColt04]

I don't understand. Why this man? I know it isn't my place to ask. He's just another mark, but he seems so out of place here. What could he have possibly done? Does he have information? He's just a foreigner... with poor taste in clothing. Do people even wear that stuff any more? He looks like something out of those awful American moving pictures.

I'm a bit tired. The sun is warm today.

I wish I knew who the messenger belonged to. The money's too good for this one. Something just doesn't feel right. I don't even know his name...


Outskirts of a thickly wooded area, Southern Germany, 1953.


Artemia Valencia kept a close watch from the treetops, following the awkward man as he moved in her direction. The go-between had come to her three days prior, informing her of the new mark, stating that she would be rewarded handsomely if she brought the man back to the rendezvous point alive. Asking for details on how to find him, Artemia was handed a note and simply told to "look for the westerner." There was no doubt in her mind that the man beneath her was her mark, but she felt compelled to watch him for a while longer before making any aggressive moves.

As a mercenary, she was often called upon for odd jobs, but never before had she been given such a small amount of information to work with. "Big American cowboy, hat and cape. This is what you look for. Bring him back to us alive. Here is the loca..." Her eyes traced over the note one more time, almost in disbelief, as the mysterious man passed directly beneath her tree and continued onward into the woods.

Neat sword. I want one of those.

The man's scimitar rested in his hand, casually yet firmly. The gold caught Artemia's eyes as her mark steadily increased the distance between them. Slowly, she shifted her weight as to avoid making a sound, and dropped to the ground. Keeping against the trunks of the trees, she followed him for nearly half an hour, watching his every move, studying his patterns.

What is he doing? What is he looking for?

Closing the gap between them, Artemia's movements became bolder and more reckless. She moved swiftly and silently, encroaching upon his position with every breath. Ahead, a small clearance no more than three meters in diameter. The trees were so thick by this point that she was able to move from treetop to treetop with minimal effort. Passing overhead, she worked her way around to the opposite side of the clearing.

The man stopped. Leaves rustled loudly. Too brash? He looked up, but nothing was there. Cautiously, he approached the clearing, wary of his surroundings. Breathing slowly, Artemia settled deeper into the branches, drawing her bow with her right hand. Reaching over her shoulder, she pulled a single birchwood arrow out of her quiver and lined up her first shot. As she pulled back her left hand, something brushed against her shoulder, knocking her off balance.

Before she could even react, Artemia hit the ground, landing squarely on her right hip. Still hidden from plain sight behind the first line of trees, she quickly rolled up to her knees and planted herself firmly against the nearest trunk.

Did he hear me? There's no way he didn't. He's already on to me.

Her bow hung above, clinging to the end of a branch above her head. The arrow she had prepared sat a meter away, where she had initially landed. Her quiver had slipped open and there were a handful of arrows on the ground to her left. Horrible time to get caught, she thought, hoping to remain inconspicuous.

She waited, hoping he would walk away, giving her a chance to gather her belongings and resume the pursuit. Much to her dismay, he loitered, surveying his surroundings for a few moments. Content with his findings, the man began to leave the clearing, heading back the way he came. Artemia leapt upward, scaling the tree to retrieve her bow, then dropped back to the ground again. Sweeping up her arrows and tossing them nonchalantly into her quiver, she rolled toward the lone birchwood arrow and drew the string once more.

Weight shifted.

Leaves rustled.

A twig snapped.

The man, not even ten meters away, spun around as a hurried arrow embedded itself into the ground a few inches in front of his feet. A second arrow was already nocked by the time he looked up to see Artemia crouching in the clearing, and a second later, it was flying toward his right knee.

Did he see me in time to move?



{{ Slim gave me permission to control his character for the sake of this introduction. }}