TOA Quarterfinals: DragonHeart v fragdemon v OceanEyes28

[LocoColt04]

*sigh*
Please read everything I have to say, or I'll have to beat all of you severely.

Round three is the three-way, so we have to work in a timely manner. I'm gonna list some stuff that I'd like you to follow. Lists are easier. Read it. From here on out, I will use letters to refer to the three people.

(A) - First person in chooses scenery
(B) - Second person in shows up, acknowledges first person
(C) - Third person in sees first two, makes the first attack on one or both

*If C does not intro within two days of B's intro, A is free to begin the attack phase; consequently, if C shows up after A's attack but before B's attack, s/he must wait for B to post.

(Your letter is not your order in the title. It's the order you arrive.)

The round will follow a strict posting order: A B C

Each person must be given two days to make his/her post. However, when the time runs out, here is an example.

C attacks A.
A does not post in two days.
A automatically takes the hit at full strength; B watches (and writes about) the attack, and makes his/her own attack post.

However, there's nothing that says you have to attack the person after you, or a single person at all. Other examples of this follow.

C attacks B.
A does not post in two days.
B can dodge C's attack if s/he wishes to do so.
B continues on with his/her attack phase.

B attacks A and C.
C does not post in two days.
A can dodge or take the hit, and also has power over whether or not C takes the hit.
A continues with the attack phase.

But what if you're all active? How does an attack toward the person before you work? Yes, that's a difficult one to figure out, isn't it? Well, here's where a slight bit of godmodding comes in, and will be allowed in this round only SOLELY for the purpose of continuity and ease.

B attacks A.
C posts in time, leaving A out to dry.
C has two choices: C can force A to dodge the attack, or force A to take a slight portion of the attack, inflicting no damaging injury (like a glancing blow compared to a full thrust, resulting in a cut or bruise at most).
C then continues on with the attack phase.

And of course, if you attack the person who follows you in the posting order, there's nothing confusing to figure out, is there? But hey, there's no fun in that.

The thread will be closed on July 25, between 4AM and 7AM GMT (London). In America, it's Sunday night. In Asia/Australia, it's midday Monday.

In any case, this is now officially yours to handle. I hope you all understood my little mini-rant here. Three-for-alls are always so hard to write, much less judge. Good luck to the three of you, and here's to an active battle.

[fragdemon]

((OOC: I promised that the plot would thicken. It’s straight out fat now.))


Darius awoke with a start.

He didn’t know what it was that woke him up, the crickets in his room were chirping at their usual volume, and the small synthetic marsh seemed to have the same ecosystem it had yesterday:

A dying one.

Darius was killing it simply by living here. While the majority of his power was drawn from the mulch forest, Darius naturally killed the room he was given by dint of proximity.

Darius sat on the roots of his tree. The roots were attached to the base of a trunk that had grown out of the wall. But the trunk stopped at the ceiling of the room, there were no branches above, because the tree didn’t need life from leaves. It just drew from the living wood that was enchanted by the wizards and priests who designed this room for Darius to mold.

While Darius was wondering why he had woken up so suddenly, he heard a knock.

“Come in.”

The light was dim, but Darius could hear the sniffles emerging from the small silhouette.

Tom was crying.
__________

“What the hell happened to him?” Darius screamed at the women curled up in front of him.

Lying in front of both of them was a bloody mess:

John Jour.

He had multiple stab wounds in his chest and stomach, and he had bruises on his face.

“I don’t know.” cried Mrs. Jour, a living coil that looked as if it was going to spring open from all of the tension. “The medics are coming. They’ll help us.”

The medics came.

They didn’t help.

John Jour had two days to live.
__________

Darius kneeled amongst the rot.

The night before, he tried to use all of his healing spells to save his good friend. But they were too weak and the damage was too strong. Darius’ druidic powers were fading quicker, their dissolution aided by the forest. Perhaps he could restore them with intense training, but he didn’t have the time.

His necromantic powers were perfect though.

Tom kneeled next to him, crying over the body that lay in front of him. The bruises were healed off of his father’s face by the clerics, but it was the stab wounds that just wouldn’t stop. The internal bleeding would kill him.

The dying forest aided Darius as he launched into his work. Thomas didn’t see what he did. He only heard the sounds of squirts in the night as he caressed his father’s head.

His mother wouldn’t approve.
__________

“Where am I?” Mr. Jour asked, glancing around.

“In my room.” Darius answered.

“Get me the f*** out of here.”

Tom had never heard such words out of his father’s mouth. Darius hadn’t either, Tom guessed, based on the look on his face.

“I’m serious, get me the f*** out of here.”

“Your wounds are closed, but I need you for the rest of the night so I can make sure my seals will stay put.”

Mr. Jour sighed.

“So I’ll live?” he asked, submitting in his question.

Darius sent Tom out of the room before he replied.

“You have half a year at best.”

“I thought you cured me.”

“I’m not a healer. I’m a necromancer.” Darius responded. “The seals I put on your flesh are living rot. For now it’s just enough undead flesh to close the wounds, but over time it will devour your stomach.”

“One hell of an ulcer, eh?” John responded.

Darius would have smiled at the irony if he was in a better mood.

“When this tournament is over, I’ll find a cleric better than the ones here and bring him to you. But if I can’t, you’ll die.”

John didn’t complain. He understood what Darius did for him. He now had four to five months to prepare for his death and make sure that his family would survive without him. But ensuring his family’s survival would require another task.

“Darius, you have to stop seeing us.”

“No!” Thomas had apparently been peeking in through the door. He didn’t hear about his father’s imminent death though.

John ignored his son “Those men who attacked me were drunk gamblers. All of them bet on Zennousha and lost. Somewhere along the lines of their drunken rants, they decided that they were cheated.” John didn’t even wait to see if Darius nodded. He knew that Darius understood what they were implying. “As long as you see us, you’ll put my family in danger. I’ll still see you at work, but I can’t bring Thomas anymore. If you come to my house or are seen with Thomas, you’ll put my entire family in danger.”

“No!” Tom was crying by this point.

Darius would have tried to calm the boy, but he couldn’t.

He was crying too.
__________

“How’s the kid?”

“Staring at walls again.”

“Damn.”

Mr. Jour didn’t respond, but Darius knew he thought the exact same thing.

Darius would’ve liked to console the man, but he had nothing to say. Neither of them did.

“I’m going to fight my opponents in the dead forest.”

“I’ll tell them.”

“Thank you.”

“Glad to be of service.”

A weak smile from both, and Darius left.
__________

As he stepped into the forest, Darius felt a surge of power. The surge gave the druid pleasure. The stench of death was like an exotic perfume.

Erotic? No.

All of the pleasure was physical. Mentally, Darius abhorred death.

All was dead. Every stick and leave was rotting away. Eventually, it would all turn to soil, rich hummus for new trees to grow.

New critters would move in, unsympathetic to the fact that their distant cousins once died hear in a large group.

As he thought about it, Darius realized that life would move on. Life never cared about the death in a location. Life would continue to thrive off the remnants of death, ignoring the fact that death would eventually quench it out.

Poor naïve life.

The rotting stumps were of various heights, so it wasn’t difficult for Darius to find one he could sit on. As he walked towards it, the slop that was once leaves squelched under his feet.

He would wait for his opponents, he trusted Mr. Jour to find him.

“He’s a good guy.”

Darius stopped himself before he continued. He wasn’t giving a compliment.

He was giving a eulogy.


((OOC: Fast, no? Now that I've finally gotten into the groove, the words are coming to me easily. Let's hope they're actually good.

So I'm sticking to the system of the 1000 word intros and 600 word battle posts. It seems sufficient/concise enough.

I'm realizing at this point that I only have two more intros left (assuming the best), so I have to get a lot more out.

I couldn't find the time for everything, so I used very vague terms. The events of the post can take 2-3 days at a minimum, but could potentially be describing a longer time. I couldn't stick in actual dates though.))

[OceanEyes28]

Darkness. Don’t tell me... Alex kicked her legs and felt nothing against the soles of her shoes. She was weightless, and yet she was being pressed by all sides. Her eyes blinked open. Salt rushed in and stung her tear ducts, so her inner lids snapped shut. The world seemed as a vault with quivering blue walls. Thank God for mom, she thought as oxygen circulated through her pores. I wonder what happened to Dimitri... hope he got out all right. Looks like another one of my spells went out of control. She sighed through her lips and watched the plump resulting bubbles drift to the distant surface. So that was up. She had been a little unsure because there was no sunlight piercing the watery prison. Her guess was that the sun had faded while she had been beneath the tumbling waves. Her sore shoulder ached as she began paddling to the top. She desired to touch the breeze again. True, this was her element, but the scarlet human within her crystal nymph blood grew nervous in deep water. Blood. She remembered it well. Her own dull pink essence against her dirty arms. Another man’s crimson hatred staining her offending weapon. She gave her arms a rest, and gently eased her legs back and forth, one thigh brushing the other as she rose.

Come to think of it, this was the first moment in a while that she had been forced to think about anything. Her mind was always plagued with fading memories of years gone by, but this was something new. What else could she do but think? For one thing, she still found it hard to believe that she had survived that war when so many of her comrades had been lost. Jason, Max, Cameron, Aaron, Carlos... All dead. Slain by a cause that she had wished to forget. Why had she fought? Surely there was a good reason. Revenge is a good reason. Her story was not too different from that of other people’s. The invading army had killed her family, and in an effort to avenge them, she joined the army. Alex as no more noble than the rest of them. But she was different. Yes, hers was an exception to the sob stories of others. Her revenge had been completed, and she had lived. The sound of her blade shattering his neck echoed in her ears. She shuddered. Why so different now, Alex? His death repulsed her, but it was possible that, at the time, she had found his life even more sickening. How dare he live on while her family remained fallen skeletons beneath the ashes of her village? Of course, there had been no special circumstances, no particular reasons for her family’s murder. At best, fate had been against them. Her hatred was a product of someone else’s random and violent hatred. Her mother’s open mouth, stretched and split from her screams, had haunted Alex’s nightmares and begged for justice. Whether or not Alex had understood correctly was something she was still unsure of.

Finally, she broke the surface. Her lips parted in a grateful gasp as air flooded her lungs. The nymph respiratory system had kept her alive, but there was nothing like breathing the human way. It was infinitely more satisfying. As she caught her breath, she took in her surroundings. Oh shit! Moonlight glistened off of the sedated ocean that stretched out to every horizon. Which way is Valencia? Shit... um... She spun around and squinted her eyes, but saw nothing. She could feel her human pulse quicken. Had she been a full blooded water nymph of her mother’s breed, she would have been able to simply melt away into the throbbing ocean. Unfortunately, that was not the case thanks to her mother’s love for humans. There was true flesh and bone to be dealt with. [i]Okay, calm down, the ocean is south of Valencia. But I’m not sure if the moon is rising or setting. How long have I been out? Well, okay, either way, north is either this way...[i] She jerked her torso around to face the direction that left the moon to her left. Or that way. The moon was now on her right. She looked at the stars. The black dome twinkled back at her with those millions of mischievous eyes. Soon her attention was brought to one star in particular. It was a bit brighter than the rest of them. Phillip’s star... It always shines in the north. It was his, because he had always been there to guide her. She always knew which was was right because it lead her to him. The corners of her mouth curled into a sentimental smile, and she dove into the bitter sea.

Once she had gotten her direction, finding her way back had not been difficult. The towers of Valencia seemed to glow with the rising moonlight. It’s reflection echoed off of the stirring coast, shining off the rising and falling aquatic hills. It stood tall and majestically above her at the top of the half mile drop. She thought for a moment while clinging to protruding rock. There was no way she could scale sheer rock. She had her solution in a matter of seconds. Being a manipulator of water was certainly an advantage. She dipped her index finger into the water, and gently wrapped the ocean around it. With a swift throw, the liquid rope soared into the air. Climbing was easy after that.

Back in the sanctity of her room, she stripped herself of her soaking garments and collapsed. She was asleep until mid-morning the next day. She was awakened by a commanding knock on her door. Her room was still dark because her heavy drapes had been drawn. Once she was used to the world of the conscious, she began to notice sounds from the village outside. What time is it? she groaned. The knock impatiently rang through her room again. “I’m coming!” she cried. She tried to bring herself up, but her back was still tender from Dimitri’s burn so she fell back onto her chest. That’s a problem... Wait... Dimitri... what had happened to the battle? Oh God, had she come back to her room to rest before the battle had been over? Was she disqualified? The knock sounded again. “Sorry! I hear you, and I’m coming!” She drew herself with a grimace, and ran for the door. Then she remembered her nakedness. Her hand jerked away from the door handle, and she dashed across the room and dug through her suitcase. She found a cloak for the rain, and wrapped it tightly around herself. The knocker knocked again. You’d think he’d give up, but I guess he knows I’m in here. Damnit damnit damnit. When she finally opened the door, she found an apparently annoyed Vincent looking back at her. She gasped and quickly glanced down at her chest to make sure it wasn’t obvious beneath her dark cloak that she was a woman. Fortunately, Vincent seemed all about business and didn’t seem notice.

“I’m here to let you know that you have won your first match, and that you have a ‘bye’ for round two. Some of the fighters didn’t show, so to keep the brackets in order, you have a week off. Enjoy it, and rest. You’ll need it for the quarterfinals. Congratulations on your win.” His voice was a pleasant and rich one. His slate eyes were a sharp contrast to his black hair, and seemed to make his face appear more dramatic.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to get some rest.” She smiled, and hoped that she had remembered to push her voice down.

“Good. Oh, this came for you.” He reached into his crimson robe, and pulled out a roll of parchment. “I don’t do this, but it came a few days ago, and our messengers have been rather slack. As coordinator, I thought it appropriate to apologize for any inconvenience it may have caused.”

Alex nodded and took the parchment from Vincent’s hand. “I’m sure it’s all right.”

“Glad to hear it. Good luck in your next round, Ms. Alex.” He smiled and walked away, quickly disappearing within the busy villagers.

“No! I...” Too late. She slammed her door and flung off the cloak. “I might as well have been without it.” She put on a snug cotton shirt that hid her chest more comfortably than her breast plate. She put another shirt on over that. It was made of linen and had belonged to her father. It was large, and went to about mid-thigh on her. She opened her parchment and dried lilac tumbled out onto her floor. She smiled.

Dear Alex,

It seems like it’s been ages since I’ve heard your voice. I’m sure by the time this gets to you, it will be. How are you? How has the tournament been? Are you winning? I hope it’s not too late to wish you good luck. I’m sure it isn’t. You’re a good fighter. I do hope you’re not using that disgusting broadsword, though. You’re horrible with that thing, no offense.

Alex stopped reading. Her broadsword. Where was it? She set the letter on her bed and found the damp pile of combat clothes. The sheath was there, but she supposed that the sword had fallen from her hands when the wave hit. She had forgotten about it completely. How professional. She sighed, and went back to her letter. As she read, she began to imagine him speaking the loops and angles of his cursive.

I’m doing well. I’m still captain of Dave’s old regiment, and I think I may be growing on them. He would pause here. You were right, as usual. It hasn’t been easy. I’m just thankful for the peace we have now. I wish you had reconsidered, and stayed with the army. A chuckle. Being a captain would probably be the only way I could get you to listen to me. Then again, if you had stayed, there’s a chance you would have been a captain. So nevermind. I have so much to tell you, but I don’t think this is how I want to say it. If you make it to finals, write me, and I’ll arrange a field trip or something. Or write me anyway.

I bet you’ve noticed the lilac by now. They’re the best I could do for flowers. I hope they’re okay. I suppose I should wrap this up now. I hope you’re doing well and haven’t gotten hurt. I’ll see you as soon as I can.

Love,
Phillip

Alex sighed and set the letter on the mahogany desk. She picked up the scattered lilac and did the same with it after holding the dried bouquet up to her nose first. Then she sat down, brushed her bangs to one side, and began to write.

The week passed slowly. After her letter was written, she had hung her clothes outside to dry in the sun. Then, she searched the village for something to soak her burns with. The first few days were spent mostly in her room with a wash rag and assorted herbs. She also took many baths to let her element perform its own healing process. After having sufficient time to heal completely, with the exception of a few sore muscles, Alex spent the rest of her time off roaming the village. She must have visited every pub there was. After a while, she began to think Valencia was a nice place to live.

Then the notice for round three was delivered. She would be fighting two opponents this time. They would certainly prove to be harder than her first match. Good luck indeed, she thought to herself.

The day of her round finally came. She woke up early, and took special care in putting on her fighting uniform. Every movement, every tension and release, was a careful demonstration of her struggling self control. She took up her stolen sword with its slender blade that sang when the air moved across it. The image of the dying commander and his hatred was difficult to escape as she held the sword that had killed him. The sword that had once been his.

She had just reached out to open the door when her sight was replaced by familiar blue light. Her pulse quickened and her muscles tightened. She doubted she would be lucky enough to be fighting beside the ocean again. She was right. As the light faded and her sight returned, she found herself in a dim clearing surrounded by what looked like colossal and intricately carved columns posing as trees. The forest was thick, and she could not see an exit. After a moment of wonder, she realized that one of her opponents was already with her. He sat on a decaying stump with twisted and knarled roots bursting from the ground as if crying out to the heavens in their fatal agony. He seemed a young man, but something about his gaze said otherwise. There was obvious experience behind his young appearance, and now, she would have to face it with her own.

“So which one are you?” Alex asked.

“Darius.”

“I’m Alex.” He nodded, and she nodded. There was not much else to do now but wait for the third opponent to arrive. Alex picked a stump of her own, and waited.

((OOC: Wow, this got really long. I’m sorry about that.))

[LocoColt04]

Ick. You people disgust us.

Kevin and I were really hoping that this round would being about all kinds of crazy ideas and some really great fighting.

Instead, you presented us with inactivity.

I'm not even waiting for sunrise to close this beast down.

The semifinals are trash, and we're going to have a regretful three-way final.


Frag, buddy, you should have posted again. But... it's fine, really. And you got all of that really great plot stuff out there. That's a good thing, because now you can toss it aside and focus on fighting alone in the final.

Ally, I know you still don't get home for a bit, but I'm starting the finals anyway. Since I'm writing the intro, I'll be kind and leave Alex out of it. Rather, you'll have to find an innovative way to write her into it. Make some excuse about oversleeping or something. You'll make it work.